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embbarnes · 9 hours ago

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Roasted Chestnuts. | B.B

summary: Bucky takes to sleeping in the living room, you comfort him with hot cocoa.

warnings: Angst & Fluff | PTSD symptoms | Nightmares | Post accidental injuries

a/n: I hope this technically qualifies, even though it's sort of angsty. But there is fluff! I decided to use a few themes from the list provided and melded them together. Unedited, mistakes to be fixed later lol. ;; wc: 3.3k

Cold sweat and cold weather don't exactly mix.

Neither did the cold, wooden floor of the living room but...he insisted on it ever since he woke up choking you to near unconsciousness, his hands trembling with horror when he realized what he had done. The hardwood became his self-imposed punishment, refusing the comfort of proper bedding.

He couldn't forgive himself for that, his instability taunted him for weeks after that, having to see the bruise around your throat cause by his hand. Every morning he would catch glimpses of the purple-blue marks adorning your precious neck, each glance a reminder of how close he had come to destroying everything he held dear. The guilt ate away at him, manifesting in sleepless nights and countless apologies that could never seem to erase that moment from his memory.

He deserved it; the chill in the air making every bead of perspiration feel like tiny needles against his skin.

Especially his scars.

His shoulder hurt bad during the winter, which wasn't a huge surprise, but he would've appreciated if his body formed a bit of resistance to the cold by now.

Between endless cryofreezing, Siberian training, the prolonged exposure to freezing should have given him some sort of enhanced ability to withstand the cold but...cruelly, almost laughably, he was more vulnerable to the bite of chill now.

It pissed him off, quite frankly.

But right now, he couldn't bring himself to dwell on his annoyance.

Instead, his thoughts drifted to you as he sat there on the cold floor, his body tucked carefully against the chair that stood positioned by the stark wall. He had turned the chair into an improvised shelter of sorts, his upper body deliberately laid close beside it in a way that almost seemed to mimic having another body near him for comfort. The transition had been gradual over the course of several months, he had slowly grown accustomed to sleeping in a proper bed, and more importantly, he had grown used to having you there beside him.

Your warm, protective arms would wrap around his frame each night, and he had found himself free of any hesitation or shame as he tucked himself against your chest, letting the steady rhythm of your heartbeat become his personal lullaby, lulling him into peaceful sleep. Better than any goddamn noise machine he could dream of.

But that peace had been shattered after one particularly visceral nightmare that had resulted in him nearly choking the life from you in his sleep-addled state. He found himself unable to bear the thought of sharing a bed with you again, too terrified of what his unconscious mind might make him do.

He thought he was getting better, he was supposed to be better. The words didn't work anymore...therapy was mediocre at best but it was supposed to help him. Yet, after all of that, he still hurt you.

He's still plagued.

Frustrated with himself and the situation, he kicks the chair slightly, causing it to skid a few inches across the worn wooden floor with a harsh scraping sound. Bucky takes a deep breath, his flesh hand instinctively gripping his dog tags - those small pieces of metal that remind him of who he once was - one his own, one Steve’s.

Damnit, Steve. Why didn’t he stay?

The one man who always had his loyalty, his best friend, he felt so abandoned.

Now he had to dump his shit on you. You didn’t deserve this.

Dealing with what remained of Bucky. Dealing with his problems.

Burdening you with his issues.

All alone.

His vibranium hand nervously bundled the thin, threadbare blanket he used to sleep under. The television continued to drone on in the background, playing yet another cheesy Christmas movie that felt hollow and distant. He didn’t like these ones.

He liked the older ones.

They were simpler, easier to grasp. The fantasy of talking snowmen and flying reindeer seemed far better to lose himself in than these modern romantic tales of a cheerful woman who sings perfect carols and inevitably falls for a handsome shop owner...predictable stories that seemed to play on an endless loop.

The warm glow from the Christmas tree cast a gentle, inviting light across the sparse living room, making the empty space feel more like home. The apartment was still largely unfurnished, your current financial situation wasn’t great to say the least. Bucky's couldn’t get a job with his ‘criminal’ background, nor would anyone hire the Winter Soldier, regardless of how good he worked and how well he was with his hands. That left you as the sole provider. The weight of being the only one working pressed heavily on your shoulders, though you never complained.

You were happy to do it, if it meant Bucky could spend time relaxing and not worrying about anything.

Still, he didn’t like it.

The thought of his girl working for the both of you gave him a sour taste in his mouth, his gut tightened as he saw it as just another burden for you. A gentleman deep down, you having to work to support the two of you didn’t do anything but give him even more mental crisis.

Even when you were on the run in Romania, he found odd jobs. He brought food home. He took care of the two of you. It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t think you shouldn’t be working because you were a woman, it’s just…he felt horrible. You did so much for him, and all he could do was sit at home and wait for you to come off your shifts. He felt worthless.

And despite the tight budget, you'd worked extra hours so you could afford a Christmas tree for the apartment. While Bucky had initially been indifferent to the idea of holiday decorations, his memories of past Christmases long since faded into a blur. Watching your face light up as you carefully placed each ornament made every penny worth it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the subtle creak of floorboards, and he turned to find you peering around the corner of the short hallway that led to your bedroom. "Buck Buck...what're you doin' up?" you murmured, voice thick with sleep. Your hair was charmingly disheveled, and his old henley hung loosely on your frame, the hem nearly reaching your knees. Your eyes, still heavy with sleep, blinked slowly, "I heard somethin' out here, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, doll I'm...I'm fine." He exhaled slowly, not exactly confident in his words, shoulders slumping forward as the weight of sleepless nights pressed down on him. His hand still held the dog tags, fiddling with them restlessly as his thumb pad gently traced the engraved names and numbers, a nervous habit he'd developed.

"Are you trying to convince me, or yourself that?" You asked softly, sitting down beside him on the cold floor, close enough to offer comfort but far enough to give him space. "Why don't you come back to bed with me? It's cold out here and that small blanket is not enough... I can see you shivering."

"No." He spat firmly, his jaw clenching with tension, "We've been over this. I'm not going to risk hurting you again. I can't...I won't let that happen."

"It was an accident-" you tried to reason, reaching out instinctively.

"NO!" Bucky snapped suddenly, his volume and tone loud enough to echo off the walls, making you flinch as it startled the sleep out of you. The fear in his own eyes matched yours for a split second.

It was silent for a few beats until finally he found the courage to break it with trembling words.

"I can't...I won't hurt you again. Every time I close my eyes, I see your face - the fear in your eyes when I came back to myself. You can downplay it all you want. The doctors told me how close I came to crushing your trachea. How am I supposed to carry on knowing what I almost did? You still have that dark bruise around your throat, oh...god..." His voice cracked and faded, heavy with anguish. The traumatic memory had carved itself deep into his psyche.

The faceless HYDRA torturers had been replaced in his nightmares, instead, visions of his own hands wrapped around your throat, watching helplessly as the life slowly drained from your eyes.

That was more horrifying than any of HYDRA's torture.

He would willingly submit himself to every cruel experiment, every brutal conditioning session, every moment of agony they had ever put him through - if it meant he could erase that one terrible moment when he had almost become your killer.

"Bucky," you interrupted his thoughts, your hand reaching out hesitantly in the dim light of the room, hovering just inches from his tensed shoulder but not yet making contact. You turned your palm slowly upward toward the ceiling, silently willing him to either take your hand or at least allow you the comfort of touching him. "I promise you, I am fine. Yes, it might've been a bit scary in the moment when it happened, and I understand why you're worried...but I know you'd never hurt me on purpose, not in a million years. It was an accident, nothing more than that."

He shifted uncomfortably under your unwavering gaze, his fingers clutching the deep green blanket even tighter to his chest, drawing it close like armor against both the cold and his own guilt. You could see the slight tremor in his frame, whether from the chilly air or his inner turmoil, you weren't sure. You knew he must be freezing out here in the living room, but if there was one thing you'd learned about Bucky, it was that he could be impossibly stubborn.

No matter how much you yearned to lead him back to the warmth of your shared bedroom, you knew he wouldn't budge an inch, wouldn't dare return to your bed, not while the belief that he might unconsciously harm you still gripped his conscience.

Instead of trying the back and forth of arguing, you decided to do something else. Rising from your spot, you made your way back to the bedroom, your bare feet making soft padding sounds against the aged wooden floorboards that creaked ever so slightly with each step. When Bucky heard you walk away, he assumed you had given up and gone back to bed for the night, so he slowly lowered himself down onto his makeshift sleeping spot, trying to find a comfortable position to attempt sleep.

But your absence was only temporary. Within moments, you had returned.

Your arms were laden with an assortment of blankets and a plush pillow, carried from your bedroom.

"No, doll..." he sat up immediately, preparing to launch into reasons why you shouldn't subject yourself to sleeping on the floor, even if it might be hypocritical. But you possessed every bit as much stubbornness as he did, and you had already made up your mind that he wouldn't have to face this night alone.

"Hush. I'm staying with you, and if that means camping out in the living room, then that's exactly what I'm going to do." You insisted firmly but gently, carefully arranging the blankets and pillow beside his spot. "And if sleep doesn't come easily tonight, then we can always put on a movie to pass the time. But I don't want you to be on your own, you've been torturing yourself for weeks now..."

Bucky looked down at his lap, a mix of exasperation and fondness crossing his features. "You are such a brat..." He finally replied, his lips pulling into a small, almost reluctant smile. The warmth in his chest grew steadily as he watched you, touched by how adamantly you insisted on sleeping beside him, even if it meant spending the night on the cold floor.

"That's me," you replied with a playful smirk, your eyes twinkling with mischief. "Now...how about some hot chocolate? If we aren’t gonna sleep, then we might as well have a little treat. Plus, it'll warm you up." You offered, already making your way to the kitchen with determined steps, your mind set on the comforting beverage. "Marshmallows or whipped cream?" You called over your shoulder, your voice carrying a hint of amusement as you deliberately didn't give him any opportunity to decline the offer.

He shook his head slowly, running his hand over his face as an affectionate smile spread across his features, unable to hide how endeared he was by your persistence. "Marshmallows...please," he responded softly.

"And that chestnut flavoring?" You added thoughtfully, observing him still comfortably tucked away on the floor, his form relaxed against the wall. Bucky gave a shy nod, a gentle expression crossing his features, and you couldn't help but smile warmly in return. "We should roast some, I hear people do that this time of year. But I'm not sure why exactly? I haven't had the chance to try them prepared that way before."

You carefully made your way back to where he sat, extending the steaming mug of hot chocolate towards him. The ceramic vessel was filled nearly to the brim, with a generous mountain of tiny marshmallows creating a fluffy white peak on top.

Bucky shrugged his shoulders slightly, reaching up to pluck a few of the dry marshmallows from the pile, popping them into his mouth one by one. "You can eat them plain as a snack," he offered simply, savoring the sweet dissolving treats.

"Yeah, but that seems a bit too plain for chestnuts. How about…a pie? God, I love pecan pie, why not chestnut pie? Or I hear they go good with apples."

"Pie would be really good...you know how much I love your baking," Bucky smiled warmly, his eyes lighting up as he fondly recalled all the delicious sweet treats you had lovingly prepared throughout the seasons. Apple pie was one of Bucky's all time favorite desserts, and he always lit up when you made it for him. You aren’t a professional baker by any means, but the homemade pastries and treats that came from your kitchen had become one of his most treasured simple pleasures in the world.

You sat nestled against him, your shoulders touching as you both sipped hot chocolate and talked about everything and nothing. The conversation drifted from the gentle snowfall outside to potential weekend activities, from dessert recipes you wanted to try together to movies you both wanted to watch.

Bucky had changed visibly since you crept out to see him, his tense shoulders had gradually loosened, the worried lines around his eyes had softened, and genuine smiles now came more frequently. You both occasionally made playful commentary about the predictable romantic comedy playing on screen, sharing knowing looks as the plot became increasingly formulaic and harder to tolerate.

"Can't we watch something else?" Bucky asked, turning to meet your gaze with a slight grimace, "I'm getting tired of these kinds of movies...at this point, I could practically recite exactly what's going to happen next, line by line."

“What do you mean?” You laughed a little, smiling at him as he rolled his eyes in return.

“Let’s see…it’s either Noel, Carol, or some other Christmas themed name for the main girl, and she always moves back to a hometown or is divorced or lonely or just…wandering through life feeling like something’s missing. Meets a handsome guy, a handy man, a baker, someone she knew from her childhood, and they eventually fall in love after this big Christmas event happens.” Bucky muttered, “And there's always singing! That’s been the plot for the last three movies, I swear.”

"Sure," you responded with another laugh, he hit the nail on the head. You reached forward for the remote and scrolled through channels until you stumbled on one specifically for classic holiday films. "Oh my god, this one! It's from, like...1960." You watched, somewhat amused, as the distinctively vintage stop-motion animation showed Rudolph trudging through the snow, the character's movements charmingly stilted by today's standards. Your finger hovered over the remote button, ready to continue searching.

"No, no...don't change it," he interjected softly, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his voice, "I'd like to watch this one..."

"Really? Alright," you set the remote down and got comfy. These classic films held a special place in your heart, each frame bringing back cherished memories of curling up on the couch as a child, lost in the magic of storytelling and still believing in Santa Claus. "This used to be one of my favorites," you murmured softly, snuggling closer against him. Bucky lifted his right arm, eager to feel your heat against his bare chest. He hadn't experienced watching these movies the same as you had, his past denying him even these small comforts.

It wasn't like HYDRA allowed him a tv.

Watching it now, even without the foundation of the right nostalgia, he was drawn into the film's spell. There was something touching about its simplicity, the way it managed to weave enchantment through every scene despite its less sophisticated approach. Even with its fantastical storyline, it carried an authentic magic that resonated deep within him, something pure and genuine he could instinctively recognize. Much better than the movies he had seen all day.

The first movie seemed to float by in a comfortable haze, and before you knew it, another began to play. These old ones didn’t have a very long runtime, but you forgot just how quick they fly by. The Charlie Brown Christmas movie filled the screen with its familiar charm. The gentle orchestration of the score and soothing tone of the character’s voices set a comfortable mood in the room.

While the movie played, you felt a slight shift in weight beside you. You glanced over and noticed Bucky's empty mug resting forgotten in his lap, old white foam from melted marshmallows sticking to the rim, his features softened as his eyelids had finally drooped closed. His weight leaning more against yours, and you carefully adjusted yourself.

"Oh, Bucky..." you whispered tenderly to yourself, watching as the exhausted man finally succumbed to sleep, the warm hot chocolate having done its job exactly as you'd hoped it would. Gently, you removed the empty mug from where it rested precariously on his lap and eased him down into a more comfortable position, making sure his head was properly supported by the plush pillow beneath it. You then took your time meticulously arranging the thick blankets over his body, paying particular attention to his metal arm, ensuring it was completely covered.

