#last night i had a dream i was a bowl of ketchup
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Tori is a fucking yapper.
Extras:
#eddsworld#ellsworld tori#tori x laurel#laureltori#laurel eddsworld#evil laughter#?? what is this tag#evil laugh#gay girls! actually#laurel isnt a girl. shes nkt a boy#shes something ull never understand#but she will die for tori#last night i had a dream i was a bowl of ketchup#and you were mustard#which is weird#torilaurel#girls who smoke weed#they did all the drugs#ew art#digital art#tori eddsworld#tori trans#penisworld
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Rating: 3/5
Book Blurb:
"Witty, warm, and charming...Fans of Emily Henry and Robinne Lee’s The Idea of You are going to go crazy for this one!” —Jennifer Close, author of Marrying the Ketchups
Culinary student Lexi Berman, 24, has one goal: to make her late mother proud by becoming an executive chef in a Michelin-star restaurant. And she isn’t going to let anything–or anyone–get in the way. But when she meets Jake Taylor, a dive bar musician who charms her with show tunes, she makes a rare exception to her no-dating rule. After a steamy weekend together, Jake leaves for L.A. to record his demo, and Lexi never expects to see him again. And she definitely doesn’t expect him to become an overnight celebrity, with a breakout single that’s almost certainly about her famous blueberry pancake recipe.
As Jake’s star rises and the world speculates about the subject of his song, Lexi keeps the affair to herself. After all, she’s finally found her footing at her new restaurant job, and even has a prospective romance with her coworker. But when a distraught Jake turns up on her doorstep late one night, her carefully-laid plans are thrown for a loop. Though she and Jake try to be friends, things between them soon reheat faster than a bowl of Lexi's matzah ball soup. But a relationship with Jake means risking her face in tabloids, withstanding cruel internet comments, and worst of all, jeopardizing her career. As Jake’s upcoming tour approaches, and rumors swirl about him and another pop star, Lexi has to decide if holding onto her meticulously-planned future is worth walking away from what could be the perfect recipe for love.
Set both in the chaos of fame and the high stakes world of New York City restaurants, this novel sprinkles in a second chance at love and a dollop of celebrity drama to create a romantic romp that will make even the most jaded reader smile.
Review:
When a hot weekend between an aspiring chef and a dive bar musician ends up with said musician becoming an overnight sensation due to the song he wrote about her... things take a turn especially since he ghosts her afterwards and now a year later he shows up in the middle of the night asking for her help. Lexi Berman has one goal and it is to become an executive chef in a michelin-star restaurant. Lexi has a firm no dating rule and when she meets Jake Taylor, a hot dive bar musician who instantly charms her, they spend a weekend together. Yet she never expects him to become an overnight sensation with a breakout single about her. When she doesn't hear back from him Lexi thinks it's the last time she'll see him.... and the more famous he becomes the more she keeps the fact that he wrote a song about her to herself. Lexi is determined to get over Jake and focus on her job at a new restaurant and potential new romance with her coworker... but to her surprise, Jake shows up at her doorsteps, drunk, a year after their one weekend stand and he says he needs her. Lexi decides to try being friends with Jake but he's determined to prove to her he's serious about not letting her go and that he wants a second chance with her. Yet the pressure of working in a job that is high stress and all the problems that come with Jake being famous from a meddling manager, paps after her, and another singer who wants Jake... can Lexi handle the pressure or are they just too different? This was an overall cute second chance romance. Jake really was a bit naive at certain parts but overall he really only had eyes for Lexi. Lexi was determined to make her dreams come true and have a relationship, but buckling under the pressure of juggling one too many things and dealing with the stress of it. The relationship between Lexi and Jake was push and pull, and I did appreciate how much Jake wanted to communicate with her about issues. I did enjoy the ending as it wrapped everything up nicely and overall if you enjoy second chance romances then I'd say you'd have a fun time with this one.
*Thanks Netgalley and St. Martin's Press, St. Martin's Griffin for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*
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Here is a S/andman fanfic I wrote a few years back. It’s based on the comic.
I was really hoping S/andman would start feeding in the snz community so after some reservation I’m trying to do my part to get the ball rolling. Im also really confused by how Tumblr works despite being here for 3 or so years so really I just hope this inspires others to write more of the same content! Feedback is always appreciated!
Catch your death.
The family had not met in many years. How many is inconsequential. Suffice to say that I merely quantify the amount of years for the benefit of the reader, as to the Endless, the idea of "many years" would be beyond your comprehension. Sometimes these meetings were for family business and sometimes, albeit rarely, they were purely social. This was one of those unique times.
It was in fact Death who had called this gathering. The arrangements were made in the usual mundane way of standing in the gallery and holding a family member’s sigil The all too familiar incantation this time to act as an invitation for a future event. Before long the day had come! Death did all the important cleaning up and making sure her place looked suitable. She didn’t need any jokes about her lack of tidiness from Destruction like last time! Once she was satisfied all looked presentable she headed toward the dining area and waited.
The first to arrive was Dream. It was of no surprise as he was always precisely on time. Next followed Destiny and then Destruction, Despair next and Second last was Delirium. Last but not least was of course Desire who was never on time for anything they felt was beneath them.
Death relished her role as the hostess and made sure there were edible delights for everyone. She took time and care in choosing each and every single bit of cuisine, Making sure to match it to the personal tastes of each of her relations.
The menu was as follows:
Dream - Turkey Breast with an almond and walnut crust. A side of white rice. A tart cherry juice for a complimentary beverage. Dessert would be an intriguing combination of kiwi and banana. Chamomile tea to follow. These culinary sleep aids have been factual proven to give anyone a good nights rest
Destruction - Greek style Lamb roasted in palm oil. A side of soy beans and corn. For dessert a sugary confection including chocolate and coconut. The cumulative effect of so many of these ingredients was factually known for their insurmountable damage to the planet.
Destiny - A nondescript dish of fish and a simple salad of beans and onions sprinkled with cheese in a light olive oil dressing. To drink: wine. A fortune cookie for dessert with Tea. ( heavy on the leaves). Most of these foods were used as tools in the art of ancient Greek divination.
Despair - Hamburger with french fries lots of ketchup. A tall cold glass of soda. To finish of this meal a large bowl of your favourite ice cream which has been discontinued crowned with candy sprinkles, gummies and butterscotch sauce.
Desire - A generous portion of raw oysters. Served with a side of lemon, Tabasco sauce and chalet vinaigrette. To sip a glass of vintage Dom Pérignon. Dessert was a heart shaped box of chocolates.
Delirum - Shoelace spaghetti with rectangular sauce. Juice of tentacle and a peanut butter and jealous sandwich cake for dessert. Obviously fresh mango juice to drink served in a glass that looked like a pill container
Death - Fugu or Puffer fish. One of the most deadliest foods known in the universe! Après dinner was Hemlock tea.
They made pleasantries to fill in the awkward silences. And it was Destruction who first broke the ice. " How is my favourite lass?" He directed the question at Delirium. Desire's golden eyes narrowed.
Delirium, who was engrossed with using her spaghetti as a lasso looked up. " Ohh! Its so really. Great. And look did you see this. I can be one of those. Um....what do you call them ? again?"
"Cowgirls?" Destruction offered helpfully.
"no. Um....." Delirium seemed to be deep in thought. "Cowgirls!" She beamed proudly as if she had arrived to this conclusion on her own.
"Now why didn't I think of that?" Destruction said humouring her.
" Because? ... umm .....?" Delirium's thoughts trailed off fading as though remnants in the end of a song.
"Silly sister." Desire said with a sharp saccharine smile." Destruction was just humouring you much like the rest of us with your silly prattling." Desire was vexed at the thought that someone would have the gall to declare anyone was their favourite in their presence. Unless of course it was Desire themselves.
Destruction didn't miss a beat. "You mean the way we humour you, Desire?"
"Funny, I don't recall asking for anything of the sort." they looked at him with dark amusement. "But I'm delighted to see you care." The descriptor was used with deliberate incidence.
Destruction knew verbally sparing with Desire was a fools game. Instead he turned the conversation to Despair. Hesitantly she looked to Desire before answering any of his questions as though for permission. She confessed it was good to see him and soon they fell into familiar dialogue. All was going very well as the relations all talked amongst themselves. That is all but Desire. They were bored and idly swirled their drink around in the crystal flute.
"So Dream." Desire paused dramatically until they were sure they had his full attention. " Seeing anyone these days?"
" I am in fact, yes." Dream said a bit to stately for anyone but Desire to notice.
"Anyone I know?" They purred.
" It is no one of your acquaintance " Dream bristled
" I'd love to meet them. I'd be able to tell them ever so much about you. Ohh, all good things of course." They mocked,
"Don't you ever tire of meddling in the affairs of others? " He countered
"Why Dream" Desire pretended to look deeply offended, placing their hand over their heart. " I don't meddle. I merely help things arrive to their natural conclusion. May I offer you some advice? Perhaps you should pay attention to this one. Instead of ignoring her for days on end. Leaving her to question every last encounter the two of you had. Driving her to her quarters to cry pathetically into her pillow deep into the night. Maybe you should try not being an asshole for once." Desire looked around the room. All eyes focused on them as each one of the endless stopped what they had been doing. It seemed as though the room was dipped in inhospitable silence.
"What?" Laughed Desire. "Did I say too much?"
It was then that Death spoke out.
"Desire! Stop, just stop!. I invited everyone here to have a nice time and I am not going to have you ruin it!"
Dream spoke next
"Sister I feel I am perfectly capable of handling this myself"
" Is that a fact? Because from what I have seen our incompetent ninny of a brother is completely incapable of handling anything." Desire was smug.
It is known that Death is merciful and compassionate. let us say at this time she was neither one of those things.
" This is my place Desire and you can bet your bottom dollar I'm not going to stand here and let you insult me or the rest of our family. Now get your ass over here!" She commanded.
Desire had every intention of ignoring her demands until they saw the utterly scary look in Death's eyes. Languidly Desire began to rise from the table
And if words could roll their eyes. "Sigh, If I must"
"NOW!"
Despite themselves Desire jumped a little.
Death turned on her heel with the understanding that her brother/sister was to follow.
Now in the hallway Death turned to face her sibling.
"OK" Desire said hands on hips. "Have at it. But first let me just light my..." One look told them that might not be the best idea.
"After tonight, not to mention all these years, consider yourself lucky this is all you're going to get!"
" And prey tell what might that be? You can't kill me. We are bound by rules remember?"
" Trust me Desire after I'm done with you, you'll wish you were dead."
"And Just what is that supposed to mean? " Desire was as ever defiant.
And then it happened.
Desire sneezed.
Nothing to you or I of course but as an Endless that just wasn't a common occurrence. In fact it wasn't an occurrence at all. Desire was about to find out just exactly what Death meant.
It is a little known fact that while Death is barred from harming the rest of the Endless there are small liberties she might take. One of which is based off the phrase "To catch your death of cold."
It happened again. Desire sneezed for the second time in it's life. They stood there dazed, slack jawed.
"What did you do to me?"
Death smiled her cheery smile " Oh? Do you have a bit of a sniffle?"
Not wanting to give Death a modicum of satisfaction they looked her square in the face and said: "Nice try." It wasn't convincing.
Desire's head immediately began to throb. They pinched their eyes shut and took a deep breath and in a guise of nonchalance, they fished in their pocket for the cigarette they had attempted to light only minutes before. With their head held high Desire gathered every scrap of dignity they had and walked back into the dinning area to face the rest of The Endless.
Always wanting the last word, it was Desire's intention to save face and retreat to their realm before anyone was the wiser.
The grand entrance they aspired to was promptly ruined as they inhaled dramatically on their cigarette making a great show of it only to end up choking on the smoke. Tawny eyes now watering with the effort they feebly tried to compose themselves only for it to backfire. For now they were caught in a coughing spell and Desire was the centre of attention. At last the spell subsided and Despair approached her sibling with a glass of water. Tentatively they took a sip and set it down.
"Well!" Their words came out as a throaty rasp much to their chagrin." What are you all staring at?" Desire felt hot. And all at once the world was spinning. They grabbed the table for stability. Vainly Desire tried still hiding their vulnerability.
"This party is boring and I have better things to do than spend a night with beings as dull as you."
To Desire's absolute horror their nose began to run only just slightly. Sniffling back what they now recognized as a sneeze they continued with quivering breath.
"I refuse to waste another minute of my precious time." More sniffling ensued as a delicate hand was brought to their nose instinctively in hopes of quelling the urge to sneeze.
Unfortunately the fight was lost.
And as Desire exited the remaining Endless heard an echo of sneezes trailing behind them.
Retreating to the Threshold they made their way to the main place of residence: The heart. As they slowly trudged through they noticed the temperature surrounding them heighten. This was unusual because the climate needed no regulation, as it was consistently in tune with Desires preferences. The Threshold, being a gargantuan flesh and blood statue of Desire itself, it was intrinsically linked. There were some other odd internal irregularities such as small leaks and slight shaking and these weird looking purple blobs encased in a gelatinous membrane which scientifically were known as macrophage a type of phagocyte,responsible for destroying bacteria, fungi and parasites. Essentially the Threshold was acting as though it too was under the attack of a virus mimicking Desire's own body.
Finally when Desire reached its chambers they felt dreadful. Not only were they reeling from the embarrassing scene but physically they felt worse and worse by the minute. Usually they would shake off any sort of threats the family made to them and start plotting revenge but at this moment all they could focus on was the pounding in their head and increasing sore throat.
'what is happening to me?'
Desire had never been sick a day in their life. And while some people throw around that expression I doubt it seems as ostentatiously impressive as someone who has lived about four and half billion years or so years.
Feeling unpleasantly hot they changed from their suit into that of a loose flowing robe.
Of course they knew what being sick was. But it was something that happened to humans as they were pathetic.
Desire searched for solace in the left ventricle. A wave of exhaustion swept over them. They lay down feeling particularity sorry for themselves and thats when Despair appeared.
Before this moment it was almost impossible to find Desire in repose without them appearing glamorous and luxurious. They were usually draped upon some fainting couch or just sprawled out looking more alluring then any model could aspire.
Despair found them in a fetal position, their knees tucked in and arms hugging their legs in close. They were shaking.
She pondered the sight and reflected on the handful of times she had been called to her brother/sister's realm without being summoned at the gallery.
Desire felt the looming presence of someone and looked up to instantly regret it as their head starting swimming once more.
"You're here."
They said said simply, their voice mimicking that of the very twin that stood hovering over them, gravel personified. They sneezed again in spite of themselves feeling all the weaker at being watched. Rising from their position they winced at the pain they felt in their head. It felt heavy and clouded.
" I came to see how you are."
Desire looked at their twin with watery eyes. Their nose was rimmed with traces of pink,their cheeks were flushed,and their already pallor complexion was paler then Despair thought possible.
" You didn't call with your sigil. I must be worse off than I thought." Desire said ruefully " It has been an age since your duties brought you to me. I feel like shit if you must know."
"I talked to Death after you left." Despair was undeterred by her siblings brash attitude. Being twins they had an understanding and connection the other Endless did not.
"What the fuck did she do to me?"
"It's a cold."
"I know what it is sister, but I just want to know how?"
Despair had questioned Death on the same thing. She was not entirely detailed with her answer but mentioned that it had something to do with the power humans gave phrases and since The Endless existed by people's belief, by proxy death could harness that.
Death also had another message for Desire.
"The ball is in my court?" Desire was incredulous. "Whatever is that supposed to mean?!"
" I am only relaying the information that our sister gave." Despair was stoic as usual.
Frustration burned through them much like their ever present fever. They conjured a cigarette and and in an instant a silver heart shaped lighter appeared in their hand. It was lit and Desire proceeded to smoke just to retain some semblance of normalcy.
They got about two puffs in before they again started coughing.
"Ugh! I can't even smoke!" Desire was furious.
"Perhaps, my twin, it would be to your benefit to forget about your addiction for now."
"Fine!"
Arms crossed and folded they appeared as petulant child. The temperature in the atmosphere rose then, a clear indication that the virus was indeed circulating through Desires humble abode. And then the place seemed to be vibrating."
"Did you feel that? " Despair asked and it was almost warning as Desire themselves began to shiver violently.
"I'm s - s- suddenly so c - c - cold!" They began so rub their arms frantically in an attempt to generate heat.
"Go and lie down." Despair instructed. "I will bring a blanket for you."
Desire did as was told, and by the time Despair came back with a blanket for their sibling was trembling uncontrollably. Despair maternally placed it over them and tucked it into their sides. She also procured a pillow. Desire wanted to say 'thank you' but as they opened their mouth to speak they sneezed instead. Luckily it was caught in the comforter. An expensive silk handkerchief was produced out of thin air and handed to them and Desire would have taken the time to appreciate the fitting choice were it not for the desperate sneezing fit that took hold. One after the other the sneezes ricocheted through their being until they were left out of breath and dizzy. Their head fell back miserably on the pillow. Letting out a wretched moan they clutched fiercely at the duvet, an instinctively vulnerable act.
Desire's twin looked on approvingly.
"What does it feel like?" Despair asked darkly.
"It's as though someone is banging a drum in my brain. Like my veins are filled with ice one minute and molten lava the next. My nose is exploding beyond my control and leaking. My muscles are as sore as if I've spend a dozen consecutive nights in the throes of passion.And my throat feels as if it's engulfed in fire. Most of all it feels mortal."
Even speaking felt labours.
"It's not fun." Desire finished with a pout. And seeing her twin's eye widen in interest added. "Well maybe it would be for you. You would probably have a ball."
They snuggled down deeper into their makeshift bed atop cardiac muscle. " I don't like this." Desire complained pitifully.
" I am not sure what to do for you." Despair said. "It is odd, in all the years through my countless mirrors, I have observed many human customs and yet I have never had the opportunity to put them into practice."
"Mortals are boring." Desire said congested.
"Don't move." Despair ordered. " Rest. I will be back shortly."
Despair ventured out into the further reaches of the left ventricle in search of a mirror. Along the way there was more earthquake like shakes and at a one point convulsions that caused her to loose her footing. It was assumed that was Desire once more either sneezing or shivering. Despair didn't have to wonder far to find what she was looking for and when she come upon the mirror. Despair peered into it. She yanked her hook like ring across her naked bloated belly. The scene unfolded before her, A fancy restaurant : A women was there waiting. She was crying and trying hard not to. It was the place her and her husband always went to on their anniversary before he died.This was the first time she was there to celebrate alone. She felt her walls begin to dissolve and the sadness was overwhelming she knew any moment she would being wailing and make a scene. She needed to get out of there. Fast! She got up with grace and walked out, mere moments before she had her complete breakdown. Back at the restaurant the waiter returned to the table to bring the appetizer: Duck soup. For one. The waiter left and Despair went through the mirror and snatched it up and quickly returned to Desire's Threshold. Despair looked in cautiously and entered their siblings quarters..
"What took you so long?" Desire asked in a cranky tone.
