#like that’s maybe half what a week’s groceries cost? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tyunkus · 1 year

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amazon wishlist — kang taehyun

pairing: roommate!kang taehyun x afab!reader summary: your roommate and best friend, taehyun, finds a dildo on your amazon wishlist.

wc: 5.5k

warnings: masturbation, dry humping, dirty talk (praise, some degradation), pet names (princess, angel, baby, pretty), like One spank, teasing/humiliation?, penetrative, safe sex, mention of cunnilingus and handjob, also unrealistic because taehyun games here but. let me live my gamer bf dreams ok?

note: originally wrote this in 3rd person and then had to manually change it to 2nd person so sorry for any mistakes ! also still figuring how this site works so sorry for the plain formatting. i dont actually know if amazon sells dildos, and if they cost $30? probably not but yk... artistic liberty... capitalism...

There’s no chicken.

You notice this one Friday afternoon in the middle of July, while the pavements outside sizzle from the heat and the sun spills through the windows and warms up your back. You’re in the kitchen, sifting through a pathetic heap of frozen food. Usually, you head to the nearby supermarket after pilates class to pick up a pack of bacon; other times, Taehyun comes home after a day with Kai bearing a bag of frozen wedges. Either way, it’s clear that neither of you have bought anything edible since your last grocery run two weeks ago.

Frozen french fries. Korean corndogs. A half-empty pack of fishcakes. No chicken.

You open the fridge, eyes skimming over its meager contents, as if it would be there. It isn’t. You open the freezer again, wondering if the gods above would be so gracious as to summon some chicken breast into your freezer to feed you and your roommate tonight. They don’t.

“Maybe we should go grocery shopping.”

You’re fresh from a long, elaborate shower. Your hair falls in wet tresses over your shoulders and you’re clad in dolphin shorts and a big shirt that might have been Taehyun’s but you borrowed so often and for so long that he probably forgot it ever belonged to him. It’s your turn to cook dinner and you’re grumbling over the fact that Taehyun cooked your only remaining pack of chicken breast last night when you hear his bedroom door click open.

Just in time. A shitty rap song follows the sound of the soft padding of his footsteps against the floor. “Hey, you home?” he calls from halfway down the hallway, but you cut him off before he can say anything else.

“I told you I would cook chicken and you still finished it last night, and now there’s nothing for me to cook, asshole,” you say, more exasperated than angry. You turn around just as he walks in, wearing nothing but black joggers and his obnoxious RGB headset. His eyes are wide and bashful. You wrinkle your nose and turn around again. “What happened to your shirt?”

Taehyun has the decency to sound sheepish. “Sorry, I was playing with the boys,” he mumbles, like that wasn’t painfully obvious already. You have no problem with seeing Taehyun or shirtless guys by themselves, but a shirtless Taehyun has you torn between wanting to throw up and throwing away your clothes. Maybe to other people having a first-class view of his washboard abs sounds like a blessing, but to you, it’s only a level below mental distress.

“Tell Kai I said hi,” you say absently, now going through your drawers for restaurant flyers (if worse comes to worst, you’ll order takeout for tonight). “Anyway, what’d you come outside for?”

“I needed to talk to you about something.”

At this, you peer over your shoulder, studying Taehyun’s face. He doesn’t look particularly upset, just stoic, which is a dangerous sign in itself. Taehyun’s usually calm, but he’s not stoic—at least, not in this stage of your friendship, when Taehyun has known you long enough to stop pretending that he’s some sort of tsundere.

“Is something wrong?” you ask softly, turning around to lean against the counter.

“I saw your wishlist on Amazon. Why do you have a dildo on there?”

The words fall on you like a bucket of hardened cement. You feel your heart rate increase by about a thousand beats.

“I—you what?” you sputter in disbelief. There are a few seconds in-between this moment of horror where you want to scold him, yell at him, do anything, but it’s not like he’s in the wrong. It’s your Amazon wishlist. But why was he snooping around on it? And why did you put a dildo on it? Fuck. Your mind searches for an intelligent response, but all that falls out of your mouth is, “Other people can see that?”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows. “Yes? I hope you didn’t share it with your parents or anything, ‘cause it’s like, the first one on the list.”

You grip the counter, suddenly feeling very ill. “Oh. Shit.” You had not done anything of the sort—you kept your parents away from your online presence for that very reason. But if anyone was to stumble upon your questionable wishlist on Amazon dot com, you weren’t expecting Taehyun of all people. Your best friend? And roommate? Really? Fuck Jeff Bezos, for real.

“But that’s besides the point,” Taehyun says, advancing towards you, and you back up a little. Between his tall, wide-shouldered frame and you being a good bit smaller, you discover that it is very, very easy to feel intimidated, almost trapped, by him. “Why do you need to buy one? You know I got a dick, right?”

It’s like another punch to the stomach, except someone also crushed your head with a boulder. If you weren’t red before, you definitely are now, sweat pooling at your palms at his implication. “What the fuck are you talking about.”

Taehyun shrugs and reaches behind you to grab a glass from the dish holder. “I’m just saying,” he says, making his way over to the sink. “Why waste thirty dollars on some plastic when you can get the real thing for free? And better?”

Are you even hearing him right? “Genuinely what are you on,” you say, still aghast. “I wanted to buy one because—because—I mean, I-I don’t know, it’s normal! Shit, Taehyun, does it really matter? Don’t tell me you’re being serious.”

He shrugs again. “Why not?”

You say the first thing that pops into your mind. “What if it sucks?”

Taehyun only laughs. “You really have that little faith in me?”

“I don’t know!” You think briefly on the sex talks you two have had—some you had sprawled over each other on the couch, glasses of soju in hand; others you had during movie nights, clay masks smeared over your faces while you struggled not to laugh too hard. They were fun, sure, but it’s one thing to hear Taehyun talk about fucking other people and another to hear him talk about fucking you. To your knowledge, Taehyun’s pretty good in bed, but… But why are you even considering it? You both have been best friends for years. If you have sex, it’s only going to ruin your friendship. There are other ways for you to feel good—ways that don’t risk a seven-year friendship and getting kicked out of the apartment.

“I don’t know,” you say again, suddenly terrified at yourself for not giving him a straight answer. It should be a hard, flat no! You shouldn’t be considering it all! Yet here you are, your brain suddenly full of the thought of Taehyun and his dick.

“Hey, I’m just saying. Trying to open up some options for you here. I’m one hundred percent willing, but only if you are.” Taehyun puts up his hands like that settles it. He flashes you a smile. “Just tell me, okay? And if you still don’t want to, that’s chill too. We’ll both act like this never happened.”

Is that even possible? “Right,” you say, feeling faint. “Okay, yeah.”

Taehyun’s smile doesn’t fade. You can only watch as he takes a swig of water and shuffles happily to his room.

You think about it. Probably a bit too much.

You have an essay to write for your class, and it’s due in a few hours—but you can’t stop thinking about it. It being Taehyun fucking you. In your defense, you’ve been pent up all week, trying to balance your academics and health and social life and Taehyun all without having any time for yourself, so it makes sense, you think. You hope it makes sense that you’re fantasizing about your roommate, considering everything that’s happening to you.

You shut your laptop and sigh, lying back down on your bed. Taehyun has been acting completely normal in the three days between now and when he had first made his offer, which you are endlessly grateful for, but also bewildered by. He had even paid for takeout that same night, and you had eaten it together on the floor of your living room, and it was like nothing had even happened. Still, you’ve been mulling it over ever since. Pondering it, if you will. And it’s not your first time. Many nights you have found your tired, worn-out brain wandering to your roommate, his pretty face, great body, cute personality… How it would feel. What he would do. Taehyun, leaning over you, kissing you, running his pretty hands up and down your skin. Nipping at your collarbone with his sharp, perfect teeth. Grazing them along your neck, sucking at the soft parts.

Fuck. You’re wet.

You feel crazy.

Your hands slide down your panties, face burning with shame. The only thing you can think of is Taehyun, his soft skin and pretty brown eyes, his lean arms and chest. You picture him above you, caging you between his arms, a glittering smile on his face as he touches you, his back muscles flexing. Do you like that? he whispers, his voice low and raspy. You don’t even have to work hard to imagine what he sounds like during sex—the walls here are awfully thin, he’s a twenty-one-year-old guy, and you’ve thought about it more often than not.

“Fuck,” you keen, your hips rolling up as you dip your finger into your folds. Your free hand trails up your torso and into your mouth; you roll your tongue around your fingers and wish, crazily, that you were sucking on Taehyun’s instead. “Shit, oh f—”

“About your offer.”

You’re sitting at the dining table. Taehyun is halfway through his serving of pancakes that you made for him in a partly-tired, mostly-horny daze. After a particularly busy morning, you can’t remember much of last night other than the fact that you fucked yourself sore and came three times in a row, no refractory period, and now you can barely hold your fork.

Taehyun looks up at you. He’s shirtless again. If you were any crazier you would be disappointed that he never left much room for imagination before your first time together. “My offer,” he echoes.

“From a few days ago,” you clarify, poking your fork through your slice of toast. “The. You-fucking-me thing.”

“Ah.” Taehyun leans back and you can tell he’s fighting down a smile. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Well. I’ve been kinda… you know, lately,” you begin, staring hard at your plate, “and I was gonna buy the… you know, but then I realized my shipping address is still at my parents’ house and I really don’t want to wait for another week or pay extra to get it the next day or pay thirty dollars for a plastic dick so—”

“So you want me to fuck you?”

You let out a breath and brave a glance at him. “Yeah,” you mumble.

“That’s all you had to say,” Taehyun says with a smile. He pushes his plate away and fixes you with a look. “When do you want to do it? Kinda weird to be planning this out, no?”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to do it,” you groan.

Taehyun laughs, reaching over to touch your arm. “Don’t worry about it. What about later tonight? After you’re finished with your homework, I can help you unwind,” he suggests, and he sounds like he’s just telling you about the weather—but his voice has dropped about three octaves and normally you would find this shit cringe, but. Holy fuck.

You aren’t one for slutshaming, but perhaps you are one yourself. You squeeze your thighs together and nod, your gaze falling to the table. “Sure. That sounds good.”

“Good. You can come to my room once you’ve finished. I won’t be playing tonight, so don’t worry about interrupting. Well, you might be interrupting something, but—”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Nooo need to elaborate,” you spit, standing up and picking up your plate. Taehyun laughs as you walk over to the sink and put away your dish. When you return back to the dining table, he continues eating like nothing happened. “I’ll go study now.”

“Study well, pretty.”

You make a vague sound of affirmation before slipping inside your room again. You back up against the door and take a second to breathe, then shuffle over to your closet.

Your panties are wet. Again.

“Come in.”

You step inside his room. It’s dark—his lights aren’t on, save for the RGB strips on his setup. He sits on his chair, legs spread, lap looking awfully inviting. For once, he’s wearing a hoodie, and he looks like he just got off a game.

“I expected to catch you at a more… compromising time,” you say, carefully.

“Funny way to say you wanted to see me jerking off.”

“I didn’t say that,” you say with a frown, and you stop walking in front of his chair. Taehyun pats his lap. He’s smiling so, so wide.

“Take a seat.”

You’re grateful when his hands reach up to cup your waist, guiding you as you slide a leg over him and sit down. It’s weird—oddly comfortable, but your tits are pressed up against his chest and your faces are really, really close. Like, close enough you can see each of his eyelashes. He’s so, so pretty.

Taehyun looks you in the eye. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice soft. When you nod, he hums and squeezes your waist. “Alright. Tell me about your day.”

“Huh?”

“Foreplay, baby. That’s like, the whole essence of a hookup.” Taehyun raises his eyebrows at you. “Would you just play along?”

“Fine, fine. I didn’t do mu—oh,” you gasp, as Taehyun’s lips latch onto your neck, pulling you into him. “Ah, fuck. I didn’t do much. I—I woke up early and did some assignments. Got a ninety percent on my mock exams.”

