#everything is just so painful and so bad and that is all

[sombreset]

I’m still not over Deadpool & Wolverine: WWIII. At all.

(Spoilers, also cw for blood and gore and just. Weird imagery)

There’s SO much stuff that happens in this comic, way more than I am posting here, that really digs deep into why Wade and Logan are so intertwined. They both suffered horribly. They’re both near immortal. They’ll both outlive everything they know. They both have rage that doesn’t ever seem to go away, they just have very different coping mechanisms.

This comic LITERALLY intertwines them, in more than one way.

First example is the one most people talk about, which is the whole thing where Logan cuts off a chunk of his own leg and cooks it for Wade so he has at least something to eat (is it gay to make the decision to cut off a piece of yourself and give it to another man so he has something to eat, even tho you both technically don’t need to eat, it just helps? Who knows)

Second example is the end of the comic, which I wish more people would talk about. While they’re fighting a big bad, Wade gets torn apart. Like… crushed. Into pieces. Past the point where Logan thinks regenerative healing can save him. And Logan is, despite all his complaining of how much he doesn’t like Wade, destroyed. Scared, and as the big bad points out— afraid.

Logan then goes into an absolute blind rage. He’s in pain. He’s scared. He genuinely thinks he lost Wade, and he loses it.

All the while, a small voice can be heard telling him to stop. Begging him to stop. He’s lost control. The antagonists of the comics wanted this, and while Logan is thrashing around they intentionally teleport him in front of a mother and child, fully expecting Wolverine to not tell the difference between friend or foe and kill them. Logan certainly cannot tell what he’s doing at this point. He can hardly see.

And then…

Suddenly, Wade. Because some of Wade’s blood got into Logan, he literally grew OUT of him, just in time to stop him from murdering innocent people. Because Logan had fully lost control. Wade pleads with him to stop, and in the end he literally pulls out one of Logan’s bones and shoves it into his face to get him to actually snap out of it. Afterwards, they have a lot of really good conversation, but to avoid clogging this post more— tldr Wade calms Logan down, and tells him “Nobody can decide we’re monsters but us.” Which… I love.

Later on after the fight, there’s this funny panel (and a few before) where Wade’s like dude we are sharing your ass AND dick rn isn’t that crazy and then yeah he makes the comment about being “in” Logan which. Nice

Anyways crazy b/c by the end of this comic, parts of Logan have literally been inside of Wade (chunk of Logan’s leg eaten by Wade) and ALL of Wade has been in Logan (he fucking grew out of him)

This comic is VERY good go read it if you haven’t

[pastryfication]

hii please could you do another leclerc sister! reader imagine where arthur gets dropped by ferrari or dosent get a seat and he’s upset and reader and charles comfort him? x

the weight of the world

pairing: leclerc sister!reader x leclerc brothers note: thank you for requesting!! as an older sister, this was very easy to write.

the news hit like a harsh punch to the gut. arthur had been dropped by the ferrari driver academy, and without a seat for the next f2 season, it felt like everything he had worked so hard for was slipping through his fingers.

your childhood house was eerily quiet as you entered, the rooms filled with the heavy silence of disappointment. arthur had withdrawn from everyone, retreating to the living room where he sat, slumped against the couch, his head buried in his hands.

you hovered near the doorway, watching him from afar. his shoulders were stiff, his body rigid with the weight of what had happened. arthur had always been resilient—he fought hard for everything, just like all of you had, but today, he looked fragile, like the world had finally caught up to him, and the cracks were starting to show.

you walked in quietly, lowering yourself onto the couch beside him. “arthur?” you called softly, careful not to startle him.

he didn’t respond. his hands stayed tangled in his hair, and his eyes were focused on the floor. his breathing was shallow, and you could tell he was trying to hold everything in, but his walls were crumbling, slowly but surely.

“i’ve failed,” he muttered, his voice rough and barely audible. “i’ve let everyone down.”

your heart clenched at the sound of his voice, raw and laced with pain. you reached out gently, placing a hand on his back, rubbing slow circles. "arthur, you haven’t let anyone down. this is just a setback.”

he shook his head, his jaw tight. “but i have. look at everything charles has done. he’s won in f2 and now he’s winning races in f1. and me? i can’t even secure a seat for next year. i’m nothing compared to him.”

the self-doubt, the frustration—it was all spilling out now, years of pressure building up, finally breaking through. arthur had always been chasing something, always pushing himself to live up to the expectations placed on him, the ones he thought came from others, but really, they came from inside him. he had built his entire career trying to prove that he belonged, not just to himself but to everyone watching. and now, with ferrari dropping him, it felt like confirmation of his worst fears.

“you are not a failure,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. “you’re on your own journey, arthur. it doesn’t matter what charles is doing—this is your path, and one setback doesn’t change how talented you are.”

arthur glanced up at you then, his eyes rimmed red, glossy with unshed tears. the sight reminded you of the little boy who would come crying to you in the middle of the night because of a nightmare, and your heart clenched painfully. “but what if . . . what if i never make it?” his voice broke slightly, and it was like a punch to your chest, hearing him voice the fear that had clearly been gnawing at him for so long. “what if this is as far as i go?”

before you could respond, the door creaked open, and charles stepped into the room. you glanced at him briefly, noticing the concern etched across his face. he had rushed over the second he heard, but now, seeing arthur like this, he hesitated. charles wasn’t used to comforting people like this—he supported you in different ways, always the one who fought through his pain in silence, pushing forward no matter how bad things got.

he stepped forward cautiously, unsure of what to say, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. he looked at you, almost as if asking for guidance. this wasn’t a situation he could fix with strategy or motivation; this required something softer, something more emotional.

charles crouched in front of arthur, placing a hand on his knee. “arthur,” he began quietly, his voice tentative, “you haven’t let anyone down.” there was a small hesitation in his words, as though he was uncertain how to reach his brother in this moment. “i know it feels bad now, but this isn’t the end.”

arthur barely reacted. he didn’t lift his head, didn’t shift his position. it was as if the weight of the news had pinned him in place. charles was trying—he always did—but it was clear he wasn’t sure what to say, or how to truly reach your brother.

you moved closer to arthur, your heart breaking at how still and defeated he seemed. “arthur,” you whispered, your voice soft, coaxing him out of his shell. “come here.”

at first, he hesitated, but then the dam broke. he turned toward you slowly, collapsing into your arms as his body trembled with silent sobs. his grip was tight, desperate, like he was afraid you’d let go if he didn’t hold on hard enough. you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, holding him as he cried. your hand rested on the back of his head, and you gently ran your fingers through his hair, whispering soft reassurances.

charles watched, his face full of concern and helplessness. he stayed where he was, not quite knowing what to do next. comfort didn’t come naturally to him in moments like this. he was used to being the one who kept everything together, but seeing arthur like this—seeing him so vulnerable—made him unsure of himself.

you met charles’ eyes over arthur’s shoulder, giving him a small, encouraging nod. arthur wasn’t ready for advice or tough love right now. he just needed to feel like he wasn’t alone, and you understood that.

charles heart warmed as he watched you. the way you instinctively knew how to ease arthur’s pain, how you could make him feel safe with just your presence—it was something he wasn’t sure he could ever do as easily as you. charles cared deeply for his siblings, but watching you now, he realized how much of a rock you were for your younger brother—how much of a rock you were for him too. your patience, your quiet strength—it was something he admired more than he could put into words.

arthur clung to you like a lifeline, his body shaking with the effort of holding everything in for so long. “i’ve let you all down,” he choked out between shaky breaths. “i’ve failed, especially you, charles. you’ve done so much for me, and now . . . now i’ve ruined it.”

charles shifted, his brow furrowed. “arthur, you’ve never let me down. not once,” he said, his voice softening as he found the right words. “you’re not in competition with me. you’ve already accomplished so much, more than you give yourself credit for. i’ve never compared you to me, and neither should you.”

arthur shook his head against your shoulder, still clinging to you. “but you’re always so strong. i don’t know if i’m like that. i don’t know if i can come back from this.”

you held him tighter, rubbing his back soothingly. “you are strong,” you murmured. “you’re stronger than you realize, arthur. just because your path is different from charles’ doesn’t mean it’s over. it’s okay to feel lost, but we’re here. we’ll figure it out together.”

charles nodded, stepping forward and gently placing a hand on arthur’s back. “you don’t have to figure everything out right now,” he said, his voice calmer now, less unsure. “we’ll take it one step at a time. i believe in you, arthur, and so does everyone else.”

arthur sniffled, his grip on you loosening slightly as he pulled back to look at both you and charles, his eyes still filled with doubt, but there was a flicker of hope. “i just . . . i don’t want to disappoint you guys.”

“you haven’t,” you whispered, brushing a tear from his cheek. “and you never will. we’re proud of you no matter what—charles, lorenzo, mum and i are always proud of you. always.”

charles leaned in closer, his hand still on arthur’s back. “you’ve got so much more to give, arthur. this is just a bump in the road. you’re going to come back stronger, and when you do, we’ll be right here with you.”

as charles looked between you and arthur, something stirred inside him. it struck him how lucky arthur was to have you, and how lucky he was too. not everyone had a sister who could hold everything together like you did, especially when things fell apart. there was a strength in you that charles knew he could never replicate, and it made him admire you even more. he made a mental note to tell you later—how grateful he was, how much he admired how you cared for arthur, how you seemed to know exactly what he needed, even when he didn’t.

arthur leaned into you again, this time not out of desperation but for the comfort you were offering, knowing that no matter how hard things seemed right now, he wasn’t alone.

and he would never be alone. not as long as he had you.

[dovesdreaming]

At his worst

Summary: Reader stays by Logan during his worst and is unable to be pushed away by him

Request

Masterlist

Warnings: negative self talk

-

The night was cold, unusually quiet for the dingy apartment Wolverine had holed himself up in. After all these years, Logan was used to the silence, comfortable with it even. But something was different tonight. His mind, normally sharp, was dulled by memories that felt like jagged knives cutting through his thoughts. Jean. Rogue. Charles. All the people he had failed. All the people he had lost. The city buzzed below, lights flickering against the darkness, but Logan didn’t care. He slumped against the couch, cradling a half-empty bottle of whiskey, his usual attempt to drown out the pain. But even alcohol couldn’t numb the guilt that weighed on him. He was a weapon designed to hurt, to destroy, and now it seemed like everyone close to him suffered the same fate. A quiet knock broke through the silence, so soft it might’ve gone unnoticed by anyone else, but not him. Logan’s senses were always on high alert. He sighed, part of him wanting to ignore it. He didn’t want company tonight, didn’t deserve it.

Another knock, a little louder this time. Persistent. “Logan?" A familiar voice called softly from the other side. Your voice. His chest tightened. You were the only person in his life now who didn’t seem to fear him. The only person who could look past the claws, the rage, the blood. Why? He could never figure it out. He didn’t deserve you. Heaving himself up, Logan tossed the whiskey bottle aside and trudged to the door. He didn’t bother with a shirt, his muscles tense beneath the scars that marked his body, a roadmap of violence. Opening the door, he looked down at you. You stood there, bundled in a jacket, worry etched on your face. “Hey” you said gently, eyes scanning his face like you could read everything going on inside. “Shouldn’t be here” Logan growled, his voice rough, hoarse. “Ain’t a good time”. You didn’t move. Instead, you tilted your head, eyes soft but unwavering. “When is a good time with you, Logan?”. That made him pause, and for a moment, he almost smirked. Almost. But he was too tired for that tonight. Instead, he stepped back, silently allowing you in.

You didn’t hesitate, walking past him and into the small apartment, your eyes trailing over the chaos. Half-eaten meals, broken furniture, and the unmistakable stench of whiskey lingering in the air. You turned to face him, crossing your arms. “You’ve been drinking”. Logan let out a low grunt, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest. “What else is new?”. “You know, you don’t have to push me away every time things get bad” you said, your voice soft but firm. “You’re not alone, Logan”. A sharp laugh escaped him. “Ain’t that simple. People around me... they don’t stay for long. They get hurt. Or worse”.

You took a step closer, closing the space between you. “I’m not them. I’m not going anywhere”. Logan’s jaw tightened, the weight of your words pressing on him. He wanted to believe you, but he knew better. He’d seen it too many times, the look in people’s eyes when they realized just how dangerous he was. How broken. “You don’t know what you’re talking about” he said, the edge in his voice returning. “I’ve done things... terrible things. You don’t wanna see me at my worst”. But you didn’t flinch. You never did. Reaching out, you touched his arm, and for a second, Logan almost pulled away, afraid of your kindness, of the warmth in your touch. But he didn’t. “I’ve seen enough, Logan. I’ve seen you fight, seen the pain you carry. And guess what? I’m still here” you said, your voice unwavering. “Because I care. Because I know that, no matter how much you try to push people away, you deserve to be loved. You deserve to be understood”.

He shook his head, fists clenching at his sides. “I ain’t someone you can fix. I’m not someone who’s ever gonna be... whole”. You stepped even closer, eyes locking with his. “I’m not trying to fix you. I’m here to stay. I’ll take the good, the bad, and everything in between. Even when you’re at your worst”. Logan’s throat tightened, emotions bubbling up that he hadn’t let surface in years. He hated how vulnerable he felt right now, how exposed. But at the same time, there was a small part of him that wanted to believe you. That wanted to trust that you wouldn’t leave like the others.

“Why?” The word slipped out, raw and filled with the pain he had been holding back for so long. “Why would you stay?”. You smiled softly, your hand sliding down to take his, your fingers warm against his cold skin. “Because I see you, Logan. The real you. Not the weapon. Not the Wolverine. Just... you”. For the first time in what felt like forever, Logan didn’t know what to say, he had no comeback. His heart pounded in his chest, his walls crumbling down around him as he looked into your eyes, seeing nothing but honesty. No fear. No judgment. Just... acceptance. A shaky breath escaped him, and before he could stop himself, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close. You didn’t resist, wrapping your arms around him, your head resting against his chest as you stood there in the middle of the mess, in the middle of his chaos.

For the first time in a long time, Logan felt something other than anger, other than pain. It was small, fragile even, but it was there. A flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to be alone. Maybe, with you by his side, he didn’t have to be afraid of his worst anymore. And for the first time in a long time, Logan allowed himself to believe that.

-

Thank you for reading!

[running-with-kn1ves]

Satin Pillows To Cry On

CW: coercion with money, age gap(7 yrs), transactional marriage, obsessive/yandere behavior

gn! reader

﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀

You’ve got nothing else, no one else to rely on. 

‘You’re something he bought to keep from growing old.” 

Your clothes are worth small countries. Your cars stacked in 3-level garages. Diamonds, emeralds, pearls hanging from your wrists and ears, satchels made of endangered animal skins, different shoes for each day of the year. 

Your boyfriend of three years spat at your feet when you told him what you were doing. 

“His money can’t love you, not like I can.”

The wedding was only two months away when you broke up with him, told him you couldn’t live in his broke-down apartment anymore, that you couldn’t live with debt trailing wherever you went. You went so far as to make him hate you, to tell him that you never wanted to see him again, that you never loved him, that he better not bother showing up to the wedding. You didn’t want him there, you never wanted to see him again. 

“You’re lying to me; he’s making you say these things, he’s using you against me! You’ve known him what-- two seconds, and you’re going to marry this man?! He’s nearly a decade older than you!” 

Seven years of an age gap or not, he was still a thousand times more independent, wealthy, and a safer choice than your boyfriend. You weren’t some fresh college student new to the world, you had graduated over two years ago, still finding no luck in getting a stable income-- forget about whether or not it was in the field of your degree. 

You left in a single day, fitting all of your scavanged belongings into one of your fiance’s awaiting cars. You left anything worth of value with your ex-boyfriend, knowing he’d find more use out of it than you would. You would even leave the rest of your things there if he could find use for them, but you knew they’d just be one more painful reminder of your betrayal. 

He did as you said, not showing up to your wedding, staying clear, never appearing in your line of sight since the day you left. It made it easier…. For both of you that way. 