Slowly and extra carefully whilst carrying the soup. Despair approached Desire's bedside. She saw the beads of perspiration on her twins face and their febrile dazed eyes and a small part of her just wanted to watch and observe. The misery that hung about Desire like a storm cloud made Despair feel closer to her sibling than she had felt in a long time.
"I have some soup for you Desire."
"It better not be chicken soup. I'm not taking any disgusting human medicine."
"It's not chicken soup. It's duck soup. It is from a gourmet restaurant."
Desire scoffed. "Now, this should be interesting." They said sarcastically.
Despair stood by their quasi patient's bedside and began to feed them spoonfuls of rich broth. To their credit Desire was obedient and devoured the liquid hungrily.
"Ok. I'm done." Desire pushed the empty bowl toward her. "Satisfied?"
"I am. I think I have done all that I can do here. Except..................." Despair paused. " Here." She handed her elder sibling a stuffed toy rat. " It is often customary for mortals to provide the ailing with tools to provide comfort."
"Ohh you shouldn't have." Desire was only slightly mocking. "Is it based off one of yours sweet sister?"
Despair with absolutely no humour and in total seriousness said. " Henry."
Desire was then left alone.
Feeling weak and exhausted they lay back down. It was maddening being ill. Desire was used to being in control. Not only of themselves but others. They pondered this set of circumstances. It was easy to blame Dream. Their feud had been long established but he never did anything about it. Sure there were threats. 'Empty as his head'. They chuckled at that out loud which resulted in some harsh coughs and they winced at the pain that seized their tender throat. But this horrible situation they were now in wasn't about Dream. Not really. It was their eldest sister who had the proverbial balls to actual enact some sort of attack. 'I didn't even do anything to her.' Desire mused to themselves defensively. And then it was back to 'This is all Dream's fault'. ' If he wasn't such a lawnmower. Yeah! Why was he always using his laser beam cats to comb the eels?' Desire began to perspire. The temperature in the Threshold was increasing at an alarming rate. Desire moaned and placed their hand to their temple. It was blistering hot. The beads of sweat began to glide. The room appeared to be melting around them.
And that's when Delirium appeared. Looking around the room curiously she tip toed in an exaggerated fashion up to where Desire lay and was now feverishly tossing about. Their cropped hair matted to their damp cheek in angry stands. She crept closer.
"Sistery - brothery?" Delirium intoned into their available ear.
Desire Immediately jolted forward to find their youngest sister preached on their bed staring at them. Desire's eyes squinted and narrowed at altering degrees. "Delirium?" They managed to croak out through parched lips.
"Yup! It's me!" Delirium cried happily " Were you expecting another something? Like a puddle. Because those things are never where you leave them. And this one time it actually was where I left it and I was very confused because it wouldn't say why."
"Oh great!" Just what I need. How many more of you are going to visit me without an invite?" Desire was not in the mood to cater to her littlest sister's whims.
"Go away! I don't feel good." Sneezing in triplicate served to prove their point. The threshold shook with the aftershocks.
"Weeee" Squealed Delirium. "It's like a rollercoster!" She then pointed at Desire and scrunched up her face. " You're dripping. Are you broken?"
Desire took out their pocket silk and dabbed gingerly at their nose.
"No, I'm not broken. I'm sick! I suppose, though, it's the same thing." They answered dejectedly.
"That's why I'm here I guess." Delirium looked at the floor sadly. "Poor Desire. You must feel pretty crumbly. I almost never get to come to your place. Especially not for busyness."
"Don't be a nuisance Del."
"But I love new scents. Have you ever smelt jamboree and tourniquet. Maybe I can make things more fun. Do you want to sneeze sparkles? I could do that?? If you want." She looked ever hopeful.
Desire shuddered at the thought. "No. I don't want that." They said dully. The absence of cheek was a clear indication that their fight had indeed been knocked out. The furnace inside them seemed to be working overtime. Blanket's kicked off they longed for even the unpleasant sensation of chills. Everything seemed too hot. They wanted nothing to touch their scorching skin. The pillow by their head only served to aggravate. The stuffed rat that had been gifted to them seemed blistering hot. Desire grabbed it with the intention of hurling across it the room when it came to life and bit them. Desire dropped it in shock.
"What the fuck?!"
"It's not really. Real, really." Delirium said. This wasn't her fault. " I'm sorry. I can't help it." Delirium said woefully. " I wanted to do the sparkles." This was the part of her job she hated. What made it worse was this was a member of her own family.
Desire thrashed against the bed. Confused and scared at the things they saw. They could no longer distinguish reality.
"Please go away." They begged and it wasn't clear if they meant Delirium or something else entirely.
And then weakened by exhaustion and fever Desire passed out.
Desire fell into a sea of blackness and in the space of the unconscious their fever dream began.
They found themselves walking. It was in a forest and it was day. The sun beat down and filtered through the foliage causing it to intermittently cast it's rays and forcing them to shield their golden eyes. They shivered with chill despite the warmth in the air.
'I'm dreaming' Desire ascertained and sneezed suddenly against their wrist. 'And I'm still ... sick' And even in their own head it was painful to admit. 'Well of course I am'. Desire continued narrating to themselves. 'I'm in my brother's realm after all, and when has he been in the habit of doing me a kindness?"
"When have you ever given me reason to."
Desire turned around and there stood Morpheus.
"This is indeed a rare event my brother." Desire said clearing their throat. "It isn't like you to intertwine yourself in family affairs. That's usually my job."
"If I am not mistaken, it is you who came to I."
" Believe me It wasn't a choice." Desire answered annoyance dipping from every syllable.
"So I am aware. I heard of your ailment." Dream was careful. "I must admit I was curious to see how you were affected."
As if on cure the familiar and feathery tickle returned to Desire's nose. If there was a more embarrassing time for sternutation Desire could not think of one. They gave their nose a vigorous rub, trying not to sniffle.
"I'b fide." Desire said, so obviously not 'fine'. The tell tale signs of fever displayed on their cheeks were a dead give away as was their cold converted speech. Their breath became hitched , mouth slack and eyes closed. It was evident that Desire was about to sneeze and was doing everything in their power not to. Their head reared back and with an audible gasp of air they let out a viciously loud sneeze that propelled them forward and almost in half with the force. They groaned wearily.
"God bless." Dream said " You do look rather awful." It was meant as an observation but the insult to his sibling suited him.
Dream handed them a square of cotton. Desire begrudgingly thanked him and turned around humiliated to quietly blow their nose.
"I'm sure this is entertaining for you." Desire retorted shrinking inside themselves with how horrid they still sounded.
"I will admit. It is very intriguing. Clinically speaking."
"I'm glad I amuse." Desire managed through a few coughs." So what am I even doing here Dream? Am I just here for you to gawk at like some animal in a zoo?!" Desire could feel their temper begin to flare.
The night king was infuriatingly calm. " It is your dream, you tell me."
The scene changed. They were transported to a room furnished and decorated in elaborate wealth. There was an impossibly large bed in the centre. Desire was so fatigued and fragile at this point they blunderingly made their way over to it and lay down.
Desire's eyes closed naturally. They felt a cool hand rest on their forehead. Desire sighed contented and leaned into the cool touch.
"You are very warm sister-brother." Dream sounded concerned.
Desire had almost forgot themselves, now fully remembering they feebly swatted Dream's hand away. Lacking in co - ordination and strength the attempt was futile.
They moaned in protest unable to do much else.
"Hush sibling." Morpheus admonished gently. He dipped a cloth in the water filled basin that sat beside him. He proceeded to gently stroke Desire's heated forehead and cheeks.
"Why are you doing this?" Desire asked huskily
"Is it not what big brothers would do for their siblings?"
"Not you. Not us."
"I suppose you're lucky it's a dream then. I have a cup of tea for you. Can you sit up?" Dream's voice was both soothing and encouraging in tone, the likes of which Desire had never heard.
Placing the weight of themselves on their arms and using their hands Desire was able to manoeuvre in an upright position.
They took the steaming mug from Dream and tried sniffing it but were too stuffed up to smell anything.
"It's rose hip and chocolate." Dream answered their siblings silent question.
Desire drank the tea and as much as they hated to admit, it was much better than they had anticipated. Dream being nice was something very similar. They weren't quite expecting to like it and they would never let on that they did. Their contradictory feelings caused Desire a feeling of underlying anxiety as they were forced to endure this perplexing scenario. Surfacing again the ubiquitous tickle made its presence known, only this time in their throat and their coughing interrupted this internal dialogue. Desire urgently put down the mug before the attack began. The coughs sounded deep and very painful. Desire tried to inhale as best they could in between each convulsion but it seemed as if they sincerely couldn't stop. Watching their sibling is such distress Dream began to rub their back in small circles. When Desire finally did stop they were left wheezing and short of breath, tears streaming down their face. Desire clasped their throat and winced in pain.
"Ow." They whined.
"Poor thing." Dream sighed.
It was the second time that night Desire had heard such similar phrasing but from her older brother it had the complete opposite effect.
"I don't need your pity." Pouted Desire.
"Excellent. I'll not waste any. Instead I might offer you my compassion." Dream was reasonable.
"I don't want that either. I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me, Dream!" Mustering all the bravado they could was difficult but Desire was acting in self defence. They wished they could just wake up. This dream was getting intensely too surreal for their liking.
Dream looked fondly at his sibling and said. "It is a true shame, as it is often the ones most in need of sympathy, that are loathe to accept it." Dream tenderly brushed away a stand of stray hair from Desires forehead and and as if making room placed an affectionate kiss in that exact spot. .
"Rest well, my sister - brother."
And before Desire could take much more they awoke.
Upon consciousness Desire's mind ventured over the events that had just transpired in their brothers realm. It left them confused and the more they thought about it, it made them furious. 'Why was Dream being so kind?', 'What has he to gain?', 'How am I to act the next time we meet?'. It was a never ending cycle of question after question. Their relationship was clear previously. They both understood the parts they would play and now Dream had ruined that! If he had been the cold and unfeeling dream king as was usual, then there would be no cause for concern. But he was NICE!
While Desire sat in bed still nursing their malady and pondering this new revelation both Dream and Death were conversing through their gallery's, much like old friends on the phone.
"I need full details!" Death squealed giddily to her brother.
Dream went over the events. He was sure to include how unsightly Desire looked, the handkerchief he provided, soothing their fever, the tea, aiding their fit of coughing and lastly, the one that had death in peels of laughter, the kiss on the forehead.
" I bet Desire loved that." She said sarcastically. "So they looked awful too, huh? Death prompted, hungry for all the details.
"They not only looked frightful, my sister, but they sounded almost as ghastly as well. If not more so."
" I wish I could have been there to witness everything!"
"It was very fascinating. I told them as much. As I stated before, It was was one of the main reasons why I agreed to this arrangement with you." Dream replied thoughtfully.
"Bullshit!" Death blurted out. "You just wanted to see Desire suffer. Admit it Dream." Death smiled broadly. She found this excuse as amusing as it was transparent.
"I do not deny that it was a motivating factor to see our sibling in dire straits however it became apparent to me that I rather liked doting on Desire and in truth this may have been an experience I had been otherwise lacking. Perhaps Desire was not the preferred candidate, yet were it not for them, I might not have arrived at this epiphany."
"Watch it there, lil brother or someone might accuse you of getting soft."
"That is unlikely as the only others who know about this are you and our aforementioned sibling and I am quite confident that Desire will not be so keen to boast as it appeared to make them quite uncomfortable." Retrospectively this was the source for most of his amusement and in reality, had more to do with Dream's enjoyment than he would have liked to admit.
"How so?" Death probed. She was so glad she had asked Dream to do this. It almost just as enjoyable hearing about it.
" It seemed as though the more kindly I behaved toward Desire the more I incurred their anger."
"That's perfect!!" Death said giggling picturing it.
"Well I think their lesson was learned. On multiple fronts." Dream said wisely.
"Lesson? Nah! " Death waved her hand in a dismissive fashion. "I think they learned a whole curriculum!"
They two said goodbyes through their galleries and parted ways on either side of their realms.
The next day in Desire's own realm they were consumed by yet another dreadful sneezing fit. This one seemed to be the worst yet. It was so bad, and caused such chaos and commotion within the Threshold, that Desire themselves was tossed off the bed and onto the floor due to all of the resulting turbulence.
They lay there like a rejected doll at first, and then when they tried to get up, they stumbled, as the area was still somewhat unstable.
The sneezing continued. The tremors due to the sneezing continued. And Desires intolerance due to both of those things continued.
"I can't take anymore of this!" Desire shrieked out loud.
Driven by pure frustration and fury they were determined to confront Death and end this misery once and for all. Feeling chilled they grabbed the blanket off the bed and draped it cape like over their shoulders and headed to their gallery.
Still sneezing along the way made for a treacherous path. After each the pericardium of the heart shook keeping desire almost perpetually off balance.
When they arrived at the gallery they were worse for wear. Nose running , eyes streaming, they were a mess.
They plucked their sisters sigil from the wall and held it.
"Sister, Ahatischoo! I sdand in your gallery ....Haitsshchoo! *sniff* I hold your sigil. Will you talk to be? Ahhtichoo!!" Desire could barely get the words out for all the sneezing.
Death appeared and took one look at Desire and had to swallow a laugh.
"I was wondering how long it would take you." Death said pleasantly " You look tired. Have you not been sleeping well?" She smirked.
Desire clutched the blanket tighter and honestly Death was almost beginning to feel sorry for their sister - brother. Dream had said they were in bad shape but she could have never expected this.
" I give ub! Ok?" Desire sneezed a double and groaned. "Jusd kill be." They pleaded miserably.
"You see! I told you I would have you begging for death!". This time Death did laugh. "Obviously I'm not going to kill you silly! And I'll reverse the effects, on one condition."
"Adything. Dame it."
"I think Dream deserves an apology. And I hope you will think long and hard before you try messing around with anyone in the family again." Death was stern but could see Desire had suffered enough.
Desire wiped their hand across their nose and then held it up. "I swear by the fist circle."
Immediately they could suddenly breathe. The pressure in their head and sinuses vanished. Their nose was left in peace and they felt like their body was no longer shaking with chills. They were well in a flash. They dropped their blanket dramatically to the floor. And struck a pose.
"I suppose I have a call to make." Desire said, honouring their promise.
" Well." Death said with finality "I suppose you will never forget what it's like."
"what, what is like?" Desire arched an elegant eyebrow
" A taste of your own medicine."
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Love Ordeal
SANJI X f!READER
word count: 2k
summary: The Strawhts decide to play Secret Davy Treasure and Sanji doens´t stop asking whom you got.
highlight: ¨Sanji,¨ you sighed ¨I love you, but if you don´t stop, I will be forced to throw your cigarettes in the ocean and straighten your eyebrows.¨
warning: F.L.U.F.F.
notes: Guys! This a part 2/3 of a request for a fluff where they have a s/o that made them a thing with crochet and how they would react. Also, Secret Davy Treasure is like Secret Santa, but you know. ALSO, there is a surprise at the end!
𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!
¨Just pick one, Luffy!¨
¨But which one?¨
¨It doesn´t matter!¨
¨Hmm, can I pick two?¨
¨NO!¨
Earlier that day, an old lady told Nami that whichever path Luffy chose would always lead to another Winter Island. So with the end of the year approaching and the cold weather, you decided to play Secret Davy Treasure, a great South Blue tradition.
It consisted of the participants writing their names on a piece of paper, mixing them in a bowl - or Luffy's hat - and drawing them. Whoever’s name you picked is who you will buy or make a Secret Davy Treasure.
You should have guessed that even something that sounded so simple would be complicated in the Thousand Sunny. The crew didn´t seem to understand nor follow the rules of physics, reality, and the game.
At first, Zoro folded his paper with his name on the outside; then Brook picked himself and didn´t tell anyone. Now you were struggling with Luffy, who couldn´t pick one because A) he wanted to know what was written inside, and B) he wanted to pick more than one.
While Franky, Usopp, and Chopper yelled at him, trying to make him understand, Brook laughed at the whole situation, and the rest of you wished to die and get reborn as clams.
Sanji adjusted the blanket around your bodies and hugged you tighter, chatting until the commotion was over.
¨Will you tell me?¨ he blew some smoke, and you tilted your head to look at him.
¨Tell what?¨
¨Who you got.¨
¨What? Of course no!¨ you laughed ¨This is not how you play it!¨
¨But we are a couple, Y/N-chan!¨
¨.., and?¨ you sang the word.
¨We shouldn't keep secrets from each other!¨
A cloud of white smoke came out of your mouth when you giggled before snuggling deeper in his arms.
¨Okaay,¨ Usopp crawled closer to you, defeated and holding Luffy´s hat ¨he will be the last one.¨
Despite your captain yelling that he should be the first to pick, you were all getting tired and opted to ignore him.
¨Thanks!¨ you used the blanket to cover yourself as you unfolded it.
A chuckle left your mouth when you saw the name written, and the blonde behind you tried to peek over your shoulder. But you were faster to put the piece of paper with the name of your boyfriend inside your bra.
You turned and gave him a peck on the cheek while he pouted.
You would have one week to come up with a Davy Treasure for Sanji, and you knew exactly what to do, but some butterflies still flew in your belly, wondering if he would like it.
As a matter of fact, he loved everything you did, from sweet love to extremely salty culinary disasters. He would find perfection in every little thing done by you.
Enjoying your last days on the island of Snow Globe Pole - yeah, almost as bad as ¨Long Ring Long Land¨ - you decided to tour the city, looking for what you needed to make your gift. Or rather, to crochet your gift.
That was the easy part, for you were on a winter island, yarn and wool were pretty abundant. Every style possible of every possible color, anything that crossed your mind was available in the store. It would have been distracting if you didn´t have the colors already chosen.
But again, so much for an innocent game. So much for a bit of fun. So naive to believe that Sanji would stop asking you whom you picked.
In his defense, he had gotten calmer during the first night. But after seeing the bag you brought from the store, he became even more annoying.
Charming, loving, but still annoying.
¨It´s not Franky, right? His hands wouldn´t fit in it.¨
¨His regular-sized-robotic-mannequin hands would.¨ you looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.
You could almost see the gasp stuck in his throat and his heart skipping a beat.
After that, he kept bringing you desserts, offering massages, and doing everything in his power to bribe you. Skypiea Sanji was not the real Love Ordeal. Secret Davy Treasure Sanji was the real Love Ordeal.
¨Sanji,¨ you sighed ¨I love you, but if you don´t stop, I will be forced to throw your cigarettes in the ocean and straighten your eyebrows.¨
He grumbled ¨I love you¨ back among some other things and marched to the kitchen with flames on the top of his head. You chuckled and went back to your colorful wools.
Before you chose his gift, you thought about Sanji and the things that he liked or needed. From cooking to smoking and women.
Cooking for him would be outrageous. You wanted to give him something amazing, and you couldn't compare to him in the kitchen. At all.
Women. You were the only woman he wanted and needed, and honestly, you were the woman for the job.
Now, smoking. You would not buy or make him cigarettes, obviously. But he had this adorable and clumsy thing of always burning the tips of his mittens whenever he lit a cigarette.