“Woah,” Taehyun says, pulling away. His eyes are bright. “Really?”

“Yeah. All of them.”

“Damn. Good job. Sometimes I forget you’re smart and hot,” he murmurs in between kisses. “Perfect girl.”

Holy shit. “Um—and then I went to the gym and this guy asked me for my number,” you continue. Taehyun licks at your throat and bites down hard. “Ow, fuck you. I said no thanks and then went back home and showered.”

“Did you do anything in the shower?”

You scoff as he licks along your jaw. “No. I’m not a perv like you.”

“Not a good idea to make fun of the guy who’s about to fuck you.”

“Sorry. Can’t help it.”

“And then what?”

“And then I had breakfast with you and after, I… I fucked myself a little.” Taehyun groans and your breath hitches in your throat. “I thought of you.”

He chuckles. “I would have been a little confused if you hadn’t. You must have been so pent up, baby, huh?”

You grab a fistful of his hair and pulls him away from your neck so your eyes meet. “I’ve been thinking of you. For a long time. Even before you made the offer,” you say, barely breathing. Your grip loosens, and you watch as his eyes grow dark. “Anytime I got h-horny, I—I imagined you. And I… was going to buy the toy ’cause I never thought I’d get the real thing with you.”

Taehyun seems taken aback, but his face of faint surprise melts into his usual cocky smile and he presses his lips against yours.

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but the real thing is a little bigger than five inches, baby.”

If you weren’t wet before, you’re drenched now. You feel a little bad for his grey sweatpants, the front all smeared with your precum. But knowing Taehyun, he’d probably like that.

You continue kissing for a while, Taehyun’s gaming chair creaking incessantly underneath your weight, but you’re too turned on to be bothered. He’s still playing with your panties, rubbing you over them. You honestly, truly might die.

“Taehyun,” you say, pulling away. He looks like a mess, lipgloss smeared all over his mouth, hair messy from your constant running your hands through them. “Can you touch me?”

“I am touching you, baby.”

You whine. “No, no, like—like inside me, please, fuck.”

“Use your pretty voice to ask me nicely.”

You take a deep breath but it’s let out as a whimper. “Please, Taehyun. Fuck me with your fingers,” you mumble, burying your face in his neck. “Please, please. Please.”

“Good job, princess. Of course. Anything you want.”

And you—you almost die, and it shows with the way you squeezes your thighs together and nuzzle your face deeper into his shoulder, letting out a soft moan when he finally moves to comply.

Taehyun seems to notice, because something in his eyes shifts and he leans in, kissing your cheek. “Do you like it when I praise you, baby? Come on, tell me everything. Tell me what turns you on. Want to make you feel good.”

“I like praise, yeah,” you say, your voice trembling as he moves his hands down to the hem of your panties. “Praise and… And some degradation, too, but mostly praise. I like pet names and—fuck—biting and spanking and k-kissing, fuck, even just kissing turns me on so much.”

“I can tell, baby.” Taehyun glides a finger over your cunt and smiles. “You’re fucking soaked. So cuuute.” He coos it, like you’re some sort of cute doll and not his fucking roommate whose pussy he’s playing with.

It makes you whimper, your fingers shaking where they should be holding onto Taehyun’s shoulders. “Ugh, fuck,” you squeak. “Fuck you.”

“Let me do it first. Grind down on me, pretty.”

You comply and gasp a little at the hardness underneath you. “Fuck. You’re so—”

Taehyun hums, his hands moving to your waist, helping you rock harder against him. “Just for you. I’ve been hard all day just thinking about you.”

You make a pathetic sound at the back of your throat and kiss him, your mind suddenly flooded with images of him touching himself right here in his chair, the slick sound of his hand wrapped around his cock, all while he thinks of you. Without warning, he reaches up his free hand and lightly taps at your cheek; you don’t even have to think about it before your mouth falls open and his fingers slide in.

“Perfect,” Taehyun breathes, and your heart skips in your chest. “You’re so good, fuck. Didn’t even have to ask, what a good girl.”

You grind down harder. Taehyun throws his head back and lets out something between a sigh and a groan. “Fuck, princess,” he rasps. “You’re so cute.” He reaches up with his other hand to caress your flushed face. “You feel really—ugh—really fucking good.”

“Oh my god, wait, fuck, wait—” You whimper around his fingers and slow to a stop; your hands clutch at the back of his hoodie. You whine into the cloth, breathing him in, feeling him all over you. His hands move down to your waist, squeezing gently. You can hardly breathe. “I… I was getting close. I don’t wanna come yet.”

Taehyun shifts a little under you; you huff when his hands slide under your ass and he moves to stand up, lifting you with him. “Let’s move to the bed, then,” he grunts, and your legs close around his waist as he carries the both of you to his bed.

He preoccupies himself by kissing you—your lips don’t move away from each other’s as you tumble onto the mattress. Your mind is racing. You’ve imagined kissing Taehyun so many times before, fantasized about how it felt, and these past few days it was all you could think about. His lips are so warm, his hands even warmer where they wander on your skin. You want him close, closer. Inside.

You break the kiss. “Taehyun,” you murmur against his lips. “Taehyun, please.”

Thankfully, Taehyun seems to understand what you’re getting at, and doesn’t make you beg for it—he’s shimmied out of his sweats and hoodie in record time, with only boxers and a wife beater left. He smiles down at you, gentle, loving. “Could you undress for me?”

You don’t need to be asked twice. You pull your dolphin shorts down and kick them off your ankles, trying your best to peel off your shirt as you do so. Taehyun is fully shirtless now, shadows cast across his toned muscles, and his hands probe at his boxers, but his eyes are fixed on you.

You have never felt so exposed wearing your favorite set of lingerie—you fight the urge to cover your stomach with your arms and instead opt to look up at Taehyun from under your lashes and hope he’s as horny as you are right now.

It takes a moment for Taehyun to recollect himself, but when he does, his hands are immediately on you, awed at your softness. “Damn,” he breathes.

“How eloquent of you.”

Taehyun laughs, running his hands down your waist. “No, I—” He breathes out another chuckle, his eyes trailing down to your belly. “No, you’re just perfect.”

Your cheeks heat and you feel yourself throb a little at his praise. “Says you. Know how many guys would kill to have your body?”

“Know how many guys would kill to have such a beautiful, sexy, smart girl like you?”

You press your lips together. You can’t help but think about how nice he looks, seated between your legs. “A lot of guys would be after you, it seems.”

“Can’t blame them. Fuck, your thighs,” Taehyun groans, moving his hands over them. Your breath catches in your throat. His hands look—are—huge. “Oh my fucking god. Promise me you’ll let me eat you out.”

You blink. “Of course,” you say. “Could you get to fucking me already?”

Taehyun laughs. “Right, sorry. Let me take my boxers off first.”

“Do you have a condom?”

“Yeah, it should be in the hoodie pocket.”

You retrieve the hoodie from the other side of the bed and feel around in its pocket before your fingers graze the plastic; you immediately pick it up and throw the hoodie on the floor. Meanwhile, Taehyun is finally fully naked and stroking himself; you turn even redder. Fuck, you want him so bad.

You tell him so. “Hurry, hurry, please,” you gasp, tossing the unopened condom packet to Taehyun, who chuckles.

“On your hands and knees, angel.”

You obey and whimper impatiently as Taehyun opens the condom and puts it on.

“Jesus, baby, you’re such a mess already and I haven’t even put it in,” Taehyun mumbles. You feel the bed dip where he climbs onto it again, and moans when he gives your ass a smack. “Needy. That’s what you are. Needy and impatient.”

You whimper. “Please, pleasepleaseplease, just put it in, put it in—” Taehyun pushes the small of your back so you drop face-first onto the mattress, cheek squished against the blankets. It smells like him. Everything smells like him. For once you fall silent when he announces he’s sliding in and you feels it poking at your entrance. Your eyes squeeze shut.

He slides in the first inch and you can’t help but whine. “Pleeeease, Taehyun,” you gasp, your voice high and reedy. He complies without an answer, sliding in more, slowly, until he’s almost halfway. You let out a squeak.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyun coos. “Don’t think you can take it?”

You make a small, pathetic noise at the back of your throat. “Nonono,” you cry. “You’re just… really big. Bigger than that—that dumb f-fucking dildo.”

“Aw, am I r-r-really?” Taehyun grins and eases another inch into you before you get the chance to retort. You suck in a breath instead, bunching the sheets into your hands. In a moment of guilt, he uses his other hand to give your waist a reassuring squeeze, then leans over to push back your hair for you. “Damn, you’re tight. You can take it, though, can’t you?”

You whimper. “Ah, shit, yes.”

“That’s it. There you go. Doing such a good fucking job, taking my cock.”

Taehyun kisses your shoulder as he slides in the rest, a string of pathetic whimpers and cries leaving your mouth as he bottoms out. Once his thighs touch the back of yours, he stays very still, letting you adjust to the size.

To both your surprise, you are the one who breaks the almost-silence with a short huff as you prop yourself on your elbows. “You… you can move now,” you grit out, sounding almost pained.

Taehyun hums. “Tell me first. Which do you like better? The toy or my cock?”

You’re silent, but he can see your knuckles whitening as you grip the bedsheets. Taehyun scoffs and grabs both your arms with his hand, pulling them behind you with a grunt. You yelp as his cock hits a different angle inside of you.

“Tell me. Which one is better? I won’t move until you tell me.”

You whimper for a few moments, but Taehyun doesn’t let up. You take a shaky breath and let your head hang. “Y-you,” you mumble.

“Louder, pretty.”

“I like your cock better—hmf—better than the toy,” you say. Taehyun can hear the tears in your voice and his belly flip-flops. So fucking hot.

He might have said that out loud—you might have heard him—but he doesn’t have time to think about the possibilities, because at once he’s drawing his hips away from yours and slamming back inside again. The reaction is immediate. You keen, chest heaving at the intensity.

“Fuck,” you croak, clinging onto the bedsheets.

“God,” Taehyun breathes, holding you up to his chest, “I’m obsessed with you.” He mouths at your neck and you whimper.

“Don’t bite too hard,” you plead. Taehyun bites down harder in response.

“I’ll bite as hard as I want,” he says, but there’s no heat in his words, and he presses a kiss to your shoulder right after. His hands snake up your body, from your hips to your waist until they stop comfortably at your tummy. He thrusts in and out of you at a steady pace, kissing mindlessly at any sliver of skin he can get his lips on. “Been dreaming about this for ages, you know. I’ve been wanting to fill you up for the longest time.”

Fire stirs within the pit of your stomach at the thought. “I do, too. Fingered myself thinking it was your cock,” you mumble back, delirious, and you can feel him smile against your shoulderblades. Suddenly, he slides out, flips you over and enters you once more in a single swift movement. His pace picks up and you exhale slowly, melting into the pleasure, your eyes trained on the array of faces he’s making above you.

“You’re perfect, angel.” Taehyun’s voice drops into a murmur, his bangs falling perfectly around his face. “I’ve always wanted to do this with you, baby. Not only because you’re really hot, but”—he lets out a moan here—“also ’cause I really, really like you, and I don’t wanna fuck the shit out of you for no reason, I—I also wanna take you on dates, and—” He pauses and groans when you squeeze down on him, eyes twisting shut. “Ah, shit, and I wanna fuck you not as a one time thing, but—fuck, but as like, a boyfriend thing—mm—you know?”

You let out a moan, your eyes cracking open incredulously. “You’re telling me this now?” you pant.

Taehyun laughs but goes even faster, his hands still tight around the softness of your waist. You cry out and latch onto his strong arms, wondering if this is happening, if this is real, if Taehyun really just confessed to you in the middle of rearranging your guts. You can’t believe this. Your heart flutters. Your pussy throbs. God, what is wrong with him?

Taehyun’s hand moves up to your jaw. He tilts your chin up and presses your lips together in a slow, slow kiss. “Fuck, baby, you’re gorgeous. Shit,” he says, kissing you again and again. He looks almost desperate, moving inside you, his entire face flushed red. “I love kissing you. Such a pretty girl, my baby, aren’t you? I—oh, fuck, you feel so good, I like you so much.”