And now you were happy-- well, maybe not happy, maybe not even content, but you were… safe. You had everything you needed: a working car, a stable job that you felt productive in, a clean and comforting house to come home to, a spouse. Sure, maybe you didn’t get your new job yourself, or your house or your car-- but did that really matter, in this economy? Who wouldn’t trade their life and their independence for this kind of wealth?

And your husband… he wasn’t all bad. He might have only wanted you for the sake of having you at first, like a new jewel or the latest technological invention. But he was doting and caring in his own way. Maybe just a tiny bit too invested in you, in your schedule and who you talked to. A little too hateful towards your ex-boyfriend, the one who had you before he could. But everyone had character flaws, and on good days you could distract him from his grumpy mood and stress and obsessive behaviors by being the loving and oh so perfect spouse you had trained yourself to be ever since he asked to marry you. 

“Colder than all that gold…” You repeated in your mind, the words your family whispered to each other at your wedding reception only a few feet away from you. 

That was over six months now, though… the honeymoon phase never existed, you rarely saw your husband except for his midnight appearances back from the office, and whenever he would whisk you away for a weekend vacation to savor the time he had with you. For someone more sophisticated, much wealthier, and dare you say handsomer than the average man-- you were surprised to find he didn’t have a line of divorces behind him. 

No; he said, he had been “waiting for you.” whether  you or he knew it, he understood right from the moment of meeting you that you were the one he’d have for the rest of his life, even if it killed him. That severity… scared you. But in a sick sense, it made you feel relieved. Forever? This could be yours, forever? Your family would never have to struggle again, you would never have to worry where your next meal came from?

“I cleared your schedule until tuesday; we’re going to the isles. A mini vacation, you might call it. Get your things.”

He was cold, that was for sure. But, was he any worse than your ex-boyfriend, especially when he was offering you an expensive experience on top of that?

“All right..” You acquiesced. 

And now, you lied sunken into the bed feeling his loving, hot breath on your navel. Going so sweetly slow, so oddly and uncharacteristingly lingering with his touches as he gazes into your eyes. You didn’t like this; didn’t like that when he was cherishing you, making love to you, holding you so intimately, he was appearing… like a husband should. Where did he get the nerve to ignore you everyday, to have hardly any time for you, only to come back and beg for your love when it was convenient for him? 

But you keep your mouth shut, like you should, if you want to keep eating bed in breakfast, keep wearing silk robes while watching the view of the ocean outside your window.

“So beautiful…you’re like a work of art, the kind no amount of money can buy.” 

That was funny, hilarious even. Enough so to make you cry. 

A familiar face passes by the slightly ajar door to distract you, likely one of the housekeepers leaving for the night. But you swear the man’s figure reminds you of someone from your past, someone you loved and left for good. 

Your husband brings back your attention by placing a gentle kiss to your temple, blindly undoing the clasp of the necklace he bought you.

“I’m so lucky… so lucky to have been the one to catch you, forever. No one could’ve done it, not without what I have.”

He wanted you to kiss and caress back, but sometimes lying still was just enough. It was enough for him to witness you, basking in the glow of everything you wore from him, lying in the Egyptian cotton sheets he paid extra for, your body molded to the diet his personal chefs cooked. 

Even as he pushed a knee between your legs, traveling from your navel to your stomach with open-mouthed sucks and kisses in the rawest form of affection, you couldn’t help but turn your face deep into the pillow. So soft, the soft purple shielding your eyes from his tender gaze.

You might’ve given up love, given up everything familiar and those who you’ve cared for-- but at least you had satin pillows to cry on, and the finest jewelry to wipe your tears with. 

[hoshifighting]

Hey pookie so I just wanted to ask seeing that you didn't see any of my asks in your inbox could you write me a ff where you're in seventeen and you used to have a friends with benefits situation with wonwoo but now that's over and you're with josh but he knows that so now he wants to have a threesome with you and won I you are comfortable and have the time😊💗

threesome with; actual situationship!joshua & past situationship!wonwoo WC: 3.3k WARNINGS: smut, threesome, reader misses wonwoo, mentions of ovulation/sensitiveness, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), body fluids (cum) penetrative sex, a teeth scratch during blowjob—no pain, joshua and wonwoo making eye contact as they fuck you—idk, but felt like a warning.

you’re not entirely sure how it started. maybe it’s the way joshua’s always had this easy charm, like he knows exactly how to say shit that gets under your skin. but it’s not the kind of annoyance that makes you want to push him away, it’s the kind that makes you want to shut him up by doing things that leave the both of you breathless.

and wonwoo… well, wonwoo’s always been a different story. it’s not like he’s cold, exactly. just detached, distant. except when he’s not. except when his hands were on your hips, and his mouth was on your neck, and when he pulled you so close that it’s like he wanted to remind you how much he can feel.

it wasn’t supposed to last as long as it did, but it did. until it didn’t.

now, though? now you’ve got joshua, and that’s its own thing. he’s smoother than wonwoo ever was, always knows how to keep things light and playful even when his touch is hot and heavy. you’re not sure what to call what you have with him—it’s not exactly a relationship, but it’s not casual either. and he knows about wonwoo. of course he does. you never accomplished about lying to joshus, he knows everything about you, and you simply cant lie looking inside his eyes.

“so,” joshua says, leaning back against the couch, his eyes fixed on you with that lazy smirk you’ve come to expect. “what if we changed things up?”

you raise a brow, not quite following. “changed things up how?”

his gaze flicks over you, dark in his eyes now, something you’ve only seen in flashes before, right when he’s about to get serious. “i know about you and wonwoo. i know it’s over, but…” he lets the words hang there, knowing exactly how to build suspense. “what if it didn’t have to be over?”

you feel your stomach flip, your mind racing to catch up with the suggestion that’s hanging in the air like a loaded gun. “what the fuck are you talking about?”

he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even look like he’s joking. “i’m talking about the three of us.”

you let out a laugh, more out of shock than anything. “a fucking threesome? with wonwoo?” it’s so ridiculous, but there’s something twisted in your chest that says it’s not entirely a bad idea.

joshua just shrugs like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “you said he was good, right? no reason to keep that all to yourself. besides… i’m curious.”

“curious?” you echo, still not believing what you’re hearing. “about what exactly?”

his smile turns wicked, and he leans forward, his lips brushing your ear. “about what it’d be like to see you with him. to see how you’d react if it was both of us. together.”

the idea rolls through your mind like wildfire, igniting thoughts you didn’t even know were buried there. you picture it—wonwoo’s quiet dom that you remembered, joshua’s charming and sensual—and suddenly, the room feels too hot, your heart beating too fast.

you lean back, eyes narrowed. “and what makes you think wonwoo’s even into that?”

joshua grins, knowing exactly what he’s doing. “oh, he’s into it. trust me.”

you don’t need to ask how he knows, and that’s what gets to you. this whole situation, as absurd as it sounds, feels almost inevitable. the tension between you and joshua’s always been good enough, but throw wonwoo into the mix, and it’s like adding gasoline to a slow-burning fire.

“you really think this is a good idea?” you ask, not sure if you’re talking to joshua or yourself at this point.

“i think it’s an idea,” he says, shrugging again, that confidence never leaving his face. “whether or not it’s a good one is up to you.”

you bite your lip, torn between the pull of curiosity and the weight of everything that’s gone down with wonwoo. it wasn’t messy when it ended, but it wasn’t exactly clean either. things like that don’t just disappear. they linger.

“fuck, you’re serious about this.” it’s not a question, more like a realization. joshua’s leaning in, his hands tracing light patterns over your skin, and you feel yourself giving in to the inevitable, even though part of you is still screaming that this is insane.

“completely,” he says, his lips grazing your jaw. “so, what do you say? wanna see how far we can push this?”

there’s a moment, where you think about what this could mean. it’s not just about sex, not with joshua and wonwoo involved. the way joshua’s eyes burn into yours as if he’s daring you to cross a line you can never uncross.

but then, you think about the way wonwoo used to look at you, that hunger in his sharp eyes, and the way joshua’s always been able to coax you into doing things you never thought you’d be into. and, well… maybe crossing that line isn’t the worst idea after all.

“alright,” the weight behind it feels like a door being kicked wide open. “let’s do it.”

joshua’s grin stretches wider, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “that’s what i thought you’d say.”

you can feel wonwoo's presence, even though wonwoo’s not here yet. but you know—you know—that when he is, things are going to change in a way none of you can ever take back.

and the fucked up part is? you’re not sure you’d want to.

[...]

“a threesome?!”

wonwoo’s voice cuts through the room. he’s standing at the foot of joshua’s bed, his eyes wide in disbelief—those same eyes that are always narrow, focused, but right now they’re blown open like he just heard the most ridiculous thing in his life.

honestly, you can’t blame him.

you sit there, smaller than you’ve ever felt, wrapped in the sheets like they might shield you from the exhasperation of his reaction. you’d expected some kind of pushback from wonwoo—he’s not exactly the most spontaneous guy—but the shock in his voice still stings more than you’d thought it would. joshua’s quiet beside you, arms folded across his chest, watching wonwoo with this unreadable look, lips pressed into a thin line. like he’s assessing the situation. like he’s waiting to see how this plays out.

“i—” you start, but your throat feels dry, your words dying before they’ve even formed. you shift, uncomfortable, but it’s not just the awkwardness of the moment. there’s something more, something deeper that’s making your skin feel hot, your body overly sensitive to every movement. you know what it is. you can feel it. your body’s buzzing, the ache between your thighs making itself known with every subtle shift of the sheets. you’re ovulating, and it’s making this whole thing worse, making your body respond in ways that are frustratingly out of your control.

wonwoo’s still staring, he looks at you, then at joshua, then back at you again. you don’t meet his eyes, can’t bring yourself to.

“are you serious?” his voice is lower now, more measured, but there’s still a note of incredulity in it.

you swallow hard, forcing yourself to look up at him. “yeah,” you say, voice quiet, but it’s the truth. “we’re serious.”

wonwoo looks like he’s processing it, his mind running a mile a minute, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression that tells you he’s considering it. and that’s enough for joshua, who leans forward slightly, his voice smooth, persuasive.

“it’s not as weird as it sounds,” joshua says, his tone light, like he’s just suggesting something casual, like going out for drinks. “you’re both already close. you trust each other, I know you for years. we’ve all got chemistry, right?”

wonwoo’s eyes narrow slightly at joshua, but the tension between them isn’t exactly hostile. it’s more like a challenge, like he’s weighing the pros and cons, trying to figure out if this is something he can actually wrap his head around.

finally, wonwoo sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, and when he speaks again, there’s a resigned sort of acceptance in his voice. “fuck it. okay.”

your heart jumps at the words. wonwoo’s gaze locks on yours, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there’s no distance between you. no walls.

joshua doesn’t say anything, but you feel his presence, the way his eyes are on you, observing every little reaction. there’s something almost possessive in the way he watches, like he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

you don’t wait long.

before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re reaching for wonwoo, pulling him down by the front of his shirt until his lips crash into yours. it’s messy, a little frantic, and you missed him. so, so much. like you missed him more than you were willing to admit. you can’t help the small sound that escapes your throat, the way your body responds immediately, almost embarrassingly fast.

wonwoo’s hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, torching the fire that’s already been burning low in your belly.

joshua’s still silent beside you, but you feel his eyes on you, feel the way his presence lingers, close but not touching. when you finally pull away from wonwoo, breathless and dazed, you glance at joshua. his lips are pressed together in a tight line, his expression carefully neutral, but there’s a tension in his jaw that tells you he’s not unaffected by what he just saw.

“fuck,” wonwoo mutters, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “you’re… fuck, you’re wet already.”

you let out a shaky breath, your body pulsing with a need that’s only getting worse. “yeah,” you admit, not even embarrassed by it. “it’s… it’s the timing.”

wonwoo raises a brow, confused for a second, before realization dawns on his face. “oh.”

wonwoo knew about “the timing” he used to be your relief for it, and he remembered how sensitive you were.

joshua finally speaks up “she’s sensitive right now. been like this all day.”

you want it. you need it.

wonwoo’s eyes darken, his fingers tightening on your waist. “is that right?”

joshua’s watching closely, his hand brushing over your thigh, and the contact is enough to make your breath hitch, your body already responding before you can even think about it. “she’s all yours for now,” joshua murmurs. “but don’t get too comfortable.”

wonwoo’s lips are on yours again, his hands exploring your body with a familiarity that makes the nostalgia wash over you like grandma's food, and you can’t help but respond, your body arching into him.

every touch, every kiss feels magnified, like your senses are on overdrive, and it’s all you can do to keep yourself from losing control entirely. you’re wet, so wet it’s embarrassing, and you know they can both feel it, know exactly how badly you want this, how badly you need it.

“fuck, you’re so sensitive,” wonwoo breathes against your skin, his fingers teasing along the waistband of your underwear, and you whimper at the contact, your hips bucking involuntarily. “can’t believe how wet you are.”

joshua leans in, his lips brushing wonwoo's ear as he whispers, “told you she’s been like this all day. it’s driving her crazy.”

you let out a shaky breath, wonwoo’s fingers dip lower, brushing against your soaked core, and you moan, your head falling back against joshua’s shoulder. it’s too much, but at the same time, it’s exactly what you’ve been craving, what your body’s been screaming for all day.

joshua’s hand slips under your shirt, his fingers brushing over your tits, twisting the hardened nipples, he’s letting wonwoo have you, letting you drown in it, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before he takes over.

wonwoo’s fingers slide inside you, slow at first, and the instant he curls them, you feel your body react, hips stuttering forward like you’re trying to chase the sensation, but can’t quite control it. it’s like your entire body remembers him, remembers the way he used to touch you, how he knows exactly what makes you fall apart.

you gasp, your forehead pressing against his chest, his free hand coming up to hold the back of your neck, keeping you close. “fuck,” you whisper, your breath ragged, your skin burning, fever. “wonwoo…”

he doesn’t respond with words, just lets out a low hum, his fingers working inside you with an infuriating pace, slow but so damn effective. you clench around him, feeling the wetness start to drip onto the sheets beneath you, and your mind’s a blur.

then, they share a look—wonwoo and joshua, their eyes meeting over your trembling form like they’re communicating something quietly between them. it makes your stomach tighten. wonwoo’s chest rumbles with a deep chuckle as you crumble against him, barely able to hold yourself up.

“fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” wonwoo mutters, his fingers start moving faster, curling with every thrust, hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes your knees buckle. “didn’t think you’d be this sensitive.”

“wonwoo—” you choke out, your head falling back, and your hand reaches out blindly for joshua. he’s pulling away, but you need him, need both of them. “joshua—”

you hear him groan softly, and when you turn your head, you see him standing there, his hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it slowly, watching you like he’s savoring the sight of you falling apart on wonwoo’s fingers. “fuck, you look so good like that,” he says, his voice thick with lust. “so fucking needy.”

you bite your lip, moaning as wonwoo’s fingers slide deeper, the wet, obscene sounds filling the room as your body betrays you. your thighs tremble, your hands clawing at the sheets, the sensation of being split between them making your head spin. “joshua,” you moan again, voice breaking. “please… come back.”

he doesn’t need much more convincing. you watch as he steps forward, his cock hard and slick in his fist. “you want me that bad, huh?” he murmurs, the teasing lilt in his voice cutting through the haze clouding your mind. “can’t handle just wonwoo?”

wonwoo chuckles softly, his fingers still working inside you. “she’s falling apart already,” he mutters, his breath hot against your neck. “not sure she can handle both of us.”

“she can,” joshua says confidently, his thumb swiping over the tip of his cock as he steps closer, looming over you. “she just needs a little encouragement.”

you’re already panting, your body on edge, teetering dangerously close to losing control completely. you can feel the wetness coating his hand now, dripping onto the sheets, and it only makes the whole thing worse. every little movement makes you more sensitive, your body almost too responsive, and the frustration builds in your chest.

joshua kneels down on the bed, his cock brushing your lips, and you open your mouth automatically, desperate to have him inside you. but the second you try to take him in, wonwoo’s fingers curl again, and you gasp, your body jerking uncontrollably.