Because of that, you decided to crochet him one of those fingerless gloves that come with a mitten flap so he could cover his fingers once he was done. Like that, he would be warm and natural disaster-free.
¨There is orange, Y/N-chan! You got Nami, right?!¨ you jumped and almost stabbed yourself with the hook when he yelled in your ear.
¨Oh, my sweet Davy Jones, give me strength...¨ you whispered ¨There is also purple, Sanji-kun. It could be Brook or Robin.¨
He pondered over it a little, frowned, and made his way to the door.
¨Hey!¨ he turned with sad puppy eyes ¨Is this really important to you? To know who I got?¨ he nodded.
You gestured with your head, telling him to come closer. A big and bright smile appeared on his face, and your heart beat stronger. That smile, you would punch the Red Line broken to create another All Blue for that smile.
Oh, how you love this cook.
¨Ok! Just because I am asking I´ll tell you first, ok?¨ he spoke with a lower voice but still sparkly. You smiled and nodded. ¨I got Chopper! And I bought him a new backpack with a lot of compartments for his medical stuff.¨
The way he paid attention to the tiny details made you melt. He was always taking care of others, complimenting the crew - except Zoro - and celebrating even the smallest of the successes.
He showed you the blue backpack, very similar to Chopper´s current one, but a lot stronger, prettier, and more practical. He would love it, no doubts.
¨Well,¨ you began ¨I got... Usopp.¨
You felt terrible about telling him a lie, but you couldn´t spoil your surprise.
¨Since we´re going to winter islands, I don´t want his finger to get tangled when, Uhm... he´s picking his Ketchup Stars, Green Stars, or Let´s-scare-creepy-girls-to-death Stars. I really hope he likes it.¨
If you were not paying enough attention, you would have missed Sanji´s disappointed look, which he quickly hid with a kind smile.
¨You always think about everything, Y/N-chan. He will love it.¨ he kissed your forehead and went back to the kitchen.
You waited until he closed the door to cringe ¨You are going to hell, Y/N.¨
Finally, the Secret Davy Treasure day arrived. You would exchange gifts and then have a nice dinner if Luffy didn´t make a party out of it. He definitely would.
But you were also grateful that today was the day. Since you told Sanji that you had picked Usopp, he has been acting a little upset. The other guys didn´t notice, but you did.
You would always notice. And you had an idea why.
The gift exchanging rules were pretty simple. The Secret Davy had to offer information about the person receiving the treasure, and the others had to guess.
It started with Usopp, whose Secret Davy was Franky. He gave him a bunch of super tools and some colored light bulbs for the ¨Party Nipple¨ idea.
Franky´s Secret Davy was Robin. He gave her a journal with waterproof pages he created.
Robin´s Secret Davy was you, and she presented you with a beautiful copy of a fictional adventure book since you were always reading them on the ship.
Then it was your turn. You held the gift wrapped in a shiny blue paper and began to describe your Secret Davy.
¨My Secret Davy is... slightly annoying sometimes.¨
¨It´s the stupid-eyebrow.¨ Zoro said.
¨Shut up, marimo head!¨
You continued after Nami punched them. ¨My Secret Davy always takes care of us.¨
¨It´s Chopper!¨ you shook your head.
¨Hmm... my Secret Davy is an exceptional fighter! Really strong!¨
¨It´s me!¨
¨No, Zoro! It´s me! I will become the Pirate King!¨
¨Shut up, you two!¨
¨My Secret Davy is...¨ you looked at Sanji and smiled ¨... loving and caring.¨
He looked back at you, confused. Why would you say those about Usopp? Not that he wasn´t loving and caring, but... still.
¨My Secret Davy is... the man of my dreams, the prince of my fairy tale, and the love of my life.¨
A minute or two passed while everyone waited for Sanji to say something, but he remained frozen with a perplexed expression.
¨Sanji-san, I think the treasure is yours.¨ Brook said calmy.
The cook made his way to you slowly, taking the gift from your hands and opening it gently, without tearing the wrapping.
Did he get upset because of your lie?
¨Sanji...¨ you called him, but he kept staring at the gloves.
You saw his eyes fill with water before he excused himself and exited the deck, leaving everyone staring at you.
¨I don´t... I´m gonna...¨ you pointed and left too.
When you entered your room, he was standing, back turned to you. Was he really crying, or you saw things?
¨Sanji-kun?¨
¨You remembered...¨ he turned around, still holding the mittens ¨These colors...¨
¨Yeah, they don´t really match, but...¨
¨I wanted it so much, Y/N. When I saw it, I wanted it so much.¨
He rushed in your direction and hugged you tight. He hugged you and you felt all his emotions, you felt the weight he carried in his heart. Not a bad weight, just the weight of missing someone you love.
You knew that that was the reason he was pestering you so much, the colors. You had chosen the colors that Zeff, Sanji´s mentor, wore.
The fingers were orange and purple, like his striped shirt. You added yellow details of his hair; the blue of his ascot, and the white of his apron.
As you said, they didn´t match, but apparently, Sanji didn´t care.
He would always share stories about their lives and cook recipes that Zeff taught him. Despite him always calling him old man or damn geezer, the Red Leg was his father.
¨Thank you, Y/N-chan. I loved it.¨
The sound of him sniffing made you hold him stronger.
¨I miss that damn geezer.¨
¨I´m sure he misses you too, Little Eggplant.¨
¨Oi!¨
You squeaked and laughed when he threw on the bed.
¨I´ll show you Little Eggplant!¨
Hey, Guys! SURPRISE! Here´s my first decent art? hahaha THE MITTENS!
I don´t know if the quality dropped. I´m using krita and still don´t know how to adjust the settings stuff when I´m saving a jpeg. Anyway, I hope you liked it!
#vinsmoke sanji#sanji#black leg sanji#one piece#one piece x y/n#one piece x reader#oneshot#sanji x reader#thousand sunny#davy jones#gift#baratie#zeff#chef zeff#red leg zeff#little eggplant#cook#luffy#zoro#nami#robin#brook#usopp#chopper
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The Wonder Years: Part 11
While getting ready for her first school dance, twelve-year-old Olivia starts a path toward discovering who she is truly meant to be. Parts 1-10 and one-shots in this universe can be found in the tag #alex and liv: the wonder years
Jamie stayed up with Olivia until 2 a.m. playing video games to take their minds off of the night’s events when Serena finally came home. She didn’t talk to either of them despite Jamie asking if she was okay and Olivia telling her that she loved her. Olivia didn’t know who this woman was that walked through the door. She was fragile and worn down, nothing like the vibrant woman she knew. Olivia was used to giving her mom a hug every time she got home, but this time there was no talking to her, no touching her, and Olivia felt for the first time in her life that her mom wished she hadn’t been born. The only words she heard from her after a few minutes was her mom yelling at her to go to bed.
...but she didn’t go to bed. Instead, Olivia left her bedroom door slightly ajar so she could peek down the hall.
Olivia didn’t know how it happened, but Jamie was able to embrace her mom and Serena clinged to her and smiled some goofy smile that Olivia had once seen in a romantic comedy, until she remembered she and her mom didn’t actually watch romantic comedies. Or was that a horror movie before the woman went on a rampage and killed the man who wronged her? Either way, she’s actually smiling.
“I’m sorry our first full night together didn’t go according to plan,” she heard her mom say to Jamie.
Olivia didn’t remember falling asleep and, when she woke up the next morning, the noises she heard from down the hall made her feel as if she had woken up in another universe. She heard pans clinking in the kitchen and the sound of her mom laughing. Oh my god, she killed my dad with a frying pan and she’s laughing about it. But Olivia quickly shook that thought from her head and took a deep breath before walking down the hall.
“...Mom?” Olivia hesitated.
“I’m in the kitchen, Olliegator!” she heard her mom call out.
She walked in to find Jamie standing in front of the stove, making omelets and her mom sitting on the counter, eating from a bowl of shredded cheese. She was smiling and happy and Olivia began to wonder if last night had even happened at all or if it was just a horrible dream.
“Morning, Ollie. Your mom has been banished to the counter,” Jamie informed her. “She kept trying to do non-stick pan demonstrations, but she couldn’t do them without making the omelets fly out of the pan and onto the floor. I figured the bowl of cheese will keep her happy, though.”
“Treating me like a common mouse,” Serena scoffed. “Do I at least have permission to get off of the counter so I could talk to my daughter?”
“Permission granted,” Jamie responded, too preoccupied with the omelets to care if Serena got off the countertop.
While sitting on the couch in the living room, there wasn’t a single moment of awkward silence before Olivia felt herself wrapped up in her mom’s embrace. She was holding her close and giving her kisses on the cheek to make Olivia giggle, which made her more confused than ever. It’s like last night never even happened.
“My Ollie,” her mom said as she hugged her again. “My sweet baby. I’m so sorry I hurt you last night.”
“It's okay."
She felt her mom cup her face in her hands. "I need you to listen to me, Olivia. It's never okay for anyone to hurt you, especially me. I’m your mom and I should always protect you.”
“Mom?”
Her mom kissed her wrist where she had roughly grabbed it the night before. “Does it still hurt? Do you need ice? Olliegator, please tell me how I can make it up to you? I’ll get you anything. I’ll get you the bat you’ve been wanting.” Her mom shook her head. “No, that’ll make it seem like I’m buying your forgiveness. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so bad at this.”
“Buying my forgiveness is okay,” Olivia smiled. “I’ll take the bat.”
“I bet you will,” her mom playfully pulled her onto her lap and wrapped her arms around her waist. “My big baby. You’re growing so fast. You’re almost as tall as me now.”
“Mom?” Olivia asked nervously.
“Yes, Ollie?”
“What you said earlier...you’re not bad at this,” Olivia averted her eyes. “And this whole you being in love thing...I guess it’s okay. Jamie played video games with me last night while you were with Uncle Kyle. I really like her. I just don’t like her kissing you. No one is supposed to be kissing my mom.”
“No one?”
Olivia turned around to face her. “Just me,” she said after giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. She saw her mom give her that dopey smile that meant she was feeling soft and sentimental.
“Okay, only you.” Olivia felt her mom’s fingers combing through her hair. “I know what you can do for your science project.” With everything that had happened around her in the course of twelve hours, Olivia had completely forgotten about her science project. Even if it was a significant portion of her grade, it all felt so trivial in comparison to meeting her dad. “When I was in middle school, my best friend and I did a cupcake geology project and made cupcakes with different layers to represent the earth. Instead of your classmates just observing the project, they’ll get their own cupcakes and straws to use to simulate what it’s like to drill and collect core samples. I’ll help you bake them.”
Olivia gave her a confused look. “But you can’t bake.”
“Then I’ll help you convince Jamie to bake them,” Serena playfully touched her finger to the tip of Olivia’s nose. “Come on, Olliegator. I think breakfast is almost ready.”
“Race you to the kitchen. First one there gets the cheesiest omelet.” Olivia took off running but felt her mom wrap her arms around her waist from behind and push ahead of her. “Mom! That’s cheating!”
....but the moment her mom stepped foot in the kitchen, Jamie scooped her up and refused to let her go. “Get the cheesy one, Ollie. She’s trapped.”
Olivia raced toward the plate with the cheesy omelet and piled some hash browns next to it. She looked back at her mom who was still struggling to get away from Jamie’s embrace. “Jamie! Now I have to have the veggie omelet.”
“Serena, you ate half a bowl of cheese this morning!” Jamie released her once Olivia was sitting down with her breakfast. “I did it on purpose, babe. When was the last time you ate a vegetable that wasn’t on a pizza?”
“I ate a chicken caesar wrap for lunch two days ago,” Serena pointed out as she begrudgingly piled some hash browns next to her veggie omelet.
Jamie came up to hug her from behind and Olivia couldn’t help but giggle when she saw her mom pout. “Yeah and I bet you doused it in dressing,” Jamie smirked.
“She’s just gonna cover this in ketchup anyway and that’s loaded with sugar,” Olivia told Jamie although she had just squirted ketchup onto her own hash browns. “And not just the hash browns either. She covers her omelets, too.”
“Is this how it’s going to be from now on?” her mom asked as she poured what remained of the shredded cheese onto her omelet when Jamie wasn’t looking. “Are you two going to call me out on all of my eating habits?”
As her mom really didn’t know how to cook, a homemade breakfast was a rare treat in the Benson household. On weekend mornings, they usually ordered from Doordash or went to her mom’s favorite coffee shop for bagels. Weekday mornings were always hectic between Olivia rushing to get ready for school and her mom getting ready for work so she’d scarf down a Pop Tart while her mom grabbed a cereal bar and some coffee in a tumbler. But sitting at the table that morning, just the three of them, eating a breakfast that Jamie cooked and talking and laughing made Olivia feel like they could eventually be a family and her mom could be happy like this every morning.
“What’s on your mind, Olliegator?” her mom asked as tousled her hair.
She wanted to tell her mom that she was happy for her and that her being in love was one of the best things that could happen to the two of them. She wanted to tell her that she was going to meet her dad so she could alleviate some of the guilt. Olivia still didn’t know what happened between the two of them, but she held onto the hope that it was a fight－something they could finally work out－and when they did, Olivia would have a relationship with her dad. She didn’t want her parents together now that she knew how much her mom loved Jamie and how much Jamie loved her mom, but she still hoped that he could go to her games and maybe she could spend every other weekend at his house like all the other kids she knew whose parents were divorced. She thought about what her grandma said about going to Disneyland and she wanted to tell her that she’d do anything for the chance to ride the teacups with Alex, but none of the words formed.
“I’m just thinking about how good the cheesy omelet is.”
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so last night i had a dream i was friends with an influencer type person, and she was putting together a “summer fun” package to send to people — a grill, a lawn chair, and a hot dog bowl.
it was a rice bowl (i think) with lettuce and hot dogs laid out over the top and just lines of ketchup, mustard, relish, some pickles, like it looked beautiful, totally instagram ready, but also it was a hot dog bowl and i can’t stop thinking about it
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Curtain Call
Act One, Scene Three
It takes Sirius almost the whole week to decide whether or not to go back to the seminar. It’s a week filled with highlighting the wrong lines in his new script. It’s a week filled with closing the fridge door on James’s fingers. It’s a week filled with putting salt in his coffee; banging his head against his computer keyboard; and binge-watching all six seasons of Schitt’s Creek.
Finally, on Tuesday, James walks into the living room and drops the cat on his face. “Get up, loser, we’re going shopping.”
Sirius shrieks when Elvendork’s paw digs into his throat. “Was that a Mean Girls reference?”
“Yes. Now get up.”
Only now does Sirius realize he hasn’t left the apartment in six days. He’s almost forgotten how to dress for polite society.
Oh, wait. He’s a university student. He isn’t part of polite society.
But his leather jacket is still draped over the back of the couch where he left it, and his combat boots are still under his bed. He throws on a pair of ripped jeans—cuffed, of course—and a Queen t-shirt, pulling some of his hair back into a bun.
James sighs when he sees him. “Are you ever going to grow out of scrunchies?”
“I’ll grow out of them when you stop giving them to me for my birthday. And Christmas. And Holi. And Diwali. And—”
“I get the point. Touché.”
They bump shoulders good-naturedly, each petting Elvendork and telling her “We’ll be back soon, princess, don’t worry your pretty little ears about it,” and then James pushes him out into the hallway and locks the door of apartment 128 behind them.
“All right,” Sirius says once they’re outside, “Where to?”
James snaps his fingers and shoots a pair of finger guns his way. Sirius smiles, rolls his eyes, and does the same. “Frankie’s!” they exclaim together, James with, admittedly, a great deal more enthusiasm.
Frankie’s is their comfort space. It’s everyone at Glenrow University’s comfort space, really, but James and Sirius are the ones with the table that’s practically reserved for them and the waiters who all know what they mean when they order their ‘regular’—a root beer for Sirius, a Diet Pepsi for James (he’s not trying to cut back on sugar; he just prefers it) and a large fries to split between them.
In fact, when Sirius pushes the door open and the bell rings, the woman at the till looks up. “Sirius!” she says. “James! The regular, then?”
James grins. “Thanks, Marlene.”
(See? Their comfort space.)
They slide, one after the other, into booth four, and immediately James leans back and crosses his arms.
“So,” he says. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“Sure.”
Sirius glares at him. “I swear, it’s nothing.”
For this, he gets one slow, practised eyebrow raise. “Sirius, you have eaten practically nothing but instant ramen since last Wednesday. You did not so much as touch the container of my mum’s curry that was in the fridge. You have not uploaded a single video of Elvendork to Instagram. There is decidedly something wrong.”
“Fine!” Sirius slumps forward onto the table, head in his hands. “Everything’s wrong.”
“Everything?”
“Shut up. Almost everything. My entire damn love life, anyway.”
“Remus?”
Of course James knows about Remus—they tell each other everything. Sometimes a little too much, actually, like when James was dating Regulus. Sirius had had no desire to know what it was like to kiss his little brother then, and he has no desire to know now.
Unfortunately, Sirius rarely gets what he wants.
Case in point: their food comes before he has the chance to say anything more, and when he tries to squirt ketchup over the fries (yes over; anyone who pours out a little puddle and dips is a heathen (cough, James, cough)) most of it gets on his jeans instead.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, and grabs a napkin.
By the time he looks up again, ketchup mostly removed from his clothing, James has drained his Diet Pepsi and is already halfway through the fries to boot.
“Hey, hey,” he says. “Those are mine. Back off.”
James laughs, stealing another fry before grabbing the salt shaker and pouring some out into his palm. Sirius grabs two fries, both with a healthy dollop of ketchup, and stuffs them into his mouth. He practically moans out loud, which sends James into fits of laughter.
He can’t help it. The fries at Frankie’s are literal heaven, and this is the first time since the term started he’s gone more than two days without them.
“So,” he says once he’s devoured enough that he can’t make fun of James anymore. “You obviously brought me here for a reason. What is it?”
“Do I need a reason to eat Frankie’s fries?”
“You have a point.”
Still, however good the french fries may be, James definitely has a reason for bringing him here. It almost definitely has something to do with interrogating him on every life decision he’s made in his entire life since last Wednesday.
And, indeed, when James finally speaks, it’s to say, “What happened? Are you okay?”
“No. I’m not okay.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“No.”
“Really?”
He is hit with a sudden desire to hug his friend. People talk about soulmates like they’re always romantic, but they’re not—he and James are proof enough of that. They know each other better than they know themselves, sometimes, and they always know each other better than anyone else. James (well, and Regulus) is the only person Sirius ever told about Remus.
“I saw him.”
“You… saw him?”
“Yeah. At a course I went to—remember? The one Fischer made me go to.”
“Ah yes. The one that’s supposed to improve your acting skills.”
“Shut up. Well, he’s teaching it.”
James twiddles his finger in a ‘rewind’ motion. “Wait. I thought that class was taught by alumni. Isn’t that what you said?”
“Yeah.”
“But Remus is our age. That’s what you said when the two of you started dating, anyway.”