The winter months were especially difficult for him, the cold made the connection points of his prosthetic ache terribly, so you made sure that every inch of the metal limb was thoroughly insulated against the chill.

Damn, you should really invest in a heated blanket…they were just so expensive.

You were determined to get one for him though.

After adjusting the television volume just a little to create a soft, ambient background noise, you settled yourself beside his sleeping form. You snuggled in close, your hand moving in slow, soothing strokes up and down the broad expanse of his back.

Even in the depths of sleep, he instinctively sought out your warmth, shifting closer until his face was buried against your chest, his arm wrapping around you in a secure embrace. Though the weight and coolness of the metal arm pressed against you was initially a bit uncomfortable since the henley rode up a bit, but you quickly adjusted. Vibranium was nice, once it warmed it would stay that way for a long time.

But the same vise versa, meaning you really should get a heated blanket soon.

For now, this would do. You'd be the heat he needed, even if it meant staying with him on the floor.

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.

@buck-star 's Fluffy Winter Event.

#sydneysfluffywinter #fluff star winter event #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes x you #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #james barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #james barnes x you #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #emwrites🌿

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project-sekai-facts · 1 day ago

Note

Adding on to the discussion of An's grief with personal experiences:

I lost a very dear relative of mine (to pancreatic cancer, coincidentally) right before LUtF was leaked. It was leaked around the time of the funeral. It's a bit hazy now, but I would alternate between sobbing and being completely numb. And when I was numb, it was easier to act normal. It was easier to push aside the grief for a bit to focus on other things, because the world doesn't just stop even though you want it to. Work and school (the latter wasn't applicable to me for a number of reasons but still) and such still happen. Compartmentalizing happens as a result.

I think An might have done some compartmentalizing herself. Plus, she had been grieving at least slightly since Nagi "left to tour in America" without saying goodbye. That probably made it a bit easier for her to compartmentalize.

Also, grief is not linear regardless of what psych books say. It's just... it's not. Sometimes people skip or repeat steps, and I imagine she repeated a lot of anger and depression even after she had accepted Nagi's death. I still don't think she's really over it, and probably won't be for a long time. Do I wish we got to see more of An grieving? Absolutely. I wrote a platonic MizuAn piece specifically for that reason. But I also understand they couldn't exactly stop the plot just for An to grieve.

(in reference to this) Thank you so much for sharing. I agree, I do think An probably had to compartmentalize with things. She had exams happening at school and rad weekend to surpass so it was definitely something that she would have to be pushing to the side. there's definitely shades of this when we see her talking about nagi in vbs related content vs what she's doing in mixed events and such like lsh.

#asks

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ch4nb4ng · 12 hours ago

Text

Expect the Unexpected

Pairing: Han Jisung X afab!reader

Word count: 9.7k

Genre: Childhood friends to lovers (stoned college edition

Warnings: 18+ explicit minors do not interact. Substance use, sexual acts under the influence of substance use, Kissing, naked bodies, mentions of genitals, fingering, handjob, orgasm, mentions of semen

Tag list: @seo--changbin @j-0ne25 @cb97whoree

@kpopsstuffs

Note: HEY guys, its been a while, and like actually a while this time.... Had this sitting in the draft for almost a year. Life has very much gotten in the way but i am back hopefully, with the aim of engaging in writing when I feel like and no pressuring myself. Anyways, it's nice to be back and I hope you enjoy.

Summary: There was a blizzard, resulting in your college dorm being blocked from all human interaction. Things are about to, however change when your childhood best friend, and wall neighbour comes over and has other things in mind to pass the time with weed included as one of them.

The first time living away from your family and by yourself was an experience that you very much valued. No curfews, no worrying about what your parents were going to say when you’ve had several drinks at a party, and definitely no nagging to make your bed everyday. Make no mistake, you loved your parents and siblings a lot, it was just nice sometimes to have the complete privacy that was your dorm room every now and then.

There were moments that you did become homesick. On the contrary to having your own private, personal space, especially during the trying moments of completing long winded assignments, studying for exams, or even just having the feeling of familiarity when you hugged somebody that was your blood. There were always pros and cons to living an independent college life. At this current moment in time, you were experiencing one of the more annoying parts of living in a college building.

Deep into the winter seasons of the year, while also living in a state that was known for having extreme weather patterns during this time of the year was your least favorite part. Once the news alerted ‘warning, blizzard storm approaching in the next 48 hours,’ you knew that the college would be sending an official email, urging students to stay in the dorms, and barricade all exits.

This was where you were currently at.

Lying in your bed, phone up to your face as you reassured your family through facetime that you were fine and had no plans of leaving anytime soon.

“You guys know the drill,” you smiled, “I’m fine, two days in and I am alive and well, just a little bored.”

“Okay well don’t forget that Jisung’s mother and I got those rooms next to each other so you guys always have a little bit of company.”

“Yes mom I know,” you laughed, “I might text him later. He had an assignment due this afternoon and I don’t want to bother him.”

“Okay love, we will talk to you later.”

“Love you too, bye.”

The sound representing the end of the call rang through the speaker of your phone. The object fell on your chest as you let out a loud sigh, your boredom growing with each second.

Jisung. Han Jisung was someone that could be labeled as many different things to you. Friend, confidant, best friend, study buddy; home. Jisung was the jack of all trades in your book.

Knowing each other since the two of you were 10, meeting at a weekend competition of playing mixed teams basketball bloomed into a relationship you didn't know was even possible to have with a man. Jisung was the friend that kind of just stuck, even planning to go to the same college as you. It was a packaged deal, you and him, but it made you laugh, because the two of you could not be more of the opposite. Jisung was the shyer type. Although you met through sporting engagements, that was more something that his parents put him into to see what he liked. He was very intelligent, a strong preference to have his head in the books rather than going out to a new party every weekend. Make no mistake, Jisung was a very polite individual, always talking to those that gave the time. However, he was much more comfortable with people that he knew. In contrast, you were a social butterfly, able to make friends every corner you turned. Parties and drinking every weekend; anywhere but the was where the majority of your time was spent.

Therefore, when all the buildings on campus were closed, it drove you crazy. There was nothing that could be hated more than being forced to stay inside in your eyes. The confinement always made you reconsider why it was here, in this state, that you chose to attend college. But it was when you heard a knock on the door that you were reminded why. Leg flopping out of your bed sheets, they dragged you to the door, your body sprinkled in warmth when you opened it to your kind looking friend who happened to be smiling back. Your body turned to the side, hand out as he strolled into your apartment, plopping down on the couch like it was his own. You quickly followed, taking the spot next to him as you turned to face him.

“Are you bored yet?”

“Of course I am,” you sigh, walking in front of Jisung as you walk into the living room of your apartment and sitting on the couch, head in your hands, leaning forward so much that you could almost fall off the couch “as if it took you this long to realise.”

“Y/n, the email was only sent out 4 hours ago.”

“Yeah but there was supposed to be a party tonight at Changbin’s frat,” you whined, lips fully pouted, “I really wanted to go.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, placing his hands behind his head, legs kicked out on the small table in front of him, “it’s a real shame that the party is canceled.”

Your best friend managed to avoid eye contact, voice dripping with sarcasm. To be truthful, you knew that even though he would go with you, to make sure you're safe of course, and DEFINITELY for that reason only, Jisung would never choose to willingly go to such a party. It wasn’t that he was a complete prude little innocent boy, no. There had been a multitude of times where you could hear him, or the other girls that failed to stay quiet and not echo through the paper thin dorm walls. Jisung just simply wasn’t the type to go out to parties, especially when everyone there was a slobbering mess on one substance or another, especially you. There was a feeling that if you were merely a stranger to him, Jisung would most likely, outside of classes, be a ghost. A myth that supposedly walks down the hallways of your college. Seeing as the two of you were opposite in that regard, you tried to respect Jisung as much as possible. Not bringing your bong, joints, or excessive amounts of alcohol whenever he came over, because you knew if the shoe was on the other foot, he would also do the same. Jisung only had the occasional puff anyway, much less than you, so the need to have it around constantly felt unnecessary.

“Try not to ooze with excitement,” you raised your eyebrows, a fake smile plastering across your lips as you failed to see his attitude change. Good old Jisung for you.

“I’ll try my best.”

“Anyway,” you replied, leaning forward and grabbing the TV remote, pressing the small red power button in the top right corner, watching the plasma screen light up with the logo belonging to Netflix. You turn again to the man beside you, a warmth feeling in your chest at how placid he looked, patiently waiting for you to put something on.

“Is there anything you would like to watch for the next 12 hours?”

Yes, 12 hours. That was you being optimistic that this storm would be quick.

“Hmm,” Jisung hummed, bringing his index finger and thumb to his chin, thinking about what to watch, “there isn’t anything I’ve been keeping up with.”

“Ah I see. Shall we just scroll until we find something we like?”

“Sounds like a great idea.”

Clicking on your profile, the first row of TV shows were ‘Watch it again,’ followed by ‘Top hits for Y/n.’ Nothing really caught your eye, or his seeing as he would say something if he did. It wasn’t until your ‘continue watching for y/n’ that you gasped, loud. The word ‘Bridgerton’ has popped up in continuing. At first you were confused. Although you were an avid lover of that show, you had not watched it recently. It wasn’t until you selected it that you realized a new season had come out. Jisung remained puzzled, seeing as this was not something he had a remote interest in watching.

“Oh my god Jisung can we-”

“No man,” he complained, “you know this is the last thing I would want to watch.”

“Please,” you begged, placing your hands in the form of a prayer, remote still in hand, “it’s so good I beg of you please to just consider. I’ll do anything.”

“Ugh fine,” he hissed, “but I cannot be 100% sober for this shit.”

Your eyebrow furrowed, displaying a look of confusion. This was the thing you would expect someone like Jisung to say.

“Hmm ok,” you hummed, still slightly confused, “I’ll get my stash of vodka.”

“Hmmm no,” he shrugged, a slightly suggestive glimmer on his face, “something that will be long-lasting, if you’re catching my drift.”

Jisung raised his eyebrows repeatedly, leaving your mind to imply one substance only. Weed.

“You want to smoke, really?”

“Yes y/n, I want to smoke weed, is that ok with you?”

“Of course it is,” you reassured, “you know that if you were here or not I would probably do it anyway.”

“Okay.”

“Done.”

“Okay, and we have to watch from the beginning or I will go back to my room.”

“Yes yes okay fine,” you leaned over, pressing a grateful kiss on his cheek, “you’re the best. I’ll get my stash now.”

You scurried off to your room, quickly, opening the small draw on your side table next to your bed. Your stash, the prized possession that was the calm before the storm. Smoking in your downtime was something that you very much looked forward to, especially if you were unnecessarily stressed out. Your face lit up and the clouds of dark green hue clouded the plastic bag that was in your sight, fingers grasping the edge as you wiggled back to your original spot. Although you agreed, it was strange of your friend to want to just smoke out of boredom. The only time you had seen him do it was at small gatherings, and even then, it was one puff and done, usually followed by heavy chest hitting coughs. It always made you laugh. It also made you feel bad, knowing that if he didn’t hang around with you, he probably wouldn’t do these kinds of things. Jisung was an adult who could make his own decisions, but there was always part of you that thought about him, his family; would they approve of him doing this? It was a lot to think about sometimes.

It was Jisung’s turn to hold the remote, flicking back to season 1 episode 1, before scooching closer to you. Jisung was keen to get in on the action, something you were definitely not used to. He went to reach for the paper, but you grabbed him by the wrist, making him pause for a moment.

“Jisung, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” he smiled, unsure why you were asking such a question, “it’s not the first time I’ve done it y/n, relax.”

“Yeah I know,” you shrugged, “it’s just, I’ve only seen you smoke once, and you looked like you were about to cough up your lungs.”

“Oh,” he sighed, looking away in embarrassment, “you saw that?”

“Unfortunately, I did.”

“Yeah well I can do it,” he barked, somewhat getting defensive, pointing at the TV to deflect from his deficits “you’re making me watch this shit.”

“Okay okay,” you whined, letting go of his wrist, “but please let me show you how to roll and smoke a joint properly so you don’t actually hurt yourself.”

The two of you giggled simultaneously, resulting in Jisung reluctantly nodding in agreement. He watched closely as he watched you open both bags, paper on the right, weed on the left.

“Okay so,” you began to speak, “firstly,” you paused again, using your index and middle finger on your right hand to slide into the plastic, “I like to slide my fingers in like this, touching the least amount of paper possible.”

Jisung pushed his lenses right up to his face, making sure his concentration was avid; missing a step was not an option for him. Once the sheet was out of paper, you placed it on top of the plastic. You like to take pride in your work, especially being a part time stoner, of your supplies. Seeing as it cost you a significant amount, it felt wrong to not get the best out of your product.

“Then,” you continued, “you get the bag with the goods, and I like to,” pausing again, opening the bag and grabbing one cluster, “just crush it in my fingers as small as I can, and sprinkle it in a line across the center.”

He nodded again, observing how smooth your fingers were, fingertips sprinkling green across the white square placed in the table.

“Are you following?”

“Of course,” he nodded, furrowing his eyebrows to show his concentration. Jisung swallowed a nervous gulp, remembering that he really had no idea what he was going to do when he coughed his lungs up one more time. Yes, he was concentrating on how you did it, but he couldn’t help it. His cognitions were descending into the gutter, especially watching the two fingers he tended to use when he was in lewd acts himself. It made him nervous.

Sure, there were intrusive thoughts about you being a part of his fantasies and desires, but Jisung knew better than to act on something that came from pure lust. Instead, pressing his lips together, attempting to stifle the giggle that threatened to erupt from his lips. You, however, were too smart to not notice him suppressing his laughter. Your elbow nudged his side, a sheepish gaze as you began to question him.

“What’s so funny?”

“What,” he questioned, puffing his cheeks and shaking his head, patting your arm, “keep going.”

You decided to shrug it off, not letting his immaturity obstruct you from your prized possession. Next was the rolling. Lifting the paper with the utmost precaution, the material was brought to your lips, tongue sticking out as your lips lay a thin layer of saliva to coat the edge of the paper.

“See what I did with my tongue?”

‘Oh god,’ was all Jisung could think, mind once again heading straight to the gutter. All he could think about was what your tongue, if it was positioned under a different appendage, how different it could be. His testosterone was raging, but once again, he knew better. To Jisung, nothing could be worse than putting his own selfish wants ahead of your friendship. However, the longer he stared at you practically making out with the joint, licking it up and down, side to side, making sure the two ends stuck together, the harder it became to push his thoughts away from such dirty crevices of his mind. The torture was over for him once you withdrew the now complete joint from your lips. You were satisfied with how it turned out, a smile of approval, and a hint of arrogance plastered on your face.

“And that’s how you do it. Now your turn.”