“shit—” you whimper, struggling to breathe, “i can’t—”

joshua presses the tip of his cock against your lips, his eyes burning into yours. “oh, you’re just gonna have to try a little harder, baby.”

you moan against him, your hips rolling instinctively into wonwoo’s hand, your body caught in this maddening push and pull between the two of them. joshua slides his cock past your lips, and the feeling of him, heavy and warm on your tongue, only intensifies the sensation of wonwoo’s fingers inside you. you choke a little, struggling to focus on either one of them, but it’s impossible.

wonwoo’s pace picks up, his fingers thrusting deeper, and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he pulls them out, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. you whine at the loss, your head spinning, but before you can even process it, he’s shifting lower, pressing your thighs apart with a firm grip.

“wonwoo—” you gasp, your words muffled around joshua’s cock.

“shh,” wonwoo murmurs, his breath hot against your inner thigh. “just relax.”

and then his mouth is on you, his tongue licking a broad, slow stripe up your center, and your entire body seizes up, a broken moan ripping from your throat. your hips buck against his mouth, but he holds you down, his grip tight on your thighs as he starts devouring you like he’s been waiting for this moment forever.

“fuck,” joshua mutters, his hand tightening in your hair as you struggle to take him, the combination of wonwoo’s tongue on your clit and joshua in your mouth pushing you past the point of reason. “you’re so fucking wet. wonwoo’s making a mess out of you.”

you can’t respond, can barely even think, your mind a swirling mess. wonwoo’s tongue is relentless, teasing and sucking at your clit, his fingers slipping back inside you as he eats you out like it’s his only mission in life. you can feel your legs shaking, your entire body trembling as you try to keep up, but it’s impossible. every touch, every thrust of his fingers makes you more sensitive, makes it harder to breathe.

“fuck, i can’t—” you gasp, pulling off joshua’s cock for a second, your voice a desperate, breathless whine.

joshua just chuckles darkly, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. “you’re doing so good, baby. just a little more.”

wonwoo hums in agreement, the vibration against your clit making your entire body jolt, and you feel yourself spiraling, the tension building faster than you can handle. his tongue flicks over you again, and this time, he focuses on that one spot—the needy, throbbing clit—sucking just hard enough to send you over the edge.

you cry out, your back arching off the bed, your entire body shuddering as the orgasm rips through you, and you can’t do anything but ride it out, trembling and gasping for breath as wonwoo keeps going, his mouth never letting up.

“fuck, look at you,” joshua mutters, his voice full of awe as he watches you fall apart. “so fucking beautiful when you come. i love it.”

wonwoo finally pulls back, his lips shiny and slick with your cum, his eyes dark and hungry as he looks up at you. “she’s not done yet,”

and you know he’s right.

“fuck, look at you,” wonwoo mutters, pulling back from between your legs, his lips still glistening with you. “i’ve got you ready for him, haven’t i?” the heat in your cheeks burning deeper as you realize what he means.

you don’t have time to respond before joshua's hands are on your hips, pulling you up to your knees. the shift makes you gasp, you glance back at him.

“yeah, you’ve got her real nice and wet for me,” joshua says, the blunt head of his cock teasing at your entrance. “good job, wonwoo.”

you feel a kick of embarrassment making your legs shake. wonwoo’s hand comes up to brush against your cheek, turning your face toward him as he looks down at you with that familiar gaze. “c’mere,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing over your lips. “i missed your pretty mouth.”

your lips part automatically, like you’re drawn to him, and before you know it, you’ve wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, guiding him toward your lips. he groans softly as you take him in, his hand resting on your jaw, fingers curling slightly as you suck him in deeper.

“god, i missed this,” he breathes out, his voice catching as you swirl your tongue around him, taking him deeper into your throat. “missed how fucking good you are at this.”

your cheeks flush at the praise, your body humming as joshua teases you from behind, the tip of his cock just narrowly entering you. wonwoo’s hand tightens on your jaw, guiding your movements as you bob your head up and down, your lips stretched around him. the weight of him on your tongue, the taste of him—everything is overwhelming in the best way.

but just as you start to take him in throat, joshua suddenly thrusts into you from behind, hard. the sharp intrusion makes you gasp around wonwoo’s cock, your teeth scraping lightly against him as the sudden cock fills you all at once.

“shit—!” wonwoo curses, his hips jerking as your teeth graze him, not enough to hurt, but enough to make him jolt. his eyes widen in shock, but then a shaky laugh escapes his lips, his free hand tightening in your hair as he steadies you. “motherfucker.”

joshua lets out a loud laugh behind you, clearly amused by wonwoo’s reaction. “sorry about that,” he says, but there’s no real apology in his tone, only satisfaction as he starts moving inside you again, his hips snapping forward with sharp, controlled thrusts that have you whimpering around wonwoo’s cock.

“you’re such a fucking asshole hyung,” wonwoo mutters, but the words are strained, his voice catching as he watches your lips stretch around him. his hand rests on the back of your neck now, guiding your head in time with his shallow thrusts as he slowly fucks your mouth. “fuck, just like that. good girl.”

joshua’s pace is relentless, his hips slamming into you from behind, both filling you—wonwoo in your mouth, joshua inside you.

“god, you’re so fucking tight,” joshua groans, his hands gripping your hips harder as he pushes deeper, the wet, obscene sounds of him fucking you filling the room. “woo, you’ve got her all loosened up, but she’s still so fucking tight around me.”

wonwoo chuckles, but it’s strained, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he watches you struggle to take both of them. “yeah?” he mutters, his voice rough. “she’s so fucking wet, isn’t she? dripping all over you.”

joshua’s pace falters for just a second as he glances up at wonwoo, and for a moment, they lock eyes. it’s strange at first, like neither of them expected to find themselves in this situation—watching each other while they both take you apart. its strange, strange because...

they start to enjoy it.

they enjoy the way their faces contort, the way their moans mix together, the sight of you caught between them—cocks twitching.

joshua whimpers as looking wonwoo's eyes, a smirk playing at his lips as he gives you another sharp thrust, just to watch you choke around wonwoo’s cock.

the sound of both of them moaning, cursing, panting—it only makes you wetter, makes you crave more.

“shit,” joshua breathes out, his voice strained as he keeps up the brutal pace, his hand sliding up your back, fingers digging into your skin. “fuck, you’re taking us so well.”

wonwoo’s face contorts, his hand tightening in your hair as his cock twitches in your mouth. “you’re gonna make me come if you keep going like this,” he groans, his eyes rolling back slightly as he fights to stay in control.

you whimper around him, your body shaking as the pleasure builds higher and higher, and you can feel yourself getting closer, every movement, every touch is pushing you nigher, and the sounds of their moans, the way they’re both so fucking into it—it’s enough to send you over.

“cum for us,” joshua growls, as his hips slam into you again, harder this time.

wonwoo’s grip tightens, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he watches you, his fingers flexing slightly on the back of your neck. “show us how fucking good you are.”

your body finally gives in. you come hard, your entire body shaking with the power of it, your lips trembling around wonwoo’s cock as you gasp for air.

“fuck,” wonwoo groans, his hand tightening on your neck as his hips stutter forward, his cock twitching in your mouth as he follows you over the edge.

joshua isn’t far behind, his hips slamming into you one last time before he lets out a sly, throaty moan, his body tensing as he spills inside you, filling you up.

wonwoo pulls out of your mouth slowly, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips as he looks down at you. you look at him shaking your head, taking his cock inside your wet mouth again.

the man melts on the headboard, joshua sat, looking how you look eager to make wonwoo cum, like you just cant leave him hanging. your knees give out, but your neck keep working to bob your head.

there's a line of spit dripping from your chin, as you suck him moaning, as the simply action of sucking him, was stimulating you. wonwoo eyes are glued with joshua's, the hyung biting his own bottom lip as he watches every single detail.

wonwoo feels the cock twitching, the gaze of his hyung plus the warmth of your mouth, making him cum on spot. he looks back at you again, the cum filling your tongue, leaving traces of it on your chin and neck, as you moan dumbly before laying on his thigh.

the boys make eye contact again, a smile spreading across their lips.

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine:

Your first autistic burnout with Logan

It was days like today that got you. It didn't happen all at once you noticed that things begin to get harder. Self care was a necessity but sometimes you just didn't have energy for it. For you it felt like time was speeding up, like you thought it was Friday but it's really Monday. Like the world spinning but your stuck where you are. That your trying to process every day and everything that happens but it's already tomorrow.

But you don't stop pushing yourself, they tell you have to push through. That you have the break time you need so why would you need anymore? That you barely taught any classes anyway, barely a teacher there. You felt selfish most of the time because if you listened to yourself you'd try to put yourself first. But no one else understands you? Unless your autistic it's hard to understand what it feels like to be burnout.

You started having bad mood swings, unable to regulate your emotions, as you usually would be to. It was hard to get around, to do just about anything because your body was tired. Your mind was fatigued, and the wrong words come out of your mouth a lot easier. Because you weren't acting normal you usually started beating yourself up because you shouldn't feel this tired. You shouldn't feel like even breathing can be hard for you. Which in these moments because a problem because of your unrelentless anxiety about having to put your mind to anything, or having to be social situations that you didn't want to be in.

But you had to show up for your job or you were going to lose it. Charles could only be so patient with you right? Even with accommodations in place, there was a certain point where you felt like in other people's brains there was no coming back, you just didn't want to get better. That you decided one day that you were just coming to become depressed. For so long doctors who didn't know you assumed you were bipolar, though you didn't have manic epsiodes. You just really intense happiness that could last for a little while but it was usually because you were in a mood swing.

Logan was instantly drawn to the moment he met you. You had the same type of darkness he recognized in himself. When you looked at him you had the same pain in his eyes that were reflected in his. The two of you had gone through very different pain and trauma, but when he learned about yours it didn't think it was any easier. Not with the mental and emotional manipulation you grew up with. The hours you spent alone and isolated because the world was simply too much for you. That you rather stay in your little bubble and never leave.

You'd been doing good for so long, you could have a bad day or a bad week, but you always got back up. Logan had never seen you practically paralyzed. You could barely keep your eyes open, you could barely move without groaning or crying, it was like your limbs were almost lifeless.

The room was pitch black, something he knew you didn't like. You always had a night light on, and now you couldn't even open your eyes long enough. You'd even covered your ears when he tried talking to you, a faint 'shh' coming out of your mouth. He felt the pain shoot through him as he saw the pain all over your face, you almost looked lifeless. Logan spoke quietly as he checked on you, before reaching for his hand and grasping on tightly while you started to cry. "What's wrong?" He whispered.

"I-is just too much." You bawled. "H-hold me tight please." Logan's arms wrapped around you without hesitation, listening to you as you laid your head against his chest, his arms tight around your body.

Eventually you needed space, feeling almost suffocated, but you didn't want him to leave. You didn't know how to communicate this, your own anxiety of just having to talk practically making you mute. You just climbed away from him, before whispering, "Stay." Laying your head on the pillow, and he laid next to you. You moved forward eventually, wanting the comfort of his hand in yours. Logan traced your features with his hazel green eyes, trying to make sure he was prepared for whatever you were feeling. Trying to understand something that he knew you couldn't explain to him right now.

All he knew was that you needed him and he wasn't going anywhere.

note: cried while writing this, i'm sorry i'm not filling in requests rn feeling a lot executive dysfunction and just trying to remain positive.

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland

[mehiwilldoitlater]

can you do black myth erlang shen x reader please 🥺

It hurts. Please, it hurt. Stop!

Are you even speaking? Spears and swords don't stop to fall over you, and you wonder if you can even feel pain any longer.

You just wanted them to stop.

Those are celestial guards, fighters of the gods, and they have no mercy on the mortals, especially the ones that plan to revive the great sage. And you were so unlucky to have lost your friend.

How could it have happened?! Why was it happening?! They didn't see how already in pain you were?! They keep it going, and they laugh!

You just want everything to stop; your vision is just red and dark.

Then a light strike, and you're not in pain anymore. Ah...so is here where you die? You wanted at least to say something to Yuán Fèn and Bajie, maybe a goodbye...

You didn't get the chance to end your mission. You feel bad, mostly for these things.

///

Suddenly, icy air fills your lungs.

It's sudden and painful, and it's mostly a sign that you're pretty much alive but very much hurt. You can't see properly; your vision doesn't work so well. Why can you see only with your left eye?!

You tried to reach your head with your hands but could sense only the pressure of one of them. Something is attached to your face—just the same sensation on your left hand. 

Gauzes, someone had put some bandage on your face and hand. You still tried to move your right harm, but you can't feel so much; did it fall asleep? 

You tried to put yourself up but met only a wave of more pain in both of your legs. You wanted to scream, moan, or anything, but you could only wheeze, coughing from the dryness. 

Only then you felt something—rushing movements—they were fast and so many. Many small people? Or just one thing with so many legs? You couldn't tell; wherever you were was so dark. The rush of the feet stopped when some more heavy ones got closer to you. Someone had held your head gently, raising it from the cuschion where you were, then something smooth and cold touched your lips, a bowl maybe. 

A liquid started to carefully flow in your mouth, avoiding you to suffocate or spill it. It was... so bitter. It felt awful, but your throat started to feel better. It was warm.

You tried to understand who was tending to you, so you kept looking at the looming figure. Were they talking to you? He seemed like a man by his posture and

No, it couldn't be. It must have been a dream or a sick joke. You gulped, but before you could do anything, Erland had already put you back in your bedding.

///

Oh, how much you wished that was just a delirious dream and allucination provoked by the pain. Tò be just the product of your mind, another of those visions that you had during your adventure.

Instead It was true—scarefully true.

He didn't speak too much; he didn't speak at all. He just tended to your wound, fixed the bed, made you drink that bitter liquid of his, and then went back to... something. He was just there, doing something in that desolated place. 

The house was small, very small; the only objects present there were the bed where you were recovering, some big jars, a small bundle of sheets in a corner, and a fireplace, where usually the pot mumbled and boiled something that you guess he was feeding you.

It wasn't like you couldn't do much in your state; the only thing you could do was just sleep and hope that nothing bad could happen.

And when you didn't sleep, you thought.

Why was he caring for you? He was preparing you for a formal execution? Was he planning to kill you in front of all the monkeys and Yuán Fèn? Maybe hunting you for fun?

Every time those worries started to come into your head, you felt nothing but pure fear and pain. You should have died there. It would have been merciful. 

One day you finally broke that silence, the day you realized that the absence of sensitivity in your right heart was because there was nothing there. One of the soldiers had damaged so much your harm that it was cute off.

You started to panic, to move, and to make sounds that were near a lament. Then you felt something nudging and crying next to your face, pressing and lapping, then something stronger trying to stop you.

"You need to stop; your wounds may reopen."

He seemed calm in his tone, and he kept his composure even when you started to punch him in the chest and get out of him and that place.

"Of you're in pain, tell me. So I can fix it. I have medicines, but you need to calm down."

How could you calm down?! You're hair was ripped off! You kept struggling, moving your stump against him, trying to gain anything, but nothing came to you. He realized the situation and stod up.

"Don't worry, I prepared everything."

And so he revealed, inside one of the big jars, covered in the same strange bitter medicine, your severed harm, that was still moving, imitating the movement that you were trying to do with it.

///

And so, things didn't change that much, except that he was taking your limb in a magic option, and he was taking you the same things to heal your wounds.

He said that, by mortal standard, death was inevitabile, but with that medicine he could save your harm and your eye, which you learned was lost, and he just kept it there. The creepyness of the hole organs in a jar aside, you felt like something was clearly wrong.

He was Erlang Shen! The deity that struck down Sun Wukong! The one that had officially killed him! Why was he curing you?!

You couldn't trust him; you could trust Yaoguais and all but him?! NEVER!

"Came on," he tried to make you drink again the medicine; "without it, your body will take longer and the harm won't stick."

"Firstly," you said, moving the bowl away from your."I'm not a paper doll that you can just fix with glue. And secondly, I don't trust you!"

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already. Instead, I'm tending to your wounds. Is not trustful enough?"

For him, it was more like taking to a child that refused the cough syrup.