“Shit,” you mewl, reaching up to cup his face. He kisses the corner of your mouth, moving almost desperately now, moaning loudly against your skin. “Fuck, Taehyun, you’re crazy—fuck—”

“Tell me how beautiful you are,” Taehyun rasps, not sounding like himself at all, but he moves his hips impossibly faster, and his hand trails down to your neck. “Tell me how pretty you look while your pussy chokes this dick, fuck.”

You wail, your hands flying up to grasp at his wrists. “I’m—’m a puh-pretty girl, fuck, ’m so pretty—”

“That’s right, princess. Are you close? You wanna come?” he rasps, reaching down now to rub your clit. “Go ahead, baby, come on my cock, please, fuck, come on—”

“Taehyun,” you gasp, your breath hitching, as you feel the waves of your oncoming orgasm.

“—cream on it, sweet girl, make me proud, wanna feel you coming for me, ’cause of me—”

You cry out from underneath him and you jolt so suddenly it startles him; your back arches off the bed and your thighs clamp around him and you go very, very still. You come for a long time, breathing and whining throughout it; Taehyun keeps moving, easing you out of it, his hands rubbing and squeezing your waist until finally your muscles relax and you go slack, melting back into the mattress.

“That’s it, pretty, good job,” he murmurs, running feather-light touches up and down your torso. “Good job, princess, what a sweet girl.”

He slides out of you after a minute, and you make a noise; you crane your neck to watch as he peels off the condom. “Did you come?” you ask, your voice awfully quiet. He looks up at you and smiles.

“It’s fine, baby.”

You move to sit up. “No, no—”

“Angel, I’m good.”

“You’re still—”

“Shush.” Taehyun scoots closer to you, settling on his elbows between your legs. “I still want to taste you.”

An hour later, you find yourselves lying in bed together. After making you come another time on his tongue and finally coming after the world’s best handjob, Taehyun had scooped you up and seated you in the bathtub, where you took turns washing each other’s hair and giggling deliriously about what had just happened. You smell overwhelmingly like his shitty male body wash, but you find it hard to care that much when he’s buried his face in the crook of your neck.

Seeing that your friendship was effectively ruined in the best way possible, you find it hard not to giggle a little, wrapped in his arms. Taehyun’s hands, sliding smooth and gentle across your torso, stop abruptly.

“What are you laughing at?” he asks, sounding affronted.

“You. You’re ridiculous.”

“What? I wasn’t even doing anything.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just ask me out on a date? As opposed to offering to fuck me. You came off a little strong with that, you know,” you mumble. “Now that I think about it, it was kind of a dick move.”

“Sorry,” Taehyun grumbles. “I’ve asked you out to dinner multiple times but you kept calling them friend dates so I gave up on that.”

“You were trying to flirt with me? I had no idea.”

“Clearly. That’s why I had to stop trying to make romantic advancements and just settled on asking to fuck you instead. The dildo was the perfect incentive.” His fingers move up to tangle in your hair. “I had—I have, like, the biggest, stupidest crush on you. It’s embarrassing.”

You smile. “Lucky you. I like you, too.”

He breathes out, presses his forehead to your shoulder. “Thank god. I was waiting for you to say it,” he says quietly. “We don’t have to talk about it now, though. Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

“Fine with me. Why were you even looking at my Amazon wishlist, anyway?”

“Well.” Taehyun stills his hands and clears his throat. “I was trying… to pick out… a birthday gift for you.”

“A birthday gift?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god.”

“Don’t laugh.”

You start to laugh. “Oh my god,” you say again, in between giggles. “My birthday isn’t for another two months, dumbass.”

“I wanted to be prepared!” Taehyun protests, pinching lightly at your waist. “I told you, I have the biggest fucking crush on you. I was gonna give you a bunch of little gifts. And actually, I was planning to ask you to be my girlfriend. I was so excited, too. Asked the guys for help and everything. Soobin was going to hold up the sign. And Beomgyu was in charge of finding a nice place.”

You snort, twisting around to kiss him. “Sorry for laughing. You’re just an idiot sometimes,” you mumble, and kiss him again. “If it makes you feel better, I would have said yes. And anyway… I kinda knew you liked me. The walls are very thin, you know.”

Taehyun tenses up behind you. “What?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“I hear you jacking off all the time. I’m sorry to break it to you. At least you sound pretty.”

Taehyun groans and presses his nose between your shoulderblades. “Fuck you,” he says, muffled.

You hum. “We’re even.”

tyun: pussy so good i professed my undying love for her

#taehyun hard hours #taehyun x reader smut #taehyun smut #taehyun x reader #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt x reader #txt smut

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wingedcat13 · 11 months

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Synovus: Siren Call (2)

[Synoverse? In the year of our lord 2023? It's more likely than you think! This one is in third person, set after Villains Never Retire. No idea what I’m talking about? Check out the first of the Synovus works here! I've still yet to do it as of posting, but both episodes of Siren Call will be on Ao3 here. Happy reading!]

A week after first arriving at her parents’ house, Minerva made the journey back to her own.

It wasn’t terribly far - a half-hour drive with no traffic, maybe - from where her parents now lived, still placed near to the coast. It wasn’t actually a ‘house’ either, more of a condo built in a line to save costs. It would’ve been cheaper to live further inland, but…

She’d had enough of that.

Besides, the place wasn’t actually hers. When she’d divorced Albion and come back to the coast, she’d also quit her job. With no contacts, no friends, and no savings that weren’t tied up in litigation, she would’ve had nowhere to go in her civilian identity. She also wasn’t sure if she was going to have to deal with a super-powered ex husband knocking at all hours, which was something most renters disapproved of, as a rule.

But where Minerva had no one, Athena had a lifeline. When she and Legionnaire had done volunteer work in the past, she’d always felt it was just part of her duty. An obligation that came with having superpowers. Sometimes you put the costume on to hit something, and sometimes you put the costume on to build something. Since neither of them had been dependent on their hero identity 24/7, they’d always declined any offers of compensation.

But that didn’t mean they’d been forgotten. Shepherd Flight was a volunteer group who specialized in organizing super powered individuals for rescue and relief operations - they mostly focused on the initial crisis, but weren’t afraid of working to help rebuild things too. Minerva had gone through floodwaters and hurricanes under their direction, and also used her strength to help hold up beams for building shelters. One of her favorite memories was helping plant a garden in a refugee camp.

Shepherd Flight was also known for its discretion. Several capes worked exclusively for them, staying out of hero or villain business in the traditional sense. Some of them maintained a separation between the mask and the civilian, but others didn’t.

So Minerva had gone to them, intending to ask if she could rest on a couch in their headquarters or something while she figured out her next move. Instead, a man named ‘Sun Dog’ had checked their records, asked her a few questions, and then handed her the keys to an address. Apparently, Shepherd Flight also aided ‘capes in distress.’

Minerva had scowled, but couldn’t really argue the point.

She’d looked into it since - the space they’d given her was most frequently used for helping move displaced persons who needed to travel, or temporary housing for other members of Shepherd Flight who needed a place unaffiliated with any identity. One of the questions she’d been asked was how she felt about potentially having a house full of strange guests on little-to-no notice. Minerva had grown up dealing with the Pacific Northwest’s forest fires, and had told Sun Dog she knew exactly how fast they could go. If refugees needed a place to stay, she’d gladly vacate.

So far, that hadn’t happened, though Sun Dog had also told her that someone would stop by occasionally with groceries, to keep the place stocked. And to check in on her.

She probably should’ve told them she was fine when she was whisked off to a supervillain’s private island. She hadn’t.

So she wasn’t surprised, per se, to open the door and see a stranger in the kitchen. Startled, perhaps. But neither of them attacked each other, so that was a good start.

“Uhm.” Said the person in the kitchen, holding a spoon awkwardly poised between their mouth and a pudding cup.

“Wrong door.” Minerva said automatically, holding the keys that had unlocked the front door and the guard mechanism.

“Is it?” The stranger asked hesitantly.

Minerva sighed, “No. I… lived here for a bit. As a… guest.”

“Oh!” The stranger lit up with a smile - and a touch of phantom flame that Minerva watched cautiously. “You must be the one who went missing! Yeah, they told me you might come back - hey, I’m Wi-Fire, by the way.”

They moved forward to offer a hand, slowing their approach when Minerva instinctively leaned away. Still, it wasn’t like she needed both hands to hold her bag, and once upon a time she’d been… better, if not exactly ‘good’ at this. So she took the offered hand, clasping it rather than shaking.

“Athena.” She returned, the introduction automatic. Instead of giving herself time to think about whether that was the right name to give, she forced herself onwards, remembering there were other details she was supposed to give on greeting. “She/Her.”

Wi-Fire’s grin broadened, and they bounced a little in place. “They/them!” They returned, even more cheerfully than before. “It’s the third bedroom that’s yours, right? I haven’t touched it, since he said you might come back, but I’ve only been here for about a week. That reminds me - have you called him yet? Sun Dog? He’s super worried about you, pun unintended.”

Minerva was, abruptly, reminded of Alexandria. “… No, I haven’t called him yet. I was just here to-“

She paused. What was she here to do? Spend a few hours staring at a wall, unobserved? Get the rest of her things and go? It wasn’t exactly much, just a few extra changes of clothes, a few books. She did want to make sure the space she’d used was clean, but given how little time she’d spent here, that shouldn’t take more than an hour. Two, if she stopped to do laundry.

Minerva had paused for too long. Wi-Fire just nodded, sympathetic. “Yeah, I feel that. I’m up in the attic - the other rooms are still empty, there’s nothing wrong with them or anything, I just.” They cut off, simply ending the sentence, as though a signal had been lost between one word and the next. They shrugged.

“Yeah.” Minerva echoed, thinking of how she’d chosen the room with the best view of the ocean, even if it was just a sliver.

Wi-Fire winces, “Crap. Sorry. Forgot we’re not supposed to really, like. Fraternize. I didn’t see anything?” Their last sentence is hopeful, as though an offering they want Minerva to take.

“It’s fine.” She assures them, readjusting her grip on her bag. “If you’ve seen me, you can pass on to Sun Dog that I’m fine, right?”

For a heartbeat, she thinks she’s pulled it off, and she’ll be able to just get her things and leave. But Wi-Fire just laughs.

“I mean, sure - but you’ll have to scram if you wanna avoid him.” They scrape at the bottom of the pudding cup. “He’ll be here in like. Twenty minutes?”

—-

Minerva is not done packing in twenty minutes. Actually, she’s not done in fifteen, which is when Sun Dog actually arrives. She can hear him greeting Wi-Fire from where she’s working upstairs, meticulously folding towels to be stored in the bathroom before she leaves.

Minerva snaps the final towel free of wrinkles, places it on the pile, and goes to meet him. Better she doesn’t get cornered.

Sun Dog and Wi-Fire aren’t talking, when Minerva arrives. No, that makes it sound like they’re in a stand off, and really, it’s more that they don’t need to be. Minerva catches the end of a fistbump-into-a-shoulder check, and an exchange of smiles, before Sun Dog’s eyes flick up and see her on the stairs.

“Ah!” In civilian clothing, Sun Dog looks like a Bay Area hobbyist come north. His reaction to seeing her is surprise, but also something positive. Joy? Excitement? Delight? “M-“

“Athena!” Wi-Fire cuts in, overriding Sun Dog with their own exclamation, and avoiding accidentally learning Minerva’s real name. Not that it matters, anymore.

Minerva’s spine could be used as a flagpole. “Sun Dog.” She replies, voice cool, as though their excitement at seeing her had been an embarrassment rather than an open welcome. It isn’t on purpose. “Wi-Fire.”

She doesn’t apologize for interrupting, or claim she didn’t mean to, because there’d be no point. Instead, Minerva meets Sun Dog’s gaze, “I’m cleaning up after myself, then I’ll be out of your way.”