“Ok,” he sighed, “swap spots with me so I can do it.”

“Yes sir,” you mumbled, playfully rolling your eyes you obeyed, allowing your best friend to now sit in front of the two bags. He followed your steps with ease, using great precision with his fingers to eject the weed and paper from each plastic container. He was natural. Only the two fingers, being the same ones you, strategically rolling the two digits back and forth. He was swift, nimble, adjectives you normally liked to use when you felt the touch of a man. It was your turn to swallow nervously, a small pit of arousal brewing in your lower abdomen as the small pelts of green substance dissipated across the center of the paper, just like you did. Holy shit, how could something as simple as rolling a joint be so attractive? Jisung brought a hand to his hair, running it quickly through the brown mop to get it out of his face, aiming to let no obstacles get in his way. He gave you one look, a gaze of concern when he noticed your eyes glued to his hands.

“You okay?”

Your eyes shot straight to his, attempting to not be mesmerized by the joyful expression covering his features. Fuck, why was his smile having such an impact on you right now? He chuckled, assuming that you were just playing around, but in reality, you were definitely distracted by the attractiveness of your friend with a sudden fresh washed mop of brown hair, glasses, and shining complexion of the side of his face as the light from the window cascaded across the high points of his cheeks. You faked a smile, nodding as you egged him on to continue. Panic began to settle in however when you saw the bare tip of his tongue coating the corner of the white material. Holy shit, he really was a natural. Licking the edge right across in one swift motion, not using too much saliva, yet still using enough. It was almost offensive how much better his joint looked compared to yours. But that was just what Jisung was: a perfectionist with little effort in trying to attain said perfection. He didn’t stray too much out of the norm, yet when he did try something, he was always good at it from the first try. Sometimes it made you wonder what other things he would be good at. But that was for another time, with a similar mindset in the fact that a brief thought of sexual fantasy was not worth more than your friendship. Especially if he didn't reciprocate, the awkwardness after would be something you most definitely could not handle.

“Woah,” you gasped, grasping the joint out of his hand, intensely observing it from each angle, “I knew you would be good at this.”

Your best friend beamed at your approval, eagerly waiting for the next step.

“Oh my lighter, I’ll go grab it now.”

You forgot before, but this gave you time to completely subtract those devil filled thoughts of Jisung by not looking at him for a brief moment. It worked, because as soon as you opened the drawer and saw your lighter, all you could focus on was lighting that shit up.

Coming back to the living room once more, you placed the fire breathing object on the table, offering Jisung to go first. He looked hesitant, unsure how or where he should start. It was adorable when Jisung was like this, because he was clueless not very often. You decided to pick it back up, pressing the flicker down once to ignite the flame.

“Do you want to go first, or would you like me to go first?”

“Uhm,” he hummed, “I think you should go first, you know, show me how to do this shit properly.”

“Okay,” you chuckled, letting go of the flicker on the lighter, handing it over to him, “well I usually don’t light my own joints so would you do me the honors?”

“Of course,” he purred, the smoothness of his tone delivering a sudden pulse to your core. You leant forward, completely forgetting that your clothing was completely revealing by all means. The looseness of your long sleeve white shirt was telling, the action of leaning forward exposing the subtlety of your cleavage. You could see Jisung’s eyes travel straight to them, but only for a brief moment. He was trying to be as respectful as he could, but it was impossible when your chest was right there. His thumb dragged with ease, flame luminous as he brought the orange tipped flame to the edge of your joint. The tip turned dark immediately, and the taste of the herb came with that. The sensation was immediate, as you grabbed the joint with two fingers, pulling the object away from your lips and letting the warmth of the smoke spilling, down your chest, and back up again, eyes fluttering shut as you puffed the smoke from your lips, the feeling of nostalgia hitting you.

Jisung watched you in awe, amazed at how easily smoking came to you. He wanted to try so bad. He wanted to prove to you that he could do something that you did not expect of him. But he was patient, waiting for you to open your eyes before he started.

“Mmmm,” you hummed in pure bliss, lifting your eyelids slightly, “that is some good shit.”

“Yeah?”

“Yessss,” you hissed, grabbing onto his hands holding the lighter, sliding it out of his hand “your turn. Place the joint between your lips and lean forward.”

Jisung did as he was told, adjusting his positioning to being abnormally close to you. You didn’t pay much mind, the small flame igniting once again, but you paused, almost forgetting that he in fact did now know what he was doing.

“Ok so once I light this,” you paused, using your free hand to squeeze his jaw, “are you listening?”

His eyes widened at your sudden touch, a small nod which was obstructed by your somewhat firm grasp.

“Ok so once I light this, take a small breath in, hold for a second, and blow it out.”

“Yes maam,” he smiled, looking deep into your eyes before you passed him the bud, waiting for him to grasp it between his two fingers. When he does, still keeping his eyes on you, simultaneously feeling your brain drop slightly at how intense his gaze was in this very moment, lips forming into the shape of an o as the paper came to his lips, taking the smallest puff, and blowing it out. You were impressed, seeing this was the first time he smoked anything without coughing his lungs out. A smile came to your lips, proud of your best friend in the moment.

“Woah,” he sighed, finally breaking his stare, eyes changing towards the blunt. His chest descended as he took another puff, turning back to face the tv as his back gently slid into the couch.

“How was that?”

“Is it crazy that I already feel more relaxed than before?”

His response made you giggle, glad he was enjoying himself.

“I told you,” sighing as you snatched the blunt from his grip, taking a long drag, “I only smoke the high quality stuff.”

“Sure do,” he growled, sinking deeper and deeper into the couch. Jisung grabbed the remote, pressing play on the TV, greeted by a girl in a royal style gown. He forgot that it was Bridgerton that got him here in this predicament.

***

It did not take much for the two of you to feel the consequences of smoking. One thing you hated to admit was that you craved the presence of someone next to you when under the influence. But not just like in your orbit no. Like needing a lack of personal space. To be suffocated. Which is why the two of you were sitting the way you were now. Your legs atop of his own, head buried into his chest, with your arms wrapped around his torso.

The intrusive thoughts always won when you were high, which is how your fingertips came to be not just on your best friend, but under his shirt, skin to skin contact. You couldn’t deny that the texture of his defined build, muscles budding at each ridge was hard to miss.

Bridgerton had been playing, but if anything, at this point, it had become background noise, the main noise becoming the tension that thickened between the two of you with each passing minute. Although the relationship was close,the idea of intimacy was never something that had come up as a thought. Sober you, and sober him, would never do such a thing. Feeling that maybe it would cross a boundary.

But the usual thought did not cross your mind. Or his for that matter, Jisung’s digits generously spread across the outside of your thigh, dangerously close to your behind. It felt nice, honestly. Yes, you had your fair share of one night stands. Male attention followed you, easily, whether you were looking for it or not. With that being said, however, it had been a while since you remembered what a real man's touch felt like. Especially your best friend. Being a biology major, Jisung was consistently practical in the lab, using his hands in the most intricate ways. Whether looking at a small piece of bacteria in a microscope, or dissecting an organ of some sort, he was always using his hands, and boy, was that evident when you felt the texture of his callous palms spreading across the back of your leg.

The puffing came to a halt, joint burning down halfway to its bud, but it was enough to heighten your senses. The two of you looked at each other, eyelids a little more droopy than usual as the both of you giggled, looking back at the TV. By the time the two of you were actually paying attention to the storyline, Daphne and Simon were getting married.

“So what’s the premises?”

“Premises?” You giggled, finding humor in your best friend’s speaking mishap.

“Yeah like,” he paused, maneuvering your body to be closer to his, leaving now no room on the couch between the two of you, “like what’s the show about.”

“It’s a period romance show based on a series of books.”

“Ohh, I thought you didn't like to read, you fucking nerd.”

“Oi,” you nudged him, completely missing the side of his arm and falling onto his chest, “I don't, that’s why I'm watching the show instead.”

“Right, anyway, go on.”

“Right, so Daphne and Simon basically pretended to be together so this other guy, creepy as fuck, wouldn’t have to marry her. But then they realized they developed feelings for each other but are both inendial about it so they're discussing the topic on their wedding day and just going through with it because it was too late for them to change their mind.” If either of you did not see the irony in this situation.

“That literally made no fucking sense,” Jisung sighed, using his free hand to scratch the back of his head, “but to be honest, I really can’t concentrate on anything you’re saying.”

“Damnnn,” you gasped, leaning up to look at him, “you’re high.”

“Yeah pfft,” Jisung hummed, keeping his glazed eyes focused on you, “I feel like I can just say or do anything right now.”

“That’s the beauty of smoking Ji,” you smiled, turning away and facing the screen. It was at this point that married TV couples were in their honeymoon suite. If you were being honest, it was hard to keep up with the dialogue due to the speed and the actual content being in old english. It was much less difficult to follow the visuals, their facial expressions, how they spoke. It was still captivating, watching the two actors get close and closer, right until their lips met. As they continued, the room felt silent yet tense. The two of you watched adamantly as things began to heat up, Simon assisting Daphne in undressing herself. It was then that you felt Jisung adjust himself under your legs, brushing him off of you as he sunk back into the couch. You thought it was strange, but you decided it was better to ignore it, remembering how mesmerizing the scene of Daphne and Simon making love for the first time really was. As they moved to their new bed, Simon hovering over Daphne’s innocent body, a new sensation was forming in your lower abdomen, but it didn't stop there, unmistakably flying right to your core, again. While recalling how mesmerizing this particular scene was, you also forgot how much it aroused you simultaneously. This was a mistake. Being high and horny was not a good combination, especially when Jisung, your best friend, was sitting next to you, previously with his hands on you. It was probably better to disregard these lustful feelings, they surely would pass.

“Oh shit,” Jisung mumbled, grasping for the small decorative pillow next to him, placing it over his crotch area, “this is um, wow, it’s uh-”

“Yeah I kinda forgot,” you replied before facing him, noticing the now pillow covering the beginning of his lower limbs. At first you were confused, eyebrows furrowed at why he would do such a thing. Instead of minding your business, and beating the paranoia of not knowing what he was doing that was amplified after smoking, you were now holding the pillow, the sounds of Daphne’s moans and groans the only noise that could be heard. As soon as Jisung noticed your grip on the pillow, he resisted you, not wanting you to see what was happening underneath the soft object.

“Jisung,” you laughed nervously, genuinely confused at his behavior, “what are you doing with my pillow.”

“Nothing,” he hushed, attempting to dismiss your question with the tone of his voice floating thin into the air, “keep watching.”

He pointed at the screen, head nodding in the same direction as you let go of the pillow and focused on the TV. But that was the worst mistake you could have made, because it was Simon’s turn to undress, and once he did, it really was game over. The two of them there, completely naked as he began to thrust into his new wife. Simon’s grunts were short, staccato like, while Daphne was more graceful, each moan spilling into her husband's ear as the two of them went at it.

“Fuck this is making me really horny.”

As soon as your best friend said that, he brought his fingers to his lips, leaving your jaw dropped. Did he really just say that, or were you hallucinating?

“Woops,” Jisung mumbled, “the weed is really making me lose my filter. Sorry.”

You should have hated that he blurted that out. Letting the intrusive thoughts win, especially when high, was not a good sign. But it brought the ache that momentarily dulled right back. Looking back at the screen, Jisung now removed the pillow and revealed his full hard on through his thin fabric sweatpants: it was becoming too much. Now suddenly, the only thought that stayed consistent was wanting the same thing on the TV. Right here. Right now. With Jisung. Your best friend.

“Don’t be sorry,” you cooed, moving closer to him, “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t either.”

He said nothing, only gasping in a subtle manner as Jisung looked at you, all of a sudden your features projecting to him as illustrious, appetizing. Jisung wanted nothing more than to devour you in the current moment.

“Is this normal?”

Jisung’s voice was so nonchalant, tone lacking concern or hesitation at your lack of proximity. It was kind of adorable, really. The normal friend you knew was one to freak out if he ever did something like this. Usually so prim and proper in every setting. In contrast, there was something sexy about the way he was acting. Sure, actions had consequences, but thinking with clarity was not a priority.

“I would say so,” you purred, voice soothing as your fingers crept onto the front of his knee closest to you, “weed makes me horny too.”

“O-oh,” his voice shook, suddenly a little nervous by the prospect of you touching him in a possibly arousing way, “Y/n.”

Jisung’s voice was breathy, chest heaving very slowly as his eyes shot down to your body. Suddenly, your best friend was amazed by every single curve and creativity of your figure. As he brought his hands to your behind, it suddenly felt so soft, hands unforgivingly slipping past the waistband of your shorts, making direct contact with your skin. The contact made you hot, using your free hand to fan yourself. Jisung took the hand of yours that was moving deathly slowly along his inner thigh off of him, body now on his side facing you as he withdrew his hand groping your ass. Instead, he moved it around to the front, but rather than dipping straight into your folds, he slipped in the layer under your outer layer, opting for the space inbetween, digits spreading across your core covered by the miniscule fabric.. It was better this way, he thought. The sensation of touch was much more sensitive under the influence as he wanted to feel every texture of your body that was possible. You giggled at the brush of his gentle touch, a small gasp quickly following up once you realized that his fingers, although not making direct contact, were feeding that arousal felt between your legs. Like scratching an impossible itch. His eyes were already on you when your neck turned, facing him.

“Shit,” you breathed, “you’re really good at that.”

“I’m barely touching you,” he hissed, lips getting closer to your own. What is happening right now? You should be saying no; rejected his advances. Your best friend. Jisung. The shy, little boy you had known him to be all of his life. But the longer his fingers pushed around that sensitive button of yours, the more your legs spread open for him, hips gently bucking to reach for more surface area of his fingers. His confidence was charming, almost too much so. It made you want more and more, so much so that your internal conflict of stopping and telling him to keep going was disappearing with each lingering moment. Rationality, once a perplexity in your mind disappeared the moment his lips landed on yours. God they were sweet, soft; every texture that you know felt pleasant was coming to your mind the moment they moved against your own. His free hand came to the side of your face that was farthest away, index finger spread across your jaw as he moved his tongue, deeper and deeper, maintaining his dominance over you. Fuck he was a good kisser, a whine erupting from your throat at how flexible his mouth was, bending over backwards to make sure that you were happy with the pace.