You rolled your eyes; he was right—he could have killed you, and the possibility of being dead by his hand still lingered. Your only option was to play whatever game he was playing and try to get the first chance to escape from... wherever you were. By the look of the outside, where are you back to the New West? The snow was its notable characteristic after all.

After another nudge of the deity, you finally took the bowl from his hand and swallowed in one gulp the medicine. Your face produced a grimace by the savor.

"Ugh! It's so bitter...what did you put in this staff?!"

"I don't make medicine. I take it from the celestial court."

That I take it was more similar to stealing it. But, for your own sake, you held your tongue. When made sure that all the medicine was consumed, he hummed, satisfied, and silently sat near the fireplace.

Now, with a better look, you realized that it wasn't a house per se, but a very small temple. 

"Why did you steal someone else's shrine?"

After that sentence, you thought Mayube would hear him complain about your insolence or just to tell you to shut up. Instead, he kept tending to the fire, using a long metal rod.

"I didn't steal it; it's mine."

"Yours?" You seemed perplexed. "It's so simple. I thought you had something a little more."

He chukled a little without diverting his gaze. "I don't want to attract attention."

What a strange man, you thought, and so you decided to go back to sleep. But still, one question needed an answer.

"When I was on the brink of death," you spoke between the sheets. "You were saying something. What did you say?"

He stode silently, stopped in his thought, then spoke.

"That I won't allow you to die."

///

On your surprise, you found out that one of the most tolerable things there was no one else but Xiaotian Quan, Erlan's loyal dog. Despite his scary look, the jaws that could easily rip of your head, and the fact that it was a deity, that dog was everything but pure joy.

You couldn't understand why, but it just adored you, snuggling to you when the fire died during the night, asking for food whenever its master wasn't looking. How could you resist?!

"You're so nice, you know that?"

Every time the god left the house for hunting, something you learned he did on a daily basis for all of your meals, the duty of guarding you, maybe monitoring your escape, was set on the dog. You obliged to stay in its warm, caressing his mantle and scratching his muse.

"You're very cute... I wonder if you feel lonely here. I would be, but I'm mostly bored."

You sighed, turning in the bed. You tried to avoid thinking about your state and all. Erland said that it was almost time to reattach the arm, but you still need the medicine for your legs and eye.

"I hope Yuán Fèn is all right... I hope everyone is safe. Things were getting off lately. Everything is...."

You massaged your poor eyes with your good hand.

"I really hope that Sun Wukong is worth the pain!"

You didn't want to have doubt; you wished that your faith was strong like Yuán Fèn and Bajie's, but everything was so hard. How could they just accept it? And staying there, medicated by the one that had killed that you guys were trying to revive, didn't help at all. That statement...what wnated you alive? What was his game?

Come to think of it, no one ever came to come for you—not a deity, not a celestial warrior, not a Yaoguais. It was like no one knew where you were except for the dog and Erlang. Was he hiding you? But for what reason?

You stopped thinking about it when you heard the sound of a huge deer falling to the ground and the sound of a knife starting to cut the meat. Does it really need to do it right there!? Even Bajie had so much decency to move away or wait for you and Yuán fèn to sleep!

He seemed too concentrated to care, so he kept going with his work and stopping the dog to come to him and try to take some meat for himself.

It was...almost a cute scene... Blood of the poor deer aside.

"What are you doing in this?" You finally decided to break that silence.

"You need to eat, no?"

"No, I don't..." You covered your face with your hand. "I mean this! Helping me, curing me, and all! Why?"

"I have my own motives. Wich, I prefer to keep to myself for now." He said, giving a small slice of meat to Xiaotian, letting it lick the blood from his fingertips.

"And you? You're clearly not cut out for this; what is it that you searching for in this quest of yours?"

"I just want to go home. They said that, maybe, Sun Wukong knows a way to send me back. I don't know if it's true, but it's worth the shot." 

You didn't even know why you admired it; you just said it. Maybe it wasn't such a big revelation in your head; it's not normal for someone to go back to where you belong, even if this desire wasn't so strong in recent days. He hummed and kept on cutting and putting the meat in the pot on the fire, alongside some water. He didn't say much; he just acknowledged it, you thought.

"And what if I can do that and send you home?"

Your eyes widened as you looked at the man who had just admitted that he could have done that from the beginning, like he was just telling you some directions on the road. But then suspects rose again.

"What's the catch?"

He stopped, finally looking at you, straight in your eyes.

"You stop this foolish quest of yours, alongside your friend. Give up the relics, and I'll send you back. No more fighting, a normal life."

You loved your gaze, looking at your still remaning bandage hand. He could do that; he could send you back. In front of you, stirring a suo, there's your way home ticket. And the price...

A fire started in your chest, looking at him with a newfound vigor.

"Are you basically telling me to give up?!"

"Tò surrender..."

"Then I refuse! Me, Yuán Fèn, and Bajie had made the impossible! The sacrifices that we made, what we had accomplished... NO! I will never betray my friends! I'll find my way home on my own terms!"

"And what if Wukong is not able to help you? What'll you do then?"

"Then...then I'll still search for a way! I'll never turn my back on the Destined One, NEVER!"

At this rate, you really started to fear that he could be angered by your stubbornness and loyalty towards your friend; instead, he rested quite, with a small smile on his face.

He seemed satisfied, and I kept cooking while you decided to stay silent after that outburst. He truly was something hard to get...

After a few hours, the same soup was served to you, and... It wasn't that apprising. It didn't smell bad or have a bad smell; it was just so blended with every one of your senses. It was just boiled meat in some water.

"There, eat now. You still need some energy."

You held the bowl, admiring how some good pieces of meat had gone wasted in some hot water with not even vegetables or some actual condiments. You took a sip of it; the savor was more of some dirty hot water, blood that had remained in the pot, and the disappointment of being fed like this.

"Are you sure you're a deity?" 

"What kind of question is this?"

"Because to be one, your cooking skill really stinks. Do you even know salt exists?"

At this point, you really thought that you were done. You gulped a chunk of meat, afraid to look at the face of the man, imagining how enraged he must be after hearing such an insult. You really couldn't keep your mouth shut, did you?! Why did you have to meet all those friendly deities that didn't care about status?! Now you must have angered the ONLY deity that you really didn't want to!

"Umpf, I never cooked for anyone. You try if you're that good."

You raised your eyes and...a pouty child, an kid that his mother had taken away the dough because he was making a mess with the flour. His arms crossed, offended by a remark that was true, by the way, his feet tapping the floor in a sign of nervousness, pinting out that your comment had left a mark on him, and his gaze...fixed on somewhere else in the room, maybe on his dog, enjoying its meal with the head of the deer.

Did you embarrass him?

The next day, he was able to gain some good ingredients. Some chilies, some salts and peppers, even some nice fresh onions. Where did he find them? You'll never know, but you must admit, he was quite good at following your distractions. He was careless and followed every step by your hand, and at the end of the job, he ate the soup in silence, without saying anything after that.

He must have found it quite good too.

///

"WAIT! Wait, wait, wait, please! Can't we ask someone else?!"

"No one will be able to help us. I can handle it; please stay still." He took away from the fire the long and thick needle and the silk string attached to the end of it.

"NO! At least put me to sleep! It's going to hurt like hell!" You tried to move away from the stump, only to be stopped by his hand.

"I could rip off your head; that would be more problematic than harm. I'll be fast, but you must stay still." He removed the bandages from what was left of your limb, positioning the severed arm near it.

You gasped, a small tear escaping your eye. You were scared.

He noticed his free hand handing you a piece of wood.

"In your mouth...you'll need it.". 

///

It was like you never lost it to begin with. The same medicine was now an ointment to apply, and he reattached them to help the regrow of the lost parts. Your legs started to feel better too; you could walk with his help or a cane. Xiatian too was a nice helper in that case, being your support and all when you regain your ability to move.

But you were really bored.

"And what...is this?" He motioned towards the numbers of some mini-Snowman, tall as a doll, that you were stilkl making around.

"I don't like talking to you, so I made some company from myself."

"Ah..." he silently reached you, sitting at your side but never disturbing your work.

"They are people that you know?"

"All of them—me and Yuán Fèn—had met them in our journey. Some of them are good; some of them needed the right way; others are lost."

All of them were made with the same round shape, making them similar, but each one had at least one feature that made it different and special. He pointed out one with some small detail on the face.

"Who's the one there?"

"The third spider sister! She's just so nice, you know? They all have the right to hate us, but she's quite the mediator! She loves poetry, and her dresses are so lovely! I like to talk with her; she kind of likes humans!"

"Oh, the spider Yaoguai...and the big one there?"

"The second prince of the flowing sand. He's sad, but he's always nice to me. I hope he can recover soon with his brother."

"I see...and the destine done?"

"Here!" You held pridefully the small snowman, a stick in his hand, and a happy face. So near to your feet, it must have been the first one you had made.

"You really care for him..." 

"I do! He's my friend! ...a very...good friend." He had noticed that silent spark that screamed to be freed from the bounds of morality and friendship. You too were bound after all.

"Well, they're not perfect, but here they are! All my friends! I hope they're fine."

"And where are you? Where's the Bián huá?"

"Oh...me, eh?... I'm not that cool like them. I can just be the one who makes the funny little snowman."

He raised his eyebrow, noticing how little of yourself you were talking. He raised his hand, moving the snow like a whirlwind. The snow, by moving, was forming a small sculpture with your exact semblance.

"....Show off." You blunter out.

///

"And so, my uncle decided to leave the quarry and let it go."

Your laugh echoed in the small shrine. Erlang never noticed how genuine it was before that night.

"You're terrible! I can't believe they ask of all people but you to take care of Wukong!"

"Well," he said, drinking some wine, "I was the only one with enough power to do so, and..." he chuckled, smiled, looking to the ground, and sighed, "He and I... we were so similar. I know no one could have ever bested me, but him."

The words he said, you wonder, how many times he hopes to express those feelings to someone but never finds the right one? How long he kept those weights on his chest? When he talked, he didn't sound like someone full of glory and of himself for defeating one of the strongest warriors in the universe; he seemed sad, melancholic, and regretful.

"Were you friends?"

"...I guess we were." He then aptted your shoulder.

There, something moved in your head. Everything changed; you were no more on that mountain; the shrine had become a vast expanse of clouds; so many people around you—the same that had hurt you.

There were some... no, they couldn't be the Yaoguasi king?! Why were they there?! And...Erlang...why he's covering his hand?

"You have to go to sleep now; you still need to rest."

And, without being able to express anything, he left you there, asking yourself what you just saw.

/// 

The day passed; your body came back to your old vigor, but something was different that day. The air was thick, the snow was falling, and Erlang Shen, after so many days, had finally started to show more emotions than his natural calmness. He was waiting for something.

"Erlang?" You spoke to him, observing how connected he was in front of the fire. Xiaotian was near him, waiting for something like its master.

"About me... sending you home... forgive my lie, dear one. I do not know how to do that."

You were just reaching him to his small spot, near the fire place that he had started in the courtyard, when you stopped in your tracks after hearing him. What? Was that a lie?

"A...lie?...w-why did you?"

"Many before you came... and all of them were swawed away from this path...but you..." His kind eyes met yours. "You surprised me many, many times here."

It was... a test? He was testing your faith. Your trust in the Destined one? And then again, he kept silent, thinking about these weeks alone with you.

You befriended many Yaoguai, chosen kindness. You, that stode in the center of the storm, still believed so little of yourself.

You were a shining star, not knowing how important you were. You started to be important for many... and for him. But this... this is another story.

"Time is near, Bián huá. He's coming, calling by your bounds and your destiny."

"Wh's co-" you realized. Your eyes started to water, remembering about your precious friend that you never, not even a single moment, had stopped hope he could find you.

"Yes," he smiled at you. "This is our last time together."

"I still have so many questions! I need to know! I...i...." those visions. He was his friend. What did he hide that faithful day?! 

"You'll have your answers... as his own."

Sound of steps in the snow. Someone was running, despite the ice, despite the cold. His fluffy tail, his strong and determined eyes.

Yuán Fèn.

"Keep cover, Y/N. You really don't want to see this fight."

///

That wasn't a fight.

You saw your friend fight—that wasn't one—and you couldn't even say that you were in your right mind because, for the first time, you didn't want a winner, nor a loser.

At the end of the fight, you don't know what happened, but light engulfed you, just like the day Erlang saved you from those celestial warriors.

When the light dimmed, you weren't on the snowy mountain anymore.

The warm light of spring danced between the branches of the plum blossoms; the wind slowly hummed between the trees, the grass tickling your feet. The sound of a creek, the chirping voices of the birds...where you even in the mortal realm. And...he was there.

Your normal gourmet was now an intricate Hanfu, pink like the flowers of the plum trees. He smiled a gentle smile; you questioned if it was real or just a product of your imagination.

"...where....are we?"

"I thought you would like some colors."

He remembered you as a prince and you as a princess, one that wondered if she was supposed to fit in her role. He held your hand, asking you one last time...to trust him.

Slowly, your fingers intertwined together, and there you saw it, another vision...

The truth.

You're hands still together, he held so strongly, afraid to lose these last moments. Your eyes start to water again. Small droplets of tears shined through the light.

"You...you and him...you planned it...all this time you..."

"He was a foolish one...to believe that a status could grant him freedom..." he chuckled, a bitter one like his medicines. "And yet... maybe... I too wanted something like that... yet I never had that kind of courage to do so."

Your throat was close, your legs trembled, and he was there, ready to catch you.

"....You..." Hiccups prevented you from formulating more words, but you couldn't stop. "You...suffered..all alone..all this time..I could never."

You couldn't hold it anymore, but his strong arm girded around you, trying to bring an inch of comfort to your heart. You figured out everything, and what you could only feel now was the immense sadness of his own story.

A friend for him, but a villain for many.

"The Bián huá... meant to change the circle... who could have guessed that even with me, you could find some kindness in the end?"

"NO!" Your hand gripped his white clothes. "You've...you've done it for him! You're not evil! You're not like them!"

He sighed,

sad smile on his face. He revealed your face to the light, caressing the eye that he tended with care. A flower appeared in your hair—a small plum flower, white and pure.

"As I would love to fight him over this treasure... this fight has already been won."

"What...what's going to happen now?"

"My dear, your journey...as his own...is only beginning."

And while everything faded, his lips seemed so soft, like those petals.

He still needs to steal something from him.

///

"I can't understand you! Your plan did work! Then why are you still moping around?!"

After the great fight, only Nezha decided to go and meet the sacred divinity.

"Little brother..." said Erlang in a sad tone. "You couldn't understand..."

The young one looked at his own senior...then gasped.

"Erlang...did you just..."

He didn't respond. He just held that flower and a small statue made of snow.

@sun-jglim

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[7brownsuga7]

The God who answers after dark ☆

One - Remember:

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Summary: Time has slipped through your fingers since that last encounter with him—the one where he showed you a side of intimacy you hadn’t known before. His touch lingered long after he left, a haunting reminder of what it felt like to be close to someone in ways you couldn’t fully comprehend. You’ve tried to push it all aside, to erase the memory, but the ache of his absence runs deeper than you expected. Forgetting, you realize, only sharpens the memory, bringing it back with an intensity that leaves you torn between longing and pain. Every attempt to move on is met with flashes of that night, where your body remembered even when your mind resisted. The confusion wraps itself around you, a constant reminder of the vulnerability he exposed in you. You want to let it go, to find peace in his departure, but the harder you try to forget, the more vividly it returns. Remembering, it seems, is a cruel paradox—you cannot forget without confronting everything that you wish you could erase.

Tags&warnings: Jungkookxfemreader, fluff and a bit of smut if you would call it that?!?? Jungkook is obsessed with reader, a bit delusional. Flashbacks, descriptions of penetration. MDNI!!!

Word count: 2k+

Note: took me forever to post this, my bad lol I was procrastinating. Doesn’t have that much smut because idk I’m genuinely tired LOOL? I’m more for fluff nowadays.

Comment to be added to tag list

Tag list: @rutukn

The God who answers after dark ☆ series master list: Here ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

You found yourself waiting for the darkness.

Unsure of which one.