“You don’t have to do that-“ Sun Dog starts to assure her, then backtracks. Minerva must have looked offended. “- but we’re grateful that you’d take the time.”

He glances at Wi-Fire, who gets the hint. They give Minerva a double thumbs-up, and another near maniacal grin, and then scamper off. Minerva is distracted, briefly, by the mental image of a young Synovus, gifted with fire instead of shadows.

Terrifying.

Still, thinking of the one problem won’t rid her of the other. Minerva descends the rest of the stairs to stand even with Sun Dog, her arms folded. Her expression must’ve shown something (or maybe Sun Dog just gauged the depths of the bags under her eyes) because instead of saying anything else, Sun Dog just tilts his head towards the door.

“How about a walk?”

—-

With the ocean not far, there was plenty of beach to walk along. It was too late in the season to hope for much sun, but again, it didn’t really bother Minerva. And, with both of them in nondescript windbreakers, they seemed no more suspicious than anyone else ever did.

She wished she didn’t feel like she needed to worry about being suspicious.

They walked in silence for a while, just the sound of sand crunching beneath boots, and the ever present roar of the ocean’s movements. The wind blew in from off the coast, sharp and cold. It whipped her hair around her face, but she mostly ignored it.

Eventually, Sun Dog broke the silence. “Did you know I didn’t actually intend to go by ‘Sun Dog’?”

Minerva glanced around, as though the wind and general absence of other people wasn’t enough to ensure they weren’t overheard. Sun Dog waited.

“Then why did you?”

“Media.” He answered simply. “I wanted to name myself Parhelion. Its the… let’s call it scientific word for a Sun Dog phenomena. They thought one had a better ring to it.”

“So you’re a scientist.” Minerva kicked lightly at the sand on her next step.

“Amateur, sure. But I don’t mind admitting that the name scared the hell out of me at first.”

Minerva hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. I can understand why.”

Sun Dog. In a world still recovering from the sudden disappearance of Sunhallow, any sun imagery was suddenly circumspect. It could be viewed in a hundred different lights, none of them favorable.

“I almost gave up being a hero entirely.” Sun Dog confided. “I was too scared that one day someone would show up, and tell me I was encroaching on their brand.”

Humor, but not enough to hide that neither of them speak his name. Minerva knows he’s dead - she’s seen the grave, spoken to his killer. But there is the thought that lingers. Just in case.

“Why didn’t you?” Minerva asked, staring forward at the tree line.

“Letters. One in particular, that told me he’d never be dead so long as we let him hold that much power over something so ubiquitous as the sun. They said they knew how much it must cost me, but that the world needed people like me to rebuild it, to heal over the scars.”

“And was that one from the Dalai Lama or the President.” Her voice wasn’t bitter so much as it was… dry. Humor. She’s learning how to use it again.

Sun Dog squinted into the wind. “Could’ve been either, I suppose. It was signed, but with a moniker. Eclipse.”

He glanced at her, shrugged. “I’ve never known anyone to go by that name.”

Minerva was silent for a step. Two. Then, “No. Neither have I.”

—-

They wind up stopping at a picnic table tucked just under the tree line, out of the worst of the wind. It’s one of those weather-worn gray contraptions, the kind someone placed years ago and forgot, leaving it for hikers or curious children.

They’ve talked about a few things, here and there. Sun Dog keeps offering small bits of himself, trying to draw Minerva out again, and slowly, she becomes part of the conversation. Childhood pets. Obnoxious commercial jingles that stick even after the company and product are long gone. Nothing pressing. Nothing political.

But after they’d spent a few minutes in a comfortable silence, a natural lull in the conversation, Sun Dog has pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket.

“Hope you’re not looking for poker.” Minerva said with barely a glance. “I don’t have anything to bet.”

Sun Dog laughed, “These aren’t those kind of cards. But if you’re willing, I’d like to do a reading for you. Tarot.”

“Wait.” Minerva raised her brows, leaning back slightly. “You don’t actually believe in those, do you?”

She realized, approximately half a second too late to stop herself, how offensive that likely sounded. Luckily, Sun Dog laughed again.

“You could use a tank as a baseball bat.” He said, corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile. “And have dealt with clairvoyants, shape-shifters, literal magic users - but ‘some cards’ is where you draw the line?”

Minerva ducked her head, submitting to the teasing. “Alright, you have a point. I don’t really know how they work, though.” “You don’t need to.” Sun Dog assured her. “You just need to shuffle and draw the cards. Three of them, face down, left to right. We’ll go over what they mean one by one.”

She felt, suddenly, unaccountably nervous. She managed a murmured thanks as Sun Dog handed her the deck, no longer stiff from newness, but not quite well-worn either. For a moment, she simply spread the cards in her hands, sliding them with her thumb, and studying the backs. They were larger than she remembered most playing cards being. She hoped she remembered how to shuffle correctly.

A few cuts of the deck, and a reassurance from Sun Dog that it was alright to bend them, and Minerva fanned the cards apart, couching them back together into a bridge. Another few cuts, another bridge. And the third time, to keep them balanced.

“Three off the top?” She asked. Sun Dog shrugged, “If that’s what speaks to you.” He laughed again at Minerva’s displeased expression, but nodded encouragingly. “Go on. Three cards, face down. That’s all.”

Minerva sighed. She pulled the card from the top, one from the bottom, and - fanning the cards again - slipped one from the middle at random, laying them each face down on the table in front of her.

“Good.” Sun Dog said encouragingly, accepting the rest of the deck back. “So, this is something of a ‘past, present, future’ spread. Go ahead and flip the first card.”

Minerva rolled her eyes, and moved to place her hand on it - then paused. This trepidation was unlike her. She had no reason to be nervous, because this was a pre-generated deck of cards. It held no personalized information, and could not reveal anything about her of substance, because it was a randomized card.

That argument wasn’t holding up the way it normally would’ve. Some part of her resolve crumbled.

Well. She reasoned, If it’s in the past, I’ve already survived it once. I can do it again.

That seemed to do the trick. She flipped the card over, and was greeted with the image of someone in what she placed as quintessential peasant’s garb… carrying a bundle of sticks? The roman numeral for ten was placed above it, and the individual’s face couldn’t be seen, buried in the bundle they were carrying as they walked away from the viewer.

“The ten of wands.” Sun Dog identified. “Wands are associated with fire. They tend to be about passion, strengths, and willpower. The ten of wands in particular is a representation of burden and responsibility. It is good to be depended on - but not to be overworked.”

Minerva shifted, but said nothing. Sun Dog gave her a moment, then indicated the next card. “The next one, then?”

This one took little effort to turn - whether it was out of a desire to get it over with or simply because she’d shaken off whatever feeling she’d had earlier, Minerva didn’t know. This time, the card was upside down, and she moved to straighten it.

“No -” Sun Dog stopped her, “I mean, if you want to flip it so you can look at it, you can, but drawing them upside down actually means something. ‘Reversed’ cards invert or change the meaning.”

Minerva pursed her lips, flipping the card briefly to get a better look at it. A figure visible only from the waist up, in what appeared to be mail and plate armor. A star spangled canopy offered protection from the yellow sky, and the numeral for seven that floated just above it. The figure had a staff in one hand, and what looked like two sphinxes in front of it - the left black, the white right, each with a different expression.

“The Chariot.” She read, flicking the card back over to be upside down again.

“Another willpower card.” Sun Dog commented. “The Chariot is triumphant - you see how the sphynxes are angled in opposite directions? They should go nowhere, but the driver manages to drive the chariot onwards. Nothing that they carry is a gift. Instead, they are rewards earned.”

“But it’s reversed,” Minerva said dryly, “Meaning… that I’m currently a freeloader?”

“Or that you feel that way.” Sun Dog countered. “The cards aren’t quite so literal as we might hope, sometimes. Go ahead and flip the third card.”

“Another upside down one.” Minerva remarked, considering the angel depicted on the card. “Sorry, reversed. Temperance.” She snorted, placing the card on the table with the others, and then shoving her hands into her pockets.

“Ah, I love the Temperance card.” Sun Dog picked it up briefly, smiling at it, before he laid it back down. “It’s a card of transitions, that one. I - is something wrong?”

Minerva hadn’t been able to hide her flinch at that one. She scowled, more angry at herself than anything - but it seemed the last few days had scraped her raw, left her open and readable. And… she did trust Sun Dog. So she forced herself to clear her throat, and spoke quietly;

“I have a daughter.”

Sun Dog made a vaguely congratulatory noise, a positive sympathy for someone speaking of their loved ones. Minerva’s hands bunched in her pockets.

“I spent most of her life convinced she was my son.” She said quietly.

“Ah.” Sun Dog leaned back, head canted so he could look up for a moment, considering. Minerva knew there was a wealth of information in that, and how she’d presented it, and the connections he could even now be drawing. But she’d refused to run from this. So she sat still, and unwavering, and waited for the judgment she deserved.

“I don’t think it means that kind of transition.” Sun Dog said finally, looking back at her again. “Not in this context, though a gender transition is a common reading of the card. My congratulations to your daughter, by the way.”

Minerva let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Then it doesn’t….” She trailed off, mind unwilling to complete the sentence.

“Doesn’t what?”

“This is the future card, isn’t it?” She said quietly, rather than elaborate immediately. “And reversed, meaning an inverse of the meaning. So if it was about - her transition, and how I pertain to it, then… I would be a roadblock to it. I wouldn’t…” She trailed off again, but Sun Dog only waited.

“... get better.” She finished lamely.

“That you’re worried about it tells me how much you care,” Sun Dog said gently, placing one hand halfway across the table. He couldn’t take hers, given she still had them clenched in her pockets, but she recognized the gesture for what it was meant to be. “But no, I don’t think that’s what the card means in this context. Temperance is the balance between remaining practical, and our dreams. Grounded reality, versus the water of our dreams.”

“So I’m… losing that balance?”

Sun Dog hummed, uncertain, “You might lose that balance, that could be an outcome.” He acknowledged. “But take the cards as they’re important to you. Water is fairly important to you, right?”

Minerva only nodded.

“Then perhaps the reversal isn’t telling you that you’re going to lose your balance. Maybe it’s telling you not to worry so much about that balance - that temperance is not, in fact, what you need to do now.” Sun Dog raised his hands, “I’m no expert. But sometimes we really do need to let loose.”

Minerva stared at the card arrangement for several more minutes. Her mind picked up on patterns, even when she didn’t mean for it to, didn’t intend to read into it. The past, hiding her face from everyone in a mask, carrying a burden she thought she was obligated to take on. The present, lost, her rules turned on their head as surely as the chariot driver was. A canopy of stars, protective shadows against a sky of light… and a being that was neither male nor female, free, offering her the opportunity to move on.

“I’m not taking advice from a deck of cards.” She heard herself say.

Sun Dog shrugged. “Then take it as advice from me. You see something in the cards - that’s what they’re for. Reflecting what you need to see, to be able to face it.”

Minerva let out a long breath, forcing herself to relax the tension that had settled into her shoulders and spine. She looked up, meeting Sun Dog’s gaze with her own.

“How much do you know about Synovus?”

---

[It's funny - I posted the first of Synovus's story over a year ago. I added onto it, here and there, but the draft to post this was started in... September of 2022? Yet, every day, I get a notification, either through Tumblr or Ao3, that someone has found Synovus, and expressed joy about it somehow. It's... remarkable. I love you all, and thank you for reading!]

#synoverse #synovus #siren call

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its-time-to-write · 7 months

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i hold it like a grudge - ch. 1

okayyy so I’m completely done with this fic! I’m editing my posts now, and I’m not sure if it’ll all get done tonight. Definitely tomorrow. Here’s the first chapter, hope you enjoy!

table of contents you have everything (you still want more)

To say you were blindsided would be a gross understatement.

You were metaphorically slapped in the face so hard that you feel like you have a broken neck due to whiplash.

Your boyfriend had been away for the week with his football team, and you hadn’t been able to go with him. So you’d done what any WAG would do and watched the match on his giant telly, all decked out in pale blue.