With a roll of his eyes, Sirius tells him, “Not everyone took three gap years, dumbass.”
“Oh. Right.”
Sometimes, even Sirius forgets that most of the people they go to school with are nineteen, not twenty-two. Maybe it’s because he and James still act like they’re eleven.
“That’s weird that he’s at Glenrow. I always thought he lived in, like, Toronto, or something.”
Sirius shrugs. “Well, he doesn’t.”
“Think about it, though. That girl’s phone number? The tumblr thing? And now this? The universe keeps throwing you two together, Padfoot.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes the universe is wrong.”
There’s a long pause, and Sirius thinks he’s finally managed to say something so profound James is left speechless. But it is not so.
“Mood,” James says, and they both burst out laughing.
***
They end up slumped together on the couch at nine that night, scrolling through Netflix. Every so often, one of them will suggest something, only for the other to quickly veto it.
“Queen’s Gambit looks good.”
“Seen it. Three times. Remember?”
“I don’t, but okay.”
“Nailed It?”
“I’m too depressed to laugh right now.”
“Miraculous Ladybug?”
“Fuck off, that was once.”
They finally settle on She-Ra, “because it’s gay,” and before their third episode is finished they’ve already reached the bottom of the bowl of popcorn. They have no use for the rest; Peter was the only one of them who didn’t mind the uncooked kernels, and Peter is not here.
Sirius protests when James stands up—he is not fond of being unceremoniously dumped from James’s lap to the floor—but he smiles when his friend returns with ice cream. (Vanilla, of course, because plain and simple is the best.) (Definitely not because they can’t afford anything else.)
When he leans back to check the clock, Sirius’s neck strains. He blinks at the time—1:04 in the morning—and wonders where did the time go? Unfortunately, he can’t move, because James is asleep on his shoulder and Elvendork is asleep on his feet. James he would have no problem waking, but to disturb the cat would be to commit a crime that stronger men than he cower at the thought of committing.
So, stifling a yawn and feeling his eyes droop, Sirius falls asleep.
He dreams of hazel-gold eyes and soft brown hair and being left on read.
#wolfstar#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter#muggle au#university au#breakup fic#remus x sirius#no editing we die like men#another one??? I'm on a roll here aren't I
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i just want to see fat harry being loved by louis😎 maybe some stuffing, cuddles and belly rubbs that's all
Anonymous said: fully kink centered feedee harry fic sounds like a dream
Anonymous said: could you give us lots LOOOTS of louis teasing harry about his weight gain?
Anonymous said: i just want some stuffing that's all😭
Fulfilling MANY prompts with this one! Around 2k of feedee Harry getting stuffed, I hope y’all enjoy (also...this is kink-centered so if you’re not into that, I apologize, I’ll post more fluffy content soon)
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Louis’s favorite part of any day was always when he got to feed his boyfriend.
His day to day was rather dull; waking up earlier, going to work to teach music to young kids, and then trying not to fall asleep on the train home before he went and made dinner.
But making dinner always brought him a bit of peace, as he picked out the perfect meal, chopped up each ingredient, formulated it perfectly so it would be ready when Harry eventually got home from work. He always made the best meals for Harry; always more than one course, the richest flavors, always good enough to make Harry ask for seconds.
When he thought about it, it was probably no wonder Harry had gained about 150 pounds in the two years Louis had known him.
It wasn’t intentional, at first. Harry was a little chubby when Louis had met him; mostly just a round belly on an otherwise skinny frame, something he had blamed on starting a new desk job that gave him no time to work out, and a lot of time to sit around and stress-eat. He and Louis went on all the usual food-centric dates a new couple would go on; movie dates with popcorn and soda, Mexican and Italian restaurants, ice cream to end the night. Louis remembered putting on a little weight during that time too, but he quickly realized just how much Harry loved to eat whenever they went out. He would order extra-large popcorns and cherry Cokes for himself, three scoops of ice cream to Louis’s one, two main courses and a dessert when they went to dinner.
“You really love food,” Louis remembered commenting once at dinner, and Harry just laughed and patted his belly.
“It’s no wonder this thing is getting bigger, then,” Harry had said.
They had also had sex for the first time that night, although at first Louis tried to tell himself the two were not related. Not even if Harry pushing his bloated stomach against Louis’s own flat belly finally made him cum later.
A few Google searches and awkward discussions later, the two of them figured out what they both wanted: Harry to gain more weight, and Louis to get him there.
Now, Louis flitted around the kitchen, humming to himself as he got out some plates. It was a Friday, so Louis had taken a break from his usual cooking and had taken the route of ordering in instead, getting some food from Harry’s favorite fried chicken restaurant. He had already stripped down to just his briefs, and hummed happily to himself as he heard Harry’s keys in their apartment door as he plated some of the take out.
“Hey, babe,” Harry’s voice called, immediately followed by, “Damn, that smells good.”
“You hungry?” Louis returned, already smiling to himself as he laid out Harry’s beloved chicken tenders in a pleasing layout on the plate.
“You know it,” Harry called back. Louis heard him tossing his keys in the bowl by their door, and then blushed as Harry’s heavy footsteps came down the hall.
Harry came in a moment later, smiling as he came up behind Louis, slipping an arm around his waist and kissing behind his ear. He was dressed in his usual work attire, a white button down and a now-loosen tie, although as usual, his buttons had started gaping over his undershirt, pushed out by a day of battling Harry’s round, heavy belly.
“God, this looks so good,” Harry sighed. “Where are we eating tonight?”
“Where do we always eat on Friday?” Louis countered, twisting around to kiss Harry’s cheek.
“Oh, is it a bedroom kind of night?” Harry chuckled, kissing Louis back.
“Uh huh,” Louis smiled. “Get comfy, baby, I’ll be right in, okay?”
“Alright, honey,” Harry agreed. He kissed him one last time, and Louis just smiled as he cut down the hall, on the way to their room.
Louis put the finishing touches on the plate he had made; a dozen chicken strips, some home fries, several tubs of dipping sauce, all laid out neatly. He had also gotten two giant bottles of Harry’s much-loved cherry Coke, and he had bought some fresh ice cream, which he left in the freezer. He balanced one bottle of Coke under one arm as he carried the plate to the bedroom, pushing it open with his hip. Harry had made quick work of getting undressed, and was currently just in his boxers, propped up against a pile of pillows behind him. His belly sat round and heavy, covered half his thick thighs, which he had generously spread out. Most of the tattoos he had had when he and Louis met were faded and stretched out over his thick arms, chest, and stomach, and Louis always loved to see them, how they stood out against his pale skin and were obscured by all his curves.
“You look so good, god,” Louis gushed as he set the plate of food and soda down on the bed, “One second.”
He opened the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a pair of black silk ties, and Harry smirked and lifted up his arms, letting his wrists against the metal bars of their headboard.
“I always know you mean business when you bring those out,” he said, and Louis just grinned and leaned over, tying one of Harry’s wrists to the headboard.
“I sure do, big boy,” Louis said, giving Harry a quick peck before he went to the other side of the bed to secure his other wrist. When he was done, he finally crawled onto the bed and settled himself in Harry’s lap, his legs on either side of his boyfriend’s thighs. He didn’t waste any time as he picked up a cup of ranch and a chicken tender, dunking it in the sauce a few times before he offered it to the other man. Harry ate happily, taking a big bite and moaning as he chewed, and then happily finished the rest of the tender.
“How was work today?” Louis asked as he reached for a thick fry, dipping it in ketchup as he lifted it to Harry’s mouth.
“Fine,” Harry said in between chews, “I helped an old lady with her taxes. How about you?”
“A kid spilled an entire Capri Sun on my piano, I almost had an aneurysm.”
“Well,” Harry chuckled. “That explains why I’m having a dozen chicken fingers for dinner tonight.”
“Uh huh,” Louis agreed, grabbing another piece of chicken. “All my stress goes right in this belly.”
He gave Harry’s stomach a firm smack, and then went back to feeding him more chicken.
Louis gave him three more chicken tenders and several more potatoes before Harry started complaining he was thirsty, and then Louis twisted off the top of his Coke and held the heavy bottle with practiced hands, setting it against Harry’s lips and tilting it back. He always drank it fast, and Louis always liked how it made his stomach swell quickly.
When Harry was done with his soda, Louis took it away, and then quickly went back to feeding him. He always got lost in watching Harry eat; how eager he was, his big bites, how his face began turning red the more he ate. Three more chicken tenders, and Harry started squirming a big more, his breathing more swallow. Louis knew he was getting full, probably was dying to rub his own belly, but his hands were still tied to the headboard.
“You want more, baby?” Louis giggled. He grabbed another chicken tender, dipping it in the thick ranch, and then brought it to Harry’s waiting lips. He smiled at Harry chewed contentedly, letting out a long sigh as he finished, only for Louis to shove the rest of the chicken finger into his mouth.
“You look bigger lately,” Louis said, palming the curve of Harry’s belly. “I must be picking the right foods.”
“You have,” Harry agreed with a long exhale. “That and I can’t say no to you.”
“Harry, I mean, seriously,” Louis continued. He rubbed both hands along Harry’s bloated belly, pushing down a bit at the plushness. “Just a few months ago, you were so cute and chubby, and now you look fucking huge.”
Harry groaned at that, closing his eyes as his cheeks turned red.
“And look at this,” Louis pointed out, jabbing his finger into Harry’s underbelly. “I can see where your pants dug into you, you’ve needed a new size for weeks, and you wear 44s.”
He delicately picked up another chicken tender and dunked it in the ranch as he kept rubbing Harry’s belly with one hand, pushing it roughly against Harry’s lips.
“I mean, honestly, it’s so much weight,” Louis continued, shoving the rest of the chicken into Harry’s mouth, “Didn’t you play baseball or something in high school?”
Harry grunted and let out a long sigh as Louis grabbed more fries.
“You know damn well it was track and field,” Harry said. “And I was team captain.”
“Well, forgive me for forgetting,” Louis rolled his eyes. He dipped down, kissing and licking the curve of Harry’s belly, and then grabbed one of the last two chicken tenders left.
“You know I never would’ve gotten this big if I hadn’t met you,” Harry said, and Louis grinned.
“Oh, baby, I know. I know,” he smiled, and then pushed the chicken tender into his mouth. He watched Harry chew, slow and labored, and then reached around him, grabbing his thick love handles and giving them a shake.
“And for the record, I think you could afford to put on a few more pounds,” Louis said, reaching for the soda again. “Come on, open up for me.”
Louis held the bottle steadily as Harry swallowed down the soda, and then he made steady work of dipping the last few fries in dipping sauce and feeding them, bit by bit, into Harry’s exhausted, open mouth. He was beet red now and groaning as he chewed, but Louis kept fondling and rubbing his bloated belly, feeling the heft and heat of it. Finally, there was just one more chicken finger, and Louis poured the last of the ranch onto it and then broke it, folding it in half so he could shove the whole thing in Harry’s mouth in one go.
The other man took his time chewing, and when he finished, and let out a loud groan, struggling to catch his breath as he tried to collect himself. Louis set the now-empty plate and bottle of soda on the bedside table and then lowered himself down, kissing all over the impressive curve of Harry’s belly, then up to his soft, wide chest, his big, sensitive nipples, over to the fleshy, stretch-marked under parts of his arms. Then, finally, he was up to Harry’s face, with his round cheeks and his thick double chin and his sauce-covered mouth, and Louis kissed his fiercely, holding his fat cheeks in between his hands and he did so.
“Christ, I’m lucky, aren’t I,” Louis sighed. “Grew myself the perfect boyfriend.”
Harry just let out a labored laugh, and then winced as the mere action made his stuffed belly shake.
“Don’t worry, you’re going to get a blow job out of this,” Louis said. “And your cock in my ass after that. Whatever you want for being so fucking perfect.”
Harry sighed, tossing his head back and weakly flailing his tied hands.
“Can you – oof – untie me first? My arms hurt.”
“Oh, baby, of course,” Louis cooed, quickly moving to remove the ties. “Anything you want.”
He untied one restraint, and then moved to the other, although he paused when Harry spoke.
“Lou?”
Louis glanced over, looking at his big, pink-cheeked boyfriend.
“Yeah, baby?”
Harry’s eyes sparked, a smile coming over his swollen, red lips.
“You’re gonna get me dessert later, right?”
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a remedy for mondays 02 (m)
➾ 12.6k
➾ please read part 01 first!!
➾ summary: all you wanted was just one day off work. but for that to happen, you need to invent a plausible reason. and then somehow, somewhere along the way, things get out of hand, and now people think you’re having a baby with your co-worker Park Jimin after a one-night stand. confused? join the club.
➾ warnings: SMUT, risky unprotected sex (pls be safe!), one night stand, oral sex (m&f), cum fetish/ cum eating (m), creampies, public bj, impregnation kink, baby making dirty talk, switch jimin.
➾ a/n: happy monday (at least for me)!!!! the smut is finally here u guys... i feel like im making up for lost time lmaooo ok but real talk there’s a lot more to come in the future. once again, i wanna express my undying love for @jimlingss. without her, half of what's in this fic would not exist c:
love you guys. have a good week ahead 💓
The notifications are pouring in like crazy. Before this you didn’t even realise you had this many friends, but it seems like now everyone wants a piece of the congratulations-pie, everyone wants to share in on your good news.
Your sister has been calling and texting you non-stop to ask when your next checkup is, and if she can come along to see the ultrasound. Your mother has been leaving long, weepy voicemails begging you to call her back.
It’s all just too much, and its Monday again.
“Your performance has been awfully sub-par lately,” your manager sighs as she flips through your report. “I thought we went over this the last time we met? Where’s the analysis for the datasets I gave you last week?”
“I’m sorry, I’ll work harder,” you mumble under your breath, swallowing back the unfairness that tastes bitter in the back of your throat. Even though you’d spent what was remaining of your weekend churning out all the reports, it’s still not enough. Nothing will ever be enough for your slave driver of a manager.
“See that you do. You may go for now,” she dismisses you, and you leave her office.
You plop down at your desk with a heavy sigh, looking at your emails with no real motivation to do anything. Between the pressure at work and the whole mounting scandal of your supposed pregnancy, you are caught between a rock and a hard place. There’s no real solution to any of this. All you have to blame is yourself.
No, actually, your asshole boss is to blame. She sent you a set of painfully incomplete datasets last week, expecting you to get a full analysis out of them. When you wrote back to her that some data was missing, hence making it difficult for you to analyse, she just ignored your email.
Feeling your anger surge through our entire body, you pick up your mug and shove yourself out of your chair, muttering under your breath.
“What the fuck does she want me to do, magic the data out of thin air? Pull the data out of my ass?” Luckily everyone around you is too absorbed in their work to notice that you’re walking around and talking angrily to yourself.
You wash your cup with more vigour than necessary, scrubbing extra hard as you imagine that the surface of your cup is your boss’s face. You get back to your seat and set your cup down, breathing hard both from the exertion and the annoyance.
“I hit 200 mentions this morning,” Park Jimin remarks casually as he drops his briefcase on his desk and sinks into his chair. “I’ve never had this many notifications before.”
You shoot him an annoyed glare. “Not here!”
Gesturing for him to follow you, you scope out an empty meeting room and close the door. He comes in and sits on the desk with his arms crossed.
“So what are we going to-“
“Let’s have a baby.”
Park Jimin gapes at you, and if the situation weren’t this dire, you’d laugh about how someone so handsome can get caught off guard too. You run your eyes over his body, from the way his thighs look thicker as he perches on the edge of the desk, his slim biceps that show through his white dress shirt, and his dashing good looks. Why nothave a baby with Park Jimin? At this point, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to you.
“You’re not thinking straight are you?” Jimin cautions with his hands up, as if trying to ward off a raging, charging bull. “What happened? Did your manager give you hell again? You’re always cranky on Mondays.”
“I’m cranky, am I?” Your voice has a slight edge to it. “I’ll tell you why I’m cranky alright. My sister is texting me every two seconds asking if I’ve set up an appointment with the doctor yet. My mother is calling me every four seconds to tell me what she thinks our baby’s name should be-“
“Wait- really? But you haven’t gotten a single call in the whole time that you’ve been here…”
“I’m not getting a moment’s peace,” you whirl around on him with a slightly manic look on your face, and Park Jimin’s eyes widen even more, and he gulps in fear. “Let’s just have this fucking baby already.”
Jimin knows well enough not to engage someone when they’re in full on panic mode, so he lets you take a few deep breaths before speaking. Over the past few months, he’s grown pretty familiar with what your likes and dislikes are, particularly your preference for drowning your sorrows in alcohol. So maybe the next thing that he suggests is not the most rational, but fuck it, at this point, does it even matter anymore?
“You know what? Let’s ditch work early today and go for drinks.” Jimin watches your expression change immediately, and his heart seizes in relief.
But then a frown crosses your face. “Oh but I can’t, I have that fucking dataset to analyse…”
“Fuck it.” You’re shocked when the expletive leaves his lips; the normally reserved Park Jimin who always does all his work and makes sure to cross his ‘t’s and dot his ‘i’s. “It’s Monday. Who wants to work on a Monday?”
*
It feels like the two of you are doing something illegal when you lean to the side and catch Park Jimin’s eye at exactly 5pm on the dot. You already decided that leaving at the same time from your seats would be far too inconspicuous, so the plan is for you to pretend to go to the ladies’ washroom, which is in one direction, and for him to leave for the men’s about 10 minutes later, then meet at the taxi stand and hail a cab to get the hell out of this place.
It’s a whole rendezvous, and since you left earlier, you reach the taxi stand first; panting even though you haven’t done that much physical exercise to justify it at all. The minutes are ticking by; any time now any one of your coworkers could walk by and see you waiting for a taxi and immediately know that you’re leaving work early. But it’s even worse still if they happen to catch you and Park Jimin hopping into a cab together, so you only pray that your brainless coworkers are tied to their desks.
Not a second later, Park Jimin appears, his hair ruffled and his eyes shining behind his glasses with mirth. His lips are quirked into an excited smile as he waves down a cab, opens the door for you and gestures you in. The simple act of his, done without much thought at all, actually makes your heart skip a beat as you get in.
You can’t help but obsessively check over your shoulder to see if any of your co-workers just so happen to be around. It’s only when you clear the near vicinity of your workplace that your shoulders sag with relief, and even more so when the cab screeches to a stop, signalling that you’ve arrived. Jimin pays the driver without a word, refusing to accept your money as you clamber out of the cab after him.
It’s not the typical scene you would have found yourself at in your younger days. This bar is a lot more lowkey, the lighting is dim despite the fact that they haven’t even reached happy hour yet. It’s hard to make out anyone’s face inside, and you nearly lose sight of Jimin were it not for the fact that his hand is tightly grasping yours.
“What would you like to start off?” Jimin asks as you reach the bar. He turns to see you struggling to get on the high chair in your skirt and heels, and he reaches to steady the back of the chair so that it doesn’t tip over.
“Shots.” You declare. “I need to get wasted, and fast.”