The one that lulls you towards a dreamfell night. Where you feel the most comfortable as the stars and moon shine through your window. Where you feel as if it’s just you, the world so still, so silent.

Or the one that races through your mind like water down/through a stream. That reminds you of the night itself. Everywhere you went he was there. You could feel him all around you just like the night you shared together.

He was in the air embracing you

He was the moon constantly changing, revealing different phases of himself with every passing day. He was the odd comfort you felt when you were out amongst the dark sky.

He was the darkness

You missed both.

Falling asleep before the night even came. And too stubborn to call out his name.

A name that you gave him once when you were younger, that he held onto years past that.

The night was as warm as his touch on you that night. The wind gentle like his hold on you. The breeze caressing your skin like how he did, so effortlessly, it felt right.

You’d never admit you was waiting for a particular presence, as much as you loved the night itself , you’ve grown accustomed to something more greater than that.

And even though you could still talk to the wind and the trees like you used to when you were young, it’s not the same as hearing his alluring voice sink into you.

You waited for him to come. Even though you were avoiding him, you hoped he wasn’t avoiding you.

You wonder if he never came because you never called for him. Or maybe because you’re just another human in his little game.

So you laid there reminiscing. Other times trying to forget. And even trying to keep those memories forever, as you wrote them in your diary.

And when day came you missed his presence, even though he still lingered around. The sun kissing your skin like how his soft lips once did.

You were angry because everything reminded you of him. You couldn’t escape him even if you tried.

So you tried to forget about that night. About him. You decided to forget it and only remember what life was like before.

But what was life like before?

He’s been around for most of it.

You aimed to distract yourself with any possible thing.

But how could you when you can still feel his touch lingering on your skin. Like a stubborn burn that stings and leaves a faint scar.

Before how he made you feel. Before you knew what a man’s touch felt like, what his touch felt like. Having him on you, all around you, inside you.

But he’s not a man…

He’s a thing, something so much greater than what you’ve imagined him to be. And that’s what you try to remind yourself, despite you trying to forget him as a whole.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

It was day again.

You’ve forgotten what night feels like. What it looks like. You miss watching the stars decorate the dark sky. You miss hearing the creatures of the night come out. You miss him… and you miss the quietness the night brought.

The quietness you wish you heard right now as you walk across the busy campus.

Your thoughts run wild, familiar and unfamiliar faces cross your path as you try to reach your destination.

You’re sure you’re loosing it when you feel a familiar presence walk beside you, and feel the familiar chill run down your spine when he says, “Out of all the humans I’ve come across, I always manage to find myself drawn back to you”

You look beside you, once a space of nothing but air now filled with none other than himself.

You’ve been avoiding him as much as you can since the last time you both saw each other. Since you last let him see you in a more vulnerable light.

You didn’t know how to deal with the situation, so you did what you did best and that was avoid.

“You’re not drawn back to me, you simply chose to be here. You can be anywhere in the world and you choose to be on a campus with me” you mutter bitterly.

“Your tone is distasteful y/n. Nothing like how sweet you sounded when you were calling for me”

You pause, stopping in your tracks when you catch the smirk on his face.

“We said we won’t speak about it”

“You said my love. I only make deals, not promises”

Not wanting to feed in to whatever he’s doing, you continue to walk. Not caring if he follows you or not. Still, you ignore the way you feel when you notice him swiftly make his way back beside you.

Time passes.

Just the sound of endless chatter between the people making their daily route, and the faint sound of cars passing by lingers between you two.

It’s nice. It’s not awkward like you had imagined. Tense yes, but when was there ever not tension between you two? It was just right. Like it had been before you both crossed that deadly line. The line you both saw but had never spoke about. The line you had always been curious about, whether you should cross it or not, or let it be just a mere thought you had that you tried to shove to the back of your mind, but would always make itself known whenever you laid in bed thinking of how it must feel to be touched.

“Do you know you’re the only person that’s ever given me a name?”

You peer at him, waiting for him to continue. Your eyes curious as you study the side of his face, wondering why he decided to say that.

His face carved and structured by none other than yourself, yet you always seem so surprised whenever you see him. So in awe at how one’s mind can create such a beautiful thing.

He continues, “I told you before that we don’t get given names, our only identity is the thing we are, the thing we own. For me it’s darkness. I used to love it, it held so much power. It made me feel like I was worth something. Not until you decided to call me-“

“Kook” you say. The name you gave him as a child feeling foreign on your lips. You hadn’t called him that in a long time, deciding to leave that name in the past.

“Kookie” he corrects.

“Hm, well I think you’ve grown out of that now” your tone holds the same bitterness as you continue walking the route to your class.

“I was waiting for you to call on me” his words linger in the air like the aroma of a freshly cooked dinner - warm, inviting, and comforting, making you feel instantly at home .

You’re not sure if you sense a hint of vulnerability hidden within his words. His words seeming more cautious as he continues, “I dont see you staying up anymore. You used to be perched by your bedroom window watching the sky, diary in your hand. Why not now?”

You ignore him choosing not to give him the satisfaction of hearing the truth.

You’ll ever admit that your favourite time of the day is night. That you feel less lonely during that time, less worried and less afraid. You’ll never admit that you look forward to a certain presence that accompanies you during that time.

You’ll never.

Even if he may already know, he’s a god after all.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” His hand catches yours, pulling you to a stop. His eyes are dark, waiting for you to answer him. They mimic the stars. It’s like you’re looking into a galaxy, his eyes holding so many unanswered questions, so many wishes and dreams. You feel yourself falling, falling in everything that is him.

Everything around you turns into night. You feel like you’re stepping on clouds as you get caught up in this little world. Just you and him.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” He asks again and you know it kills him to do that. Pride being one of his main traits.

There’s no escaping this. He’s trapped you.

There was only one other time he’s done this, created a space just for you and him, it’s when you were younger, he took your hand and brought you to this same place, the darkness. It was a way for you to escape your life for a while. He did it without a thought after seeing you cry to him, the hurt in you voice doing something to him that he’s never experienced before. That he’s sure only humans feel.

And now you’re here again, his whole presence surrounding you as his question lingers in the dark.

“Why did you leave?” You retort.

The corner of his mouth twitches, it’s typical of you to brush off his questions.

“That’s who I am. That’s what I do. I come and go. I’m not a constant, I obscure”.

You let his words sit with you, suffocate you, until they seep into your thoughts, twisting your perception, weighing you down with a heaviness you can’t shake.

You don’t blink when you say, “I didn’t call for you because just like you said, You come and go, you obscure. I needed clarity, not shadows” your voice comes out fainter than you had hoped.

You force yourself to look him in the eyes, the deep abyss of what you found yourself always looking forward to see. You didn’t think it was possible for them to darken, but they do, as well as everything around you.

“And yet you still seek those shadows. I know you look for me whenever you see them” his hand delicately brushes against your cheekbone, slowly making its way to caress your jaw. “My dear y/n, you fail to realise sometimes clarity isn’t always what you need. It’s the shadows that show you what’s truly there, hidden beneath the light.”

With his touch still on you, he leans in and whispers, “you seem to have forgotten, let me remind you”

And just like that memories of any intimate moment you both shared flashes around you, flooding your mind, surrounding you in a whirlwind of forgotten warmth. But was it really forgotten?

As the memories flood in, suddenly you're enveloped in the darkness of your room. The air between you crackles with unspoken longing. The world outside ceasing to exist as your eyes meet for a moment.

You blink as another memory hits. You reaching out fingers trailing lightly along the curve of his jaw, feeling the coolness of his skin under your touch. The darkness around you stills as his breath catches while he gently cups your face, his thumb brushes against your cheek with a tenderness that speaks volumes. The space between you two tightens, your breaths mingling as his lips brush yours, forming into a kiss that is soft and reassuring, filled with a promise of deeper want, need.

“Do you remember my love?”

How could you forget? The way your kisses deepened as you pulled him closer to you with your fingers threaded through his hair. The way your pussy would throb just from his mere presence alone. The way his fingers worked on your body, playing you like one of his instruments you know he loves.

He knew your body so well, even when you were still trying to figure it out yourself.

A flashback runs through your mind every few seconds. Filled with images and feelings of what was and what could have been.

His cock slowly fills you, stretching you, every inch making you feel how tightly your body grips him. He's the only one who's ever had you like this, the only one to feel your warmth, to claim every inch of you. You were so wet and ready. Your moans mix with his, rising together in a rhythm, a breathless symphony that fills the space between you. Each thrust draws out another note, a melody of shared pleasure, building in intensity as your bodies move in perfect harmony.

His scent surrounds you, rich and earthy, intoxicating in its rawness. He's everywhere— inside you, around you, filling every inch of your senses. His touch is light, almost ghostly, yet it leaves a trail of heat in its wake, making your skin tingle with anticipation. It's as if even the air between you hums with his presence, leaving you craving more.

You shiver, not from the cold but from the intensity of his gaze as his eyes roamed over you, drinking you in. His fingers brushing along your exposed skin. You remember the way your breath hitched when his mouth followed, hot and wet against your skin, his tongue flicking over your nipple in a way that made your back arch, pushing you closer to him.

His other hand, still on your waist, gripped you tighter, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you.

The feel of his cool, bare skin against yours was intoxicating, sending a wave of chills coursing through your body. Each slow, agonizing stroke made your breath hitch, your pulse quicken. Every touch, every movement, was a reminder of how deeply he held you captive-body, mind, and soul. His hands explored with deliberate slowness, as if he had all the time in the world, drawing out every sensation, every shiver. You could feel the weight of each moment, the way it lingered between you, an unspoken intensity building with each soft caress, until nothing else existed but the raw, electric connection.

Everything comes to a stop and you find your self short of breath, just like you were that night.

Your mind is a whirlwind, unable to distinguish between what's real and what's imagined. Between what you’ve lived and what you ache to relive. He’s left you tangled in confusion, unraveling every certainty you once had. He hasn’t just unsettled you—he’s undone you entirely. He’s confused you, he’s ruined you.

When you escape the chaos of your mind, seeking the comfort of his familiar eyes, you're pulled back to that night you shared—only to be left alone once more.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The God who answers after dark ☆

- mimi ☆

[leiascully]

Can I request a smutty/angsty prompt? Mulder initiating more sex because he’s secretly having a bit of baby fever which opens a very serious (fight/?)conversation about having another kid. Set anytime after the truth

Here you go. 1500 angsty words; rated M for sexual situations. Trigger warnings for discussions of infertility, pregnancy, medical interventions, PTSD/trauma, etc.

They’re in South Dakota, maybe, in a small dingy motel room on the bad edge of town. But it doesn’t matter, because they’re together. They’re finally out of the car and she’s pushing her hands under the hem of his t-shirt and he’s unbuttoning her jeans and it hasn’t been that long since they made love (days? A week?) but she’s nipping at him like she wants to devour him. Time loses its meaning on the road, and so does space. But they’re here, both of them, and that’s all he cares about.

He kisses her breasts. They’re different than they were before: softer and lower, the shape of them changed. The breasts that nourished his son. He worships them with his mouth and his hands. She makes wanting little sighs and kisses his head. She’s quieter now than she used to be. Less free, maybe. In his apartment, she used to scream her pleasure. It’s not like the neighbors weren’t used to it.

Her nails prick at his skin. She’s grown them long, painted them red. He doesn’t like it much, but it does disguise her. And he likes the feeling of them scratching welts down his back. After everything, maybe he shouldn’t enjoy the pain, but it’s on his terms now.

He lays her out on the bed. The comforter is scratchy and thin under his belly as he wallows between her thighs. She moans and tangles her fingers in his hair. He’s grown it out. She brushes it tenderly off his forehead sometimes, but it’s better when she tugs at it like she’s doing now. He still can’t feel everywhere. Nerve damage from whatever happened to him. But the scratches, the prickling in his scalp, the slightly damp skin of her palm wrapped around his cock: he can feel those things.

She writhes under him, murmuring his name. He slides up her body. Her body is different too. Her belly is softer, rounder, striped with silver where their son stretched her skin.

He wants to have another baby with her. He wants to be there this time, to hold back her hair when she vomits and feel her belly swell under his splayed fingers. He wants to spill himself inside her. The urge is primal, nearly overpowering. His woman, splayed open under him. He loves her incandescently. He wants to fuck her through the cheap bed until her body goes limp with pleasurable exhaustion.

This urge to plow into her, to put his child inside her, terrifies him. The veneer of civilization is already rubbed thin by their transient life. They don’t need a baby with them in the car. But he wants to hear her call out his name, and he wants to lose himself in her body, and he wants to see the look on her face when she realizes they have been granted another miracle.

He prowls up her body to kiss her mouth. She licks the taste of herself from his tongue, greedy for his kisses. She’s in a wild mood. She sucks at his lip, lips at his nipple. He pushes two fingers into her, thumbs at her clit, makes her squirm under him. She gasps. He takes his cock in hand, rubs it between her folds. The slick head of it rests against her entrance. He can feel himself thick and heavy with need.

“Mulder, wait,” she says. “We need a condom.”

“I thought we could do without one,” he says, withdrawing just a little. His shaft slides against her clit and she arches into him automatically.

“I’m out of birth control,” she says. “We can’t.”

“I thought maybe,” he starts to say. “I thought we could try.”

“Try?” She looks up at him, puzzled, and then her eyes widen. She wriggles out from under him and sits on the bed, pulling her knees up and locking her arms around them. “Mulder, no. We can’t.”

“Why not?” He rolls onto his side. “I know it’s not the best idea.”

“Do you have any idea what I went through?” she asks. Her voice is quiet but it trembles. “Mulder, do you have any idea?”

“I know the birth wasn’t what you wanted,” he says, and trails off. Because the truth is that he doesn’t know. He wasn’t there. He knows she knows that. He was gone, and she suffered alone: not just the nausea but the fear. But he suffered too.

“I didn’t know if I would give birth to a child or a monster,” she says. “Was it a miracle, Mulder, or some strange experiment? I love him - I loved him - beyond all reason, but I still can’t answer that question. Every day, I was afraid. I was sick with it. Every minute I carried him in my body, I was afraid for his life and mine. And I was alone.”

“You wouldn’t be alone,” he offers.

“How can you ask me this?” There are tears in her eyes. “How dare you ask me this now?”

“I thought….” He shakes his head in frustration. “It doesn’t matter.”

She’s crying now, tears rolling silently down her cheeks. One hand is pressed to her belly. The other still clutches her knees.

He rolls out of bed. The moment is gone. His cock is already drooping. He drags on his underwear and a pair of shorts, finds his t-shirt. His socks and sneakers were discarded on the floor in a more hopeful moment. He picks them up and puts them on again.

“Going for a run,” he says, as if it matters what he says, and then he’s out the door.

It’s hot. The air shimmers above the road, and there’s nowhere to run but the shoulder. He starts too fast, relishing the way the air burns in his lungs. He doesn’t have the stamina he used to, but fuck if he’s limping back early. She needs her space. So does he. There’s a chasm between them he’ll never be able to bridge with words. He might have done it with his body if he hadn’t been so rash.

It takes two. But his yearning doesn’t stack up against her avulsion. He remembers the toll the IVF took on her. She can’t learn that William’s conception can’t be replicated outside of a lab. He understands that. She can’t lie on her back with her legs up, stare at a pregnancy test that refuses to reveal the results she wants, track her cycle. He remembers the shots and the mood swings. He remembers the way disappointment crushed her. He remembers the way her back ached the last month of her pregnancy, how she couldn’t sleep.

But god, he wants a child. He wants a family, with her. He wants their child. William.

Leaving felt like erasing their tracks. It felt like starting over. For a moment, he let himself be overwhelmed with the potential of it. Now he plods down the road, legs heavy, and begins to understand the nerve he’s touched. He’s angry, and he’s aching, and he’s mourning the peace they might have known. But she’s aching too, and furious, and guilty, and ashamed.

There’s a hole in their hearts where their family might have been. He can’t fill it. Instead, he runs away, across the baking plains. He runs until he’s tired and then he turns around.