Life with Jamie Tartt as your boyfriend was great. You’d been dating since secondary school while he was in the academy. It was strange to go from chicken shop dates to meals that cost more than your rent. He’d promised to pay for your uni fees which was a godsend because there was no way you’d be able to afford it on your own. You both had a whole future planned together.

Which is why you’re shocked to see Jamie’s name in the papers, followed by the name Keeley Jones.

And a picture of them kissing.

You aren’t even googling him when you find out. You’re out for groceries of all things, groceries for his welcome-home dinner in a day and a half. His name catches your eye so you stop to smile at him before you realize what you’re looking at.

The world goes fuzzy, your gaze locked on their lips.

In a single moment, your world has been tilted completely on its head.

You find yourself in Jamie’s too-large flat, staring at your phone, willing yourself to press the green call button.

You take a shallow breath and hold the phone up to your ear. It rings once, twice, almost to the point where it’ll go to voicemail, but then you hear Jamie say, “What?”

“What?” you reply, “what do you mean, what? I should be the one asking you that? What the fuck are you doing kissing an instagram model??”

Jamie snorts and says four words that cause your heart to drop like a stone.

“We’re broken up, babe.”

Your breath is coming in too fast and too shallow. “When were you going to tell me that we fucking broke up? And don’t call me babe!” you choke out.

Jamie says, “Thought it were implied,” in a dismissive voice. It’s foreign to you. He’s never spoke to you- to anyone like this before.

“Right, okay, yeah, makes total sense. I find out we’ve broken up after seeing you in the papers with another girl,” you retort.

“Glad it’s finally clicking,” Jamie says. It’s strange how much he can hurt you, even through the phone.

A voice calls him in the background, a voice you presume belongs to Keeley Jones, and then there’s silence. He’s hung up.

You stare at your phone for a long, long time.

—

All you can think about is what you did wrong. You comb Jamie’s flat for anything that belongs to you, shove it into your car, and drive back to your own, too-small too-crowded flat.

You wonder if you were too clingy as you carefully fold up every Man City kit. You think it’s possible you weren’t affectionate enough as you stack every polaroid photo. You wonder if maybe it has to do with your physical appearance as you hunt for scissors and some matches.

You try to make yourself not care as you burn the photos and cut up the shirts.

Your hands linger over a maroon away kit. It was always your favorite, and for a moment you consider keeping it.

Then you remember Jamie saying, glad it’s finally clicking as though you never meant anything, so you grab the scissors and cut it into shreds.

—

Uni is out of the question. There is absolutely no way you’re going to be able to afford it so you start two full-time jobs.

Every day feels like a struggle to breathe. You get out of bed and tell yourself I can do this as you get ready for work and tighten your budget. The drowning feeling never quite goes away, but the months pass all the same.

You’re grateful that although you don’t save a lot of money, you’re able to pay your bills on time. Your flatmates generally leave you alone when you’re home, but you’ve found ice cream in the freezer with your name on it that you know you didn’t buy. They’ll place a blanket over you every time you fall asleep on the couch, and fervently ban all Manchester City merchandise from entering the flat.

Breakthrough comes in the form of a gift.

A literal gift, and one you’re giving, not receiving.

It’s a set of earrings for a friend, hoops with her name set around them. She wears them to work exactly once, and the next thing you know, orders are pouring in.

It’s enough that you quit one job, then the next, then hire both flatmates to help you in the evenings. Pretty soon, there’s an opportunity for you to open a small shop in a part of London. You get a larger flat (all to yourself!) and before long, Manchester blue no longer haunts you.

—

The bell above the door rings, signifying a customer.

“Hi, you okay?” you say from behind the counter. You turn around and lock eyes with Keeley Jones, followed by Jamie Tartt.

Just breathe.

Jamie looks spooked, well, he looks spooked to you. Not sure if anyone else would know his expressions well enough to catch the shock cross his face. Keeley smiles brightly, and you can see that same adoring look you used to have. Maybe a little muted, she’s more mature than you were, so she probably understands her role in this relationship. Enjoy it while you can, get out before it hurts.

You can’t think about it now so before Jamie can ruin anything more you decide to play dumb and fucking introduce yourself as though your ex-boyfriend and the woman he shagged behind your back aren’t in your safe space that you created to escape him.

Keeley didn’t know, you remind yourself, except at this point it’s more of a prayer of faith hingeing on Jamie’s apparent selfish nature. There’s a good chance he didn’t mention you, a far cry from the boy who used to follow you grocery shopping because he liked to be with you (and so he could slip his card in the register before you had a chance to protest).

“Hi, I’m Keeley,” she says with a smile. “This one’s Jamie, but you’ll be hearing more about him I’m sure. He’s a footballer on loan to AFC Richmond, and he’s fucking brilliant on the pitch.”

You copy her smile. “How can I help you?”

“I saw your earrings on instagram, and I absolutely had to get some. Then when we moved here, I wanted to see your shop! And this one said he’d get them for me, isn’t that sweet?”

Keeley wraps herself around Jamie’s arm, oblivious to the way he can’t figure out how to react.

He settles on a nod and a grunt, so you pull out different hoop sizes and letter fonts, and get to work.

She settles on gold, with tiny letters spelling Keeley.

“They’ll be ready for pickup in three days,” you say, ushering them out the door.

Keeley hasn’t stopped smiling this whole time and in contrast, Jamie hasn’t stopped frowning, but they’ve made their purchase and are headed down the street.

The moment they’re well and truly gone, you pull out your phone and Google, Jamie Tartt richmond. The top results are all about his loan from City to AFC Richmond, your Richmond; your escape is no longer an escape. It’s only a matter of time before his face is plastered all around town. The thought of it turns your stomach.

But there’s no way you’ll ever see him.

So you get through your day like normal, head back home, and play too-loud music through your headphones as you cook dinner. By the time it’s ready, you’re dancing to Islands in the Stream with all worries about Jamie firmly banished from your mind.

table of contents

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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junkissed · 1 year

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the secret garden

member — seokmin x gn reader genre — fluff :) happy valentine's day! word count — 2.2k warnings — none! notes — this is for @hvcmixtape's valentine's day song collab!! this fic is based on: "like real people do" by hozier

be sure to check out the other participants in the collab - masterlist here!

“hey, honey?”

seokmin looks up at the sound of your voice trailing in from the other room. “yeah?” he calls back.

“i’m off to the store to get stuff for dinner, okay? i’ll be back in a while. text me if you need anything!”

he smiles. “ ‘kay. love you!”

“love you too!” you reply.

he closes his laptop, waiting. minutes later he hears the front door click shut and faintly, the sound of your car starting as you drive away.

when he’s sure you’re gone, he gets up from his chair, peeking out through the doorway of his office before walking out into the house.

the sliding glass door to your backyard opens with a squeak as seokmin slips outside, quickly crossing the yard. he struggles a little moving the heavy birdbath, but once it’s out of the way he finds what he’s looking for.

it’s purposefully hard to get to; hidden behind a cluster of small trees and shrubs and covered even further by the birdbath, because he needs to make sure you won’t see it, unless you knew exactly where to look.

he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees everything in place, just as it was when he last checked a few days ago.

he’s been planning this since last february, when he originally planned on doing this for you; except the squirrels got to it a few days before he could and he had to rush to buy cheap roses from the grocery store down the street because all the florists had been sold out for weeks. he’s still mad about that, and this year he made sure to cover everything in netting so it wouldn’t happen again.

he even bought anti-squirrel spray, and he feels kinda bad about using chemicals, but he didn’t want to risk a natural, chemical-free repellant not working and forcing him to settle for something store bought for a second year in a row. sorry, squirrels.

but thanks to—or perhaps, in spite of—his precautions this year, his gift is perfectly safe and sound. his flowers are coming along perfectly.

they’re right on the verge of blooming: the buds just barely beginning to open, just in time for valentine’s day in a week.

of course, he’s got the classic v-day flowers: deep red roses, pink speckled carnations, white daisies.

but he knows he can do better than that. any moron with a packet of seeds can grow roses in their backyard. so he’s planted some of your other favorites too, ones that took a little more planning to pull off. honeysuckle, tulips, and daffodils, some of your favorites, take up one corner of the flower bed.

the work and research put into getting everything right has been tedious, but seokmin is an ambitious man, and he would only attempt it for you. sure, it probably cost more in time, effort, and supplies than ordering a nice bouquet online would have, but he likes doing things himself, and he likes that his way is more personal.

it’s been many months of diligently deleting the search history on his computer so you don’t see the hour and a half of googling things like “how often do i water carnations” and “are worms good for plants” and “how much sunlight for tulips” every day.

not that he thinks you’d go looking, but he can never be too careful when dealing with surprises. not after two christmases ago when you found your (unwrapped) presents sitting behind the washing machine when your sock had fallen down there; no, he’s learned his lesson.

he heads to the shed along the side of the house to grab the scissors from the shelf of gardening supplies, along with a small watering can.

he’s glad you never end up sticking to your annual new year’s resolution to start gardening more, because if you had, you probably would’ve found his secret flowers already. although maybe after this, he might be able to convince you to come outside and garden with him every once in a while. it’s actually kind of fun, and it’s satisfying seeing his hard work turn into something beautiful.

when he’s done trimming the dead leaves and making sure the plants have enough water, he carefully replaces the netting and moves the birdbath back into place. he puts the gardening scissors and watering can where they belong before heading back inside, carefully sliding the door shut behind him and locking it again.

he’s just finishing washing the dirt off his hands when he hears your car pull up into the driveway, and he can’t help the smile that grows across his face at just the thought of you. he flicks his hands, gives them a quick wipe with a towel before opening the front door and going out to meet you at the car and help you carry everything inside.

the next few days pass by quickly, and before seokmin knows it, it’s the night before valentine’s day.

he’s just gotten back from work, having left early to make sure he has time before you get home, leaving him plenty of time to get everything ready for tomorrow.

he opens the back door, leaving it open so he can hear your car pulling up in case you get home earlier than expected.

crossing the yard he feels like a kid on christmas eve, sneaking out of bed to peek at their presents before christmas morning. he’s excited for his months of planning to finally come together, and he can’t wait to see the look on your face tomorrow when he finally gets to give it to you.

he carefully cuts the flowers, picking out the prettiest and brightest blooms and setting them in a little container so he can take them inside without damaging them.

back in the house he stands over the counter, thinking about how to put everything together. he’s watched countless videos on how to do different kinds of flower arrangements, but sitting in front of the flowers he grew himself, ready to start, it’s a little more nerve-wracking than he had thought.

he’s only got one shot at doing this right, and although there’s still some flowers left outside that he didn’t cut, it won’t be enough to make a completely new bouquet.

he takes a deep breath, eyes flicking across the counter from the daffodils to the daisies before he finally settles on the roses first. gingerly he picks one up and sets it in the vase he bought, already lined with floral tape and filled with just the right amount of water.

one by one he carefully places the flowers in the vase, trying his best to add layers and make everything look nice and organized.

it takes him a little while but finally it’s finished, and he stands back, admiring his work. it’s not as perfect as he’d hoped it would be, but he has to admit it looks pretty damn good for an amateur florist like himself. it definitely would've looked nicer had he bought a pre-made arrangement instead, but he's so happy with everything that the thought of buying flowers doesn't even cross his mind.

he checks his watch, surprised to see how much time has passed as he hurries to put the arrangement in a hiding spot (one that you won’t accidentally find this time) and put your other presents together in a little pink gift bag covered in hearts.

he hears the front doorknob turn just as he’s taking things out of the refrigerator to get started making dinner (it’s your night to cook, but he wants to keep you out of the kitchen and away from the hidden presents).

as always, you greet him with a smile and a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning your head against his shoulder. the corners of your eyes crinkle in joy when you see that he’s making your favorite dinner, and you start telling him about your exhausting work day as he cooks.