Giving you a raised eyebrow, but not protesting in the least, Jimin turns to order and in that moment, gives you a really nice glimpse of his side profile. Somewhere along the taxi ride he had taken off his glasses and pushed his hair back, and unbuttoned his dress shirt a little more. You have to tear your eyes away from him when the bartender presents you with a tray of tequila shots with salt decorating the rim, and some finger food to go along with it.
You grab one and he follows suit.
“What should we toast to?” Park Jimin asks.
“To our baby,” you say with a slight laugh, and though you can feel the slightly weird look that the bartender gives you, you don’t really give a fuck. All that matters is that the only other person in here who knows the truth is Park Jimin, and he gives you a shared smile as you clink glasses.
The alcohol burns as it slides down your throat, and you immediately reach for another to chase it down. The tray clears out pretty quickly as Jimin matches you shot for shot, and every time you put down your glass, reality gets further and further away, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“So tell me,” Jimin says as he reaches for the ketchup bottle and uncaps it, pulling the bowl of truffle fries closer to him. “Was this always your dream?”
You stop him as he’s about to pour ketchup all over the top of the fries like a savage instead of doing it the normal way, on the side. “Dude, order your own fries if you’re gonna ruin them like that!”
“What, how is that weird? I’ve always done that!”
“You belong in a mental institution,” you fix him with a glare. “Anyway, was whatalways my dream?”
Jimin just shrugs and gives in as he takes a few fries from the bowl to dip, like a civilized person. “This job.”
“Was working at a desk job for 9 hours straight always my dream? Uh, I think not,” you chew on your fries. “Which child ever had a dream like that? Did youhave a dream like that?”
“Me? I wanted to be a policeman,” Jimin grins as he raises his clenched fists. “You know all that idealistic shit children believe in. Making a difference in the world. Catching all the bad guys. Things like that.”
“So you don’t believe in those things anymore?”
“No, I still believe in them,” he raises another shot to his lips and downs it with a grimace. “I just realised that things aren’t so black and white. There are bad guys everywhere, but sometimes you just can’t catch them. Sometimes they’re the ones in positions of power over you and you gotta live like that.”
You reach for another shot, but the tray is empty. Jimin signals the bartender to bring you a second round of drinks; a gin and tonic for you and a coke with vodka for him. The alcohol has your senses buzzing pleasantly, it feels like there’s a disconnect between your brain and your mouth, but you don’t actively object to it either. It feels nice to be able to tell someone things like this.
“I gave up on having a dream long ago. Not everyone is lucky enough to do what they like in life, and I already accepted that I’m not one of those people. And it’s okay.” You turn in your chair so that you are facing Jimin directly, though you have a bit of trouble because it seems like your body is disconnected from your brain.
Jimin helps you with a hand on your thigh that sends shockwaves through your entire body. His daring touch makes your heart speed up, and when he positions your chair so that his thighs are on the outside of yours, you can barely breathe as you look him in the eye. And then he leans forward, slowly, bit by bit, until you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he only takes a whiff of your alcohol laden breath.
“Come on. I should see you home. We still have work tomorrow.” His words brook no resistance as he helps you off the chair with an arm around your waist, and the alcohol seems to have taken effect on you faster than usual today, because you’re only capable of sinking into him, feeling his firm body against yours.
A cab pulls up to the entrance of the bar, and Jimin shields your head as you get into the car, barely having control over your limbs. You mutter your address to the driver, and over the ride home, the bumps and turns actually help you to sober up a little, but then you begin to notice the little things like how Park Jimin’s thighs are actually pretty thick.
And when he stretches forward to pay the driver again, you notice how nice his biceps are.
When he walks in front of you leading you with one hand, you notice how tight his ass looks in his pants.
As he waits for you to unlock your door, you feel his breath on the nape of your neck, and just the feeling of having his body this close to yours is just-
“So um, goodnight, it was fun, I guess,” Park Jimin is stuttering and stumbling over his words as he scratches the back of his neck. “We should do it again sometime. Ditch work, I mean.”
Oh fuck it all to hell, you think to yourself as you grab Park Jimin by the collar and pull him into you, your lips meeting and immediately, you taste the sweetness of the coke on his tongue. Park Jimin lets out an adorable little grunt of surprise, but his hands still wrap around you anyway, one around your waist and the other inching down towards your hip.
“We- shouldn’t be doing this,” Park Jimin pants in between kisses as you bite his lips roughly, and watching them become swollen with your kisses gives you a strange satisfaction that you’ve never experienced with anyone else.
But his rationality is impeded by the alcohol rushing through his bloodstream, but even more so than that, the feel of your soft body against him. So Park Jimin forgets what he was going to say next as you make him walk backwards in the direction of your bedroom.
“But we’re doing it anyway,” you tell him with flushed cheeks, and his hands agree with you as they climb up your body, reaching for the zipper on the side of your skirt.
He pulls your skirt off impatiently, but you won’t let him get away with it so easily as you fiddle with the buttons of his dress shirt, finally prising them apart to get a good look at his sleek chest muscles and his toned abdomen.
“Shit,” you swear under your breath. “When the fuck did you get those?”
Park Jimin looks smug as he pushes his shirt off his body, feeling his abs tense as you straddle his lap. “What do you mean? I’ve always had these.”
“I thought you were just some skimpy little nerd,” you huff at him in slight annoyance. It’s almost a little rude of him to spring it on you like this, suddenly turning from the computer geek nerd into a hot walking sex god.
“A nerd hot enough for you to have a one-night stand with,” Jimin throws back at you with a proud smirk, and irritated with his sudden overconfidence, you shut him up by grinding against the bulge in the front of his now too tight dress pants.
“That doesn’t count, I was panicking,” you try to defend yourself weakly, but Jimin ignores you in favour of mouthing against your neck, kissing his way down to your bra cups, which he pulls down with his teeth. As if to prove his point that you are having a one-night stand with him right now.
Jimin is fumbling with your bra at the same time you are trying to undo the button of his pants, and the whole affair is desperate; the two of you are half-sober and everything is a blur. All you know is, the next thing his pants are off, his cock is leaking on his stomach, and the desire to take him in your mouth is undeniable.
Your hand grasps him at his base, and he bucks his hips into you immediately, curses falling from his swollen lips. A few good strokes, and then you can’t wait anymore, your lips close around his head and the saltiness of him spreads across your tongue.
“Ahhh, fuck,” Jimin’s hands tangle themselves in your hair. “I- gu-ess we’re not co-workers anymore?”
Your mouth is too full of cock to respond as you sink down on him deeper, loosening your throat as your tongue teases the underside of him. Saliva is already dripping from the corners of your mouth to run down your chin, and you belatedly realise that your bra is still on; Jimin hadn’t managed to get it off. With one hand you reach behind you and undo the clasp, shrugging the bra off in a single movement as Jimin swears as if he just witnessed a miracle (he’s never actually seen any of the girls he’s been with do this.)
You pull yourself off his cock for a moment to give yourself a breather, resting the head of him against your chin as you look up at him. “Just ask yourself, Park. Would a co-worker be sucking your dick like this?”
And then your mouth is back on him; you feel his hands in your hair and his thighs trembling beneath you. His cock is leaking in your mouth, it is thick in your throat as you bob up and down, the sounds of you choking around his cock are filthy and wet.
“Stop!” Jimin sounds out with a gasp, his abs trembling from the amount of effort it takes him not to blow his load. “It- it’s been a while. I don’t wanna cum yet, please.”
His pleading, whiny voice that’s filled with desperation makes you reconsider. Maybe he isn’t a sex god after all; he just happens to have a good body. You pull away from his cock and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, and Jimin pulls you forward to sit on his lap. His cock brushes against your stomach, and he can’t seem to keep his eyes off your breasts.
“Have you even done this before?” You mean it as a joke, but Park Jimin’s eyes widen in panic.
“What?! Of course I have!” He says defensively. “Let me eat you out and I’ll show you.”
He reaches for the waistband of your underwear, but you swat him away impatiently. “That’ll take too long. Just let me ride you and we can both cum.”
You push down your underwear in a single movement, not missing the way his eyes are drawn to how your arousal clings to the material. He helps you situate yourself on him with his hands around your waist, and you grab the base of his cock to start to guide him into you. But then, Park Jimin stops you.
“Make sure you’re wet enough?” He asks as he runs his fingers against your slit, though he pretty much already knows the answer just from seeing how soaked your panties were. He just wants to feel the evidence of your arousal for himself. His fingers come away sticky and soaked.
While Park Jimin is busy marvelling at how wet you are just from sucking his cock, you position the head of his cock at your entrance, and then you sink down slowly onto him. The stretch of him against your walls makes you dig your fingers into his shoulders, and likewise, Park Jimin’s fingers dig themselves into your waist as he moans out your name.
“F-fuck, you’re tight,” Jimin barely manages to get out as you stop with a few more inches to go. “You didn’t answer my question earlier on.”
“What is it?” You grit your teeth as you position yourself on your knees, trying to work yourself into taking his entire cock. It had been a while since you last had dick, let alone one as thick as Park Jimin’s, but you aren’t a quitter by any means.
“We- we aren’t co-workers anymore, huh?” Jimin groans again as you squeeze his cock with your walls.
“For fuck’s sake, Park,” you growl at him as you start bouncing on his cock, each slap satisfying as he bottoms out inside you. “We stopped being co-workers the minute I publicised our one-night stand.”
Your hands are on his chest for better leverage as your hips grind on his cock to get him as deep as possible, alternating between up and down movements and side to side movements. Park Jimin has his hands on your hips to help guide you, but he realises you don’t need guidance, so he just sits back to let himself enjoy the visual spectacle that’s unfolding in front of him. You, with your cheeks flushed and breasts loose and bouncing because of his cock, riding him as if your life depends on it. Jimin looks down to where his cock disappears inside you, where your sweet thighs are flexing and working to get the both of you off. But it’s not quite enough.
“Turn around,” he begs. “Wanna see your ass too.”
“God, you’re so fucking weird, Park,” but you do it anyway, letting his cock slide out of you as you turn around and fold your knees under you so that your back faces him.
Jimin spreads his thighs just enough so that they frame your ass perfectly, his hand pressing against your lower back so that you arch and press your ass against him even more. Then he spreads your cheeks with one hand and guides his cock back into your warm depths with the other, groaning when you push back onto him and sit on his cock fully. Now every time you bounce on his cock, your ass jiggles deliciously, and as an ass man, Jimin appreciates this view so much that he tries his best to take a mental picture of this whole view with his mind.
His cock sliding into your pussy so easily since you’re so wet, the fleshy globes of your ass against his thighs as you fuck yourself back onto his cock.
“I-I’m gonna cum,” he warns you with his cheeks hot and abs tensing.
“Just cum already,” you huff in impatience as you turn your head to catch a glimpse of his already fucked out look, lips swollen and his hands on your ass as his cock twitches inside you.
With your permission, Jimin lets himself go as he feels his balls tense, cock releasing inside your sweet, warm pussy and filling you up all the way with his cum. He continues to watch your ass bounce on his cock to milk him dry of every drop, his hips thrusting upwards in an effort to prolong his pleasure. Once he can feel that he’s given you every drop of cum in his body, he places his hands on your ass and pushes you forward with cheeks spread so he can see how well he filled your pussy.
His softening cock starts to slide out from you, and Jimin can see his cum start to leak from your pussy almost immediately. To your benefit, you are giving him the fucking show of his life as you arch your back and lean forward, guided by his hands as you lower your upper body to the bed.
“Shit, oh fuck it,” Jimin mutters to himself as he pushes himself into a sitting position, then with both hands grasping the back of your thighs, he flips you over till you are on your ass, then pulls you with legs spread closer to him. The sight of your cream filled pussy is just too tempting to resist, and Jimin licks through your soaked folds as he savours your taste mixed with his.
He barely hears you squeak out his name in surprise as he continues to devour your creamed pussy, tongue around your clit in circles and fingers dipping into your cunt to tease out more of his cum from your depths. To his pleasure, his cum leaks from you in an ever steady stream as he eats you out; your thighs are shaking around his head as you cry out your pleasure till you lose track.
When you beg him to stop, thighs quivering from overstimulation and clit raw and abused, he raises his head and gives you a quick kiss to your inner thigh, collapsing onto the bed in pure exhaustion. Post high, you are both wiped out, and that’s how the two of you, who are most certainly notco-workers anymore, fall asleep.
*
Everything is too bright. And everything hurts, your throat is dry and again, everything hurts. You forget that you aren’t in your prime time anymore; that drinking is a night of fun followed by a morning of regret.
Though this morning, you have a lot more to regret than just alcohol.
You wake up with an alien arm around your waist, and frustrated by the unwanted physical contact, you toss it away with an annoyed grunt. Your elbow strikes out in the same direction, only to hit a solid, warm body beside you, and then your eyes shoot open as you sit straight up in bed.
Only to find a very naked, very passed out Park Jimin sleeping beside you.
“Holy fucking shit,” the realisation of exactly what happened last night hits you, and dread punches you in the stomach.
“Is it morning already?” Park Jimin buries his face into your sheets, his blonde hair sticks out in every direction. “Five more minutes, mom.”
Irritated that he’s yet to come to his senses, you kick his stupid, bubble butt, and he jerks awake, opening his eyes blearily. Once he takes in your expression, he closes them immediately.
“Can’t say that’s the best thing to wake up to in the morning,” Jimin says with his face buried in the sheets again, his voice muffled. “Nothing kills my morning wood faster than-“
“Get the fuck up, Park,” you hiss at him, clutching the sheets to your chest. “Come to your fucking senses!”
At the tone of urgency in your voice, Park Jimin finally shakes himself awake; he blinks slowly until he takes in the whole situation: you and him, supposedly co-workers, waking up together in the same bed, naked.
“Holy fuck, did we just…” Park Jimin glances down at his cock that lies limp against the side of his thigh, and the sticky, dried essence left behind. “Oh my god. We fucked.”
“We arefucked,” you correct him.
*
It seems as if whoever is running things up in the divine realm really has it out for you. Nursing a hangover as you walk into work, you try your best not to make eye contact with Park Jimin, which is easier said than done considering that he sits right opposite you.
So this is how it feels when two colleagues actuallyhave a one-night stand.
You run a hand through your hair in frustration, unable to focus on any of your tasks this morning.
“Hey, _____- whoa, are you feeling okay?” Kim Taehyung does a double take as he passes by your desk. “You look a little, um… under the weather. You feeling alright? Is it… how’s the baby? How many months are you again?”
Your face only pales even further as he brings up the non-existent baby, and with that, a realisation that the both of you didn’t use protection last night. Park Jimin seems to have arrived at the same realisation, because he makes eye contact with you for the first time that morning as he peeks out the side of his computer.
“I’m- I’m alright,” you manage a forced smile, wanting nothing more than for him to just fuck off already so that you can begin to process all this in peace and figure out exactly how screwed over you are.
“Well, if you say so,” Kim Taehyung says with a doubtful frown. “You know, _____, we actually have really great benefits for mothers. Even unwed mothers. I’d love to sit down and go through them with you one day if you could spare me the time. Wait actually, can I see your baby bump? I always thought they were the cutest-“
“I have to throw up,” you say without hesitation, and you stand up and push past him on your way to the restroom.
It’s not entirely a lie, since you do spend a good ten minutes praying at the porcelain altar, but no one has to know it was because of alcohol intoxication. When you finally flush and then rinse out your mouth at the sink, you open the door of the restroom to find Park Jimin waiting with a worried look on his face.
“Are you okay?” He starts, but then Jeongguk walks by you and shoots you both an admiring look.
“Lovebirds alert!” He sings out in that highly irritating voice of his as he dances down the aisle.
“No, I want to fucking die,” you mutter under your breath as you stare daggers into Jeongguk’s back.
“I need to ask you something,” Park Jimin says urgently as he glances around for any eavesdropping ears. He grasps your hand and tugs you into the nearest meeting room, and once he makes sure that the doors are locked securely, he turns to you again. “We used a condom last night right? We are responsible, working adults. We wouldn’t forget something as basic as that.”
You sink down onto a chair with a glum look on your face. “Impossible. We couldn’t have used a condom. I don’t have any condoms in my house.”
Park Jimin makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “Well… then, you’re on birth control right?”
“It makes me gain weight like crazy. The only reason why I’m not a balloon right now is because I went off the pill years ago.”
There is a beat of silence as Park Jimin stares at you as if you’re pulling his leg. Then a random thought occurs to you that you could very well still end up being a balloon precisely becauseyou’re not on birth control right now.
“What about Plan B?” Jimin lights up, literally jumping out of his chair as he suggests it. “You could get it right now. I’ll drive you. We can say we’re going to the doctor’s for an appointment or something.”
The sobering reality sets in as you sit there in silence, and Park Jimin is still looking at you, waiting for your response. Only, you don’t quite know how to respond. The rational part of you should be jumping to your feet now and making him rush you to the nearest pharmacy, but then there’s a tiny voice in the back of your head that you can’t ignore.
This would solve all your problems.
Park Jimin is still waiting for your response, growing more and more antsy as the minutes tick by.
“Do you know how many people know about this baby?” You finally say.
Those were not the words Park Jimin was expecting to hear, and he does a double take. “Wh- what? What are you talking about?”
“Approximately 265 people,” you continue on, ignoring his cautious look. “Your family, my family, the whole company, my friends, my ex-boyfriend and his new wife-“
“You counted? Why would you do that?” Jimin groans as he runs his hands through his hair. “You didn’t have to remind me of how fucked we are and how many people we have to answer to. My Granny dug out my baby clothes from some godforsaken corner in the house and gave them to me last night.”
The mention of Jimin’s Granny fills you with guilt once more, and it makes the tiny voice grow a little louder, and you try to swallow back the awful feeling.
“Exactly. So why don’t we just… leave this up to chance. Just this once.” You keep glancing at Jimin to gauge his reaction, but the blonde haired man only stares back at you with the same serious expression on his face. “Plan B wouldn’t have worked anyway. I already ovulated this month.”
“Shit,” Jimin sighs as he collapses down into a chair. “So there’s an actual chance? That you could be pregnant right now? But I… I ate you out. Maybe I got most of it out from you.”
The both of you know that Jimin is simply grasping at straws now.
You just shrug silently as Jimin takes some time to let the reality of the situation sink in. Just then, your phone buzzes and you open the text from your sister who’s asking if she can accompany you to your ultrasounds. You groan audibly, and Jimin takes a peek over at your phone screen.
“Just this once,” he says, as if he’s really considering it as he watches the messages from your sister flood your screen. “But… will you be okay? If it really does happen, I mean. Are you okay with that?”
“I mean, I hate kids and all, if that’s what you’re asking.” You lock your phone and put it face down on the desk just so you don’t have to deal with that for a hot second. “But that aside, if it’s a cute kid, I guess I don’t mind. I mean… if the kid looked like you. I guess I don’t mind.”
You don’t know why it’s taking you so long to say what you really mean. It’s not like you to beat around the bushes like this, nor is it like you to be tripping over your own words like an idiot. But the gist of it still gets through anyway, by the look on Park Jimin’s face.