The door is unlocked when he gets back to the motel. Not safe, not their protocol, but he left the key with her. He’s sweaty and covered in dust. He stinks. He’s exhausted. The room is dark when he enters. He looks for her in the bed. She isn’t there. For a moment, panic shoots through him. But the car was in the parking lot - he leaned against it to stretch.

As his eyes adjust to the dim, he realizes she’s curled up in the armchair farthest from the door, her feet tucked up under her. Her lashes are stuck together from crying. Her sleep looks uneasy but deep. His heart breaks a little at the sight of her. It hurts, too, to know he hurt her, and it hurts to feel his own pain unacknowledged. But the ties that bind them have been snarled and knotted for years. He knows the bite of that rope as well as he knows his own heartbeat.

He slides the comforter from the bed and tucks it around her. She murmurs in her sleep but doesn’t stir. The air conditioner rattles and hisses. The air in the room is icy as the blood in his veins. He gazes down at her. She’s made herself so small. That’s his fault. That hurts. Another cut to add to his thousand. Death has already come for him and spit him back up. Now he’s a walking wound, and so is she. He forgets that sometimes, or tries to. It didn’t work this time.

She hasn’t woken by the time he’s finished his shower. He should go find them some dinner, but he’s weary to the bone. He slides into the lumpy bed alone and pulls the thin sheet over himself. It’s cold, but he’s been cold before. He knows the lonely chill of the grave. It’s unwelcome, but so familiar he’s almost comforted. The sheet is a shroud. The room closes them in, a coffin for two, suffocated by the once-fertile earth of their dreams.

[furiousgoldfish]

A common struggle of cptsd is having what we think are 'exaggerated reactions', or 'overreactions' to things; we believe that we should be able to stay calm, collected, peaceful, pleasant and well behaved in any situations. Our common responses of intense anxiety, anger, panic, shock, pain and grief, at situations that other people are able to respond to with minimal emotion, are a source of shame for us. We feel like we don't have it under control enough, we feel like a failure for not being able to stay collected, for having these big embarassing spill of emotions that sometimes stop us from functioning completely.

It feels like it's us who is wrong, if other people are able to have 'rational' and 'appropriate' responses to things, and we don't, it has to be an 'us' problem.

But then we sometimes see people reacting in an unsual or intense way to various things, and we think nothing of it, right? If someone responds with intense laughter or tears or panic at something that might not seem that big of a deal, we don't immediately think it's innapropriate or shameful. We consider that everyone is different, and reacts to things differently. And maybe that person had something happen to them that would cause a reaction like this, maybe they have a specific reason for how they react. And in most cases, we find it normal to accept their reaction and comfort them if necessary.

Sometimes we'll even rationalize or tolerate actually harmful reactions, like people reacting with rage or violence to issues that don't require that kind of response. We take their aggression as just a great intensity of wanting something to go their way, and we dare not criticize or shame it, we understand in that case, that people can't help wanting something, and that it's natural for them to fight for it.

So why is it so shameful and mortifying for us to have reactions of panic and pain, which essentially, are not harming anyone? Because we've been shamed for reacting in any way that inconveniences anyone, and we're used to comparing ourselves to what we believe are 'normal' people, and judging ourselves harshly if we come out short.

I don't think I've felt ashamed or mortified for any reaction I had to anything, until I was getting shamed and punished for it. People in general, don't question their reaction because they have no reason to, they trust their own judgment and their own emotions, if they naturally react badly to something, it's a bad thing, and thats that. But we are often punished and made to question our own reactions, often to cover up the abuse we reacted to. We were made to develop a deep sense of shame for having a bad reaction to abuse, so that another person might abuse us all they wanted, and we would only be able to look down, feel bad, and blame ourselves.

I want to argue that our reactions are appropriate and rational, considering what happened to us. Let's take a simple example: if a dog bites a person, and that person becomes infected, or very ill, or close to death as a consequence of it, this person will naturally become scared of dogs, right? And nobody will judge them or consider their bad reaction to dogs innapropriate. If something almost kills you, you will react badly do it. It's an appropriate reaction considering what had happened.

In that same way, if we suffered continual abuse, that constantly reminded us that we're worthless, incapable of anything, unable to live on our own, cannot be loved, cannot be redeemed, intrinsically evil, and this abuse brought on struggles with anxiety, depression, cptsd, suicidal feelings, it cost us years of our life that we spent in pain and shame, then yes, everything that reminds us of that abuse, everything that causes an emotional flashback or that same feeling of shame, will have an extreme reaction! It would be unnatural if it didn't.

And today's world is filled with disapproval, judgment, shaming, and even vitriol that is used to control others. Even gaslighting is starting to become common. Every dirty look, change of tone in someone's voice, burst of anger, pointing out our flaws, lashing out on us, showing less than perfect satisfaction, all of that is likely to be triggering to a person who's been trough abuse. We would not have been sensitive to it, if it hadn't almost killed us. Our reactions are appropriate, considering what had happened to us.

Even if the rest of the world is hell bent on judging you for having extreme reactions, you don't have to judge yourself. You know that your reactions are there because of what happened to you, because you need to be protected from this. You're not over-reacting, you're reacting in the only way anyone in your circumstances would. If people fail to see or understand the circumstance, that's their problem. You are not here to carry the shame of the world's ignorance.

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 90)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (68) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (23)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((3.4k))

Due to popular demand, I'm going to post a chapter bi-weekly, every Thursday and Sunday night until we hit Part 100!

YFN POV

“For someone so independent, you’re very needy,” Jordan chuckled.

YFN pouted, looking at her watch again. “They’ve been gone all fucking day. Surely that’s a bad thing?”

The slightly smaller woman shrugged. “Not necessarily. I mean, what if they’re just tying everything up with a pretty bow to make sure that it’s all sorted today? With both Lucy and Leah speaking, and then our testimonials, along with Ridley and Alexia, and your injury report, surely that’s enough to have Kristie locked up for the foreseeable future.”

Kristie. She never wanted to hear that name again. Lucy had no intention of letting her be in the same room as her, and Leah had offered to go as a character witness, knowing that her fame would make them realise how important of a case it was.

Jordan reached out and squeezed her hand. “It should be an open and shut case. Especially seeing as you didn’t want to go for the harshest punishment.”

“I just didn’t want her doing it to anyone else. She needed to know it was wrong.”

“Some jail time and community service will definitely get the message across.”

“And restraining orders…” she murmured. That had been Lucy’s non-negotiable.

“Leah there is going to throw a spanner in the works too. Her platform is massive. No one in their right mind will want her publicly speaking about how Kristie got away with her friends being stalked and then assaulted to the point of this.”

She gestured to YFN sitting up in the hospital bed.

She squeezed her hand. “Thanks for being here, Dory.”

Jordan’s little smile took over from her serious, friend look. “Of course, mate. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

A few minutes later Lucy’s doctor returned, or rather, her doctor too.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” he said as he stood next to her bed with a gentle smile. He was one of those men that you were always comfortable around. The benevolent type. “The scans are good - better than I expected given your… history.” Another smile, though this one was sympathetic. “Would you like the good news or the very good news first?”

She felt herself let go of tension she didn’t realise she’d been holding.

“Save the best for last.”

“Very well.” He put the scans up on the light box and pointed to her collarbone. “The second surgery went well. The screws are holding, though I’m afraid I need you in the sling to keep it immobile for the next 4 weeks or so..”

She sighed, though knew it was the case. Her Christmas was officially in a sling.

He continued. “Unless there’s an incident, or any issues with pain, I won’t need to give it a check-up until just prior to Christmas, and then I’m hoping to have you out of it for the new year.”

She smiled and nodded. “Well, that’s positive…”

He moved onto the next two x-rays. “Your forearm and wrist are healing well, though I’m afraid the cast will need to remain on for the next 6-8 weeks. We’ll give you a check-up when we get rid of the sling. Your jaw is also healing nicely, I know the bruising has been persistent, but expect it to be gone in the next week or so..”

“I can handle the cast,” she chuckled. “My shoulder is just in need of a good movement.”

She’d just wanted to swing her arm around, to roll her shoulder, instead of having it stuck where it was. It was a level of frustrating that bordered on pain.

“There are a few small massages that you can do to help, though you’ll need to be quite gentle with them, and careful not to shift your collarbone too much.”

He handed her a sheet with the exercises.

“Lucy can help with these. Any issues, give me a call.”

“Thank you,” she replied, gratefully. She was always grateful at the opportunity for Lucy to touch her more.

Jordan took the sheet interestedly and looked over it.

“Now onto your ribs. They’ve been thrown around a bit…” he looked at her with eyebrows raised and she blushed, knowing full well that she’d been abusing them a little too much with Lucy. “…which I understand.” He was politely giving her an out. “You already had several past injuries and you’re very limited with your movements given your state, and so it’s understandable that your ribs are catching the brunt of it. Though, you’ll need to be more mindful. No overexertion. No twisting yourself. No…excessive movements.”

To his credit, he did seem entertained by it.

“I think you should call Lucy and tell her that directly,” Jordan joked.

YFN’s mouth dropped open, though he and Jordan shared a good chuckle at her expense. She made a mental note to not tell Lucy so that she didn’t lose any part of her sex life.

“Now onto your kneecap…”

She braced herself for bad news, but how could it be, when he’d said the worst of it first?

“It was only ever a minor crack, however I wanted you to keep your full weight off of it as you can’t exactly use crutches. I’m going to keep the brace on, however you can walk on it again.”

She grinned – her first thought being that Lucy was going to be so happy. She could picture her face lighting up now.

“Now don’t overdo it. Don’t put all of your weight onto it at once. Place your foot on the ground and ease your weight onto it. It’s a slow process, but you need to build that habit up so you’re not overdoing it. The brace will be on for another few weeks, and I’m hoping to take it off just before Christmas.”

No brace for Christmas. Lucy was going to be thrilled.

“Hoping…” he said again, making sure she understood that it was only a possibility at this stage. “…and you can take the brace off for showers now, just don’t put all of your weight on it in the shower.”

No more garbage bags. She nodded. “Thanks, Doc.”

They finished up with him, getting her scripts for medication and some more information. Lucy, ever the anatomy fanatic, would want to know every detail possible. Especially because it was her.

She walked slowly to the car, relished the feel of being able to use her legs like legs again. She was officially The Little Mermaid.

She groaned the relief for her hips and lower back as she did so, knowing this would take a lot of strain from Lucy needing to carry her around.

She slipped into Miles, Lucy’s car, and Jordan slipped into the driver’s seat. The footballers had taken Leah’s Mercedes as it was lower to get into and Lucy hadn’t wanted her dropping into the seat and struggling to get out.

It was later in the afternoon now, and she looked at the time, wondering why it was all taking so long.

“Celebration dinner?” Jordan asked.

“Why do I feel like you all had this planned already?”

“Maybe. You know Lucy…”

“Has she messaged you?!” She looked over at Jordan who seemed to barely be able to see over the steering wheel. She gave a sympathetic smile. “No, sorry. But the table is still booked, so maybe we should see if they make it? I would suggest Katie and Caitlin but they’re not in town. Most of the girls are with their international squads. We can ask Alex but Jill is in Manchester. There’s a few other’s in town.. LJ and Keira, maybe?”

“Oh, that’s an idea!”

Jordan gave them both a call. LJ wasn’t available, however Keira and Georgia were. They met them at the Italian restaurant Lucy had booked and made a night of it. The girls joked about how they’d be in trouble if they were caught eating carbs when they were in season, though YFN had convinced them that they’d deserved it after their hard fought victory over the Netherlands. The more she got to know Keira, the more she got along with her. She opened up slowly, though at the end of the day, they both thought similarly, and had a similar sense of humour.

It was also one of the first times she’d been close and in intimate conversation with Georgia since she’d caught the first kiss between her and Lucy. They spoke about the game, Scotland, how much they needed to win by, Lumos and the interviews. The three footballers had a good catch up now that they all played for different teams, and they saw less of Jordan.

The two opted to skip dessert as they’d apparently already been too bad, though once they saw Jordan and YFN’s desserts, they couldn’t help but try a taste.

When their dinner was ending, she checked her phone and her stomach sank.

“Still nothing?” Jordan asked, seeing her reaction.

She gave a sigh. “No. You?”

She shook her head.

“Doesn’t usually take this long, surely?” Georgia asked. “What, are they hand delivering her to jail?”

“There must be a good reason…” Keira comforted. “Either way, we have time to do the interview if you want?”

They were being efficient, with Keira offering at dinner to come over and do the couch interview that YFN had suggested was best to ease the ‘Wonze’ fanatics of the internet. She still didn’t know Keira well, though she could see that she’d offered partly because not only did she want to get it over and done with, as she hated interviews, but she knew YFN needed a distraction from the current legal situation that Lucy and Leah were tied up in. She called Bridget and Emily to see if they were available last minute for the interview. They were more than eager, as she knew they would be, though still offered them extra pay for the inconvenience.

After dinner, they made their way to Lucy’s and settled in, Bridget and Emily setting up for the interview while she ran through queries with Keira prior to it.

“Did you read the questions and prompts I sent..?”

She hadn’t expected her to, as the interview wasn’t supposed to take place until later in the month, however things seemed to be working this way for her for some reason.

Keira nodded, asking questions and YFN couldn’t help but be impressed at her eye for detail.

She’d said that Jordan and Georgia didn’t have to stay, but they’d insisted, wanting to catch up on lost time.

The interview went for just over an hour, though it was exactly what she’d wanted. Keira had not been tense at all, and she was proud of herself for creating such an environment. To be fair, she even felt like she’d flirted with her a little, which had surprised the Australian. She’d never seen an interview with Keira so comfortable before. Hopefully that would suppress the ‘Wonze’ fanatics who’d been sending her so much hate on social media.

Keira took photos for their interview, while she answered Georgia’s questions about the content process. She had very little content outside of the Lionesses as she played at Bayern Munich and they weren’t exactly known for their social media. They didn’t have time for another interview that night as the girls had training the next day before flying out to Scotland, and needed to get rest.

They all left, though Jordan stayed with her. She looked at her watch as they walked out of the door. 8pm. She hadn’t heard from Lucy since 7am.

She sighed, dropping her hand in defeat. Jordan gave her a cuddle. “They’ll be home soon..”

She cuddled into her friend, allowing herself to relax when her phone buzzed. She jumped immediately and grimaced at the pain that shot through her body as she grabbed for her phone.

Joe calling…

At this time of night?

“Hey, Joe,” she answered, feeling awkward calling her that.

“Hello, YFN. How are you?” Her voice sounded as soft and regally calm as ever. It was comforting to her.

“I’m doing well. It’s late – is everything okay?”

“Oh, yes. I was calling to check in on the hearing today. Did it go well?”

She wondered if she’d used any of her influence to help the situation. Her voice suggested that perhaps she had, though just a little.

“Luce and Leah aren’t home yet. They’ve been gone for over 13 hours.”

“I see. It’s not unusual, though. I’d like an update when they’re done, please. I need to make sure this is all wrapped up so that you’re safe.”

Seeing as you don’t want the security team I offered, she could practically hear her saying. Catherine was worried about her, which made her feel loved. She’d never had that from a mother figure beyond her grandma. Her heart softened.

“Thank you…” she said, gratefully. “I’ll let you know when I know. Also, I had a check up today. Everything is healing well, and I can now walk, albeit gently.”

“I read the report you sent through,” YFN could hear the smile in her voice. “I was very happy to read that. Hopefully you can be moving a bit more freely by the new year.”

“Fingers crossed!”

She gave a light laugh. “Mine certainly are. Now, I was thinking about the Gala event this week that Lucy and Alessia are doing this week. We’re a bit on the back foot with everything since there’s so much going on, however I was hoping that the timing will work out to have our own Lumos event this week, on Friday or Saturday perhaps. Do you think we could get any high profile players in that time?”

“How many were you thinking?”

“Ten maximum. I don’t want the focus to be lost if there are too many.”

“Well, Lucy will be with me for a little before headed back to Barca. Most girls will be back with their teams by then. I think I can get Jordan Nobbs, Leah Williamson, potentially any players from the WSL, and also perhaps… perhaps…”

“Perhaps?”