“Mhm,” you hummed, pulling away from a brief moment to remove all bottoms, panties included. All your best friend could do was chuckle, deeply, the shade of his eyes turning as dark as you had ever seen when he saw your bare pussy out, for him. His fingers latched on immediately, using the index and middle finger on one hand to spread your lips, the other fingers on the opposite hand barely scratching your clit. The feeling almost made you wriggle out of your seat, mouth agape across Jisung’s cheeks in a sloppy effort to maintain composure of any sort.. Everything was happening so fast. All it took was barely one scene for the two of you to let down your guards. Pretending that your friendship meant nothing. It was never friendship. Jisung would be a ghost to you if the two of you had not been friends since childhood. Maybe there were in fact other reasons that the two of you stayed this way. The moans and groans of the girls he would have over, filling up the bare distance between your room and his, always had an effect on you. It was then when you started to question what he did to those girls to make them feel so good that you were doomed. It was easy to act like a crazy party girl in front of him, knowing that he would never want to be with someone like that, and by doing that, it would push those little feelings right down to where you had the ability to forget them. Avoidance was always key.

But then Jisung would bring you food while you were up doing an assignment, buy you a bouquet of flowers when it was your birthday. Even the way he would talk to your siblings back at home was enough. Jisung was enough and maybe now, by getting these hormonal feelings out, which felt like heaven, was enough to admit that this would not be just a high rendezvous for you, but something real.

“You’re like really wet,” Jisung hummed, sliding his fingers closer and closer to your whining entrance, “always wondering how you would’ve felt like this.”

“You have?”

“Oh yeahhhh,” Jisung replied, sarcastic, as if it was super obvious, “all the time.”

“Fuck that’s so hot,” you moaned, gripping his wrist, bringing the digits specifically up to your lips for a moment, taking his DNA into a deep thorating motion The two fingers he was about to use now utterly drenched in your slick before navigating them down your body, circling your entrance before effortlessly plunging them straight into your hole. Jisung could have creamed himself then and there. Due to the sensitivity of his first time being high, he knew that if he was going to fuck you today, he truly would not last long, at all. But instead of ruining the moment that way, he decided to make it all about you. Wanting to view you squirm under him, make his best friend: you feel good. It is something he has been patiently waiting for. Jisung was a giver, and if he wanted to give you a toe curling orgasm on your couch to make you happy, he was going to do so, whatever it took.

As soon as he fingers reached the end of your whole, the two of you moaned in unison, the sound of squelch that was your arousal already an intense volume.

“D-don’t think I’ve been this wet before,” you whined, waiting for Jisung to gently pull them out.

“Really,” he questioned, genuinely baffled, “no one ever made you this wet before? Find that hard to believe.”

Your hips wriggled, desperate to feel the friction of him moving back and forth. However he was so mesmerized by the texture of your velvety walls against his digits, that he used his other hand, coated in your slick, to relieve himself, the encounter resulting in Jisung becoming much too impatient to bother taking his pants off. Your eyes shot straight to the small motion you were witnessing of him moving his hand against his cock. Oh, his length must feel so good like this. Once Jisung began to move his fingers that were inside of you, a string of curse words easily fell from your lips, unable to control anything that came from them. The sensory overload was at peak, and if you were sober, feeling overwhelmed would be an understatement.

With that being said, you were not, and neither was Jisung. The brooding tip that was his cock gently nudged your inner thigh. As he continued to grow, it had nowhere else to go. The simplest of touches felt like a million times more than when under the influence. But it had to be a culmination of things. Seeing Jisung dominate in something, take control. Fuck. Hearing those girls in his dorm had more of an impact on you than you originally thought.

Your mind drifted to those memories for a brief moment, the faint moans of the girls, but it suddenly occurred that you never knew what he sounded like. Jisung was a silent fuck? There was no way.

Your gaze drifted, Jisung immediately noticing and pausing his fingers with immediate concern.

“Y/n?”

Your head turned back faster than your eyes, deep in motion. It was silent, the TV pretty much non-existent as you grabbed him by the jaw, index finger and thumb strong on his mandible as your eyes fixated on his lips.

“How come you never moan when you fuck?”

Jisung panicked at first, a laugh following immediately after, the contagious sound making you laugh too. Your body was limp for a brief moment, falling off of your best friend's lap and next to him on the couch. Jisung ripped his glasses off his head, throwing them onto the table in front of him, allowing him to get a genuine look at how hot and flustered you truly were. Solely because of him.

“What are you talking about,” he giggled, fingertips immediately grabbing the flesh of your thigh, any part of you was good to him, as long as he could get his hands on it, right now.

“How would you know if I’m a silent fuck or not?”

“Because,” you smacked him lightly, letting him remove his hand from your skin “I can hear when you fuck other girls, pfft,” you huffed, lifting your legs in the air to discard your bottoms that were puddled around your ankles, “they’re always so fucking loud man.”

Jisung’s cheeks blushed in the tiniest form. It’s not that he was embarrassed. Okay, maybe part of him was a little embarrassed, completely caught off guard and forgetting that the walls in the dorm were paper thin. Part of him felt guilty that you had to hear that. He began to pout, but immediately dropped his lips when he realized that you were half naked. His fingertip immediately wrapped around each hip, forcing you to sit on his lap and face him. You lifted your hips, eyes signaling down to his pants that were overdue in needing to be removed. Jisung complied immediately, whisking his sweats and boxers off in one motion, causing his hard length to meet with your soaked core, his tip prodding gently at your folds. You bit down on your lip trying as hard as you could to focus on Jisung’s face, rather than focusing on how erect his cock was against you. Jisung tugged at your shirt, gawking when you lifted your arms to see no other material supporting your chest. Jisung was mesmerized once again. Another surface area that he wanted his hands on immediately.

“I can’t believe you heard me fuck other girls and never said anyti-”

“Shhh,” you hushed, pressing your folds firmer against Jisung’s cock. Your best friend reach for your hips immediately, in shock of your bold actions, “I don’t fucking care Jisung it’s fine just touch me, please.”

“You don’t have to ask twice,” he huffed, palms snaking past your abdomen and gripping onto your tits hard, firm, rough. Ugh. Nothing had ever felt so good in your life. All this time you thought Jisung was a stupid little pathetic boy, with the occasional fuck here and there. God, it would almost make you laugh at how incorrect your perception was of him in the bedroom. Truth was, he knew what he was doing, because your arousal was doing nothing but increasing with each longing moment that his wood was not inside of you.

“Soft fucking tits,” Jisung mumbled, almost drooling as he slapped one of your nipples, the skin imeediadtely turning hard as he brought his lips to to the bud. His teeth appeared, claws like, as he took the same one in his mouth, not returning for breath as he nippled, licked, sucked; you name it, Jisung was doing that.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, head rolling back in pleasure, “how are you so good at everything you do?”

A chuckle escaped Jisung’s lips, the vibration felt across the entirety of your chest, “I’m not I-”

The two of you paused, freezing entirely when you heard Jisung’s phone ring. He glazed over, noticing the words “Mom” written across the top of the screen. He looked away as he turned back to you, that look of hunger dilating his pupils. The temporary freeze made Jisung long for you even more.

“Jisung,” you whispered, hands placed across his face and upper neck, “you should answer.”

“No,” he huffed, attaching his lips over your neck sporadically, “if it’s an emergency she’ll call me again. I’m busy.”

The phone was silent for maybe a few seconds, before it began to ring again. Jisung scoffed, removing his hands from you as he picked up his phone.

Your joint and lighter were in arms reach. You ignored the conversation, bringing the material to your lips and lighting it up again, your body relaxing even more as you took a deep breath in, feeling the substance sink into your skin, blowing out the remnants after. Your eyes turned to Jisung, his already on you, eyeing the joint in your hand. He leaned forward, waiting for you to put the joining between his lips. You complied, bringing the flame in unison. Jisung mumbled his words for a brief moment before blowing out the air.

“Yes mom,” he answered, “I’m fine. Y/n is fine, I just checked in on her.”

A small giggle came to your lips, followed by Jisung covering them. Removing his appendages, you decided to stand up, letting go of Jisung on his lap as you dropped to your knees. Like a predator, you crawled over, eye level with his knees. Jisung’s brows furrowed, taking him a bit of time to realize what you were about to do. He was still on the phone, talking to his mum about god knows what. That wasn’t your focus for now. It was spreading his legs wide, Jisung’s hardness evident as it spread across his groin. Your lips curled upward as you situations yourself where you needed to be, Jisung’s eyes widening as he realized what you were about to do.

“Yes I am s-sutdying hard,” Jisung shuttered, the sudden touch being your hand wrapped around the base of him startling him, “j-just finished one a-assignment today.”

A deep, lustrous chuckle escaped your mouth as you began to pump him, watching your best friend’s sensitivity, squirming at the touch. Jisung was doing everything in his power not to moan, prevent knowing how much effect you had on him, and form his mum knowing what he was doing.

“Mom can I c-call you back l-later, bit b-bust, busy right now.”

Jisung’s body jolts forward the moment he felt your tongue on the underside of him, making its way to his tip. He hung up the phone, tired of this torture as his hands found their way through your hands immediately. His sign of eagerness felt so good, the gentle tug from him begging you to go down on him completely driving you wild. The pain mixed in with pleasure immediately, traveling to your core and pulsating harder than it has ever felt in your life. Jisung was lengthy, but that was no problem. Beginning, slowly, you took him into your mouth, a guttural moan bleeding from his lips as his head rolled back with ease.

“Holy fucking shit,” he gasped, almost running of out of room to breath, “you’re so fucking good at this baby”

A slight moan fell from your lips at the use of the pet name. Jisung’s head snapped back down immediately to you, catching your gaze in an instant. Your eyes looked bigger to him, doe like. It was driving Jisung wild; he could’ve finished right then and there. Being high and having the elevated physical sensation from your magical touch was something he could live with forever, maybe become addicted to. If this is what life felt like under the influence, he now wanted this all the time.

“Mmmh,” you sighed, a large pop and breath coming from your lips as you replaced your hand, “you taste so good Sungie.”

Your free hand traveled down your body, descending to the apex between your thighs to satisfy that ache that was growing with intensity with every second passed. The attempt to hide your pleasure was amateur, biting down on your bottom lip as a stifled groan left your lips.

“Y/n, baby,” Jisung purred, leaning forward and grabbing your forearms, “come here.”

You did as you were told, helping him hoist you back onto his lap. The brush of him against you this time is 10x more powerful and intense. Nothing had ever felt like this before; you never wanted this to end. Jisung scanned you again, looking up and down one more time before seizing the hem of his shirt, ripping it over his head. You gasped, hands immediately clamping onto him as you leaned forward, reattaching your lips to his.

Above everything, Jisung’s lips felt the best. This symbolized so many times, conscious and unconscious, did you think about how they would feel. What they would taste like. How other girls thought Jisung’s lips tasted and felt like. Jisung smiled as he pulled away, the devilishly handsome smile on his face as he leaned into your ear, “sit next to me baby.”

It seemed that the only thing you could do was be obedient to Jisung. His orders were like music to your ears. In your friendship dynamic, you tended to be the more domineering one. Making decisions for Jisung, whereas he was the more nonchalant friend. Always happy to go with the flow, as long as he was with you. This time, may things were different.

Jisung sat in the same place with his legs spread. Leaning over, he grabbed you by the thigh closest to him, fingers dancing across the skin on the inside of your thigh as his lips turned upward again. All of a sudden you felt nervous. Watching your best friend ogle you was a strange feeling. Jisung immediately noticed your energy shift.

“Y/n.”

“Yeah,” your eyes widened, looking directly at him.

“You okay baby?”

“Yeah? Yeah! Sorry, let me have another puff.”

Jisung saw you grab the joint and the lighter again, bringing to your lips before he reached for your wrist, pushing the objects away, forcing your attention to be on him only.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“No,” you interjected, bringing the material and lighting the tip once more, “I fucking want you. I just zoned out for a second.”

You pressed a kiss to his lips, followed by his cheek, back of the ear and down to his neck, cascading hisdown to the middle of his chest. Jisung giggled at the feeling, the tickling sensation emitting fire throughout his body. He returned the favor, placing a kiss atop of your breast before he reached for his own joint, handing you the lighter, “Will you do me the honors?”

“Fuck yes I will,” you marvelled at his enthusiasm, lighting up the joint without a hesitation, watching him sit back and close his eyes, taking everything in. You did the same, wanting to embrace that feeling that resulted in you buying this in the first place.

It was as if the last puff recharged your best friend, his eyes reopening, that dark, lustful caste creeping back into them as he reached for you, pushing your leg out of the way, hand clasping your inner thigh. There was no sign of his movement stopping, fingers already pushing your folds across, almost as if they were in the way completely. A sharp gasp fell from your lips the moment his middle finger touched your clit, the sensation overwhelming immense as he began to move in circular motions. Jisung’s touch was gentle, in reality, he was barely applying any pressure. But in this moment, the pleasure you were deriving from his fingers was tenfold. Eyelids were fluttering, it felt like you could barely keep up with him. It wasn’t until you saw Jisung’s cock twitch out of the corner of your eye that you knew what you had to do.

It was time for your hand to snake around his body, but, in contrast to Jisung, you did not want to wait. There was no time to tease; you were simply too desperate. Fingertips found his weak spot fast, dexterity sloppy wrapped around your best friend once again as you matched the pace he found on you. It was slow, sensual, anything to build the pressure between your thighs, and between his.

“Y/n, baby,” he whined, a deep groan following, “Your hands are my favorite part of you right now.”

A seductive chuckle escaped your lips, “Your hands are my favorite part of you right now too Sungie.”

“Fuck I love it when you call me that with your voice all fucked up and groggy.”

“Sungie baby, I always call you that,” you paused, bringing short circuiting from the finger that Jisung slipped inside of you, “what’s so d-different about it now.”

“You always turn me on Y/n,” Jisung grogged back, “always,” he smiled, pausing again, “especially right now.”

A small heat came to your cheeks, hips gently dragging across his fingers. God, was this what heaven felt like? Your hand picked up in speed, Jisung reacted immediately with a gentle whine. The noises he made to you were like an orchestra playing its grand piece. Another side of Jisung that you had not seen, but were mesmerized by. It was a whole new world. A whole new territory of risk that the two of you had decided to explore. However, all rational and logical decisions were thrown out the window a very long time ago. Jisung wrapped his free hand around your breast, clasping onto your nipple as he entered another finger into you, index and middle finger picking up their pace, adding the squelching sound of your wetness as another sound that filled your tiny dorm room. Dorm room. You forget momentarily how thin the walls were; but who gives a fuck? It’s not like Jisung was going to hear. He was the one that was making you moan over and over anyway.

“Sungie,” you whimpered, “feels so good.”

“Say my name like that again.”

“Sungie.”

“Fuck,” he growled, pushing deeper into your walls, “your pussies screaming for me.”

“It’s your pussy,” you breathed, the tremors of your release beginning to rumble, “no one has ever turned me on this much Sungie.”

Your best friend had a smirk of approval, curling the tip of his two fingers inside of you. A small shriek escaped your lips, hand flailing from his cock as your jaw dropped at once. Hips bucked up and off the couch, a sinister chuckle coming from Jisung as he watched your hips squirm for him. He was possessed by the way your body reacted to him, reacted to his touch, he did not pay two minds to the throbbing sensation between his legs. All he could see was that you were slowly losing it.