“I… I guess I wouldn’t mind either. Kids are cute.” Jimin says hesitantly, eyes constantly darting away from yours. “I mean, I’mcute. Obviously my kids would be cute.”
“Um. Okay then,” you say awkwardly, getting up and skirting around him to get to the door. “I guess… um… so… I’ll let you know. If anything happens.”
Jimin gets up with a resolute look on his face as he follows you to the door. “Yeah. Sure.”
*
The next Monday, everyone is off work for the afternoon because it’s the quarterly Healthy Lifestyle Day, where a poll is sent out to everyone to vote for the healthy bonding activity that their team should engage in. In actual fact, the poll is a scam since bowling wins every time, all because it’s well known that Bae Joohyun’s favourite pastime is bowling.
You endure the awful scents of sweat as you squeeze into your awful rented bowling shoes, grimace as you cram your fingers into the holes on the bowling ball, try not too hard to embarrass yourself as you bowl gutter after gutter. Your back is aching, face is sweaty and you are straight up not having a good time.
Bae Joohyun, on the other hand, is nailing strike after strike in her own lane, with her team of personal cheerleaders making a huge fuss every time she finishes her round. Those are the very group of people who are aiming for a promotion that year; the rest of you are just kind of milling about the other lanes and pretending to enjoy yourself.
You finish your round and plop down on the seat with a sigh, watching as Jeon Jeongguk takes his turn after you with a flourish as he launches his ball down the alley. It’s no secret that he too loves bowling, and he’s pretty good at it too, until Seokjin, one of those vying for a promotion, had to come over and tell him to tone down lest he beat Bae Joohyun’s score.
God forbid if that should happen.
Jeon Jeongguk is trying very hard to do his worst, and it’s actually kind of hilarious because you can literally see the veins in his neck as he strains, his body tensing as he shifts his posture so that his ball rolls into the gutter. The utter disappointment on his face as he strolls back, looking as if he’s about to cry.
“Better luck next time, Jeon,” you call out, feeling a little sorry for the boy with the bunny smile since it seems as if he really does enjoy bowling.
“Yeah, better luck next time!” Kim Taehyung yells out as he takes his time choosing his ball. He holds it in front of him and glances at you with a strange look on his face that immediately warns you to be on guard. “Hey, _____...”
“Yes?” Your voice is raised in suspicion, already not loving where this is going.
“I wanted to ask you this last week, but where is your bump?” Taehyung strokes the bowling ball with a reverence that makes you want to roll your eyes. Why the fuck do you work with weirdos? Taehyung eyes the bowling ball he’s carrying before he looks at you again. “Shouldn’t you be around this far along by now?”
You glance nervously at Jimin, who is in the other lane paired up with the Parenting team, laughing and smiling with this other girl who has long wavy hair that comes down to the middle of her back. But he’s currently too occupied with making her laugh, even helping her out with her bowling posture, to help you out of this hole, so you have to deal with this one yourself.
“The doctor said it’s a small baby,” you shrug as nonchalantly as you can, secretly marvelling at your own genius. “Some people don’t show until the 8thor 9thmonth, you know. It’s perfectly normal. Every pregnancy is different.”
You even sound knowledgeable to your own ears. Taehyung looks convinced by your story, but then he decides to put the bowling ball under his shirt for some inane reason, drawing more attention to himself as your coworkers start to notice.
“Hey Park! Look, I’m your girlfriend!” Taehyung yells and you stand up in horror.
“What the fuck, are you fucking high?” You hiss at him, trying to get him to take the ball out without dropping it on his own foot. “Stop fucking around! Bae Joohyun is here!”
Her name gets him to sober up a little, though it’s already too late because Namjoon from HR is strolling over with an amused look on his face, having sat out the bowling because of his injured finger (he’s always injuring some part of his body because of his clumsiness).
“Hey _____, how’s the baby? Don’t mind if I feel the bump? Is the baby kicking yet?” He says with an excited look on his face. “My sister felt her kicks early. It was the most magical thing.”
“Uh… no, not yet,” you laugh weakly and wave his hand away. “It’s a very small baby for now, so…”
“Oh come on, I’m sure there’s been a flutter or two here and there!” Namjoon insists with his eyes bright, and Taehyung nods vigorously.
“C’mon, just let us feel the bump?�� Taehyung begs with his hands clasped together, and you glance around furtively. The two of them won’t seem to stop going on and on about this baby, but if you just let them touch your stomach maybe they’ll be satisfied. It can’t hurt, it’s not like they have ultrasounds for hands.
“Fine,” you sigh as you tense your stomach a little. You don’t have the flattest stomach, but it’s certainly not as pronounced as it should be this far into pregnancy. But it’s harmless, they won’t be able to feel anything, and-
“Oh my god, I think the baby just kicked!” Namjoon exclaims with his hand on your lower abdomen, and you frown in distress. “There! Right there! I felt it! Taehyung, did you feel it too?”
Namjoon removes his hand and urges Taehyung to take his place, which the latter does without hesitation. You’re just about to protest that this touchy feely session has gone on for a tad too long, but then Taehyung’s face lights up.
“You’re right! I felt it too! Oh my god ______, your baby kicked!”
He says this last sentence with a booming voice that echoes throughout the bowling alley, and you wish the ground would just open up and swallow you whole. More and more people are turning to look at you now, including total strangers not from your company, and even Jimin and the pretty girl he’s with are turning to you.
Namjoon and Taehyung are absolutely wrecking you today. Luckily Jeon Jeongguk doesn’t seem to be in the mood to join in, seeing as he’s seated on the far end of the sofa soaking up his own misery.
Your cheeks are burning as you feel the burrito from lunch announcing its presence, but you paste on a shaky smile and add on to your credibility with a nervous laugh. “Oh wow… um, that’s the baby, y-yeah it is! The kicks have been so tiny I barely noticed!”
Namjoon is literally clapping his hands with glee. “Where’s Park? He needs to witness this moment! He’s your baby daddy!”
Taehyung glances around till he catches a glimpse of Jimin and the pretty girl with the wavy hair, and then he grimaces. “Woah, looks like you got some competition huh? Better up your game, if you know what I mean. I saw them getting pretty up close and personal just now. Park was teaching her how to hold a bowling ball. I mean, who the fuck needs to learn that?”
“She can hold my balls if she wants,” Namjoon snickers, but then his face straightens when you glare at him. “It was a joke. Sorry. Please don’t report me to HR for sexual harassment.”
Sometimes you just want to quit your job. Not because of Bae Joohyun, but because of your fucking idiotic coworkers.
“Namjoon, you areHR,” you hiss at him with barely concealed patience.
Taehyung continues as if you’d asked for advice on your sex life with your non-existent baby daddy. “A little pregnancy sex never hurt anyone.”
You can’t quite concentrate on what he’s saying as you glance over at Jimin and his new girl turning their attention back to bowling, him picking out a ball and handing it to her, their hands brushing and the girl giggling. Your attention is focused on them, how Jimin stands behind her as she gets ready to bowl, the way she bends over and practically flashes the whole alley in her short skirt.
Meanwhile, Taehyung is still going on as if you’d asked about his sexual preferences. “Some men find it hot. I, in fact, would love to knock a chick up and then keep fucking her after. Something about that primal instinct, you know?”
When the girl hits five pins, she turns to Jimin with a squeal and raises her hands for a high five. Jimin returns it with a happy grin, but then somehow the whole affair escalates into a hug, and you frown.
“Shut up, Taehyung,” you are taking out your anger on him, but this stupid punk sure as hell deserves it anyway.
Taehyung holds up two hands at your sudden burst of anger. “Woah, I was only giving suggestions. Trying to help here.”
You leave him, still fuming and wanting nothing more than to get out of these fucking uncomfortable shoes. In actual fact, you have no idea why you’re this worked up. It’s not like you and Park Jimin have this exclusive agreement together. He’s free to flirt with anyone he likes.
But really, her? With the flippy hair and obnoxious voice? And while you’re supposed to be pregnant with his baby too? He’s practically cheating on you openly!! Never mind that you aren’t actually knocked up with his kid. It’s the principle of it all.
By the time you reach the counter to exchange your token for your locker key, your expression must have evolved into something truly frightening, because the poor girl manning the counter squeaks at you in fear when you bark out your locker number at her.
When you’re done changing your shoes, you head into the washroom for a bit to splash some water on your face so that you can cool down, and also to check if your period is here, but it’s not. A few minutes later when you leave, you find Park Jimin waiting outside, still in his bowling shoes, his cheeks flushed with exertion and his hair ruffled out of place.
“Are you okay?” He asks, then clears his throat. “I mean; did anything happen? While you were in there? Did your period come?”
You feel the urge to brush past him in annoyance. The whole of last week, the two of you had avoided each other; on one hand you were completely swamped with work, but on the other hand, there is also this awkwardness in between you that hadn’t existed before that fateful night. You still hadn’t directly addressed it yet, only skirted around the topic in hems and haws.
“No it didn’t,” you say, your voice small all of a sudden. “Who’s that girl in your lane?”
“Oh, Seulgi from Divorce Support,” Jimin says. “I was just teaching her how to bowl.”
There’s another awkward silence as the two of you avoid eye contact, and then you hear Seulgi’s high pitched voice calling Jimin’s name, asking him to come back and help her score another strike. Jimin is just about to respond back to her, but then you grab his collar and pull him into the secluded space just behind the female toilets, shutting him up with your lips on his.
His protests soon turn to muffled moans against you, and his hands come to circle your waist somewhat hesitantly, but the intention alone is enough for you. Breaking apart for air, you finally get a glimpse of how sinful Park Jimin looks, and flashbacks from that night revisit you once more. Plush, swollen lips parted mid gasp, cheeks red and flushed and his eyes that can’t stop devouring you whole.
“You should be teaching mehow to bowl,” you push him up against the wall for added emphasis. “I’m the one you knocked up, not her.”
Jimin gulps nervously as he feels your body press against him, and all the blood rushing down south that will soon make itself known against your lower belly. He tries to put a little bit of space in between your bodies so that he won’t embarrass himself, but you are relentless, pressing your breasts into his chest as your hand makes its way to the front of his pants.
“Yo-you aren’t really knocked up,” Jimin tries to protest weakly as you grab a handful of him, and he hardens immediately.
“I could be,” you shoot back. Aware that you don’t have much time, you pull down the zipper on his dress pants and reach inside to grope him lewdly over his underwear. “You knocked me up with your cock right here. Came inside me and filled me up so good.”
“Shit,” Jimin is panting harshly against your neck now, his hips twitching involuntarily as he feels himself soak the front of his underwear. “Wh-what’s got into you?”
“Your cum,” you say simply, watching his eyes widen again as you sink down to your knees, pulling his underwear the rest of the way down to expose the leaking head of his cock. In your previous one-night stand (the actual one), you regrettably didn’t have a chance to admire him properly, but now you’re going to make up for it.
His cock is thick from base to tip, the head of it already red and angry. You can feel your jaw ache just with the thought of deepthroating him all the way, yet you don’t even care if it’d make Park Jimin feel good.
Pushing his cock to lie flat on his belly, you give the underside a long, salacious lick that has Jimin gasping and sobbing already. You start from the bottom again and maintain eye contact as you kitten lick your way to his head again, and then you take him whole into your warm mouth, suckling him as his hands find their way into your hair.
“We- we can’t do this, we’re at work,” Jimin pants, his actions contradictory as his hip surge forward to chase the warmth of your mouth. All it does is showcase his less than ideal willpower when it comes to you.
“What would your Granny say? If she saw you flirting with another girl while the one you knocked up watches?” You squeeze his cock hard, causing Jimin to buck his hips with a groan.
“Pl-please don’t talk about my Granny when you’re sucking my cock,” Jimin protests as he pushes your head further down on his cock.
You let him push his cock down your throat, relaxing and breathing through your nose as you take him for a few seconds. Then you pull back with a wet, sloppy sound, his cock covered in your saliva and precum that drips onto your blouse as you swallow and breathe. “We aren’t at work right now. We’re at a bowling alley.”
And then your mouth is back on his cock, bobbing up and down as you give him the suck of his life, his taste salty on your tongue. One hand wraps around his girthy base as you suck the rest of him, and the other hand comes up to play with his balls. Jimin is all curses and breathy pants above you, his thick thighs trembling with pleasure as he struggles not to lose his balance, nor his load.
“Like it when I play with your balls like this, hmmm?” You pull yourself off his cock to watch the effect your words have on him, tugging on his balls that feel tight and heavy as you jerk him off with the other hand. “When was the last time you came, Minnie?”
The pretty column of his neck is drenched with sweat as he throws his head back against the wall, cock twitching in your grasp as Jimin struggles not to cum. The nickname makes his knees go weak and his voice is lost somewhere in his chest.
When he still doesn’t answer you, you turn and sink your teeth into his fleshy inner thigh, causing him to whine sharply.
“I’m waiting for an answer, Minnie.”
“L-last week,” he gasps out. “Wi-with you.”
“Someone’s been a good boy,” you resume your strokes of his cock as you lick his balls, causing his thighs to clench in response. “Are you sure you haven’t cum since? Didn’t stroke your cock like a dirty pervert and make a mess of yourself with your cum?”
“I-I promise, I didn’t!” Jimin peers down at you in the haze of his desperation and lust, only to see his precum coating your chin, red lipstick smeared all over, but yet you’ve never looked prettier.
Satisfied with his answer, and also how fucked out he looks within such a short span of you getting your mouth on his cock, you wrap your lips around his head again as you jerk the rest of him off, still cradling his balls with your other hand.
“I’m gonna cum,” comes Jimin’s half plea, half warning.
You double your efforts at jerking him off, opening your mouth to show him the head of his cock as it rests heavy on your tongue. That’s all it takes for Jimin to lose his load, his balls pulsing under your grasp as pretty white ropes of cum shoot decorate your tongue. Jimin can’t quite keep his eyes off the way your mouth fills with his seed, and the way you swallow down every drop of him, licking and cleaning his cock as if to make sure you get all of his cum.
When you make sure he’s clean, you press a light kiss to his oversensitive head. “Just remember. I was the one who sucked your cock and swallowed your cum today. Not Seulgi.”
Jimin reaches to tuck himself back into his pants, hands shaky and thighs still trembling. When you stand up and start to walk off without another word, he reaches for your waist to pull you back into him, wanting a taste of your lips after you swallowed his cum.
It’s bitter and sweet at the same time, and Jimin’s sinful moans only make your thighs clench together harder. When you pull apart, Jimin doesn’t let go of his arms around your waist.
“You have a thing for cum?” You raise an eyebrow at him, remembering him eating you out after he came inside you the last time as well. Most guys you’d been with in the past had no problem kissing you after eating you out, but turn it the other way around and they’d be utterly disgusted.
“It’s hot,” Jimin mutters as his eyes slide away from yours.
Recognizing the telltale signs of his embarrassment, you place your thumb on his chin to stop him from looking away. “It’s hot when you do it.”
Hearing you validate him makes him visibly relax in your arms. “What are we? I don’t think we’re coworkers anymore.”
There’s a brief pause as you are aware of how intimate this is, feeling the arousal still pooling in your underwear and feeling Park Jimin’s body warm against yours. There’s something about being in his arms like this that makes the rest of the world disappear.
“No, we aren’t,” you admit. “We… we could be something more. If you want.”
It’s your turn to be nervous now and you can feel your heart racing in your chest, already anticipating for the handsome golden boy to turn you down. Why would he want to be something more with you after all, when there are so many other pretty girls in the office for him to fuck around with?
“I want to. Be something more, that is.” Jimin smiles back, a cute little shy smile that makes your heart skip a million beats.
*
“_____! It’s been so long since I last saw you!” Granny welcomes you with a wide grin and comforting arms as she bundles you into her embrace. “You look so pretty! Glowing, as usual. Has our Jiminnie been treating you right? Hmmmm?”
Her tone rises into a slight warning as she glares over at her grandson, who is currently struggling with both your luggage a few feet behind.
“He’s been good, Granny,” you reassure her with a relaxed smile.
Granny invited the both of you to spend the long weekend at Jimin’s childhood home in the countryside which also now serves as a sort of vacation home for the Parks. You can’t even remember the last time you had a vacation, had the chance to pull out your flowy summer dresses and really let your hair down. Though this time, there’s another reason altogether for you to wear loose and flowy clothing.
You are ushered into the house to meet the rest of Jimin’s family; his parents and his brother welcome you as if you are already part of the family. They invite you to spectate a game of Wii Tennis, and it’s then that you realise that Jimin’s family are a bunch of heathens because they don’t wear the Wii remote strap while playing.
Jimin is paired up with his father, against his mother and brother. You are more than content to watch from the sides, nestled in beside Granny who feels as soft and comforting as your own mother. Her words, not so much, as she urges the Jimin and his brother to do better, why, if she joined the game she’d beat all their asses!!!
When Jimin’s side wins, the whole family claps and cheers as his mother stands up to give his father a kiss, and when they’re done, the whole family turns expectantly to you and Jimin.
“A kiss for the winner, that’s the prize!” Jimin’s mother says with a mischievous grin on her face.
Jimin fidgets on the spot, tips of his ears growing red as he protests. “Ma…”
“Oh come on, don’t be such prudes!” Granny chides the both of you. “You already did the nasty with each other. How else did my grandchild come into this world?”
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Jimin’s brother begins to chant with a shit eating grin on his face that reminds you of a certain co-worker.
Jimin is getting more and more embarrassed trying to fend his family off, but for you, it’s no big deal. It’s not like you and Jimin haven’t said or done more lewd things to each other. In a sense, Jimin’s Granny is right. The both of you already fucked. What is one tiny little kiss?
So with that, you pull a protesting, flustered Jimin closer to you and tiptoe to reach his lips, arms around him as you kiss him deeply, putting on a show for his family. Whoops and cheers celebrate the two of you, and though Jimin is stunned for a moment, he kisses you back just as passionately, letting his tongue meet your own as he tastes you.
When the two of you part for air, Jimin’s brother lets out a loud whoop, and Granny is still clapping. But poor little Jimin is as red as a tomato, and he tugs on your hand, mumbling something about showing you his room and retiring for the night.
You are still laughing and giggling over how embarrassed he is when Jimin closes his door behind the both of you, giving you a cute pout as he crosses his arms in indignance. But he’s too cute too pass up on, and you pinch his cheeks, squishing his face.
“Was my baby Jimin embarrassed?” You coo at him in a baby voice, grin lighting up your face as it gets him even more annoyed at you. Unfortunately for Jimin, (but luckily for you) he’s just that kind of person who gets even cuter when they are angry or upset.
“I’ve never kissed a girl in front of my Granny you know,” he turns his cheek at you as he goes to sit on his bed to continue sulking. “She’s seen me in my underpants when I was a kid!”
“So? I saw you in your underpants too,” you grin lewdly at him, laughing when he throws an arm over his face and groans in embarrassment.