She pondered. “Perhaps… Alexia. That’s a big maybe, though.”

“Alexia would be the white whale, if we could get her on. Otherwise, it sounds great. Perhaps some other nationalities too, if you can?”

“Coaches too?” She asked, trying to think who would be available at a moment’s notice. “I could ask Sarina. Emma. I could get Caitlin for Australia, Katie for Ireland, Yui for Japan, Ashley for Canada, or similar if they're not available?”

“Brilliant. I do hate to drop this on you last minute, though I have been wanting to get it done before the rush prior to Christmas. If you could look through availability and give me a date and names, I’ll work on booking a location for Friday or Saturday so we can start promoting it.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thank you, YFN. About tomorrow night, I have a location to meet. I’m assuming Lucy will be coming also?”

“I think Leah and Jordan have a right to be there too.”

She could practically hear her nodding. “I’ve sent the location and time to Mark. I have an aircraft departing at night for you. I’ll put you all on the manifest. You may need to clear it with the Lioness management.”

“Leah will handle that…”

“Perfect. I’ll send you the flight details.”

“Cath-” She cut herself off. “Are you sure about this?”

“There’s only so much hiding I can do. This is an unnecessary evil, unfortunately. You’ve been through too much already. I won’t have you fighting him too. I’m hoping to finish this once and for all with him tomorrow night, though from then on, my intention is still to be the silent partner while you are the face of Lumos. Has anything changed for you in regards to that?”

The empathy in her voice had YFN feeling comfortable. Comfortable enough that she could have said no, and Catherine would have accepted it without question.

“Nothing has changed on my end. I’m just very eager to get us onto a schedule where I’m not chasing my tail with interviews and events.” She chuckled. Catherine shared in her chuckle.

“Oh, I know. I’ve been hoping the exact same. It’s good to hear we’re on the same page, though. We’ll speak more tomorrow night. Until then – keep me posted on the hearing and anything you need at all, let me know.”

YFN and Jordan fell asleep on the couch, their feet overlapping under the blanket they shared as their heads were at opposite ends. She wasn’t sure how long she slept for, however she was woken by a warm kiss to the cheek and Lucy’s deep, comforting voice. “I’m here, little one. Everything’s okay.”

“Luce?” She mumbled, half asleep. She opened one eye, followed drearily by the other as she looked at her favourite person. Her expression was peaceful, which calmed the Australian.

She looked down at Jordan who was sitting up with Leah next to her, the two talking quietly. She looked back at Lucy.

“What happened?”

“It’s done, little one.”

She tried to prop herself up, and Lucy helped her, wrapping a strong arm around her waist to pull her up into a sitting position. “It took that long?”

“The incident happened in Spain, so we were delayed due to that, however someone pulled some strings for us.” Catherine. Lucy gave her a knowing look. “Without her, this would have been dragged out for weeks.”

“It’s done?”

She nodded as she reached out to stroke the yellowing bruises on her jaw. “Jail time for a period. Community service for the rest, as you didn’t want her to be stuck in there for the maximum time. Restraining orders for life. She won’t be attending any games in the future. And she apologised. It’s done.”

“She…apologised?”

“Mainly to me, but yes. She cried a lot.”

“That must have been hard…”

“Yes and no. I don’t like seeing someone upset, but she did hurt the person I love so… my empathy was not there for her. I’m just happy it’s all over.” She leant forward and gave her a soft kiss on the temple. “What did you two get up to, love?”

“We had dinner with Keira and Georgia,” Jordan said from across the couch.

Leah gave YFN a smile. She looked tired.

Lucy was caught off guard. “Oh?”

“It was great,” she reassured, putting her hand under the collar of her shirt, and on that strong collarbone of hers. “I did my couch interview with Keira after it.”

Lucy looked impressed, though like she had questions for when they were alone. She didn’t blame her.

“And?” Jordan prompted.

“Oh! And Lumos wants to host a public event with 10 female footballers in London this Friday or Saturday. Are you all free?”

“You know I am,” Lucy murmured, leaning her head against hers.

“I’ll be in town.” Leah answered.

“You already know I’m in.” Jordan agreed, looking at Leah. YFN hadn’t realised until just then that it must have been a while since they’d done something like that together in public.

“And I messaged Riddles, hoping to get Alexia if she’s back in town…”

“Mmn. I’m sure it’ll all be perfect. You’re good at the last minute organising,” Lucy teased.

She rolled her eyes. “And whose fault is that?”

She gave an innocent look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I do wonder how the doctor went today? I have an email titled: ‘No funny business.’”

Jordan cackled. Actually cackled. YFN blushed, a little embarrassed and frustrated that she had to tell her. Lucy didn’t understand. Bless her, she was incredibly smart, though a lot less quick for these types of situations.

“Everything is healing well apart from my…ah…ribs. They’ve not been having the rest they should.”

“I believe he said they’ve been ‘thrown around a bit’…” Jordan offered.

Lucy clicked and gave a guilty look. Before she could speak, YFN jumped in, trying to distract her with ten different things to keep her mind away from limiting sex with her.

“But everything else is healing well… hoping to be out of the sling by the new year and the knee brace by Christmas. Also, I can officially walk.” She gave a proud smile. “No more looking for the wheelchair in Scotland, Luce. I’ll be the one-armed flamingo with the Australian flag.”

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Anything that involves Toto Wolff with wife reader. Idc, fluff and suggestive. Thanks!! :)

i am so sorry for how long this took!! i hope you like it and if you do have any suggestions let me know :)

being with toto was exhilarating to put simply. Everyone knew him as the big bad Wolf and it wasn’t a bad description of him it just needed a little bit of context.

The Mercedes tables and head sets had often been the brunt of Totos anger and frustration but behind the tough guy facade was a kind hearted husband.

Every now and then especially after a bad race the media loved to make him seem like a villain, but unfortunately this time they chose you.

You had once faced the brunt of how unfair the media could truly be.

Having only just brushed hands with Fred and have given him a small smile the media made it seem like you were out there cheating on toto with his championship rival snitching out the teams secretes for quick hookups.

You were truly blissfully unaware of what was going on as your husband had warned you about the dangers of social media especially as passionate fans would often end up flooding the drivers wife or girlfriends comments or dms if their favorites were not performing.

This was coming from a rather nasty encounter Carmen and Lilah had with fans so you knew better then to search up your name on the internet.

You thought you were safe from the heat of Mercedes not performing well up until a nasty member of the media and a quite loyal Mercedes fan had shoved you hard towards the ground accusing you of being a slut and a whore and why Ferrari were getting better then Mercedes.

Hot tears pricked your eyes, they almost burned like acid. How could he say that, did he not know that you had sworn your life to toto.? your head pounded after just being assaulted and called a slut in the middle of the paddock and then being forced to be the brunt of all the paddock gossip.

You had always vowed to be loyal to toto and to always be honest with any feelings that might come between the two of you

Unfortunately you had broken the second vow, knowing how protective your husband tended to be in normal situations you knew it was best for his PR image and team to not let him know of this incident.

However the wounds you had suffered from the rough fall were rather prominent, you simply decided to tell your husband if he would notice and ask that you had a rather silly fall.

But before all of that you really wanted a nice quiet corner to let out the tears you were holding back. You knew the lack of your presence would not be noticed as toto had a rather long team meeting.

Hastily you made your way to the front of the lady’s bathroom and simply lost it. You let everything out, the pain from the fall the humiliation the insulting words everything. The only thing that was able to muffle your cries so as to not alert anyone was your own hand.

You finally exited the bathroom after what seemed like ages when realistically it wasn’t more than half an hour. It wasn’t long until you retreated into the Mercedes motorhome beyond exhausted and frankly just needing your husband but alas you couldn’t tell him.

With millions of thoughts echoing your mind you slowly let yourself find sleep in the corner of Toto’s room.

Blissfully unaware of what was going to happen.

Toto knew he was a lucky bastard it wasn’t the amount of championship he had that made him come to that conclusion it was the fact that he had you out of all odds. He knew you inside out, knowing when you are well or unwell just by simple actions.

Toto prided himself in his abilities to comfort and protect you. So when he didn’t find you eagerly waiting near his side after the long meeting he knew something was wrong. The two of you were peas in a pod always close, something was surely up.

He made his way out of the motorhome on his way to try and figure out where his wife had wandered off to, he was told by multiple staff that they had last seen you near the ladies bathroom inside the motorhome. Toto simply made his way back inside his room only to find you curled up on the corner.

He chucked a little, just when he thought you couldn’t get any more adorable. His chuckle however was cut short when he noticed the small red cuts around your hands and palms and how your eyes seemed red and irritated not to mention the fact that your lashes were still wet.

He had this feeling that something most definitely had happened to his love and he wasn’t going to spare whosoever had hurt her.

Your sleep was quickly interrupted by your husband who looked rather cross. Without looking at him you quickly wiped your eyes and face jusy to get rid of the signs of your meltdown.

Toto the ever wise fox had noticed. He called you forward and quickly took your hands in his larger ones and simply asked what had happened.

You couldn’t help it, all the tears that you had cried out came back this time even worse. In a blink of an eye you were pulled towards your husbands chest and blubbered what had happened so much for keeping it a secret from him.

You noticed how the German man’s fists were getting more and more tighter almost to the point of it turning red. You knew this wasn’t going to end well and had made him swear that he would not do anything that would hurt him and the teams image.

With an annoyed sign he agreed and simply held you closer, and whispered nothing but angry German curses and how badly he wanted to run into the guy and give him a piece of his mind.

It had been a while since the incident happened, however social media got a whiff of all that occurred and had conducted their own little investigation which lead to the identity and basic information of your assaulter being leaked. You had no clue about this but toto he was having a field day.

Although he had promised you that he wasn’t going to do anything he hired a team of lawyers to sue your attacker named Paul for everything he had done.

Later that day toto held a press conference to bring light to the story and in rather stern terms explain how much he trusted you and how Bull shit the claims of the man were.

News got out of his actions and fans quickly swooned over your husbands reaction.

toto and you were laughing to all the tweets that were coming out saying how much of a protective mother hen toto really was and how fans wished that the both of you would remain ever so happier.

toto was never a villain without a reason, he just needed a little bit of context that’s all. his context came in the shape of you.

oh and toto made sure to permanently ban paul from all circuits 🤭

[stargirlanthem]

Please give me some motivation idc if it’s toxic or harsh, I need motivation to lose weight, will you help me? 🙏

i hatee giving meanspo i find it so mean and i always feel so bad 😭 but for me, something that motivates me is imagining what i would look like if i was sk1nn1er, how much better i would feel, how much nicer people would treat me, how long ive been waiting for this, etc. think about how the food will always be there, and you can always eat another time, but you dont have all the time in the world to lose w3ight. all the pain you go through will be worth it in the end, no one ever regrets getting sk1nnier. just remember everything will pay off!! i know you can do this, i wish you the bestest luck <333

also ty for the ask this is the first time ive gotten one and i appreciate it 🤍

[dyaz-stories]

Cuddling — Day two of Inukag Fluff Week

Second one shot for @inukagfluffweek! This one is set in canon, and probably a little more on the hurt/comfort side.

Keeping an eye on Kagome was second nature for Inuyasha. After all, if there wasn’t food on her plate, she’d grow hungry and Jewel shards hunting would be interrupted. If there wasn’t a fire to keep her warm, she’d be too tired to go on. If they were caught in a downpour without shelter, she’d get sick. If she kept going when her legs hurt, the next day would be hell. So he got her food, he built the fire, he found the shelter, he carried her on his back. Not ‘cause he cared, though, well, he did care, a little bit, the normal amount, whatever that was, but for purely practical reasons.

That meant he figured out early on that something was wrong. He couldn’t pinpoint what for the life of him, though.

He’d added wood to the fire. He’d caught and cooked a rabbit. He’d carried her on his back half the day, holding her two-wheeled thing in one hand. He’d even offered his services in ridding some farmer of pesky yokai, so they’d get to sleep in a barn for once. Sure, he wasn’t Miroku, and he couldn’t secure them a place in some luxury house, but he was trying his best, ‘kay? Miroku wasn’t around anyway, and Kagome had never complained about luxuries before.

And still, when everything should have been fine, something was clearly wrong. Kagome kept looking in the distance, eyes turning glassy, mouth curving downward as she buried herself in her thought, keeping him so, so far away from her even if she was sitting right next to him.

 Inuyasha had no damn clue how to fix it.

“What is it this time?” he snapped at last as she was finishing her food in silence, taking small, slow bites, and she jumped at the sound of his voice. Her wide brown eyes focused on him at last, and that simple action was grounding enough for him that he would almost have felt sorry for his outburst.

Almost.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and the immediate frown on her face told him she was not to be messed with right now — too bad he didn’t care, at this point.

“What’s wrong with you, you mean,” he scoffed, folding his arms and shaking his head. “You’ve been sulking for days. So tell me how to fix it, or just stop doing that already!”

If he’d been self-aware enough for that, he would no doubt have realized how childish he sounded. Kagome could have, too, but instead, her face flushed.

“I’m fine!” she replied, her voice too high-pitched to be convincing. “It’s not your problem anyway, so just forget about it!”

“How is it not my problem when you’re all—” He gestured at her, frustrated. “—and it’s a pain to travel!”

“Well if it’s a pain to travel with me, why don’t you just go with someone else?” she replied, raising her voice a little more.

“Because I don’t want to travel with someone else!” he yelled back. “I just want you to tell me how to not make it hard for you!”

She went quiet then, uncharacteristically so, red spreading to her ears, and Inuyasha growled under his breath, muttering to himself. He wasn’t sure what to do with this quiet Kagome. If she needed to scream at him to feel better, well, she could get on with that, and at least then she’d be fixed or whatever, but even picking a fight wasn’t working, damn it.

“I’m sorry,” Kagome whispered at last, and Inuyasha started like he’d been stung by a bee. Uh, yeah, not good. She didn’t do that. Even when she was in the wrong, she needed her time and space to calm down, and then she’d apologize, often while bringing him an offering of ramen. She never turned down a fight with an immediate apology.

That was when the tears came.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, sniffing.

“Wh— No— Don’t—” he pleaded, voice cracking, but she paid him no attention.

“I just— It’s been a very long year, you know? And I— I— I miss my mom,” she finally broke, waterfalls on her cheeks, quiet sobs wracking her body as she wrapped her arms around her knees.

Inuyasha froze. He reached out for her without thinking, overwhelmed by the need to make it stop, make it better, make her better, make it so she’d never ever cry again, but his fingers curled up before he could touch her, caught by some other part of his instinct.

“W-why didn’t you just say so! You can just— you can just go home then!” he scoffed, trying very hard to sound annoyed, but he couldn’t keep the worry out of his voice.

“But we’ve been on the road for days,” Kagome sniffed, “and it would take days to go back, and we haven’t found that stupid Jewel shard, and I just want her to give me a hug, and—”

“Ha, well I-I can do that too! You could have asked me!”

That made Kagome stop crying for long enough to give him a blank stare.

“Come on, Inuyasha. I’m not going to force you to hug me.”

“W-who said anything about forcing me!”

“Well you don’t look thrilled about it,” she said, doubtful, and at least she was crying a lot less now, but her eyes and nose were still read and he wasn’t going to let that slide, was he?

“J-just— just don’t move, okay?”

Clumsily, despite how careful he was being, he put both arms around her, awkwardly tugging her until he’d brought her against his chest. He was barely touching her, his arms forming a misshaped circle hovering around her. He’d hugged her before, but it had been an impulsive action, not one he’d thought about. He— had no idea how to do it intentionally.

Against his chest, Kagome giggled.

“You have to actually hug me, you know? Like that.”

She did it without hesitation, wrapping her arms around him. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against his, and this time when he froze, there were very different emotions running within him. On the top of his head, his ears were twitching, all his senses alert, taking in her breathing that was getting more even, her smell, her breath against his skin. Swallowing, he finally brought himself to close his arms around her, and she sighed contentedly.

“See?” she asked. “That’s nice, isn’t it?”