You did not care. You were waiting close and closer, deeper and deeper, hitting a spot that has never been touched in your life. Your mouth was getting bigger, hips moving with less and less rhythm. There was an impending feeling that you knew was going to happen, it was only a matter of seconds.

“Sungie I’m gonna-”

“I know baby,” Jisung cooed, eyes fixated on your face, pressing a gentle kiss to your jawline, “cum for me.”

A borderline scream left your lips when your hips plowed to the couch, an rupture of pleasure cascaded of the entirety of your body, legs shaking and howling in pain like they never had before. Your chest was breathing heavy, deep in unison with Jisung’s as he removed his fingers, your pussy aching from the lack of fullness. Jisung leaned over, pressing a kiss to your neck in several places before your lips. He waited until your eyelids stopped fluttering shut for you to see him bring those sinful digits to his mouth, and suck on them, hard, a deep groan leaving his lips at the taste.

“Fuck you taste good,” he winked, causing both of you to start giggling.

It did not take long for your eyes to travel to his still very hard cock. Your hands traveled immediately, both encompassing the majority of him before you began pumping, hard. To anyone with an outside view, this was not classy sex. It was sloppy, but the two of you were so high that it was perceived the former way. Jisung needed your touch, you needed to touch him. Jisung wasn’t far off either, and the fact that you were looking at him with vigor, with desire was bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

“Y/n slow down, I’m gonna cum too quick.”

“No such thing,” you purred, adding your tongue into the mix, flicking your tongue along the slit of his tip.. You leaned over, Jisung resting his hands across your ass as you coaxed one moan after out of him. Jisung’s head snapped back, unable to comply with the amount of pressure he was feeling. In a similar fashion to you, his hips began to buck, tip slipping into your mouth as his sounds got louder, his pleading becoming stronger.

“Y/n fuck, s-shit I’m gonna cum, Y/n I’m gonna cum.”

Jisung’s voice became whiny, the tone music to your ears as you moved your mouth away from his length, bringing your lips to the crook of his neck and collarbone, gently nipping on the soft spot on his skin as his muscles coiled underneath your body, cock getting harder under his hands as he hit his peak. Ropes and ropes of him squirted across his stomach, a deep groan, one sounding of relief bursting from his lips as he gripped your wrist, chuckling to stop you from a sensory overload.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, regaining his compures as he grabbed you by the neck, pulling you into a deep, deep kiss. The pressure on your neck was comforting, a smile turning on your lips as you pulled away.

“Wow,” Jisung gasped, “That was,”

“What took you so long?”

“Y/n, shut up,” Jisung spat, the fatigue hitting him suddenly, “woah, I’m fucking exhausted.”

“I tend to have that effect on people,” you smirked, the room erupted in laughter as Jisung laid back on the couch, pulling you into him as the two of you looked at the ceiling. Your substance affected mind was starting to wear off, causing your exhaustion tenfold. The two of you drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

“When I wake up, you're gonna get it,” Jisung mumbled, but you were already asleep.

Depending on how you felt when you woke up, that would change everything.

#han jisung #han jisung smut #han jisung fic #han jisung scenario #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids fic #han jisung x reader #stray kids x reader #jisung #jisung smut #jisung fic #jisung scenario #jisung x reader #ch4nb4ng

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faithshouseofchaos · 8 hours ago

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Leaving it all Behind (LIAB) series

I’m going to be a father? — max verstappen x reader

Leaving it all behind series one shot part three

Word count — 591

Fluff

It started as a suspicion—a tiny inkling that maybe, just maybe, something was different. Y/N had been feeling off for a few days, small things that she would normally brush off as nothing. But today, as she glanced at the calendar, her heart skipped a beat. She was late.

Trying not to get ahead of herself, Y/N went to the pharmacy, her mind buzzing with a mix of excitement and nerves as she picked up a pregnancy test. She hurried home, her hands trembling slightly as she set the test down on the bathroom counter. After what felt like an eternity, she glanced down at the result, her heart pounding.

A wave of joy and disbelief washed over her. She sat there in the quiet of the bathroom, staring at the test, a hand over her mouth as she processed the news. She was going to be a mom, and Max… he was going to be a dad.

Once the initial shock faded, a giddy excitement bubbled up inside her. She wanted to tell Max in a way that would be meaningful—a moment they’d remember forever. She thought of the garage, where Max spent most of his time. She knew exactly how she wanted to tell him.

The next day, after Max left for work, Y/N headed to a local store and bought a tiny pair of baby shoes—a pair of soft, cream-colored booties that seemed perfect for the moment. When she got home, she carefully tucked the booties into a small gift box, sealing it with a note that read, “Can’t wait to meet you, Daddy.” She placed it on the passenger seat of Max’s truck, knowing he’d find it at the end of the day.

That evening, Max came home with a look of confusion, holding the small box in his hand. Y/N watched him closely, biting her lip to contain her excitement as he opened it. The moment his eyes landed on the tiny shoes, he froze. His gaze flickered to her, a mix of surprise and awe on his face.

“Y/N… are you serious?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

She nodded, her eyes filling with happy tears as she moved closer. “I found out yesterday. We’re going to be parents, Max.”

Max’s expression softened as the news sank in. A wide smile broke across his face, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. She could feel his heart racing, his breaths quick and filled with emotion as he tried to process what this meant for them.

“We’re… we’re really doing this,” he murmured, his voice thick with awe. “A family. Our family.”

Y/N laughed, her arms wrapping around his neck as she held him close. “Yes, our family. Can you believe it?”

Max pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes shining with love and gratitude. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I swear I’ll be the best dad I can be.”

They spent the rest of the evening talking, dreaming about their future as parents, and wondering who their child would take after. Max, who was usually so tough and guarded, couldn’t stop smiling, his hand drifting to her stomach with a gentle reverence that made Y/N’s heart melt.

In that moment, in the quiet of their little home, they felt more than just love—they felt a sense of wholeness, a new beginning, as they looked forward to the life they were about to welcome into their world.

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x you #f1 x y/n #faiths inboxes📥📨#formula one x oc #formula one x y/n #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x female reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen one shot

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cr4zy-cycl0n3 · 1 day ago

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Yo! I'm doing a Heroes of Olympus rewrite!

I'm not a huge fan of how some scenes go in canon and how the characters esp the gods are handled in Hoo, and after reading one too many rewrite/AU fics, I've decided fuck it, imma make my own.

I'm changing quite a few things, like:

- making Piper's memories not be tampered with and as a result be way closer to Leo (credit to Heroes of Juno by @queenjunothegreat for this idea!)

- MOTHERLY HERA/JUNO WHO PSEUDO-ADOPTS JASON FTW also parental Lupa but that'll be more apparent in a Jason prequel/sequel(depends on how I wanna format it) I’ll write after TLH is done

- slowburn valgrace instead of comphet jiper

- Leo and Piper QPR(+Jason when Piper stops being his #1 opp). Jasipereo ftw babyyy

- the whole series is just gonna have a good deal of focus on the Lost Trio. I'm not gonna shaft anyone ofc but my favorite punching bags characters are just gonna get extra love :3

- Jason's gonna be considerably more feral cuz CMON MAN WAS RAISED BY WOLVES(this is more prominent in the later books cuz in TLH he was alr feral, going at 2 giants with his BARE ASS HANDS)

- Jason has more bite cuz DAMMIT HE DESERVES TO BE ANGRY/BITTER AND CLAP BACK. HIS LIFE IS SHIT, LET MY BRO BE MAD

- more exploration into Jason's character cuz man was shafted so hard :(

- exploration of characters' powers in general, def buffing the Big Three kids to be as strong as Percy cuz holy cow he's OP. I love Percy and his OP-ness, but the other Big Three kids should be just as OP

- Zeus is the God of Justice, which we don't see much of in PJO's characterization of him, but Jupiter is Roman and hence is much more strict in the RRverse, so consequently I think his domain of law and order is more central to Jupiter than his greek counterpart, so I'd like to explore Jason having powers related to that and being an absolute powerhouse when it comes to debates and politics despite hating them

- characterizing the Gods differently from canon as I'm a Hellenist and writing them as they are in canon makes me like. Kinda uncomfortable. I will be using mythic literalism as that is what PJO/HoO's based on and I'm not rewriting the very foundations of the series, so they will still have committed the things they did in mythology, though I'm keeping them largely unaltered from the Og greek mythos and unsanitized as this isn't intended for a young audience like PJO is. Their behavior won't be exactly like their depictions in myths nor how they actually are irl, it's a mix of both(Ex: Zeus has still done heinous shit so he won't be as great as he is irl, but he isn't supremely petty and bitchy like he is in PJO.). This uhh. Will probably mean that PJO events would go differently which would influence HOO but if I think about that too much I'm gonna wanna do a PJO rewrite too and akbhdhd so just imagine that everything that goes on in PJO goes as canon (for now at least) for some reason or another.

- Octavian and Jason are were best friends cuz I said so. This change is inspired by To Storm and Fire(a Heroes of Olympus rewrite) which I am in LOVE with. The antagonistic side characters(like Drew and Octavian) got very little development or character exploration so l'm definitely giving them that in my rewrite!

- The Seven feel and are much closer together

- delving more into the sevens' trauma pre-camp, might also do a one/two shot for each of them. Jason’s a given cuz I’m writing a whole ass fic or even series dedicated to his past, Leo and Piper definitely, probably also Hazel and Annabeth, not sure on Percy and Frank cuz for Frank I’m def going into the trauma that comes with growing up in an Asian household but don’t have too many ideas on how to execute that, and for Percy I don’t have all that many ideas in general outside of the little we know in PJO(I used to think we knew a lot but honestly, we really don’t? Like we know Poseidon left, Sally had to work a lot, Gabe sucks, and he got kicked out of 6 six schools in 6 years and the reasons, but we don’t have any concrete details. There might be more in HoH, I haven’t read it yet so lmk if there is). Open to any ideas for this!

- camp is. Tense. It's been only a few months since the war, grief is still fresh, and Jason being tall, blonde, and blue-eyed with a scar ain't helping 💀 some people think Silena was a hero, others think she was a villain, some people sympathized with Luke, others despised him, there's a lotta differing views.

I have loads more ideas that I won't get into here cuz the post'll get way too long, but l'd love to hear what you guys think! What scenes/characterizations should I change? What topics would you like to see handled differently? What should I add? I'm open to any and all suggestions!

Currently outlining TLH, will start posting it on my ao3 once I have the first chapter and 4-5 buffer ones written so I'll prolly start posting it in a month or two? Idk, depends on my workload irl and if I get hit by writer’s block. Maybe less, maybe more, who knows. I'll be writing a bunch of shorter stories for specific moments, time between books, and namely a prequel/tih sequel focusing on Jason's past and who he was before Hera wiped his memory. Open to any suggestions for additional works too. Feel free to drop any questions and suggestions bout the rewrite here or in my ask box!

#percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo #riordanverse #the lost hero #the lost trio #lost trio #jason grace #leo valdez #piper mclean #valgrace #jasipereo #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #rewrite #canon rewrite

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tapestryundone · 2 days ago

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constantly thinking abt the long quiet and the shifting mound and their relationship w humanity. because the two are very much not mortal and even in the what happens next ending its very ambiguous if they ever WILL be or Can be. but even still they have both felt what its like to be mortal

i feel like its vague if the entity the two used to be even percieved its own existence. the way the narrator talks about it makes it seem like the two only existed conceptually and as a result lacked a complete sense of identity, and didnt need to, and wouldnt want to. but in the same way a thought cannot be unthought, the narrator gave them a glimpse into what it felt like to be mortal and the two can never un-know it, even if it wasnt exactly the same

the long quiet in particular seems especially tied to humanity and in some aspects seems to want to BE human (which feels so potent given how decidedly Not human he is). the game tends to imply that every option you get is a thought he DOES have, and in the spaces between, the choices dont seem as influenced by a given voice, which highlights even more how much he feels conflicted on his own nature that he gets Multiple options to express discomfort with himself being a god

it just gets to me how one of the options during the fight is literally "appeal to your shared humanity". because even if the two are gods, their separation and reshaping has given them humanity that they can never un-feel. for how much the shifting mound grieves what she once was, she cannot will her humanity away. shes mourning what the two of them once was and is desperate to have it back at any cost, even though they can never be together how they once were.

even if the long quiet goes with her, theyre still apart and lack balance, because the two once just Were and werent two parts. they werent both halves, they werent two concepts, they were just one concept that happened to, by human eyes, consist of two halves. and the narrators insertion of humanity into the mix in order to separate them, separating them into concepts that humans understood, manually put into existence a struggle for equilibrium where that balance had simply Existed

but theyve already perceived what felt like reality and can never un-see it. they were separated and Need the other to feel whole and for reality to BE whole but the moment that either of them realized their own free will, the moment the two fully came to feel like people, they could never be together the same way once again

im struggling to come up with a metaphor that isnt silly but its like if you took a piece of fabric and cut it in two and made them both into shirts. youve added a piece of humanity into them and doing so cost its original form. to take them apart and try to put them back together would never get you the original, whole piece of fabric back, because theyve been completely changed by their own unique destruction and reconstruction

they were separated in a way that gave them humanity that they have such conflicting feelings on. both seem to have a deep love of humanity but vastly different ideas on what humanity needs to thrive, because its in their natures

in order to get one to kill the other the narrator let the long quiet interpret the both of them as mortal. and for a being of perception and an god thats being lied to, this became part of their limited view of the world, on top of all the other reasons that the two gained humanity. the long quiet couldnt be told what to do if he didnt have the ability to potentially act on the narrators desires, and the shifting mound could never die if the long quiet didnt believe her to be capable of death

the narrator gave the two humanity and the shifting mound is very reasonably distressed by this. because the two of them never asked for this but they cant undo it. it is her OWN subtle desire for things to be the same as they used to be, her own piece of that stagnation that also led to her experiencing humanity, that makes her so adamant during the fight. she misses the long quiet and wants to undo a change that cannot be undone in search of a constant state of being that was taken from her

and the long quiet felt so closely tied to mortality, both its existence and absence, that no matter what, he wants to aid humanity. but hes been lied to and denied autonomy to the point where he doesnt know what that entails. but he wants to be a part of it. he was given fake mortality and cant seem to figure out how he feels

the shifting mound is set in how she feels it best to aid in the existence of life. she is stagnant in her feelings because its all that feels right to her. the long quiet is ever-shifting in how he feels it best to aid in the existence of life. he is changing in his feelings because its all that feels right to him

getting to the heart of the shifting mound allows them a moment to discuss it as the closest they can get to mortals. the two care about their impact on life and what it means to be alive and what better way for the two of them to truly decide what they want to do about it, outside of the conflict thats been forced between them, than as the mortals they never were?