you’ve decided to take the holiday off and call in sick tomorrow, preferring to spend a nice, romantic day with your husband, so you aren’t in bed as early as you usually would be on a work night. instead, you’re cuddled up on the couch after dinner, talking late into the night about everything and nothing at all. it’s these evening with seokmin that you love the most; the quiet days when you can just be around each other and everything feels safe and comfortable.

and he doesn’t even mind when you fall asleep on his shoulder and he has to gently tap you awake to bring you to bed. in fact, he couldn’t be happier.

the next day he sets his alarm and wakes up before you, sneaking out of bed and tucking his side of the blankets against you so that you won’t immediately notice he’s gone.

by the time you wake up a little while later, the smell of breakfast is already wafting into the room as seokmin carries a tray of waffles and fruit, topped with whipped cream and strawberries in the shape of a heart.

his face breaks into a grin when he sees you awake, carefully handing you the platter of food.

you smile sleepily at him, still letting your eyes adjust to the morning sunlight. “hi, baby.”

he giggles, sitting on his side of the bed next to you. “hi sweetheart. happy valentine’s day.”

he nods at the plate, wordlessly asking you to try the food, and you oblige, cutting off a big piece of waffle. and of course, like everything seokmin does, it’s—

“—so good,” you moan through a mouthful of food, savoring the taste. “you spoil me,” you say as you motion to the spread on your lap.

he giggles. “you deserve to be spoiled. and besides, you haven’t even seen everything yet.”

you pretend to be shocked, gasping exaggeratedly. “there’s more?”

after many years with seokmin, you know he’s probably got something insanely elaborate up his sleeve, but you’re still not used to the way he treats you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. and to him, you are.

he sits with you while you finish your breakfast, leaving only to take your dish back to the sink while you get up and throw some clothes on.

you meet him in the kitchen and immediately see the counter covered in little gifts, but the focal point of the arrangement is a huge case full of flowers, bright pinks and whites and reds with little hints of green spread throughout.

"minnie, this is so…" you start, your voice breaking a little as you walk towards the little display. "these flowers are gorgeous. you must've spent a fortune, you shouldn't have!"

he blushes a little, twining his fingers together. "i didn't!"

you narrow your eyes at him in confusion, and he continues. "i didn't spend anything on them," he repeats. "i grew them myself. so– well, yeah, technically i did buy the bulbs and the seeds and the fertilizer, but i got them on sale so it wasn't that much…" he trails off when he sees you staring at him, mouth hanging open. "what?"

"you grew these?" you ask in shock.

he grins proudly. "i did! and i arranged it myself, too, does it look okay? the carnations wouldn't stick to the tape right, so i had to just– y'know, shove them in there. but they look fine, right?"

you think you might cry at how thoughtful and perfect and wonderful he is, and he's explaining something about squirrels but you're not paying attention because all you can see is the way the smile on his face reaches all the way up to his eyes and the way he scrunches up his nose when he talks, and all you can think about is how happy it makes him when he makes you happy and how happy it makes you when he's happy and how you couldn't be more in love with this man if you tried.

so you do the only thing you can think to do: throw your arms around him and kiss him like it's your first kiss, your last kiss, and every kiss in between all wrapped up into one, and the way he instantly melts into your arms is worth more than any present or expensive floral arrangement he could buy for you. his gifts mean a lot, but nothing comes close to the giddy feeling bubbling up in your stomach when your lips are on his and his arms are softly hugging your waist and his nose is just barely brushing your cheek, and it's the most wonderful feeling in the whole entire world.

and when you finally break apart he's got that sickeningly in-love look on his face, and you know that everything in your life has been leading up to this moment; when you both have so much love you can't physically hold it in, and it spills out over into everything you do for each other. nothing else matters except you and him, your sunshine husband who grows homemade bouquets of flowers for you.

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waddei · 3 months

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this was gonna be a semi serious post about inflation and the dollar from the perspective of a thirdworlder but it's way to vent-oriented to make sense as anything other than manic writhing in notes scattered about in a facility in a video game so whatever

I didn't want to derail this post and the general message of "food is too expensive and it should stop becoming more expensive" is the same but still

this is such a surreal post to read as someone who's lived in a "high inflation" country her whole life. a pound of butter 1 dollar??? 5 dollars??? a stick of of butter is like 700$ where I live. a month ago it was 500$ and next month we'll be paying it 1000 for sure

I understand that the price is more than 3x in the example but.. over 3 years? maybe my brain is completely fried by whatever chemical the government puts in the water to make us like futbol so much but that almost seems completely reasonable to me??

I cannot take any conversation about inflation from the us seriously. I'm unable to.

my perspective on what "1 dollar" means is so completely derailed and skewed I cannot get it through my head that it's a currency people use every day to buy gum and chips

I have dollars, in a drawer, kept in a sealed bag and neatly folded.

dollars are for big transactions. no one trusts the peso, if you buy a house, a car, a Motorbike even. the price will be in dollars and people will prefer if you pay them with them too

dollars are movie money. it's the default stand-in for "currency" when talking for many.

i might have slipped before when speaking English and say "this costed 30 dollars" when in reality I meant pesos

they're not the same, 30 pesos is not 30 dollars.

30 dollars is around 27.000 pesos.

and hey! big number I guess! but my mother and I went grocery shopping last week and spent 16k on a week and a half worth of stuff.

it doesn't fucking mean anything.

years ago,god knows how many, I would buy a sandwich every other day. it costed 12$ at first.

nowdays the same kind of sandwich will run you 800$

coins are now 10 or 5 pesos but the smallest bill that you're gonna need to buy anything is probably 100 ACTUALLY SCRATCH THAT LITERALLY NOTHING IS UNDER 100 NOWDAYS el guaimallen está 120 creo. the next big bill is 500.

you want a small meal at a cafe? you're looking at a 8k receipt at the very least. that's 8 1000 bills or 4 of the new and terribly ugly 2000 ones!

I don't know where I'm going with this, i guess the prices seem worse when the base number is higher, maybe I should start buying gold and shit fuck If I know.

quien chota nos mandó a ganar el mundial literalmente nada bueno vino después de eso saquenme de aca

#wddy #vent ig

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neolithicastronaut · 5 months

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Maybe it's just me but like when someone is going through a shit time I just don't think flowers are the answer.

When I had a quite premature baby 5 weeks ago whilst in the middle of moving house I received a number of bunches of flowers which I APPRECIATED the thought behind but really what it meant was I had to find vases, arrange them, display them in my half-packed home, barely even got to enjoy them because I was spending all my time in the hospital, and then they slowly decayed, dropped shit everywhere, and then I had to clean it all up.

I'm sure each of those bunches cost $50-80. Girl, like if you had to spend the money do you have any IDEA how helpful a food delivery or grocery voucher would have been...or non-money things like a home cooked meal or a hand packing some boxes?

Idk I don't want to sound ungrateful, but i guess what I'm getting at is that often The Done Thing doesn't actually make much sense when you think about it.

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griefabyss69 · 7 months

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gotta go with '07 nailbat for realsies'

Oooh this is an older one!!! From like the summer I think?

It's Stonathan, rated PG for now, and I'm posting the whole thing (it's not very long) because it was supposed to be for an event that I didn't have enough time to join! I'd like to finish it ~one day~ but it's also... a part of a bunch of WIPs that are going to be finished purely based on vibes mostly, like if I get the actual inspiration to finish it! It's not abandoned though because I do actually like the idea!!! I haven't gotten to the proper reason why I started writing it (something about Jonathan being the original maker of the nailbat and giving it to Steve when his life took a nosedive and Steve using it to protect them both and all of the symbolism etc), though it does start a little bit at the end Thanks for asking!!! <3 <3 <3

Honestly, living with Jonathan Byers should be like, fucking weird.

But it's not.

It's like, the guy wasn't necessary a thorn in his side but certainly was half of the center of some of the biggest hurt he's ever felt, but also, that was ages ago.

Years.

Steve hands him the joint, watching his lazy smile as their fingers brush. He's getting pretty high, the stuff that Argyle brings with him when he comes down from California is intense, but tonight he doesn't mind.

The thing is, he'd wanted to move in with Robin when she went off to university, but that didn't work out because she had gotten a girlfriend six months before she left and well. He wasn't about to third wheel or anything.

He wasn't gonna cockblock a couple of a lesbians after they'd spent their whole lives living in the heterosexual world of Hawkins.

So he and Robin had cried about it and then made different plans, something that would get Steve out from under his parent's thumb once and for all, but not leave him burdened with either the cost of living alone in a big new city or figuring out how to live with a complete stranger.

And here he is, smoking weed on his little balcony with Jonathan, who was attending the same school as Robin but apparently fucking hated living in the dorms.

He was of course worried about it all, about how fucking quickly he could tank this tentative friendship and blow up another home life, but so far it's been alright.

They even made it through their first fight about both of them being forgetful dickheads, and like, came to a solution and everything. Turns out you don't forget if it's your week for dishes or laundry if one guy does laundry and one guy does dishes. Groceries and garbage are less scheduled, but they're also easier to remember, and even if Steve forgets that Jonathan asked him to take out the garbage, he can do it in like two minutes tops.

They get along sober of course, had to have been through the whole getting an apartment and moving and driving around and going to school or work thing, but when they both have downtime in the evening and Jonathan's brain power isn't chained to any coursework, they smoke each other under the table.

Do they smoke too much weed?

Probably most definitely.

But it helps, with like everything they don't talk about. The shit that Jonathan tells him is because of trauma and the shit that the doctors tell him is because of brain injury. It's better than painkillers, and a world better than when he used alcohol to keep his head above water, so he's not worried for now.

Sometimes, though.

It's not enough.

There's a sound, he can't even remember what. A thud, or a crash, or a yell, maybe just a whisper, and he's up, on his feet, nailbat in hand before he even thinks to grab it.

He's silent, all of those years of sneaking past his parents and past other people's parents training him into memorizing the creaky places in the floor, how to open his door without disturbing the air too much.

The entrance to the kitchen is just out of reach, and he's ready to grab the archway there and pull himself in, swinging, when someone hisses out a curse.

"Shit."

It's Jonathan, his voice disembodied and in the dark.

Steve lurches forward before he gets scared, wanting to make sure he's not mistaken, and slaps his hand on the light switch, illuminating the kitchen.

Jonathan yells, flinching back into a fighting stance, eyes wide and round as he looks up where Steve is standing a few feet away.

"What're you doing?" Steve asks, squinting at the bright light. His eyes take too long to adjust these days.

"Uh, milk?" Jonathan asks, gesturing at the carton that lays on the floor, the milk spilled all over the tile. "Or, trying to?"

Steve sighs, forcing himself to put the bat down, leaning it against the wall.

"I'll get a towel."

They're at the kitchen table, Jonathan eating a bowl of cereal while Steve eats some cookies, even though it's like 4am, fuck it, because Steve's feeling restless and knows he won't sleep again tonight.

He assumes Jonathan is here for the same reason, since they've both cleaned up and he apologized for waking Steve even though like, he didn't have to be sorry.

It was kind of tense, Steve starting to feel less like he needed to square up with an invisible enemy but still on edge. He just watches Jonathan out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to fully look away because he wants to know he's safe.

#chats from the abyss #fun things #griefabyss69 writing

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cesium-sheep · 24 days

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I talked to her, she was really apologetic/conciliatory and didn't seem to begrudge me not apologizing for the things I said that I would definitely say again if pressed although I did apologize for reacting so harshly at the end and I did also acknowledge that the things I said hurt even if I still stood by them. I just kind of explained how I experienced last night and listened to how she experienced last night, and followed up on like yo this is twice in a week and 3 times in a month like I think maybe you should follow up on that with your therapist and she was just like yeah I dunno what's going on I should look into that. we did get into the weeds at one point about like we both feel like we keep getting delegitimized since we're kind of in the same field but through radically different means so she feels like I don't give her enough credit and I feel like she doesn't give me enough credit but in different ways and it's a whole Thing but like. it is what it is. and she didn't deny it when I said I have more experience but she also didn't deny it when I said as soon as she passes me which will be soon she's gonna stop listening to me entirely. she did say it wasn't unfair to point out that this happens a lot, when I corrected my estimate of how many times it's happened before to be more accurate.

instead of just being a preference we're gonna make it an actual hardline rule that if she's drunk I just won't engage with her, and she's gonna talk to him about maybe helping her keep herself in line since she's more likely to listen to him and less likely to start dumping on him.