He could barely reply around the knot in his throat. She felt so soft against him, so delicate. His half-demon strength would make it so, so easy to break her in half — and she knew that. Her warmth was spreading through him, from his chest and face to the root of his hair and the tip of his toes. Everything he felt was Kagome. With great care, he ran his fingers through her hair, not wanting his claws to cut through them by accident. She shivered, tilted her head forward a little to give him better access. Mesmerized, he kept going. Her hair felt soft between his fingers, silky.

Everything about this was calming. And she’d been right. It was nice.

It caught him by surprise when she moved, entangling herself from him.

“Thanks, Inuyasha,” she said, sniffing again. “I’m feeling better. It was nice of you to— Oh!”

He pulled her back into him, this time with a tighter grip.

“You said you needed a hug, so I’m giving you one that’ll last you until I can get you back to your time,” he said gruffly. “Now just sleep, ‘kay?”

Her laugh vibrated through his chest, and he found it to be the best thing he’d ever felt.

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks, Inuyasha.”

He would have told her that he was just doing it so she’d be in the mood for shard hunting the next day, but if she’d called him out, he would never have been able to lie with a straight face, so he chose not to.

‘cause truth be told, now that he was experiencing it, he thought he’d needed that hug at least as much as her.

Don't have ideas for the upcoming themes so this will probably be my last entry for the week! Thank you all for the love on yesterday's entry, hope you've enjoyed this one as well, and I'll see you when I see you!

[abcdfghjklmpqrobin]

People will hate on LXC for telling WWX he was a mistake, but honestly we're not giving the guy enough credit

Like, things from his perspective ARE. A. SHITSHOW.

I mean imagine you're being supportive of your little brother's crush, he's funny, he challenges him and makes him happy, so you're like 'wooooo let's go baby brother!' and then that mf starts doing the equivalent of harcore drugs. And you're like (•᷄ △ •᷅ ;)

Then your brother starts running after him constantly, trying to help, being like 'please stop, this is bad for your health, let me help' and his crush. not only does not stop. not only does he get worse. not only does he starts fighting your brother every time they speak and making him miserable. But he doubles down and becomes a. Fucking. Convicted. Felon.

And you're like 'bro, drop this hoe omfg😰' and your brother is like 'no, I love him :('.

So then his crush kills somebody and goes on the run. And you have to watch as your baby brother decides to go against the law, against your family, ruining his life, his future and everything he has worked for. To go after this bitch that doesn't even love him back (that you know) .

Your baby brother is gonna go to fucking jail for being an accomplice. You start scrambling. Thank. Fuck. Your family is influential, so you burry his involvement and go after him. But then, WHILE PROTECTING THIS DUDE, that is constantly telling him to fuck off, mind you. Your brother hurts important people and gets LASHED.

Your baby brother gets literally almost killed. He gets send straight to the ICU. He can't walk, he can't move. Doctors aren't even sure he's going to fucking survive.

You have to see as your brother suffers, and worsens his condition by trying to get back to his crush. See him overwhelmed with pain to the point of self harm. See him sad and grieving for years.

And then. After all of that. This piece of shit, that ruined your brothers life, that ruined his mental and physical health for 13 years. That has been taunting him and testing his boundaries for months. That you let into your mother's house and into your family's secrets, only for him to break your brother's heart, again. Looks at you straight in the eye, on one of the worst days of your life, while you are going through your own breakup. And, honest to God, asks you 'Does your brother's pain have something to do with me?'...

Bruh...

I'm just saying, LXC is better than me, because if that was me 'a mistake' wouldn't be the only thing I would be calling him.

[not-too-many-eyes]

A Study on Mesmer Jr.

(Also Known As: Nott is obsessed with the bigot autistic girl from the time travel gacha game and its her birthday tommorow so lets talk about her.)

(CWs: Ableism, racism, child abuse) I Love Mesmer Jr. Which isn't a secret to any of my friends who have had to listen to me talk about her at length. I cannot get her out of my head. I think she's fantastically written, fun to read about, and just an all around interesting character.

As such, I want to take a moment to pull apart Mesmer Jr, and consider her place in this story. To contemplate why she acts the way she does, and to connect to the themes relating to her character. I hope you enjoy reading this.

A Curious Impression

Mesmer Jr makes an interesting impression when you first meet her. For one, she immediately causes alarm bells to rings when she talks to Sonneto, one of her earliest conversations, who she says she enjoys talking to because of their "shared values" she feels the need to say that she would have liked talking to her more if she were a "full-blooded human."

Which is something that you see a lot whenever she's complimenting an arcanist, or considering arcanists in any positive light. Even if it's inappropriate in the context, she feels the need to assert her beliefs, to say that:

Mesmer Jr, Praise: As an arcanist, your performance really amazes me. Wish you were a pure-blood human.

Of course, as we know, Mesmer Jr is an arcanist. She's a full-blooded arcanist. Being noted to be from a very Important family, and even being implied to be more talented than most of her family in their line of work: (The Fallacy of Idealism)

Nobody is more talented in this than Mesmer Jr. Her bloodline gives her outstanding ability and keen senses, which makes everything clear and intelligible to her.

She's also startlingly obedient. She has no noticeable outward negativity towards what Constantine has ordered her to do to Vertin, despite it seeming to cause pain or stress. Insisting that this is the normal treatment given to patients despite Madam Z's opinion, and we learn Much Later that her boss had an ulterior motive to all this.

She's even noted before we meet her to seem like a:

(Open Sandwich)

???: It is the other one- the one with indifferent outlines that makes her look like a refined machine.

Evoking images of perfectly programmed robots and droids that do what they are ordered to perfectly without question.

Of course, in the same part this line is from, the game is already nudging us to be open-minded when it comes to interacting with her. As the first thing we learn about her isn't her personality, isn't her appearance, isn't even her Voice.

It's her abuse.

Dirtied Hands

Open Sandwich is one of my favorite bits of writing in this game. It creates this incredible tension where you just waiting for the bad thing to happen, the line about how the child labor laws were turned into paper to wrap the sandwich is wonderful, and I love it.

But it's also the first time we ever actually hear about her. It depicts her having a Sensory Meltdown. Caused by her family's uh- blatant disregard for children's rights, and exposing her to a patient at age 12 because her skill was useful for the treatment. The trauma of the event marking the start of her "nightmare."

Of course this isn't the Only Thing she has gone through at the age of 12. The entire events of Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien happened during when she was 12. She might of had even more traumatic experience before that, considering she went to SPDM, a school that we know Very Well for their child abuse, and she Certainly had traumatic experiences afterwards.

She Is a 16 year old therapist taking care of The Foundation's most "unstable" patients, after all:

Mesmer Jr, Suitcase Climate: Those insane people screamed and rushed out of the guardroom. They kept meaninglessly and repeatedly roaring. Then, their blood shed on the snowy ground. I've seen that a lot.

The Rights of Children Don't Matter when there is Scarcity. Her needs are secondary to The Company's. Her welfare simply isn't important for the Foundation's Beautiful Future. Only the skills and infromation she can provide.

Constantine even manipulated Mesmer Jr into telling her the plan. Purposefully traumatizing her so that she would become scared and anxious. She Asked her to help them, trusting that Constantine, an adult she trusted, would be able to help. Constantine just lied, and made her continue to treat these people even when the experience mind numbingly traumatic for even fully-grown adults.

As a result, Mesmer Jr has developed multiple mental illnesses. Most notable OCD, but she seems to hallucinate in her Monologue.

She's not exactly a healthy person, which really compounds how much you Don't want her to be a therapist.

Of course, it's not like she would ever seek actual proper treatment for it.

For many reasons.

For one, Reverse 1999 is not exactly a kind world to the mentally ill, and she herself is a good example as to why.

Proper Treatment

Let's go back to the first thing I mentioned about Mesmer Jr. She's a bigot, she's a certified racist to every arcanist she ever talks to. She thinks humans are the superior race that will overtake arcanists.

She's also ableist. Just horrible ableist. These two bigotries are intertwined in Very important ways. Her hatred of arcanists is informed by her hatred of the mentally ill, and is further informed by what she has been taught about arcanists.

Reverse has established that the way arcanists and humans are generally viewed is that arcanists are the more emotional, unstable, immature ones and humans are the more logical, stable, and mature ones.

Now, this is a stereotype, one that has been proven wrong time and time again. There is nothing logical, stable, or mature about being so upset at a 12 year old you think killing her friends is a good idea.

And similarly, there is nothing actually inherently wrong about being a weirdo, or mentally ill. For one, uh, everyone is a bit of a freak sometimes, and two, Mesmer Jr treats it as if for the world to get better arcanists need to fully disappear and be replaced with human rationality, but Madam Hoffman says it best:

(Chapter 6 Part 15: With Hope Rekindled)

Hofmann: We have all heard it, humans are more rational and arcanists are more emotional. Hofmann: Their sensitive to the darkness of the world, so they can easily become absorbed in their own emotions and ignore reality Hofmann: But, if we put a human child in the position of an arcanist, who always takes on the world because of his uniqueness, who is never understood for his talents... Hoffmann: Maybe he too will become impulsive, sensitive immature and unstable Hoffmann: And that's why it sometimes dawns on me that if we put an arcanist child in the position of a human being who receives enough love, education, and positive feedback... Hoffmann: These 'instabilities' might be controllable. At least enough to keep them from hurting themselves or others.

But Mesmer Jr really does believe wholeheartedly that being a "freak" is bad, and that being an arcanist is to blame for why she is one.

Mesmer Jr, Hat and Hair: Thanks to it, we are all freaks now. Haven't you ever blamed your brain? Haven't you for once vomited due to the sound or whisper in your brain? How naive and ignorant.

That being an arcanist is something inherently wrong, and as a result of that inherent wrongness, that inherent "insanity," they need to be controlled by humanity.

Mesmer Jr, Chitchat II: I can only stand those arcanists from the Foundation and the Laplace. After all, their insanity is contained by humans.

She believes that humans are destined to overtake arcanists like it's natural selection. That it's only inevitable that arcanists will be overtaken by a species that in her eyes, is logical and understandable.

Mesmer Jr, To the Future: Just like Homo sapiens wiped out Neanderthals, arcanists will be eliminated as well. This is not a prediction, but a predestined fate.

This is, of course, due to the systemic part of Reverse's world constantly pushing this idea that arcanists are Inherently more immature and chaotic.

Constantine and her family deeply traumatized Mesmer Jr and then told her it wasn't actually their fault but this Other Group that She is also apart of but Don't Worry it can Be Controlled.

Mesmer Jr: It's not just about age. It was never going to be suitable for me. Mesmer Jr: Unless one day all the arcanists are gone. Pandora Wilson: Then you and I will be gone, too. Mesmer Jr: Exactly, along with the source of my pain

However, Mesmer Jr's own mental illnesses and susceptibility towards being overwhelmed by others emotions does really mean that she finds being around highly emotional people Taxing. She also finds that the unpredictable of life and other people Tiresome.

She was friends with Vertin in the rest when she was younger sure, but even then she did find arcanists overwhelming and "scary," even when she wasn't in the full thick of it, she saw them being treated and found it unpleasant and painful.

(Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien)

Mesmer Jr: But I'm not interested in arcanists. They are all mad people, and we had to treat them after all...They looked scary.

Now, usually, you grow out of this. She's not Born To Be Racist Forever.

In a better world she very much could have, I dunno-

Be able to actually internalize that arcanists aren't actually inherently a harmful thing, but that her needs sometimes conflict with the needs of others and grew up with the tools necessary to understand that this is a fixable problem that doesn't actually need a whole group of people including herself to die to be solved.

Or, something like that.

However, this isn't that world, this world thinks Mesmer Jr is a good therapist, and that her treatment is humane.

So she's seeks to create stability in the world as a result of that lack of support.

Mesmer Jr, Hobby: What you see is the alignment and tidiness. What I adore is this orderly state.

As much as she understands that it's a sign of her own "franticness" that she does this, it gives her comfort knowing that she has things that she Can Control. That her life isn't actually dictated fully by things out of her understanding. That she has the ability to direct her life in a small, maybe even insignificant way.

Cause, she really just doesn't have much control over her life.

Press the Button

Mesmer Jr, Clothing and Torso: ...Achieve the function.

A lot of Mesmer Jr's idolization of humanity comes from this idea of efficiency and simplicity. She talks so much about rationality and "tidiness," but as I've already established Reverse is full of so many instances of "human insanity" so it's plain ignorant to ascribe this trait to humans.

Which, well one she is ignorant, and also racism isn't rational and Mesmer Jr was taught human supremacy of course it's not going to be aligned with actual reality.

Which is true.

However, I do think it's interesting these traits that she idolizes are not from humans but from:

Mesmer Jr, Clothing and Torso: Humans are like machinery, simple and efficient. Arcanists are quite the opposite.

That's who she's actually idolizing here, isn't it? She's not really idolizing humans, that's just the framework she was given. She's idolizing machines and going "Wow humans are so cool."

Her Udimo is a machine.

Not just any machine, but a machine invented in part By Her Workplace, and even when she was 12 the narrator describes her as a "refined machine." Indifferent and rigid.

This is the beautiful controlled being that she is seeking! The beautiful tidy, orderly, calm being that just proceeds with whatever order is given to it. One that has...completely no control over it's life, and what to do with it.

Because, traditionally speaking, Machines do not have the ability to self-determine. They don't exist as people with conscious thought and emotion, but as Things and Tools that can Achieve Functions.

I noted way back in the start that Mesmer Jr is startlingly obedient. She does what she is told, and encourages others to do the same.

She's glad that Vertin:

Mesmer Jr, 100% Bond Conversation: ...Anyway, I'm glad you gave up on those insane plans.

Before saying that she doesn't want to be forced to Lobotomize Her, and that she doesn't actually want anyone to end up in Artificial Somnambulism.

But she doesn't say she won't do it. Just that she's happy Vertin did "give up" because it means that she probably won't have to. This seems to be her general approach. Even if she's not happy, she'll do it, her wants don't matter.

She assumes that she has no other option and that her only path forward is following orders from her boss. That the only path forward is the one set for her. There's no point in fighting it so she's just gonna continue on that path, and others should do the same or else they'll get Hurt. Learned Helplessness.

Sonetto is similar to her in this sense (Mesmer Jr says so herself,) and Sonetto is shown to hold quite a lot of repressed emotions, and to deviate from the rules or what is logical when she feels something is at stake.

After all: (Is ABA Really “Dog Training for Children”? A Professional Dog Trainer Weighs In.)

We all know that we can feel angry without expressing anger. That we can smile when inside we are crying. You can stop someone from expressing an emotion, but that doesn’t make the emotion go away. A dog who has been trained not to growl is considered by trainers to be a “time bomb dog.” When you read about a dog attack that came “out of nowhere” and “without warning,” it is because this sort of method was used to handle “problem behaviours.” Studies show that dogs trained with these sorts of methods actually have an increased rate of aggression, because punishing aggressive behaviour doesn’t deal with the underlying fear and anxiety that caused the aggression in the first place.

But Mesmer Jr, in contrast to Sonetto, who has an interest in poetry and curiosity in the outside world and has the aforementioned repressed emotions. Has no real distinct personal identity. She does not own anything that shows her interests, unlike her other coworkers who usually have at least Something on them. All of her items are stuff made by Laplace and exist unaltered. Even her cute little headband is a EM amplifier is part of the uniform.

She holds no control, no identity, no agency. She exists as a machine that someone can press the buttons of and achieve whatever function she needs to achieve at the given moment.

This is her current state of existence, and it's not something that's exactly sustainable. The cracks in this machine-living have been showing since she was 12. How many more do you think have been created now that she's 16?

The Foundation

Now, this is really depressing, but that's because Mesmer Jr is just a bit of a depressing character. She can't really get away from her job. For one, her parents are horrible, two The Storm means that the world is always on the verge of ending. Where else will she go?

But, as said previously:

A dog who has been trained not to growl is considered by trainers to be a “time bomb dog.”

Similarly, a girl trained to not develop any sort of identity will crack Someday.

I have no knowledge of what could happen next in her story, nor am I interested in theorizing about it. But I do find it interesting to think about.