#slay the princess #long post #under a cut but i figure i should still tag that #waxing poetic about this is fun. i think about them every single day #i cant word it well either but something something stagnation as a representation of humanity #and the long quiet is mostly humanity with a small bit of divinity #and the shifting mound is mostly divinity with a small bit of humanity #and no words can describe what they are because they arent mortal but theyve felt too much of humanity to just be conceptual anymore either #but they arent both. they arent both or neither or just one or the other. theyre their own things that cant be explained with words #(not humanity in a literal sense either. idk how to word it)#(more metaphorical humanity)#but it makes them both people. but also not both people. but they can never not be people anymore. but they can never be not gods anymore #anyway. i lost the plot a few times i just get emotional thinking abt their relationship w humanity #i hope this makes any sense bc ive spent over an hr typing it because i got excited and once the words are out of my brain i forget them

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sysblr-system-surveys · 2 days ago

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What if, for a moment we could see how much sysblr has in common as well as where they differ? And to do it without the syscourse fighting or talking in circles?

Well, that's kinda what I want to do here. Something like.... a Sysblr Survey, done entirely anonymous through a Google form/survey.

Questions such as: what label you use, how did you first discover your system, do view your system as a positive or negative.

Some may be geared more toward trauma systems and others toward endo/mixed systems, but the point within that is to see if we are all different. If not, how similar? I just think it would be really interesting to see how Sysblr as a whole feels/experiences all of this.

PLEASE ONLY ANSWER THE POLL IF YOU IDENTIFY AS A SYSTEM OR ARE A DID/OSDD SYSTEM

For simplicity of an initial poll, it's divided into systems with, and systems without trauma+mixed origin

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lefteagleblizzard · 23 hours ago

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𝔙𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱

Mike munroe x male reader

A request that I received from a really nice person here on tumblr: a small idea I liked for a fic if you like the idea as well. Nothing too big, just a fic about Reader and Chris being brothers and constantly nagging each other about their crushes on Ashley and Mike.

I expanded the request a bit, sorry if I went overboard with it. Hope you enjoyed it.

Tags: set before the event of the game. Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Chris and the reader are brothers. Some very quick shifts of pov between characters. Jealousy. Mike and Jess/ Emily are not together in this. Friends to lovers. Mike is a flirt.

Words count: 4000

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢'𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔪

𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯

𝔄 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲

𝔍𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥 Part 2 of it

For anyone interested, I took inspiration from this clue that you can find while playing as Chris.

The music thumps in the background, a mix of bass-heavy beats and voices blending into a dull roar. You and Chris sit at a small, round table near the back, well out of the action but with a good view of everyone mingling.

"So," Chris says, taking a long, dramatic sip. "You actually spent the whole night staring at Mike. Dude, seriously, you're lucky your eyes didn't burn a hole in the back of his head."

You scoff, leaning back in your chair with a mock sigh. "Like you're any better. When are you actually gonna talk to Ashley? She's cool, she's cute, she's well, out of your league but hey, a guy can dream.”

"Hey, I do talk to her," Chris retorts, feigning offense.

"Uh-huh," you say, raising an eyebrow. "It’s a lot if you can manage to squeak out a sentence before turning red.”

Chris chuckles, crossing his arms. "Fine. Why don't you go up to Mike and tell him what you think? 'Hey, by the way, I've been thinking about how perfect your jawline is all night!’ I'm sure that'll go over great." He did a horrible interpretation of your voice to mock you even further.

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks flush just a bit. "First of all, I would never phrase it like that. And second, at least I actually know things about him beyond his favorite book."

"Oh, really? Let's see who knows more about their crush. No cheating. No wimping out. Winner gets bragging rights." Chris leans forward, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Bragging rights? How about you admit I'm objectively hotter than you when I win?" you echoed, folding your arms.

"Sure. Whatever fantasy helps you sleep at night," Chris said, grinning as he dramatically cracked his knuckles. “I'll go first since I know you're just dying to hear all the juicy Ashley knowledge."

You chuckle. "Go with your in-depth research, Sherlock."

Chris clears his throat, sitting up straighter. "Fine. For starters, her favorite color is purple."

You make a face, unimpressed. "That's it? You think knowing her favorite color makes you the expert here?"

"Let me finish, smartass. She loves thriller movies. She also has this little habit of chewing on her nails when she's nervous."

You raise an eyebrow, genuinely impressed but unwilling to give him the satisfaction. "Okay, okay, not bad. But that's kid stuff. Let me show you how it's done."

Chris rolls his eyes, clearly not expecting much. "Alright, hotshot. Give me your best Mike trivia."

You sit forward, lowering your voice like you're letting him in on a secret. You have always been good at noticing things. Maybe it was a result of growing up with Chris and when it came to Mike Munroe, your crush, the small things were more than just interesting, they were revealing.

For one, every morning, without fail, he was up before the sun. He’d go for a quick run to stay in shape. You’d always catch glimpses of him at college heading back to his room in a tank top, earbuds in, eyes focused ahead and glimpses of sweat on his forehead.

He had this tough, confident exterior. He wasn’t loud like some of the others in the group. He had a way of using humor to deflect, to keep people from getting too close. You saw it when he’d brush off any talk about specific topics.

And then there were his tastes.

He likes his coffee black. Pretends it's macho. He had a surprising amount of nostalgia in his preferences. You couldn’t forget the time you’ve talked together casually on the lodge, his face lighting up as he talked about his love for old action movies.

Chris raises an eyebrow. "Alright. Maybe you’re better equipped than me. But, let's be real, you wouldn't even know where to start."

"Better than starting with nothing," you counter. "Besides, I could charm him if I wanted to."

Chris raises an eyebrow. "What would you even say?"

You grin, leaning in like you're revealing a grand plan. "I'd just walk up and ask him about his football season. Mention that time he scored the winning touchdown. You instead are hopeless"

Chris nods, pretending to take you seriously. "Oh, sure, because that'll definitely make him swoon. Hopeless? Me?" Chris laughs, leaning back with a smirk. "At least I don't have to worry about being mistaken for a stalker."

You both burst into laughter. For all the banter, you know neither of you would really judge the other for these harmless crushes. It's what makes the night so much fun.

From across the room, you caught sight of Ashley standing awkwardly near a table stacked with half-empty snack bowls and crumpled napkins. She shifted from foot to foot, clearly trying to blend into the background.

"Hey, Romeo. This is your chance," you said, leaning closer and nudging Chris with your elbow.

Chris snapped out of his trance, his head swiveling toward Ashley. His brows furrowed slightly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in amusement before settling back into a more thoughtful expression.

Chris groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "What am I supposed to do? Walk up and make everything even more embarrassing?"

"News flash: she knows you're a loser," but she clearly likes you anyway. Stop overthinking it. Just go talk to her. Be romantic for once. She loves that whole 'awkward and sincere' thing you've got going on."

"First of all," Chris said, pointing a finger at you, "I'm not awkward. I'm, uh, charmingly self-aware. Second, what if I say something dumb? Or worse, nothing at all? I can't just walk up to her and-"

"You're a coward," you interrupted, shaking your head in mock disappointment.

"Yep," he said, popping the "p" and lifting his cup in mock toast.

You were scanning the room until your gaze landed on Mike Munroe.

He was leaning casually against the wall, drink in hand, chatting with a girl you vaguely recognized from English class. His tuxedo fit him perfectly, tailored in all the right places, the dark fabric catching the light just enough to highlight his athletic build. The black foulard tied loosely around his neck was an elegant touch, a little different from the usual bow ties and neckties most guys wore. His hair was perfectly tousled, like he hadn't even tried but still managed to look effortlessly handsome.

You felt your chest tighten. For a moment, your imagination betrayed you, painting a picture of Mike turning toward you, smiling like he did when he told one of his dumb jokes when he got elected class president. You could almost hear his laugh, warm and inviting, as if it were just for you. But reality snapped back into focus when the girl he was talking to leaned closer.

"Mike would never look twice at me like that." You mumble more to yourself without thinking, unable to keep the disappointment from your voice.

Chris, placed a hand on your shoulder. His touch was light but reassuring. "Don't do that to yourself. You're a catch. If Mike doesn't see that, he's an idiot."

You looked up at him, grateful but unconvinced. Chris stood up, brushing imaginary lint off his jacket. "I'm getting us drinks. Let's make it through the rest of this night together, yeah?"

You nodded, watching as he made his way to the bar. You glance around, your gaze landing once more on Ashley and an idea strikes you. Chris is now far away from your position. It’s your chance to do something.

You stride over to her, flashing a friendly smile, keeping your movements casual so you wouldn't startle her. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed you, but she relaxed as you softly took her arm.

"Hey," you said, grinning playfully as you gently guided her away from the corner.

Ashley laughed, the sound light and genuine. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement but no resistance as you led her toward your table.

"Come on, you can't let Chris and I have all the fun sitting in the corner judging everyone." you replied, glancing over your shoulder with a mock-serious expression.

"That's what you two have been doing all night? Very productive." She scanned the place as you reached the table and she managed to spot Chris at the bar, meticulously mixing something with an unusual level of focus. But then her gaze shifted, catching Mike watching the two of you.

Jaw set, lips pressed into a firm line, eyes tracked the way you gently tugged Ashley along. His gaze lingered on your hand before flicking back up to your face. Lips pressed together in a faint, almost imperceptible scowl, as though something about the sight of the two of you together unsettled him. There was a slight tension in his posture, the way his shoulders seemed just a bit too stiff for someone casually enjoying a party.

Chris returned with two drinks in hand. "Okay, I've done it," he announced dramatically. "The ultimate drink. If you don't like it, I'm never speaking to you ag-" He cut himself off mid-sentence when he saw Ashley sitting at the table, smiling up at him.

"I... uh..." Chris stammered, turning an impressive shade of pink.

"You made this for me?” Ashley asked sweetly, taking the drink from his hand before he could respond. “Thank you, Mr. Bartender."

Chris blinks and he lets out a nervous laugh, giving you a quick glare as he hands the drink to Ashley.

She giggles, taking a sip and you watch as Chris visibly relaxes. They share a smile and there's a warm, unspoken understanding between them, a quiet moment that you can't help but feel a bit envious of.

The music shifts, slowing into a softer, more romantic melody. Couples move onto the dance floor, swaying together in a slow embrace. Ashley’s eyes light up as she turns to Chris, her cheeks flushed with a faint rosy tint from the slight inebriation she feels. "Come on, Chris," she says, tugging at his hand. "Want to go there for a bit?"

Chris's eyes dart to you, searching your face for reassurance, his expression almost apologetic. He's asking, without words, if you'll be okay.

You manage a smile, giving him a nod.

Chris lets out a laugh, his tension melting away as he lets Ashley pull him onto the dance floor. They disappear into the crowd, leaving you alone at the table. You watch them go, feeling a bittersweet pang in your chest as you take in the sight of them together, laughing and smiling, fitting together so effortlessly. Chris fumbling his way through the first few steps before finding his rhythm.

They looked so happy.

And you were here instead, alone at the table, your thoughts inevitably drifting back to Mike.

Chris feels his heart race as he stands on the dance floor, his hands resting lightly on Ashley's waist, her arms draped over his shoulders as they sway to the gentle rhythm of the music. Her gaze meets his every so often, a smile warm and genuine, making him feel like the only person in the room.

"I didn't know you had these moves." she teases, her eyes twinkling.

Chris chuckles, shaking his head. "Oh, trust me, I don't. I'm just doing my best not to crush your toes."

Ashley laughs, her grip tightening on his shoulders as she rolls her eyes. "You're doing just fine. I don't mind if you, you know, relax a little."

"Relax? Yeah, I can... I can do that," he says, voice faltering as he tries to ease into the rhythm, matching her movements as the song continues.

His focus wavers after a while, gaze drifting over her shoulder as he catches sight of his brother sitting across the room at one of the tables with Matt nearby.

There's something off about the way you're holding yourself. You're smiling, sure, even laughing at something Matt is saying, but Chris can tell that the smile doesn't quite reach your eyes. It's the kind of forced expression he's seen on you before, usually when you're trying to act like everything's fine when it really isn't.

Matt, on the other hand, seems entirely oblivious, leaning in a bit too close, his face lit up with that typical over-eager grin. He's almost leaning into your personal space as he chats away, looking way too thrilled to have your undivided attention, his eyes never leaving yours. The proximity feels a bit too familiar, too comfortable, with his arm casually resting on the back of your chair.

Chris feels a pang of protectiveness twist in his gut. He glances around the room, half-expecting Emily to appear and pull Matt back to the dance floor, but there's no sign of her. Instead, he spots her on the far side of the room, tipsy and laughing as she spins around with some stranger she's apparently mistaken for Matt. She's caught up in the music, oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend is practically glued to your side.

Ashley notices his distraction, her gaze softening as she studies him. "Chris?" she asks, her voice gentle, bringing him back to the moment. "Is everything okay?"

He blinks, snapping his attention back to her, guilt creeping in as he realizes he's been distracted. "Yeah, yeah, sorry," he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Just... got a lot on my mind."

Ashley smiles, tilting her head as she searches his face. "You sure? You can tell me, you know."

Chris hesitates, glancing around the room one more time. His gaze lands on Mike, who's slow-dancing with the girl in glittering dress. She's leaning against him, her head resting on his chest, but Mike's attention isn't on her.

His eyes are locked in your direction, his brow furrowed and his jaw set in a subtle scowl that's hard to miss. There's a tension in his gaze as he watches you and Matt together. There's a faint scowl tugging at his mouth, a subtle clenching of his jaw that makes it look like he's holding back the urge to step in but doesn't quite know how to act on it. His brows are drawn together and his eyes flick between you and Matt with a guarded intensity.

Chris frowns, glancing back at you. It's clear now that something is brewing beneath the surface, something he doesn't fully understand but can sense all the same. He looks down at Ashley, his expression softening as he makes up his mind.

"Hey, Ash?" he asks quietly, feeling a bit awkward but determined. "Would you mind helping me out with something real quick? I, uh... I owe someone a favor.”

You were mid-laugh at something Matt had said about his latest sports practice when a shadow loomed over the table. You looked up to find Mike standing there, holding his drink loosely in one hand and the other casually tucked in his pocket.

"Hey, Matt," Mike said, his tone light but carrying a subtle edge like he's asking for a favor he already expects to be granted. "Mind if I steal him for a bit?"

Matt's smile falters, and he glances at you, a bit reluctant, as if he doesn't quite want to let go of the moment he's carved out. "Uh... well, we were just-"

"Looks like Emily's about to make out with that guy," Mike interrupted, tilting his head toward the dance floor. "You might wanna handle that before it gets messy."

Matt whipped his head around, his face paling slightly as he spotted Emily drunkenly giggling and leaning far too close to the stranger. "Shit," he muttered, scrambling to his feet. "I'll, uh, catch you later." he says to you, giving you a quick nod before he disappears into the crowd.