(she also for some reason ran another trial with a half dose of the bad med instead of just contacting her prescriber the first time. she agreed that sets a bad example :v )

after we got that sorted out we caught the last third of his game that he'd been talking about for weeks, really trying to sell us on going but never directly asking. I also got to very briefly meet his friends with the kids on their teams. he was telling us last night before it all went to shit that once his friend's kids move up beyond the level the three of them feel prepared to coach, they're gonna become an umpire unit instead.

then we went to pick up my new med, unfortunately I have to pay the whole cost upfront since they're a compounding pharmacy and petition the insurance for reimbursement, so we didn't have a lot of money or energy for groceries and had to do the running total budget game. I couldn't afford any frozen foods I wanted but I could afford onion dip for my wavy lays, and she's getting paid on wednesday. (also she said the reimbursement issue is fiiiiiiiiiinally resolved an entire year later and we should be getting a check for the outstanding amount in the mail.)

I feel very tired and run down and she doesn't feel great either but. it's all sorted, and tomorrow will be better.

#long post

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dead-battery · 8 months

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hi! i’m opening up emergencycommissions to make some money quickly.

so, i need to move. i have an opportunity to move in with a friend in three weeks, but that costs money that i don’t really have. i have 100$ roughly, and the only job i’ve landed so far is a part time job that pays 11.50 an hour, and i’ve been working 7.5-8.5 hours a week. so, not enough income to even pay my current rent as it is. i also cannot really afford groceries cause i’m too afraid to waste the few dollars i have on that.

if i can move, i’d be with two amazing friends i’ve known for years. i already have a job lined up, my old job that i had before moving away, and rent there would be half as much as to what i pay now. everything else is lining up for this to happen, other than money.

i am opening commissions to raise that money, and also take donations too if my #art isn’t your thing but you’d like to help out.

#sketch | bust - 15$

sketch | full body - 20$

#lineart | bust - 15$

lineart | full body - 20$

colored | bust - 20$

colored | full body - 25$

for #digitalart art, add 5$ to whatever you’re wanting

if you’re interested, go ahead and send me a dm! here or instagram @an_ad_venture

i accept payments through venmo paypal and cashapp !

if you can’t help me out by commissioning me, i also appreciate just having this information spread to others so someone else maybe can. thank you for your consideration :)

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punishercross · 6 months

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Running was all well and good, but nobody could run forever.

Or maybe he was just running in a different direction this time.

He waited until it was late, late enough to not cause too much of a disturbance when he went into the kitchen. He'd bought a lot of groceries, and there was no point in letting them go to waste. Closing any door he could think to keep the scent from escaping too far and catching the Stampede's attention, he got started.

Cooking was a good distraction. A distraction from his bags packed and loaded onto the Starcycle. A distraction from the Punisher sitting, alone, waiting for him to retrieve it. A distraction from the sand embedded in the carpet of that damned house he was supposed to go to instead of Home.

He was supposed to go, right?

This wasn't supposed to be more than a week. Never mind even longer. He'd gotten comfortable, too comfortable, and being back in Noman's Land reminded him of that fact. He wasn't rusty, exactly - he's not sure that years of training could ever be forgotten, beaten into his bones and in his body to the quick - but there was a hesitation on the trigger that hadn't been there.

As gentle as the familiar fingers pressed into his back.

He shouldn't stay. Right?

(Because he wanted to stay, he shouldn't. Because he wanted to be held, he couldn't. If that access point had leaked further into the island, if the Eye of Michael had shown up...)

If, if, if....

Shouldn't, couldn't. He wanted to.

That's the problem, right? He shouldn't want that warmth. That comfort. Nothing more than a blood stamped contract, the taste of the metallic floor covered in his own blood. Iron, rust, and the bitter medicinal taste of that vial.

(He figured for a moment it would be fine. After all, weren't they both weapons? They were both dangerous. That tingle of fear when he remembers JuLai. The end of the world. Perhaps a root system he could nestle his blood soaked self into. But...

...Instead once he found himself wrapped up in so many branches, finding himself correct, that he belonged there, he couldn't help but feel like he was going to burst. Burn himself up and everything and everyone around him.

And what happened when that comfort was destroyed by the pull of a trigger? A bullet of mercy, ripping through flesh, because now he felt like he had to preserve this place, no matter what? Or worse, the next time he felt his index finger itch with hesitation?

Because if he was supposed to live at the cost of Livio, then this was the only place his brother could be...

Like the priest.)

...

They don't talk much, but whether he figures it out or not they do their best communicating without talking at all. Words fucked things up more often than not, and he was as little a stranger to putting his foot in his mouth as the Stampede was to half-truths.

So its in silence that he loads the fridge freezer with labelled and dated food containers. A note is scratched out and slapped onto the fridge.

The lone Punisher moves to the garage, Razra looks up at him. A pause, he pets Razra, muttering his apologies before he gets on the Starcycle, riding off into the night.

Hey @blankticket

Thanks for letting me crash. Cooked food's in the fridge and freezer.

You deserve to eat.

Wolfwood

#; drabble #death cw #blood cw #just in case

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selfpositiveundertale · 1 year

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Another update, hopefully less bleak than the last one.

So on Wednesday I broke down in front of my chiropractor telling him what's going on with me. I apologized for breaking down and he said it's okay, he knows that blood sugar dropping can make a person very emotional. He was surprised to hear that I'd had a green smoothie consisting of whey protein powder, a cup of mixed greens, a ripe banana, and a cup of oat milk immediately before coming to the appointment and not even an hour later I already felt famished like I hadn't had anything all day, but he suggested that getting more fats in my diet might help me hold onto my food longer and keep my blood sugar at a reasonable level longer, so I should be consuming more butter, nut butters, avocado, coconut oil, etc. Putting peanut butter or avocado in my green smoothies, having avocado on whole grain toast like the millennial I am, and I think I'll go back to the special way I was making coffee a while back that involved heavy cream and MCT oil powder. I'll post how I do that in a separate post. I also mentioned to him that I was seriously considering purchasing liver and bones from the butcher shop to get more protein and iron in my system, and he approved of that idea as well.

After my husband picked me up from my appointment, we got food from our favorite local Chinese restaurant, and the orange chicken, fried rice, egg roll, and crab rangoon actually lasted longer in my system and kept me stable longer than anything else I'd had in the last week or two. Lots of fat in all that Chinese food. It was great. The chef seemed to have gotten a little enthusiastic with the spiciness of the orange chicken but I definitely wasn't complaining.

The next day I made a green smoothie and added a couple of tablespoons of peanut butter and that did help it to stay in my system a little longer, but it didn't have enough sugar since I only had half a banana to put in it.

So I'm thinking when we go grocery shopping this weekend, I'll get extra bananas, maybe apples, avocados, some whole grain bread, two jars of peanut butter, and heavy cream along with our usual items. And when we go to the butcher shop I'll see how much liver costs, I already know bones are sold at a reasonable price, and I'll ask the butcher if he can recommend how best to cook the liver, and if I can put it in the slow cooker.

I did more googling and found that low blood sugar isn't uncommon in people who have fibromyalgia, so I'll send my rheumatologist a message and ask about that.

Things are looking less hopeless, and it looks like I have some solutions almost within reach. Just have to make the grocery trip tomorrow.

Right now I feel my blood sugar dropping, so I think I'll go try to make something to eat. I had a bowl of greens loaded with butter, garlic, and salt pork earlier and it was very good and lasted a while but now I need more food. Might cook some more greens and see if I can make some mashed potatoes as well because I might need carbs. Might even cook the rest of the bacon we got from the butcher shop last week since I'm sure it needs to be cooked asap. Hopefully I can stand up long enough to cook. I'm in a lot of pain rn that's going to make being on my feet difficult.

Wish me luck, and stay determined.

Also @ the person who replied to my last update: thank you so much for your kind words. I needed that. ❤️❤️❤️

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lovemesomesurveys · 10 months

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What was the year/make/model of the last car you drove? I don't drive.

Have you ever been in weather below 0 Fahrenheit (-17 Celcius)? Gah, noooo thankfully I have not.

What was the last thing you used your phone for, besides calling/texting? Ha, it's rare that I'm using my phone for actual phone things lol. Anyway, I'm pretty sure it was TikTok.

Do you have more male or female coworkers? I don't have a job.

Did you enjoy high school? I liked some parts of it. Like, I actually enjoyed the pep rallies and assemblies. Honestly, while a lot of it truly was tough and I'll still stand by that, I think as I've gotten older and looked back some of the stuff maybe wasn't so bad after all.

What's an unusual food combination you like? I haven't had it in so long, but I actually think adding mayo to ramen is good.

What's the longest stretch of time you've spent completely alone? Just like half a day.

Have you ever lived in a studio apartment? No.

Did your parents allow you to drink soda when you were a kid? Yeah.

Do you always check the prices of things when you buy groceries? Of course. I don't have money coming out my ass. However, I do sometimes randomly throw stuff in, but it's a snack or drink and I know it doesn't cost much.

Do you like gyoza? I've never had it.

Have you ever been in a situation where you needed a lawyer? No.

Do you use Instagram? If so, what's your current profile pic? Very, very, very rarely. I don't even spend much time on it scrolling through my feed or watching people's insta stories. I just posted something for the first time in a few years for my birthday.

Did you ever go through an emo or goth phase? I had my emo phase when I was 16, but let's be real it was never just a phase.

What are your thoughts on kids being given iPads to keep them entertained? I don't see an issue with it. However, I personally wouldn't use a screen as a babysitter and I'd set limits to screen time. Otherwise, I definitely see the educational benefits. It's just wild how kids literally come out the womb nowadays knowing how to use a tablet or phone like wtf.

Do you get regular check-ups with your doctor? With one of my specialists, but not my primary doctor.

What was the last thing you felt apprehensive about? I'm apprehensive about everything.

How many nights per week do you cook dinner at home vs. going out to eat? I personally don't cook, so in that regard zero. As for how many nights I eat at home vs in my case how many nights I get takeout, it's something like takeout 4-5 times a week.

What's a trend you've seen recently that you thought was really dumb? I will never understand the whole Crocs trend or the little charm things you put on them. I just can't.

Do you know anyone who has been evicted? Not to my knowledge.

When did you last wash your sheets and pillowcases? A couple weeks ago.

Have you kissed more than 10 people in the past 10 years? I've only kissed 3 people total.

Have you ever been caught outdoors away from shelter during a thunderstorm? Gah, yes. I was at an outdoor festival and it just randomly started POURING. It was crazy.

Did you leave the house before 10 AM yesterday? I didn't go anywhere yesterday.

What's your favorite macaron flavor? The Fruity Pebbles one.

How often do you have friends over to your house? --

Have you ever had a boss who acted unprofessionally?

How many times have you stayed at a hotel in the past year, and where? I last stayed at a motel in March of 2022.

What kind of technological advancements do you expect there to be 100 years from now? >> I can't fathom this

Have you ever done a flip on a trampoline? No, I can't go on a trampoline.

What about a flip off of a diving board? I can't do that either.

What was the last hot beverage you had? Coffee.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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docnomore · 9 months

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Odd thoughts and old topics rarely discussed. My youngest son, working on his masters degree in ancient languages - who is not the physical/manual laboring type, helped me yesterday. In gratitude I took him to breakfast this morning for the two of us to eat, plus tip, cost $60.

Sitting across from me, looking at him, he brought back memories from the early to mid 1980’s. More than slightly over weight, full head of hair - still off the collar, wire framed glasses and a beard and mustache. Literally looks like a few typical CIA bubbas with whom I worked including an old friend whose name I cannot mention.