When he hears your laughter, Jimin peeks out from behind his arm to see your face glowing and radiant, hair loose in waves around your face and looking… happy for the first time. Not stressed or worried about work, or in tears because Bae Joohyun humiliated you.
Just happy.
“You look really pretty like this,” Jimin admits in a small, shy voice.
You stop mid laugh to look at him properly. “Like what?”
“When you’re happy,” he clarifies. “When you laugh like that.”
“It’s when you make me laugh like this,” you look down at the pattern on his bedspread, tracing along it with your fingers. “I haven’t laughed like this in a long while. But ever since you came in, I… I don’t know. Mondays haven’t been so bad for me lately.”
The two of you are shy suddenly, and Jimin feels like he’s a teenager again, confessing to his crush in his childhood bedroom. Back then he always dreamed of bringing a girl back to his house and confessing to her, maybe even making out with her behind his parents’ back, but of course back then he wasn’t nearly cool enough to do any of that.
But seeing you look so soft and pretty in your dress that dips down at your neckline, giving him a good view of your cleavage, seeing you beside him on his bed, your attention focused on him solely makes him glad that all his childhood fantasies never happened, because he feels like they’re going to be fulfilled right now.
“Can I kiss you?” Jimin asks.
“Not shy anymore?” You tease him one last time before you lean in and capture your lips with his, and then Jimin is switching positions with you so that your hair fans out over his pillow, he is on top of you in between your legs.
“I want to do it properly,” Jimin scatters kisses down your neck and chest, one hand pinching your nipple through your thin dress. “The last time was rushed. And we were drunk. And we were still co-workers back then.”
Your strap slides off your shoulder sinfully as Jimin pleases himself by worshipping your breasts, kneading them and sucking your nipple through the material.
“I- I told you… we were never co-workers. From day one,” you retaliate against his teasing by pinching his nipple through his shirt with a devious smirk on your face.
“You mean we were fucked from day one?” Jimin grins back as he takes off his shirt in one smooth motion, baring his toned chest and slim abs for your viewing pleasure. Your hands are on him immediately, stroking his firm muscles and running your fingers over every inch of his beautiful skin.
Jimin hikes up your skirt, kissing his way up your thighs till he reaches your underwear. The scent of you is driving him insane, he can already see a wet spot on your panties even though he’s barely touched you. The thought of you getting so wet for him makes him even more eager to pleasure you, so he hooks his fingers into the side of your underwear, pulling it down to expose you to his gaze.
“I still owe you from the bowling alley,” he says when you tug at his hair impatiently, wanting to see his face, kiss his lips. With that as explanation, Jimin gives your core a sloppy lick before he seals his lips to you, French kissing your pussy and making sure he gets your clit with every stroke of tongue.
Your cries and moans are music to his ears; at this point he doesn’t even care if his family hears you anymore. Pulling your dress up to your waist so that you can see in between your thighs, the sight nearly sends you over the edge as you witness Park Jimin eating your pussy like a man starved, his chin glazed with your arousal as he laps everything up. His hands are on your inner thighs, opening you up for him even though your muscles spasm from the pleasure.
“Jimin- fuck! Please,” you are already begging as he assaults your clit with his tongue, circling it relentlessly. “Want your fingers. Please.”
“Want to feel me stretch you for my cock?” Jimin gives in with one finger first, slowly inserting it into you with care until you whine and thrash under his grasp in protest. “My baby wants more? What a greedy pussy you have.”
He embellishes this with a sharp spank on your clit, and your thighs twitch again as you cry out. Jimin gives you two fingers now, and the burn feels so good as he pumps in and out, his tongue occasionally flicking at your clit. Your arousal coats his fingers and his palm messily, starting to drip down onto his sheets, but Jimin figures that the both of you are going to get a lot messier before the night ends.
As you watch Jimin pleasure you with his fingers and tongue, all traces of the shy boy who was embarrassed to kiss you in front of his family are gone. The submissive side of him that gave in to your demands so easily at the bowling alley is also gone, in its place is a gentle but firm dominant who takes charge of your pleasure, and you love that he can switch between the two.
“Cum for me, let me see my baby cum on my fingers,” Jimin coaxes you as he speeds up his fingers, curling them to try and find that one rough spot inside you. “You made such a mess already.”
You can feel the edge right there, the knot so tight in your lower belly and just ready to burst. But words escape you, and all you can do is whine Jimin’s name. In response he wraps his thick plush lips around your clit, maintaining eye contact with you as he sucks,and then you come undone, legs going boneless as your back arches, clenching hard around his fingers as you ride out your orgasm.
Jimin helps you to calm down as he withdraws from your pussy, stroking your legs gently as he admires the glow on your face, your fucked out expression as you breathe deeply. His own cock is straining against his jeans, and he is dying to feel your pussy wrapped around him.
When you finally regain your senses and open your eyes, you see the uncomfortable looking tent in Jimin’s jeans, reaching for it immediately to give him his own release. Jimin shifts his body so that his thighs can fall open, and you pull his jeans off, revealing his thick thigh muscles that you straddle as you get his cock out of his soaked boxers.
“Wait,” Jimin stops you with a hand on your waist. “We need a condom. We still don’t know if… if you’re pregnant. From last time.”
Your cheeks heat up as you swallow back the guilt. After bowling, when you went home that night, your period had come, just one day late, but you didn’t tell Jimin. Upon the sight of blood staining your underwear, there was a strange sense of disappointment that bloomed in your chest, and it confused you so much that you didn’t have the bandwidth to even think about telling Jimin what this meant. You had to take time to process both the consequence of not being pregnant, as well as the unprecedented feelings of disappointment that came with it.
“Um… actually, my period came last week.” You say after taking a deep breath.
Jimin raises an eyebrow as he takes in the news. “So it means… you’re not pregnant.”
“I’m not,” you agree with him, and you want to keep going, but the words are just stuck in your chest.
“The first time we were risking it, but I was just thinking…” Jimin picks up on your hesitation, his own words coming out slowly. “If we should… if we should start trying. For real.”
Jimin is completely serious as he returns your gaze, biting his lip in uncertainty.
“You mean… try to get pregnant? Intentionally?” You’re aware that you’re just repeating his words, but some part of you needs to confirm it.
“Yeah,” Jimin says as he strokes your waist, and you’re fully aware of his cock twitching as he says his next words. “I want to have a baby with you.”
Your breath is sucked out of your chest as the impact of his words hit you, and arousal aside, you feel your stomach fill with butterflies.
“That is… if you want to as well,” Jimin scratches the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, I don’t want to pressure you into anything-“
“I want to,” you interrupt him, reassuring him with a grind of your hips. “I want to have your baby. We’re about three months late, but I think if we start trying real hard now, this baby will get made and we won’t be too far behind.”
Jimin’s cock twitches again, giving away how aroused he is, but he doesn’t give a fuck anymore. Hearing you say that has awakened a fantasy in him that he didn’t even know existed. No longer is he going for the low hanging fruit of just kissing a girl in his childhood bedroom. No, he’s going to make a baby in his childhood bedroom.
You pump him with a few strokes, watching the precum bubble up from his head and run down his girthy length, admiring how hard he is for you. His length feels so heavy in your palm, and your mouth waters as you remember how much better he felt in your mouth, how salty and thick his cum was as he released down your throat.
Just as you bend down to give yourself a repeat ride, Jimin stops you with a hand on your cheek, his own cheeks rosy and embarrassment creeping back in as he says, “You’ll get a mouthful of cum if you do that. As much as I want you to swallow my cum, you’re not getting pregnant that way.”
And then he’s back in charge as he flips you over, spreading your legs wide and resting them on his shoulders as your pussy leaks your arousal. Jimin uses the head of his cock to collect all your juices, teasing your clit before he prods at your entrance. The blunt head of him nudges in slowly, and the stretch makes the both of you moan.
Your legs are trembling, hands reaching out for something to hold on to as Jimin bottoms out inside you. You don’t remember him feeling so big inside you, stretching you out so good and going so deep that you can feel him at the base of your lower abdomen. When you look down, you realise that there is a small bump there, and Jimin is watching that exact spot as well.
“Feel so good and tight, my baby was made to take my cock,” he praises as he intertwines his hands with yours, forcing them above your head as he begins to thrust. His cock slides in and out of your drenched pussy easily, and your walls grip him so tightly that Jimin never wants this moment to end.
Jimin leans forward so that your thighs are pushed to your chest, making the fit even tighter around his cock. Your pussy is already clenching around him, and your breasts are bouncing, cheeks flushed red and lips swollen and shiny from his precum and saliva.
“Harder, fuck me harder Jimin,” you groan as he punishes you with his thrusts, every slap of his thighs against yours reminds you that the both of you are fucking to make a baby. Just watching the sweat drip off his chest, his abs tense and feeling his ass flex as he fucks into your pussy with the full intention of giving you a baby, hisbaby, makes your pussy cream uncontrollably around his cock.
“Does my baby like this?” Jimin gives a harsh thrust and bends your legs back till he can feel your cervix. “Fuck, you’re driving me fucking crazy. Wanna give you a baby so bad. You’re fucking asking for it, asking to get filled with cum.”
“I want it, Jimin,” you gasp as you feel him against the entrance of your womb; Jimin is giving you no mercy as he continues to aim his thrusts deep as he can go. “Want your baby. It’s all I ever wanted.”
Jimin lets your legs fall off his shoulders as he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you into him, as his thrusts increase in power and speed. Your legs wrap around him tightly as if to keep him from pulling out, so all Jimin can do his grind the head of his cock against your cervix, feeling himself twitch as his orgasm draws near.
“I’m not gonna last, cum with me please,” he begs, mouth open and kissing your neck as he buries his face in the crook of your shoulder.
“I’m close, just a little more, fuck,” you loosen your thighs a little so that Jimin can thrust a little more, and the movement of him brushing against your clit sends you into an orgasm, clenching hard around him as you cry out his name and your walls milk him dry for every drop.
Jimin groans as he feels his balls tighten up, filling you up with cum as he thrusts to get every drop right where it should be. “Take it all, take my cum and give me a baby. That’s what my girl wants right?”
“Yes, yes!” You whine as you feel the warmth of his cum in your pussy, his frenzied thrusts as he rides out the last of his orgasm, making sure he gives you everything he has.
Jimin’s face is still buried in your neck as his hips continue to fuck his cum into you, hearing the filthy squelch as he tilts your hips up so that not a single drop can escape. The leisurely thrusts feel intimate as you hug him close to you, feeling his soft breaths against your skin as your legs wrap around his waist, feeling him finally still with his cock still deep inside you. Everything is warm and sticky, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
A few minutes pass before you realise that Jimin is perfectly content to have his cock plug your pussy up with cum, and while the thought kind of turns you on, he’s heavy, and you nudge him off you with your knee. Jimin pouts as he settles beside you, still drawing you closer to him as he lifts one of your thighs to get a better look at the mess he made of you.
“It’s all coming out,” he says in a disappointed whine as his fingers scoop out the frothy white cum that spilled out of you because of his fucking, gently pushing it back into you. But he can’t resist a little taste, bringing his fingers to his lips for a second.
“Jimin! Stop stealing my baby batter,” you grab his wrist to stop him, shoving it back toward your thighs.
“That’s the least sexy word for cum I’ve ever heard,” he frowns disapprovingly at you. “Stay there, don’t move. You need to keep your hips up.”
Jimin pushes a pillow under your hips, and whilst you’re rendered immobile, he takes the chance to sneakily lap at your inner thighs, cleaning up some of the cum that he didn’t manage to push into you. You glare at him, reaching down to tug at his hair, but then-
“Stay safe, kids!” It’s his father’s voice from down the hallway.
“Why do they need to stay safe? She’s already having his kid!” You hear Granny’s voice a second later, and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No need to stay safe, Puppy! You heard me? It’s good for the baby!”
You glare at Jimin, then push your chin toward his door, expecting him to answer his Granny.
Jimin mouths a ‘what’ at you in exasperation, his lust filled brain unable to think of a single appropriate response for this situation. Finally, he forces a cheery tone as he shouts back, “we will, Granny! Night Granny!”
Your head falls back into the pillow with a groan at how lame he is.
You’re most definitely not looking forward to breakfast tomorrow.
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Survey #352
my head’s a mess and a half, i can’t think of lyrics to put here so yeah here’s the survey
What’s the last vegetable you ate, and when did you eat it? Uh I think it was a pepper in this Healthy Choice dinner bowl I had yesterday.
What was your last Facebook notification for? A friend liking this photo I shared of some beautiful, small rock and pebble sculptures of people.
What bands have you seen live? Just Alice Cooper.
Tell me an interesting fact about your mother: She only has one kidney due to the other being taken out because of kidney cancer when I was a kid. Coincidentally, her father was actually born with only one as well.
What do you think is the most important thing to happen to you before the age of 13? Nothing really comes to mind.
What were you super against as a young child but aren’t anymore? SUPER against? I dunno, man.
What are your plans later today? I don't know. Yesterday my mother informed me that Jason's mother died, and since then I've been in shock. I was in awful condition yesterday because I absolutely adore(d) her like she was MY family, and once upon a time I thought she would be officially, and I still feel very, very dead. I doubt I'll get anything done today.
Are you doing anything exciting this weekend? Definitely not exciting... Mom and possibly I are probably bringing Jason's family food for the family get-together they're having (we're not staying for... obvious reasons), but she's unsure because it might be a bit too awkward. I'll stay in the car because I don't want to disrespect Jason's space, but I REALLY want to go through with this. His mom was so important to me, and I don't want to just... do nothing as if she meant just that. I want the family to know I never stopped caring just because there was a breakup. Plus I wanna give Jason his favorite chocolate bar to try to bring him a bit of happiness. I can't imagine what he's feeling, and my instinct of "I need to protect him" absolutely never went away.
Who do you talk to the most? My mom.
What are some things you do regularly that make you feel old? Go to bed before 9PM, sometimes even before 8. And my knees pop like a motherfucker.
Who is your best guy friend(s)? Girt and Sam.
Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? Neither; instead, I just wish it was clearer. I have extremely dry skin, especially on my arms, so I have little bumps and marks there, as well as little freckles over my body. Having like, porcelain skin would be amaaaazing.
If you had a tiny scar on your face, would you get it removed or just keep it? Keep it. Look more badass, haha.
Have you had an x-ray in the past year? I think so, on my legs. It may have been over a year ago, idr.
Do you think your first love still loves you? I don't want to know. I really don't.
What is something that is “going right” in your life? *blinks*
When did you feel ready to start dating? Seriously, probably late middle school.
When was the last time your pet bit you? If you don’t have a pet, have you ever been bitten by someone else’s? My snake Venus has never bitten me. Meanwhile, my cat Roman lightly (and sometimes not so lightly...) bites me pretty much every day when I play with him, lol.
Where were you the last time you made out? My bed.
When was the last time you cried tears of joy? I probably haven't done that since I met Sara irl.
How do you type your sad smileys? One of these three: :( or :c or :<
Do you have “decorative hand-towels” that cannot be used in your house? No.
What was the last soda you drank? Mountain Lightning, a Mtn. Dew ripoff bc we're cheap, lol.
What was the last thing someone made fun of you for? I don't know.
Have you ever had any type of surgery? Yeah, a cyst removal as well as tubes in my ears.
Should kids be allowed to get tattoos/piercings without parental consent? Uh no?????
Who was the last person to hit on you? That I'm actually aware of, Sara. I'm quite sure nobody has since.
What was the last thing you decided not to do, that you were supposed to? I was too weak to even clean the litterbox last night. I just wanted to go to bed. I need to do it today.
What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to tell someone? Hm. Maybe that I didn't love Joel? It was just really awkward and I felt awful about the whole situation.
What do you put on hot dogs? Ketchup and mustard.
Ever fallen in the shower? I've fallen OUT of the shower. I was extremely dizzy and was trying to get out, and I just passed out onto my chin. Broke some molars and got a concussion.
What’s the worst thing you’ve ever called someone you care about? Probably a bitch or something.
Do you think that things will get better? I sure hope so.
Have you ever legitimately saved a person’s life? I guess I kinda have. My WoW friend Lisa and I were talking, and she wasn't feeling well at all when she suddenly disappeared. Coincidentally, her husband got home RIGHT when I messaged her again, wanting to check up on her, and he heard the alert so checked it out. Lisa was knocked out on the couch having some medical emergency with a name I can't remember, and he just thought she was sleeping. Because of seeing the chat, he took her to the hospital when she probably would've died otherwise. She insists I saved her.
What’s your favourite book genre? Fantasy.
Have you ever walked out of a movie at the theatre? No.
Do dogs like you? They definitely seem to. Animals in general honestly do.
Would you say that you project an air of authority? Definitely not.
Have you ever jumped off a high dive into a pool? No. I've always wanted to, but I was too scared at any opportunity.
Do you use one towel when you shower or two? (one for hair, one for body) I just use one. I dry my hair first, then my body.
Have you ever been to one of the great lakes? No, but I did see one of them from a plane when I was flying to Sara's.
Who do you know that had a baby recently? My high school friend had her daughter Persephone literally a couple days ago. Cute little thing.
Do you like Usher’s songs? Oh wow, what a blast from the past. I don't even recall the names of any, but I remember I enjoyed some as a kid.
When was the last time you went to a waterpark? Wow, it has been YEARS. Like, not since I was a teen.
Have you ever ridden a train? No.
What do you eat your French fries with? Ketchup, sometimes.
Do you have family problems? Not really.
What’s the last food you ate that was stale? Bread, I think.
How do you like your grilled cheese? Just a normal 'ole grilled cheese.
What is the most challenging meal you have ever cooked? I don’t cook.
What was your favorite thing to do as a little kid? Play video games.
Have you ever been close to drowning? Yikes, no.
Have you ever had a panic attack? Countless.
Do you like doing housework? No, who does?
Would you ever get implants? Nah.
Do you own a robe? No.
Do you have a little sister? What’s her name? Yeah, Nicole.
Do you like crust on pizza or do you cut it off? I don't trust people who don't eat pizza crust.
What was the last song you listened to? "The Ghost of You" by My Chemical Romance. It's making me cry, but I really need to.
Have any of your family members been to jail? No. None that I know of, anyway.
Is there anyone that you feel you still need some closure with? An old friend, yes.
Can you remember when you first learned how to read? No.
What event in your life has transformed your personality the most? My mental illnesses as a whole.
Have you ever had any teeth pulled? No.
Do you still want to be what you wanted to be in elementary school? No, but only because it's not realistic. I don't want to travel.
What’re some TV shows that you would like to get into? I don't care about TV 'til MM resumes, and then absolutely whenever The Edge of Sleep is released. Mark is a key actor in it.
How would you feel if you were drafted for the military? I couldn’t be.
What is your favorite Queen song? Ha, I'm aware this is probably everyone's answer, but "Bohemian Rhapsody" is the bop of all bops.
Do you know how to use any foreign currency? No.
Been kissed by someone who you knew was “bad” for you? BEEN kissed, yeah. By Juan.
Ever taken an at-home pregnancy test? No.
When was the last time you were at a loss of what to do? Now.