"Yeah, sure," Mike said smoothly, his smirk widening as Matt hurried off. You glance back at him just in time to catch a wicked grin flash across his face as he watches Matt weave his way toward Emily.

He turns back to you and without a moment's hesitation, he slides into Matt's now-empty chair, shifting it even closer to yours with an obnoxiously loud scrap of wood against the floor. He dropped into the seat with a satisfied sigh. His arm resting along the back of your chair but soon sliding fully around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

The warmth of his body, the faint scent of his cologne, earthy with a hint of spice, made your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. From this close, you could see every detail of his face: the light beard perfectly trimmed along his jaw, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the infuriatingly perfect way his smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. He was leaning into his persona, that cocky, playful charm cranked up to eleven and it was doing things to your brain you weren't sure you were ready to admit.

"Well, this is cozy," Mike said, his voice low and smooth. "Didn't think Matt was ever gonna leave. Guy's got some stamina for talking, huh?"

You blinked, struggling to form words. "Uh, yeah. He's chatty"

Mike chuckled, the sound warm and teasing "Chatty? That's the nicest way to put it. Bet he's been boring you to death, huh?"

"Not entirely," you said, though your voice was far too shaky to be convincing. "He's enthusiastic."

Mike raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. "You're too nice, you know that? If I had to sit through more than five minutes of that guy's rambling, I'd be asleep in my chair."

You laughed, though it came out a little too breathy. "Maybe I'm just better at pretending to be interested."

"Pretending, huh?" Mike's smirk widened. "So, what about me? Are you pretending to enjoy this little moment we're having?"

Your brain short-circuited. "I... I mean, no. I-uh... you're not boring. Definitely not boring."

"Good to know," Mike said, his voice dipping slightly as he leaned in just a fraction closer. "I'd hate to think I was putting you to sleep."

"You're not," you managed to say, your face burning.

Mike grinned, clearly reveling in your flustered state. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?"

“I’m not nervous,” you said quickly, though your gaze flickered away from his, betraying you.

“Sure you’re not,” Mike murmured, his fingers brushing just a little too close against your shoulder, the touch lingering for a beat longer than necessary. “What were you and Matt talking about? You looked a little bored." His tone was smooth but there was a faint edge to it now, like he was testing the air.

You noticed the subtle shift in his expression. His jaw tightening just slightly, his eyes narrowing for a fraction of a second as if he didn’t quite like the idea of you and Matt sharing a private moment.

You shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Just sport stuff and his latest victory for his team. He was just being friendly,” you added, trying to sound indifferent.

You didn’t miss the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes flickered just briefly toward the ground before locking onto yours again.

Mike’s lips quirked into a knowing smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, he looked real friendly.” The smirk that followed didn’t help, pulling at the corner of his mouth as if he was more amused than you thought he should be.

You raised an eyebrow, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

For a moment, Mike just stared at you, his expression unreadable. “Nothing,” he said too quickly, the innocence in his voice so forced that you could almost feel the tension cracking around him. The grin stretched wider, like a challenge. “Just saying, if I didn’t know better, I’d think Matt was hitting on you.”

Your breath caught in your throat and a flush of heat spread across your cheeks. You tried to play it off, but there was no denying the way your heart stuttered in your chest. “He wasn’t,” you said quickly, your voice coming out a little more defensively than you intended.

"Either way. Figured I'd come over and I don't know... make the night more interesting for you. Prom only happens once, right? Gotta make the most of it. Besides—” His voice softens, his gaze locking onto yours with a sincerity that takes you off guard. "—I've been waiting for an excuse to spend some time with you."

You swallow, feeling the heat rise to your face as his words sink in. "You have?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a slow, deliberate motion. "I mean, I could've come over sooner but you were busy with your brother. Then you were with Matt and I figured, maybe it's time I got a little selfish."

The intensity in his gaze makes it hard to breathe and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, caught between disbelief and exhilaration. "I... didn't think you noticed me like that," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mike's grin softens, his hand moving from your shoulder to gently rest on your waist, pulling you even closer. "I notice a lot more than you think," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Like how you always look away when you think I'm watching, or how you get that little crease in your forehead when you're trying not to smile too much."

Mike makes a silent note to himself to later thank Chris for the insights he’d shared minutes ago.

You laugh, feeling both embarrassed and overjoyed. "Okay, now you're just showing off."

He chuckles, his arm tightening around your waist as he dips his head a bit closer, his voice a soft murmur. "Can't help it. You’ve got me so close to losing it and you don’t even realize it." His fingers press gently into your side.

“Dance with me,” he murmurs, his voice low and laced with a tenderness that surprises you. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, a vulnerability that makes your heart race. “Let me be the happiest guy in this place tonight.”

You feel your pulse race at the invitation, your mind whirling with both excitement and uncertainty. "What about that girl you were with?" you ask, your voice quiet and hesitant, unable to stop yourself from wondering.

Mike's smirk returns, his hold on your waist tightening slightly as he leans in, his voice a soft, almost possessive murmur. "She's not you. You’re the only one I can’t get out of my head.” His voice is rough, coated in something darker.

You meet his gaze, feeling your breath hitch as you search his face, trying to process the weight of his words.

He takes his chance to lean in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that leaves your heart racing. His lips crashing into yours with a desperate urgency that leaves you reeling. His hand slides around your waist, fingers tightening as he pulls you against him. The heat of his body sears through your clothes, and his thumb traces a slow, deliberate line along your cheek, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, that familiar cocky edge in his eyes. His eyes burn with that familiar, dangerous gleam-a challenge, a promise. His breath is ragged, as if he's barely holding back.

"Still up for that dance? Because I've got this new boyfriend I'd really like to show off." he whispers, his voice low and teasing. His breath brushes your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. He looks at you with that trademark mischievous grin, the one that could melt anyone’s defenses.

A rush of warmth floods your chest at his words, a mixture of giddiness and disbelief. Your heart skips, caught between the sweetness of the moment and the thrill of his presence. The corners of your mouth twitch up as you meet his gaze, and though you can barely keep your composure, you nod.

Mike's grin widens and as he takes your hand, guiding you to the dance floor, you feel as if you're floating, lost in the warmth of his gaze and the excitement of being his.

Note: if you liked this, please leave a comment. I love reading them <3

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taesanboki · 2 days ago

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What are we..? - K. LH

pairing: toxic!leehan x fem!reader

༄ summary: after an amount of time full of flirtatious acts and joyful dates spent with leehan, you were blinded by love and thought you found the one even imagining yourself as a mother. But maybe leehan wasn’t who you thought he was..

༄ contains: angst, swearing (literally one word), love bombing, leehan is a dick!, use of y/n, use of leehan’s real name (donghyun), idk if i missed anything but enjoy 👏😊!

★ a/n: so uhm funny story..after i posted my intro i also got chewed up by a tiger and died! (the tiger being my sister..) so i have come back from the dead to start posting 😊 (the tiger has been threatening me to post so here i am 😊!)

more under the cut!

The clock read 8pm as you stood cold and upset outside of a fancy restaurant that donghyun had told you he’d meet you at but clearly never showed up.

He was supposed to be here by 7pm but after many missed calls and avoided texts you decided to wait figuring he was just busy getting ready. But 10 minutes turned into 20 minutes, 20 turning into 30, and 30 turning into an hour.

You scoffed looking at your phone screen to see no new notifications which is no shocker since this isn’t the first time he’s stood you up.

“What a dick” you mutter to yourself as you storm away to the direction of your car. This dinner was supposed to be a “make up” dinner since he’d been busy with other things and hadn’t been making plans with you. You had gotten ready with such an excited manner putting on the dress he loved and the perfume he bought you for your birthday.

You and donghyun hadn’t made it official yet only going on a few dates for the past few months but in such little time you couldn’t help but start falling for him, fast.

He seemed like a nice guy, handsome, caring, sweet, gentle, and everything you could ever ask for in a man. You felt lucky being with a guy like him, you felt the need to do anything to please him, anything to make him feel the same way you did. But soon your efforts seemed to be going to waste as time went on, he felt to be drifting away very slowly.

You slammed your car door shut with a defeated feeling bubbling in your stomach. You felt tears forming on your waterline but this wasn’t something tear worthy so you tried your best to suck it up and drive back home.

The faint music playing in the background made the feeling settle down a bit since your favorite soft artist was playing, clairo.

Eventually you made it back home and got changed out of your clothes, took a shower, and made your way to bed.

While lying in bed, you couldn’t help but think about what went wrong throughout your small relationship with donghyun. You had thought maybe this could bloom into something more, maybe even having him meet your parents and start a family one day.

You couldn’t help but feel a small pang in your chest, tears begging to be released.

You couldn’t contain it any longer and let it flow, over, and over again. Your sobs grew louder as you gripped the pillow under you, you never thought a guy could make you feel this way. Both happy and excited for his next move mixed with disappointment and frustration.

You didn’t know what to expect every time he promised to make it up to you. You always thought he would change and start to be better but it always ended up being the same results.

Once you calmed down a bit, you drifted to sleep with racing thoughts and pressure built up in your chest. Let’s hope tomorrow will be a better day..

The cruel ringing of your alarm tore you out of your slumber while you were having the best dream. Where Donghyun wasn’t a complete dick and actually took interest in you.

It saddened you that you could only dream about him being that way rather than experiencing it in real life.

You pushed all thoughts aside and focused on getting ready for work.

Once you were finished, you grabbed your keys and headed out of your apartment to your car when a text popped on your screen from the one and only, donghyun.

The worst part about being in this situationship with donghyun was you couldn’t say no, no matter how hard you tried he always had a way of convincing you.

You let out a disappointed sigh, you knew that you couldn’t get too excited anymore since most of the time when he asked to go out he stood you up with no excuse and you always forgave him. But a little part of you still had hope that he’d come through this time.

You made it to work, starbucks, clocked in and started working.

Work was going peaceful until a customer walked in. Male, a little taller than you, in his mid 30’s.

You watched him as he walked up to the counter to where you stood, his walk had this pettiness in it that you couldn’t help but choke down a small giggle.

“Hi! Welcome to starbucks, what’s the name for the order?” You greeted the man enthusiastically. “rob and uh can I get a tall iced pumpkin latte and a pumpkin cream cheese muffin, make it quick I don’t have all day.” The man replied while pulling out his phone.

You scoffed at the man’s behavior, now known as rob. No thank you? No please? You tried to keep your cool as you told the man the price of his order and turned to start making it.

After about 10 minutes you finished his order and went back to the front to call his name.

“I got a tall iced pumpkin latte and a pumpkin cream cheese muffin for rob!” Shortly after calling out the order, the man stomped over to the counter, snatched his order without taking his gaze off his phone, and walked out.

Not even 5 minutes go by before the bell on the door rings and the same man walks in angrily, his drink in one hand and his phone in the other.

“This is wrong.” “Uhm no sir that’s an iced pumpkin latte just like you ordered..” You shot back.

“This has foam. I didn’t ask for foam.” The man barked. You took a deep breath in, “Well sir make sure to clarify that when you order so we can get it right next time” You smiled sarcastically.

“Give me a refund now or I want to speak to your manager.”

You paused and bit your lip to keep yourself from spilling out obscenities for the sake of your job. “Unfortunately, we can’t refund you for a drink you already took a sip out of, i’m sorry i got your order wrong, have a nice day!”

“Young lady do you know who i am? I could get you fired from here with one complaint.” The man spat at you.

Oh my god someone kill me you thought. “Sir, just like I told you there’s nothing i can do, the least i can do is apologize.”

The man rambled on and on leaving you to stand there with your hands behind your back and taking deep breaths. The anger boiling inside of you was begging to be let out.

Just as you were about to snap, your manager stepped out to ask what all the noise was about and ordered you to take a break.

You stormed to the back and tore off your apron, sitting down on a chair trying to calm yourself down.

As frustrated as you were, you couldn’t let this ruin your mood, but it seemed like the universe wanted you to always have bad days.

Soon your shift ended, it was 7pm and you were exhausted and still a little frustrated while you rushed home to take a shower and finally relax.

You had completely forgotten about donghyun wanting to come over until you opened your apartment door.

You were greeted with your favorite candies and a bowl of popcorn while donghyun made himself at home with his feet on your table. That ticked you a little.

As soon as he saw you walk through the door he stood up and walked over to you and pulled you into a small hug. “Geez I didn’t know you were working for so long, i’ve been waiting here for a while!” He chuckled as he led you to the couch.

You reluctantly sat down, “How did you get in my house?!” He laughed before responding, “Did you forget you hid a key under your doormat?”

“Fuck i need to take that out” You whispered to yourself.

“Let’s watch a movie come on!” Donghyun quickly put his feet back on the table and grabbed the whole bowl of popcorn.

You closed your eyes and shook your head, trying to keep your anger tamed. “Donghyun, i never said you can come to my house unannounced.”

He looked at you, “We’re watching a movie together right?” You cleared your throat, “I never said yes but i appreciate the effort you put into this but i need you to leave.”

“What? Are you mad at me?” He tries to pull you into a hug to keep your mind off of your frustration.

You didn’t reciprocate the hug, just sitting there letting him lean on you. “Donghyun.” “y/n let’s watch a movie come on that’s why i’m here!” “Donghyun-“ “y/n stop talking we’re watching a movie”

You closed your eyes, you were fed up with him not acknowledging the problems and mental problems he’s caused, only making little effort to tell you he’s sorry without using actual words.

You snapped, “Donghyun im done, im so fucking done with you not caring about my feelings and making me wait for you every night whether it’s out in the cold or even a text back! The thing i hate most about this- whatever we are is how you don’t even make an effort to make me feel better, how you don’t even know how much pain and exhaustion you’ve caused me, how you don’t realize how much i’m willing to do for you!” Tears now streaming down your face all the emotion and frustration built up spilling out.

Donghyun stared at you confused for a moment as if he didn’t know what you were saying. “Y/n..what are you talking about..?” a nervous chuckle coming out of him.

“The fact that you’re not taking me serious right now says everything I need to know-“ you sniffled, “donghyun, can you tell me one thing? What are we..?”

It got quiet, donghyun not knowing what to say. The silence was eating you alive, only your heavy breaths being heard.

The silence lasted for several minutes before donghyun finally spoke, “.. We’re friends y/n..”

That felt like a stab in the heart, did all of this mean nothing to him? Was all of this just for fun?

The pain in your chest was unbearable, now it was your turn to stay quiet.

The both of you stared at each other for what felt like hours, donghyun’s eyes were glossed over while your face was coated with tears.

You took a deep breath in and looked away, “Donghyun please leave..” You whispered with a shaky voice. “Y/n-“ “leave.”