Like me, my friend worked both the Far East and Southwest Asia (AKA: SWA pronounced “Swah”). He’d returned to the states and while crossing a one way street in DC, a car going the wrong direction hit and killed him. It was a rental car, later found abandoned and the driver had left the country - diplomatic immunity. My friend was given a quiet, unceremonious funeral in our home state with his obituary stating that he was a banker and died of a car accident. I miss him. He was good company.

My son reminded me of him along with the much older versions of the same with whom I’d worked in Mogadishu. Sitting there at breakfast took me back to when I was his age. My son literally slept through K-12 school. His senior year was spent teaching elementary math to high school students who never learned to add, subtract, multiply or divide. He also spent his senior year in the computer lab grinding out programs for teachers he didn’t even like.

After high school, he insisted that he hated the whole education process and wanted nothing to do with any of it. Again, he’s not the physical/menial labor type. He belongs in higher education. I gave him a job working for me. I also gave him every scut job that needed doing until he quit. He got a job working at the local grocery where the indigent shop (where I shop). His job there was aisle clean up and retrieving shopping carts from the parking lot. He very quickly decided this too was not his idea of a good time.

We talked him into giving us a year at the local community college. Told him to knock out the basic requisites for an associates degree and while he was at it to look for and take two classes per semester in odd ball subjects that might prove interesting to him. He agreed and in the process, fell in love with Latin and Ancient Greek. The last two weeks of his junior year at the university, he begged permission to turn in all late assignments even if it only got him half credit. The prof.s agreed, probably believing he would not deliver. Instead of three weeks, he did it in two. At his graduation, I was introduced to those professors all of whom spoke highly of him. They gave him full credit and told him that all he need do was apply for the masters and they would guarantee him a seat. He’s taking a year off.

My goal is two fold. First, to try an prevent “life” from taking over while he’s on hiatus. And second, to re enforce in him that some of us have business to attend to at the stratospheric levels of the education system. Some, maybe and still others, none what so ever. And that each of us has to both play the hand we’re dealt and to work to our strengths while developing our weaker sides. So yesterday, I put a shovel in his hand and put him to work in the 100+ degree heat. Reminding him of muscles he didn’t know he has and the sting of blisters. He needs to ready himself for school. I love him, even if he does remind me of bubbas with whom I kicked around in my former life.

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ghostofaboy · 2 years

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Rock Bottom - This Isn't A Craig David Song

Summary: Frankie is spiraling after Tom’s death. Drugs lead to some unhealthy friendships, and too ashamed to reach out to his former teammates for help, Frankie is drawn into a world he’s afraid he can’t get out of.

Frankie spends the weeks getting closer to Tyler.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morale/Original Male Characters Rating: Explicit. Serious over 18s only Word count: 1712 Chapter: 7/?

Warnings: implied/referenced drug use, drug addiction, Self-esteem issues, angst, Frankie not coping, dubious consent, oral sex, anal sex

Note: This has not been beta read, so apologies for any mistakes. This is a fic with gay and bi characters. Please make sure you read the tags/warnings. Header by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Part 6 / Part 1 / Masterpost

The week passed by without anything exciting happening. Work was work. Hard but honest. Gavin had finally rolled in on Wednesday afternoon and was promptly torn a new one by his uncle Malcolm. He had been sent home without pay, and Frankie had enjoyed an entire week without dealing with Gavin’s bullshit at lunchtime. As nice as that was, it also meant that Frankie hadn’t had a chance to talk to Gavin about what had happened at the weekend.

On Monday, he’d been planning to punch Gavin. It probably would have cost him his job, and considering Malcolm was also his landlord, it probably would have cost him his apartment. So when Gavin didn’t show, it was most likely a good thing.

That night Tyler had shown up at his door, and they’d talked some more. They watched tv and talked about shows they liked. Frankie had cooked some basic pasta, but they talked about favorite foods. It had been nice to spend time with someone. It was late by the time Tyler left, and Frankie had tidied up and then gone straight to bed.

On Tuesday, Frankie started to rehearse what he wanted to say to Gavin. How he should have talked about filming when they were sober. That way, Frankie could have asked more questions. All day, Frankie thought about what questions he would have asked. All he could come up with by that night was: why him?

Tuesday night, Tyler came round again. He had bought groceries, and Frankie laughed, listening to Tyler tell stupid jokes while he made him and Frankie enchiladas. Afterward, they had talked a little about music before Tyler went quiet.

“What’s up?” Frankie handed him a beer from the fridge and flopped back down onto the couch.

“Can I ask you a question?” Tyler sort of half smiled.

“Sure.” Frankie took a deep breath. He knew what was coming.

“I’m not sure how to phrase this.” Tyler gave an embarrassed laugh. “Erm, why do you get high? I mean, you don’t do it for fun. I’ve figured that out. And you would have to be pretty erm…”

“Desperate?” Frankie chimed in. “To do what Gavin has me doing.”

“Yeah, man.” Tyler frowned.

“Maybe I’m just another junkie.” Frankie spat out, then drained his beer.

“No. No, I don't think so.” Tyler shook his head. “I’ve seen junkies. You’re not there, not yet anyway.”

“Drop it, Ty.” Frankie couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Ok, Frank.”

Frankie had spent Wednesday morning thinking over what Tyler had asked him. He knew why he got high but fuck, how could he even start to explain that to someone. Thinking about it made him think of Tom, and Frankie had damn near lost his lunch. Carl had walked passed as he heaved and shot him a look. Frankie knew what Carl was thinking. Fuck him. He didn’t have a fucking clue.

When Gavin had strolled in a little after two, all eyes were on him. Frankie watched along with the rest of the crew as Malcolm tore down the stairs from his office. Gavin had the audacity to smirk as he followed his uncle back up to the office. Less than twenty minutes later, he was stomping back down those same stairs with a furious expression on his face before slamming the workshop door on his way out.

That night Tyler came round again with a pizza he’d picked up on the way over.

“Good day?” Tyler smiled that big goofy smile at Frankie, and Frankie’s mood was immediately lifted. Damn that smile.

“Kinda. Gavin finally showed up to work, and then Malcolm suspended him.” Frankie answered between mouthfuls of pizza.

Tyler roared, laughing. “Stupid fucking asshole. Where the fuck has he been?”

Frankie just shrugged and laughed.

They spent the rest of the night watching tv. Tyler got up to use the bathroom at one point, and when he came back, he sat down next to Frankie on the couch. Not the chair or the other end of the sofa, but right next to Frankie. They carried on watching some comedy show about Brooklyn cops, but Frankie couldn’t really concentrate.

He could feel the heat from Tyler’s thigh next to his own. Every time Tyler laughed, he seemed to shift a little closer to Frankie. Eventually, though, it got late, and Tyler got up to leave.

“Better get going.” He smiled that fucking smile at Frankie. “You’ve got work in the morning.”

“Yeah.” Frankie couldn’t help smiling back as he walked Tyler to the door. “See you tomorrow night?”

Tyler stopped in the open doorway and nodded. “Yeah. If that’s ok, I mean.”

Before he really knew what he was doing, Frankie had closed the gap between them. Before he could talk himself out of it, his lips were on Tyler’s. Tyler blinked in surprise before returning the gentle kiss.

Pulling away, Frankie could feel the blush creeping up and knew that his face must be beet red. Tyler was also blushing and smiling again.

“See you tomorrow.” He smiled shyly as he left Frankie blushing in the doorway.

Thursday came and went so quickly and yet so slowly that Frankie almost felt like the universe was fucking with him. Work was uneventful. Carl had it in for Paul for some reason. Frankie didn’t know why. Paul was a dull son of a bitch with all the personality of a turnip, but he was a hard worker. Frankie tuned out Carl’s rants as his thoughts drifted back to Tyler. Frankie had spent nearly all of Thursday thinking about Tyler.

Just like he’d said he would, Tyler came back on Thursday night. From the moment Tyler had knocked on his door again, Frankie was on him. Lips crushed against lips as they pulled each other’s clothes off. Tyler had kissed his way down Frankie’s neck to his chest. Pulling his t-shirt up and off to get to Frankie’s nipples, Tyler had nipped and sucked on them before continuing down.

They had paused briefly as they awkwardly pulled their jeans off. Shoes being stubborn, zippers not cooperating and boxers getting tangled on legs eventually had them both chuckling. The laughing stopped as soon as both of their erections were free.

Tyler locked eyes with Frankie before pushing him down onto the couch. Frankie gasped as Tyler’s mouth enveloped his cock. Tyler sucked and pumped Frankie until Frankie couldn’t keep his moans quiet. Just as he could feel his orgasm building, Tyler stopped and grinned at him.

“Lube?”

Frankie grinned. “Bedroom.” He panted back.

The rest of Thursday night was spent riding Tyler on the couch.

Frankie had woken up on Friday morning to Tyler groaning next to him in bed.

“Dude. You get up way too early.”

Frankie had just laughed, given him a kiss, and gotten ready for work.

Work had been typical. Apparently, Carl and Paul were friends again, so everything in the workshop was calm, and the day carried on as usual.

Frankie wondered what Tyler would make for dinner tonight as he pulled on his jacket. Tyler had said he’d be waiting for Frankie when he’d left that morning. Frankie couldn’t stop himself from grinning whenever he thought about the younger man waiting for him at home.

Stepping out of the workshop, Frankie turned and headed toward his truck. The sun was already setting and was glinting off the various windshields blinding him. It wasn’t until he was almost there that Frankie finally saw someone leaning against his truck, waiting for him.

At first, his heart leaped. Tyler. That handsome fucker had come to meet him at work. But then Frankie's heart sank. He saw the blond hair, the way the man leaned, and he knew who it was.

“Gavin.” Frankie sighed and nodded.

“Hey, Frank.” Gavin grinned. “How you doing?”

“I’m good.” Frankie stopped at his driver’s door, which Gavin was still leaning on. “You?”

“I’m all good, Frank.” Gavin looked around at the emptying parking lot. “Hey, you wanna party? I know a couple of guys who really want to meet you.”

“No.” Frankie shook his head. “We need to talk, Gav.”

“Come on, Frank.” Gavin’s smile fell. “We go to this guy's house. We get fucked up, then you get fucked. All. Night. Long.” Gavin laughed even as Frankie shook his head again. “Come on, are you serious? I know you must want some. You ain’t had any shit since last weekend, and I know you ain’t had any cock in you all week. You must be hurting for a bit of both.”

Gavin stepped forward, his eyes drifting down to Frankie’s crotch. Frankie took a deep breath as he took a step back. Gavin’s appraisal of him was making him increasingly uncomfortable.

“I said no. We need to talk.” Frankie scowled at Gavin, who just rolled his eyes. “I want to talk to you about the filming.”

“What about it?” Gavin set his mouth into a hard thin line. “You said yes to it if that’s what this is about. No one did anything to you you didn’t want.”

“You only asked me once I was already high.” Frankie tried to focus on his breathing to control his temper. Screaming about this in public wasn’t how Frankie wanted this to go. “You waited until I was high. You knew I’d say no otherwise. You think I want other people to see the shit you do to me? Huh?”

“No one makes you do shit, Frank. If you wanted to get high some other way, you would, but you keep coming back to me, and we both know why.” Gavin glared. “You like it. You like feeling dirty. You like being used. But yeah, you know what, I’ll hold my hands up. I should have asked you sober. I didn’t want you to say no, I guess. You know why? Money. Tyler says there’s good money in it.” Gavin shrugged. “Fucking his idea anyway.”

“Liar!” Frankie’s heart felt like it was going to stop. No. Not Tyler. "You're a fucking lying piece of shit!"

“Fuck you!” Gavin yelled back. “Tyler came to me after that first time. He said you were too fucking good not to film. He should know. It’s his fucking job.”

#frankie morales x original male character(s)#frankie morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #francisco morales x original male character(s)#triple frontier #m/m fiction #rock bottom fic

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