Without another word, donghyun got up, dusted off his clothes, and walked out taking a small glance before slamming the door.

As soon as you heard the door shut, you let out ugly sobs. Your heart ached, it felt like it shattered into microscopic pieces.

You sat there with your face in your hands, shaking rapidly basically drowning in your tears for hours upon hours.

It hurt. it hurt so bad and you couldn’t do anything about it. All you could do was cry.

All of your effort, all of the affection you’ve given him, everything you’ve sacrificed just to keep him happy over your own happiness had all gone to waste.

The rest of the night all you did was cry, replaying all the interactions you’ve had, thinking of the good times, yearning for something that could never be.

끝!! im sorry for not posting for a month after my intro as i said that tiger ATTACKED me but im here now so tell me your thoughts!

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truths33k3r4 · 2 days ago

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(Warnings for this chapter are at the bottom of the page to keep from giving away spoilers.)

CHAPTER 8 - Deceptive Answers

Don cringed as he thoroughly sprayed down the empty trash bin, acting as if the fragrant, lavender scent would banish the acrid stench back to the pits of hades from whence it came. After the third round of air freshener, he slowly backed away from the bin with a cautious frown.

He proceeded to spray it down four more times.

Why did it have to be vomit…

As he walked to the kitchen sink he gently pulled off his latex gloves, neatly folding and placing them on the counter as he began to run the tap. After years of learning about germs and how to abolish them, he knew well that it didn’t matter if you washed them with hot or cold water. But even with this knowledge, it still brought him a slight ping of delusional comfort envisioning the hot temp burning the germs right off his hands.

That’s definitely normal.

He didn’t care all that much for the gooey sensation of the soap when it first puddles in his palms, but with a few quick scrubs, the sticky texture expanded into soft peaks of foam. The warm water mixed with the luscious suds did wonders for his dry hands. Thanks to the colder weather beginning to creep into the city, his home’s air had been stripped of its moisture. As a result, the skin of his hands and ankles cracked like the barren grounds of a scalding desert.

In other words ew.

With the last stage of washing his hands complete, drying them and folding the washcloth over the railing near the sink, Don began the trek back to his office. As he neared the doorway of the brothers’ bedroom, he paused.

Just move quickly. No big deal. Just ‘ninja’ your way around. Get to your office without attracting any unnecessary attention. Orrrr getting involved in any more emotional drama… Easy.

With a quick inhale, and his face tightened with concentration, he slowly took one silent step after the next, continuing his way down the hall past the bedroom. As he crept, little pieces of whispered conversation fluttered past his ears.

“...Lotus, what are you talking about?”

Don instantly recognized the soothing tones of his oldest brother.

“You are free. You made it out. We saved you. Shhhh, it’s alright.”

Don’s brows creased together as he paused to figure out what had happened to spark such concerned words from Leo. Going by what he said, the eldest wasn’t referring to Lotus being sick. The word “free” especially intrigued him. He continued to stand frozen as he leaned closer to the doorway, his curiosity now overriding the mission to get to his office.

“N-no… No, They…They’ll never go away…” A small voice cried in muffled whimpers.

Don’s mind began to process Lotus’ words one at a time; Every vowel and every fluctuation were filed into neat shelves in his brain.

Who’s “they”? Going by how we found her, she must be referring to the scientists at the lab, right? But what does that have to do with her being sick? Did those physician abominations give her something to make her ill?

“Who, Lotus? Who won’t go away?” Leo gently whispered over Lotus’ smothered sniffles.

Don leaned closer. No verbal answer was given to Leo’s question, the silence only being filled by the frantic shuffles of sheets being pulled back and forth.

“I.. I don’t… I don’t want to talk about it. I c-can’t.” Lotus pleaded as her voice continued to crack and splinter under the weight of whatever was haunting her mind. “I just c-can’t.”

Don’s posture physically slumped as he listened to the fear-stricken shivers of Lotus’ voice. The way her words jittered and broke in shards sounded all too familiar to him. She was so scared, but there wasn’t anything physically present that would make her react that way.

That left whatever was plaguing her to be something lurking deeper. Don couldn’t help the defensive snarl that escaped his teeth.

It has to be nightmares… That’s the most reasonable explanation for such behavior.

He knew that well, being reminded every night of the horrors he and his twin were forced through. Even though they were home. Even though they were safe. Even though it made no sense that the past has such power over the present.

And now he sees he’s not the only one.

How long was she there?... How long did she live under the microscope of Specter’s prying eyes?

Don failed to suppress a shudder through his body as he was forcefully pushed into his own memories of the nightmare laboratory. His hands instinctively rose to cling to his shoulders, rubbing them down in an attempt at comfort. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, willing his mind to forget all those horrific memories that plagued him, but it was all for naught.

His twin’s screams echoed in a terrible chorus that consumed all his thoughts.

A sickly, neon green glowed through the barrel of a syringe.

His chained wrists ached and burned from being yanked through long corridors.

His terrified face looked back at him through the reflective surface of dark-tinted lenses.

His body shook violently as an electrode was pressed into the left side of his head.

His vision erupted in white static when the nurse pressed the button.

NO! STOP IT- NOW!

IT’S OVER. STOP LETTING THIS GET TO YOU.

IT’S OVER.

Don gulped down the dread and anxiety clogging his throat, burying it deeper into the places of his heart he dared never to go. The chill of his memories forced another shudder to claw its way up his spine, leaving him gripping tightly to his arms and shaking his head. His legs shivered and buckled underneath him as if the weight of his memories added to his physical mass.

It’s over. That’s enough.

Don leaned and used the wall to stabilize himself, relying on the firm surface to steady his rampant thoughts as well as his shuddering body.

Just move. One foot in front of the other.

With a withered sigh, he pushed off the wall and continued walking, blocking out the rest of the hushed conversations escaping the bedroom.

I can’t deal with that right now. I just can’t.

Leo’s got it. He can handle it.

With his mind completely focused on simply reaching his office, he didn’t even attempt to sneak past the bedroom. It didn’t matter if they saw him, anyway. This was one of those pesky things that he just… couldn’t fix.

So why try when it’s a waste of time? When there are others who are far more equipped for such a task?

Soon after, he finally reached his office, carefully closing the door behind him as he walked toward his desk. With a sigh, Don flopped onto his computer chair, causing a quiet squeak to fill the compact room. He leaned into the firm cushion of his chair as the whispered hum of the computer filled his ears. For a moment, just a small moment, Don took the second of mental silence to look around his room.

His gaze immediately rose to the high school certificate hung proudly on the wall closest to his desk. He remembered how excited he was to have such an accomplishment under his belt at the young age of sixteen, rubbing it in Raph’s face with a smug grin. His twin nearly shattered the frame before Leo and Splinter intervened.

So much has changed.

As his eyes began to wander again, he suddenly caught sight of a small, blue sticky note left underneath the frame of his certificate. Don leaned and squinted his eyes as he read,“Please remember to drink! -Leo”.

A cozy warmth filled Don looking at the note left there by his brother. It embraced his heart and settled his mind, leaving the faint feeling of a grin growing on his face. Don turned to his desk and took a good swig from the glass of water left there since that afternoon.

His eyes continued to wander, soon catching sight of his calendar and notes posted on the wall near his door. He again squinted his eyes, and even fixed and cleaned his glasses, but that all proved to be useless. He still couldn’t read very well, and it was beginning to drive him crazy.

With an annoyed growl, Don scooted and rolled his chair closer to the wall. He would have to figure out his sight problem some other time, no matter how many sparks of dread began to pop in his stomach at the thought of his vision once again failing him.

Shaking his head to repel any more worthless memories from entering, he once again gazed at the notes neatly stacked on the wall. Most of them were just phone numbers of the “co-workers” from his job.

But then he finally saw his calendar. And the warmth that once thrived inside him vanished instantaneously.

Leo’s words echoed back to him as he began looking over the wrong amount of days crossed out, reminding him just how much time he had lost.

“Eighteen days.”

For eighteen days he didn’t help his family.

For eighteen days he didn’t keep up with the repairs of his home.

For eighteen days he didn’t show up to work.

For eighteen days his family tirelessly searched for him.

For eighteen days you failed them. Weeks of worry, dread, and longing plagued your family all because of your absence. Did they even have fresh food this whole time? Did they have to resort to drastic measures? Did they have heat? Did any of them sleep?

Don crushed his head under the clutches of his tightening fingers.

How much pain did he inflict on his family all because of his carelessness?

Don hunched over in his chair, pulling his legs up to his plastron and pressed his head onto his knee caps. He squeezed tighter and tighter until it hurt.

How could I let this happen?

Why did You put me in this family if You knew I would FAIL THEM?

He pressed his head further into his knees. His arms clung tighter around his legs. His lungs begged for oxygen that he couldn’t supply.

“Why?...” He whispered brokenly.

Just at the moment he felt his head would burst from the pent up energy and pressure, a soft *ding* sounded from his monitor. He couldn’t recall what he had been processing on his desktop, so he slowly lifted his head from his knees, gazing over to his computer as he dropped his feet back to the floor.

Then it clicked in his brain, and he shot his legs out to propel himself off the wall to his desk. After slamming his hands against the ridge to keep from crashing into the small table, he took a millisecond to gather his completely shattered mental state so he could focus on the task at hand.

This was something he could fix.

His fingers comfortably found their rhythm clacking on the keyboard as he finally opened the files coded into Lotus’ implant. He was surprised to see so many, at least a hundred or so lined up in neat rows. Each one was labeled similarly, with the title “SUBJECT 19- PROCEDURE #”.

As curious as he was to begin looking deeper into those files, one in particular caught his eye, labeled two simple words:

“SUBJECT INFO”

That should be promising.~

With his mind made up, Don swerved his mouse and clicked. The file opened to reveal many different types of documents: Blood types, heartbeat readings, and many more medical related data.

If Don weren’t so disgusted by what these felons had done, he would actually be quite impressed with how well organized all the information was.

He pushed that feeling aside as he continued scrolling.

“MEDICAL HISTORY”...

“DIAGNOSES”...

“TREATMENT PLANS”...

Holy French Toast there’s SO MUCH… I’m gonna need weeks just to go through this all!

“MEDICATIONS”...

“TEST RESULTS”...

“PROGRESS NOTES”...

Down, down, he continued searching through them, just trying to find the end of the treasure trove of knowledge about his family’s new guest.

“IMAGING AND DIAGNOSTIC REPORTS”...

“IMMUNIZATION RECORDS”...

And then his cursor finally stopped. And at the very bottom of the list lied what he was searching for:

“VITAL RECORDS”

There you are.

Don clicked the file as he hunched closer to his monitor, the feelings of anticipation and dread filling him as he wondered what he was going to find. Lotus would finally get some semblance of answers about her past now. And from what he’d seen of the wounded girl, he knew she needed some good news.

The first document to pop up on his screen was a newspaper clipping.

What?

The article showcased some kind of vehicle, flipped over and ablaze on the side of a dirt-paved road. All the dates on the paper were crossed out, as well as the last names of anyone involved. The cover read in bold letters,

“FAMILY OF FIVE KILLED IN UNFORTUNATE CRASH”

Don’s head cocked in utter confusion as he began reading through the article. He began clicking his tongue as all his concentration zeroed in on every word of the story before him.

Somehow this connected to Lotus. And he was going to find out how.

The article stated that during a particularly rainy, spring night, a family of five, (husband, wife, and three children), slid off the road and flipped their car over. When help finally arrived, as well as the Press, the car was being swallowed by unrelenting flames. Only two bodies were retrieved, that of the husband and wife. Their names were Frederick and Jess, but their last name was crossed out.

All that was left of their two toddlers and baby were scorched car seats.

Don backed away from his monitor in horror, covering his eyes with his hand and sliding it down to his chin. The images of the husband and wife’s bodies hidden under sheets made his stomach tighten with sorrow. He squirmed in his seat, both guilty and grateful that he had never seen or heard anything about this tragedy.

All it took… was one thing to go wrong.

… And then… everything was gone. Everything. That poor family…

The rest of the article continued on to review the woe of their family’s relatives, as well as the following funeral that would occur at a later date. (A later date that was meticulously scratched out to be indecipherable.)

Why is this in her records?...

After finishing reading through the article, he moved on to the next document in the file:

A birth certificate.

Don muttered an annoyed growl as he noticed that this document had been thoroughly crossed out too, with the only things left reading:

Alexis?... Is that Lotus’ birth name?... But… this is an official document by the State of New York-

A human certificate.

Don’s brain whirled all this new information around his mind like an indecisive tornado. Nothing was making sense. No puzzle pieces were lining up. How could he be given so much information and none of it is useful?!? Here he thought those psychos with medical degrees were organized and thorough in their research- Here he thought he was finally given a buffet of answers ready to be feasted upon at a moment’s notice. How wrong he was to think this would be easy.

If he’s learned anything in his sixteen years of being a teenage mutant ninja turtle, it was the fact that easy never seemed to be an option.

His shoulders fell as he let out a sigh filled with disappointment. None of this would make Lotus feel better… If anything, it could make things worse.

If these documents are true…

Don pushed away from his desk, dropping his head onto the rim of his chair as the weight of the answers given to him pressed further into his mind. His chest ached and his head spun with the implications of the documents.

Was Lotus born as an actual human?

Did she truly once have a family?

And how did the newspaper article connect to this?

Was she in that crash? Did she escape the fire?

Instead of clicking into place and revealing the steadfast truth, all that these answers had done was scatter the pieces of this mystery further apart, deepening the chasm that remained of Lotus’ past.

That's it for this chapter!! And now all of you get to really see the base mystery of my story. :) Hopefully these small pieces of the past will help you theorize what you think happened to Lotus and who you think she is. :) I was ECSTATIC to show you all this chapter. I'm honestly quite proud of how it came out, and I am so excited to delve deeper into the mystery of Lotus' past.

Feel free to reblog and share this!

BIG THANK YOU to @poetique823 for helping me and encouraging me through this chapter! Also apologies for uh... breaking you. XD

@writer-in-wonder, @allyheart707, @oddartistl3, @risebabyx2, @joyjoygorl, @carrots-bear, @howtotrainyourdragonprince, @jasminegazer, @indieyuugure

If you want to be tagged in the next chapter, please comment down below! :)

To God be the glory!

~ Melissa

(CW- Implied past deaths, trauma, mention of medical trauma!)

MASTERPOST <- PRIOR CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ->

#tmnt #my version of tmnt!!#the strength in weakness #SIW Don #SIW Lotus #SIW Leo #In this story Don is a germaphobe #tw implied past deaths #tw trauma #tw medical trauma #tw flashbacks #This legit broke my editor #SORRY POETTTT <3 #The mystery has been revealed~#do y'all understand how HARD IT IS TO DRAW A BIRTH CERTIFICATE #Like GEEZ THEY'RE SO DETAILED

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