What did you do on your favorite date with a guy/girl? It was a group date where we went to this big arcade one night.
What’s a movie you have seen in the theater more than once? None.
What is the reason you’re still alive? That's a big answer that I'm not in the mood to ramble about.
Have you ever had sex in someone else’s bed/bedroom? Yeah, oops.
Do you ever brush your hair before you go to bed? No.
Have you ever had a dream about sleeping with a celebrity? (You don’t have to give details.) HAHA this was the only lucid dream I've ever had lmfao.
Has anyone ever told you that they needed you? Do you think they meant it? I don't remember.
How did you feel when you woke up today? What was the first thing you thought about? Like shit. "Virginia's still dead" just bitchslapped me.
Do you still tell your parents that you love them? Well yeah.
Have you ever said “I love you” to someone you weren’t going out with? Yes, because I really did.
Have you ever been threatened before? Yes.
Would you date someone with a physical disability? Yeah.
Think of the last person you had sex with. Do you think they’ve slept with anyone else since they last slept with you? Probably.
The last time you dyed your hair, what color did you dye it? Red.
Think of the last time you went out to eat. Who paid? My mom.
Do you save at least 15 percent of your income? What income?
Do you ever go on Reddit? If so, what are some of your favorite subreddits? No.
Were you ever a flower girl or ring bearer in anyone’s wedding when you were little? No.
Are your parents in good health? Not especially. They're both probably unhealthier than the average person. Dad smokes way too much to be healthy, and Mom has a plethora of issues.
Have you ever been a caregiver to a sick/disabled relative? No; it sounds awful, but I'm very doubtful I could be because I canNOT clean another human being.
Is there any type of medicine you can’t take? For what reason? No.
Do you have a favorite pair of pajamas? What do they look like? They're black Pokemon pants with Pikachu jumping by the logo.
Do you have any interesting pillow cases? No.
If something on your body hurts, which part is it most likely to be? My knees.
Are you more afraid of spiders or bees? Both, but situationally.
Have you ever worn fake nails? If so, what did the last pair you wore look like? Only once for prom. They were maroon, like my dress. Wait... or maybe I didn't wear them? Fuck, idr.
Is Russian or Native American history more interesting to you? Native American history is way more fascinating to me.
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OneHundredFiftyFive
Breakfast!
1.) Have you ever eaten a “balanced breakfast” like they show in cereal commercials (I.E., bowl of cereal, fruit, glass of orange juice)?
Yes, but not often
2.) When’s the last time you made someone breakfast?
Can’t remember, it’s been a long time
3.) What’s your favorite cereal?
Frosted Flakes
4.) What’s the highest calorie, most terrible for you breakfast you’ve ever had?
Eggs Benedict with extra hollandaise with side of biscuits and gravy!
5.) Would you rather get breakfast from McDonald’s or Burger King?
McDonalds
6.) Waffles or pancakes?
Ugh, I love both of them but I’m more into waffles right now
7.) Eggs or cereal?
Eggs
8.) Milk or orange juice?
Milk
9.) PopTart or Toaster Strudel?
Toaster Strudel
10.) Do you even eat breakfast?
Not very often, more likely on the weekend than during the week
11.) Do you take vitamins with your breakfast?
No
Lunch!
1.) When do you usually eat lunch?
One
2.) Did you get notes from your parents in your lunch when you were little?
Yes
3.) If you had one, what did your lunch box look like?
I started buying my lunch around middle school so I don’t remember any I had in elementary school
4.) What’d you have for lunch today?
Chipotle
5.) Do you like to go out for lunch? Where?
I love going out. Wherever is good with me, I’m not picky
6.) Do you have/want any cute sandwich cutters? (They decrust your sandwich into a shape)
Yes, I have one that makes them into uncrustables
7.) Do you sit with/meet with anyone for lunch often?
No
8.) Have you ever had a peanut butter and butter sandwich, or does it sound appealing at all?
No, and eh not really
9.) Is your lunch usually a hot food or a cold food?
Truly a mix of both
10.) Has the word “lunch” been repeated so many times it’s a meaningless word by now?
No?
Dinner!
1.) Do you follow the health rule of having a small dinner and big breakfast?
No, I do the opposite
2.) Do you ever say a prayer before eating dinner?
No
3.) What’s your favorite take out dinner, if you have one?
Pizza
4.) Have you ever been taken out to a nice restaurant for a dinner date?
Yes
5.) Did you grow up eating dinner with your family? How do you think that affected you?
Yes, every night. It was nice, always up to date with what was going on with everyone
6.) Do you have “nice” dinner plates for special occasions?
No
7.) Do you ever eat frozen dinners?
Yes
8.) What dinner foods can you cook?
A handful of good pasta dishes, fajitas, breakfast for dinner lol
9.) White or red meat (or their vegetarian substitute counterparts)?
I like both
10.) Soup or salad?
Salad
Dessert!
1.) Do you ever get dessert at a restaurant when they ask?
Almost never, I’m always too full to make it to dessert
2.) Is there a dessert food most people like that you hate?
Hmm not really
3.) Cupcakes or real cake?
Cupcakes
4.) Ice cream or pie?
Pie
5.) What kind of birthday cake (or other sweet birthday type thing) do you usually get?
Double Chocolate
6.) What was your favorite childhood birthday cake?
Ice cream cake
7.) Do you have a favorite foreign (to a Westerner, anyway :P) desserts? (Baklava, biscotti, churros…)
Yes, churros, baklava and cannolis I love!
8.) Do you bake sweets? Which are you best at?
Not really often
9.) Have you ever had a good “diet” dessert, like something endorsed by Weight Watchers? What was it?
I’m actually on WW now. I love chocolate graham crackers with frozen cool whip in the middle, a play on the ice cream sandwich. 3 point dessert!
10.) What’s your dream dessert?
Crepe with strawberries and melted chocolate chips
11.) Do you watch shows like Cake Boss or Cupcake Wars?
No
Snacks!
1.) What’s the best candy in the world?
Frozen Snickers Almond
2.) Do you eat more snacks or full meals?
Meals
3.) Is there anything you find yourself eating when you’re bored?
Chips
4.) Do drinks with calories count as a snack?
I guess, I don’t drink anything that’s not water very often
5.) What’s your favorite food that’s usually served at parties?
Buffalo dip or rye boat dip
6.) Do you eat in class? If so, what is it, usually?
I’m not in school
7.) Honestly, are your snacks healthy or bad for you?
All depends what it is
8.) Potato chips or trail mix?
Potato chips
9.) What do you usually get at the movie theater?
Nothing, place is overpriced af
10.) Did you get fruit snacks with your favorite character on them when you were little?
Yes and gushers lol
11.) Do you remember any sayings from conversation hearts? Which is your favorite?
No lol
Food in general!
1.) Do you buy generic brand food?
Yeah, about half the time
2.) Is there a common food you find repulsive?
Beans
3.) What’s your favorite “ethnic” cuisine?
Indian
4.) If you were stranded in a zombie apocalypse with only a full, run-of-the-mill and full-of-junk vending machine for food, which items would you eat first?
Candy bars
5.) Are you a candy fanatic?
I can be
6.) Do you like any weird food combinations?
Mac and cheese with applesauce to dip
7.) Are there any foods you shouldn’t eat because of your religion?
No
8.) Would you eat a bug if it was covered in your favorite food?
Only for money lol
9.) Do you think being a vegan would be/is really hard?
I think so
10.) Do you eat in the car?
Not often
11.) Do you pay attention to serving sizes?
I have lately
12.) Fruit or vegetables?
Veggies
13.) Mustard or ketchup?
Ketchup
14.) Does mayonnaise disgust you?
No
15.) What’s your favorite holiday, in terms of the food you get to eat during it?
Thanksgiving
16.) Are you hungry? (: What do you plan on eating next?
Nope its 6, already ate at 4. Probably just a snack before bed. Chocolate graham crackers
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Hello, 9/20/2019
Sorry for the sideways pic I tried to crop it but it was being annoying. :)
This was my weight on the 19th after I had eaten a 120 cal breakfast. (1 banana & a sugar free jello cup).
I skipped lunch. But around 6pm was my nephew’s birthday so I ate alot more than usual. But I’m not going to count how many calories because cmon...I ate like 2 hotdogs w/ buns & ketchup..2 slices of cake...some fruit..4 cheetos..
And that was my last meal for the day, I also workout alot now, in between games (DbD) I do about a minutes worth of jumping jacks. And whenever I feel bored I just workout a little.
Then today I slept until 6pm because I already only slept 5 hours the previous night and I was having a really good dream so xd. My weight was 267.4!
About to finish a bowl of Skinny pop (white cheddar) for 150 calories, & I made a 70 calorie bowl of soup which i’ve already posted about but I probably won’t even finish that. so today i’ve done pretty good.
Even if you over eat one day don’t give up, because tomorrow will be better. You’ll mostly gain 2-3 pounds that night, but when you wake up most of it will be gone by then. Just be positive and maybe don’t check the scale until 1 1/2 - 2 days.
#thinspo#ana#anorexia#proana#tw#trigger warning#ed#eating disorder#anareixa#weight loss#anamia#mia#diet#weight check#ana check#anatips#thinsp0#sweetspo#fat
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I Fucking Hate Brunch. The world will be a better place if I could convince you to feel the same way.
All you upper middle class Jeep driving girls can go ahead and put your gun back in its holster because I know you’re feeling attacked by this post right off the bat. I want you to read the argument I’m about to present to you with a clear head because if everything goes as planned, I’m about to rock your shit with how valid my opinion is on this subject, and I want you to be in a good headspace to take all of this in.
Ah brunch, a genius concept at first glance. A perfectly plated visual masterpiece, one filter away from landing on your insta story, delivered to you at a time that acknowledges and accepts your constitutional right to suck down a tanker truck full of alcohol the night before. No more pulling up to a greasy diner in your friends sweatpants for some scrambled eggs. Every classy restaurant in town is now opening their doors at 11 AM so you and your friends can get drunk before noon in a place that had the funds to pay an interior designer.
Well you know what else looked like a genius concept at first glance? Mortgage backed securities baby! And those suckers single handedly butt fucked the entire economy when you were like eight. I’m not saying that is in the cards with brunch, but I’m also not saying it’s not.
I’m actually an expert on this subject, as I have brunched it up in seven different countries and served this beloved meal at three different restaurants. And yeah, I know chomping down those pancakes in the upper righthand corner of this picture makes me a hypocrite, but the title of this post isn’t “I fucking hate hypocrisy”, is it?
(you might have to click the title to keep reading. I’m not about to relearn html to fix this)
Diner Perspective
As a diner, I know that the brunch is a classic case of “expectation vs. reality”. You wake up at like noon. Try desperately to make something cute out of your dry skin, smudged eyeliner and greasy hair from the night before. You fail miserably. Then you put on some clothes that typically reside in that rarely touched “darty-wear” section of your closet. When you pull up and sit down at the restaurant, you can’t help but feeling a little bit ridiculous. The waitress is sitting there wearing an apron and nonslip shoes and you are wearing giant star earings. There are like, old people scattered throughout the place as well. Their faces makes it pretty clear that your footwear choice of wedges was in fact, not super appropriate. Once you sit down, you realize how fucking thirsty you are. You start taking down glasses of water at an embarrassing speed and feel kind of bad that your waitress has filled your glass three times before you have even ordered.
Oh yeah ordering. You were so busy rehydrating your kidneys that you have no idea what you want when the waitress comes back to the table the third time so you order something stupid and kinda out of your price range. Either that, or your eyes are way bigger than your stomach and before you know it there are 5 plates and three drinks sitting in front of you. Whoever drank the least the night before whips out the classic “so ladies are we drinking” and now, thanks to that bitch, you have a mimosa on your bill too.
You eat a solid two-thirds of your food and suck down all of your drinks. You and your friends do a baseline rehash of the night and realize that you have little left to talk about. Because you like, already talked about it last night. Meanwhile, your hangover is hitting its peak and you would really rather go to the bathroom and pull trig than take another bite of eggs benny but shit! You can’t. Because of the judgy old people. You sit there and dream of when you can go the fuck home and lay down after this.
Oh here comes the best part! The bill! Thirty five fucking dollars you have to be joking. I could buy an eighth for that much. I sure as hell would get more use out of it. And I have to tip this waitress! it’s not like she turned on the ol’ razzle dazzle or anything. She literally just asked what we wanted and brought it to the table. Fuck this shit. “How much are you guys tipping? $5? Cool me too.”
Server Perspective
How the fuck is it already 9 AM. I feel like I slept for five minutes. Probably because I want to sleep at 5 AM. I can’t believe I have to work this fucking shift. I literally texted every single other server before I went out last night asking for a cover and no one responded. I worked thirteen hours yesterday with no break. I’m not even sure this is legal. Do I need this job? One of my friends made a lot of money as like a cam girl. Maybe I could do that. I’ve got pretty nice boobs. Wait no people might look me up and see them when I’m applying to grad school. Okay I’m getting up.
Good thing I’m still wearing my makeup from the night before bc I’m not trying to sit here and beat my face right now. Shit my uniform is literally disgusting from sweating for thirteen hours yesterday. Dryer sheet and a 10 minute run in the dryer and she’ll be good to go. Hair...going in a top knot. Alright lets take some Advil and get this bread.
“You know you’re late, right?” “Yeah I’m really sorry I forgot my apron and had to run home and grab it”. Fuck off idiot. I may be late but at least I graduated high school. Holy shit why has no on done any side work? I’m literally going to be sitting here making coffee, syrups, ketchups, toast, sweet tea, lemons and place settings for the next hour to make all of $2.13.
Oh yes the first customer is here. It’s the boy I made out with at DKE freshman year and his entire extended family. And they’re sitting in my section. Can’t wait for his grandparents and dad to emotionally abuse me while his mom insists on making six to eight substitutions to whatever she orders. The chef is going to literally throw hot grease in my face when I put in this complicated order. If you could even call him a chef. He’s just one of the line cooks that gets screwed into making omelets and microwaving food from the night before every Saturday and Sunday morning, as if it’s some kind of promotion. I need to get these rich people drunk or there is no way they are tipping me shit. Read them the brunch drink specials. Make sure to lock eyes with the women when you are describing our specialty mimosas. Phew they ordered $150 worth of drinks. That’ll be enough money to justify half-assing the rest of this shift until I can go home and smoke a bowl to forget what I just went through. Oh the white girls at table 46 only tipped me $5 a piece? Shocking. Could give a damn.
If you did not relate to this post whatsoever and are still clinging to your fantasies of brunch being “like the best meal ever invented”, you my friend, are too far gone. There is no way a working class girl like me had any chance of getting through to you in the first place. I sincerely apologize for wasting your time. For the rest of you, I hope we all learned something today. And that the next time the topic of brunch comes up in the group-chat, you will make the noble suggestion that we just cook the cinnamon rolls in the fridge.
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Living Dead Girl
For RIP Roswell Day Four (family).
As always, beta read by @maxortecho. Apparently this made her cry. These are the moment we live for as writers. Sorry not sorry.
“Does papi still sleep like the dead?” Rosa asks Liz as they wash the dishes in Max’s sink. “Pun absolutely intended.”
Liz takes a deep breath to steady herself at her sister’s casual use of the d word. The last few weeks have been a strange, surreal dream, living in a world with Rosa in it once more. A cipher of the past come back to life, gallows humor her newest form of armor.
“You know papi,” she replies when she’s found her voice. “Nothing can wake him except his own snoring.”
He’s slept through two break-ins at the Crashdown since Liz returned to Roswell, blissfully unaware of her confrontations with Isobel and Michael, then later Noah. There’s a phantom stitch in her side where Noah sliced her with the knife, the injury healed when she’d united with Max the next day. His handprint healed her even though they were using it for something else, but the vanished wound tugs at her, reminding her of what else she has lost.
Rosa is full of questions about life as it has gone on without her, and they have quickly turned to the man who raised her. She’s not allowed to see him, and she’s not merely following an edict Liz has set down when it comes to that: Rosa seems to understand the danger her renewed existence puts her in. She’s verbally acknowledged that she wants to make it to twenty—and beyond—this time around.
That doesn’t mean she doesn’t yearn.
“You would think for all the trouble I caused, he’d have been more alert,” Rosa comments. “She always knew when I was trying to sneak out, but I didn’t even need to sneak around when it was just papi there.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Liz replies dryly. “I was the good girl.”
“Was,” Rosa says. “I know you’ve had Kyle in your bedroom since you got back to town.”
“What? How?”
“I teased him about you both being my siblings and he got all flustered. Like you are now.”
“Oh god.” Liz covers her face with her hands. She’s never felt bashful about sex, but somehow having Rosa back has made her regress into the little girl who once looked up to her big sister. Rosa always did know how to push her buttons.
“Chill. Your face!” Rosa laughs, and it’s a soothing balm to Liz’s soul. All those years without that sound, and she doesn’t know how she existed without it. Her anger had banished even its echo from her memory.
It feels greedy to ask for more, even as she pushes herself to find a solution to Max’s…problem. Liz is still adjusting to inhabiting this space, especially without Max himself being here. Sometimes it feels like she’s swapped one ghost for another.
“I have to go to the lab tonight,” she reminds Rosa as she gives the glasses one final rinse. She only has access after hours, and needs to monitor her samples through the night. “Are you going to be okay on your own? I can ask Maria to come over and hang with you.”
“I’m fine, Liz. I don’t need a babysitter. I’m about ready for some time on my own.”
“If you’re sure—”
“I’m sure. And you get less twitchy about me smoking a bowl when you’re not around.”
“Rosa!”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! No smoking in the Deputy’s house. Go save the world, Liz. Do me proud.”
~
Rosa meant it when she told Liz that she was ready for some time by herself. The only chance she’s had to process all that’s happened so far has been in the quiet of the night, when Liz lets her brain stop whirring at a million miles an hour and sleeps. Rosa doesn’t sleep, not nearly as long. Ten years sounds long enough to her, even if it felt like one night. One strange night that thrust her into a bewildering new world with the dawn.
She has no intention of staying in Max’s house. It’s peaceful, but Rosa has never been very good at sitting around and doing nothing. She can think while she walks.
She’s not an idiot. She knows the dangers: retrieves Max’s pistol from his holster, and stashes it in her jacket pocket, safety on. A hood covers her hair, a loose scarf can be pulled up to cover her face. From a distance people will probably assume she’s Liz, but she takes no chances, hoping the pending sunset will shroud her enough when she reaches town.
And so she walks. It’s a risk. But risks can be mitigated.
There’s injustice fizzing in her veins, injustice she is impotent to do anything about. Liz can’t bear this anger with everything she has one her plate, and Guerin slinks away before Rosa can open that vein. And Isobel…Rosa can’t stop being afraid of her long enough to be angry.
When she isn’t simmering in her thwarted anger, she’s got a weird grief she can’t get a handle on. Valenti is dead, and Kyle knows what she is to him. Her family has grown and shrunk at once. Her mother is still absent, and Rosa wants the comfort of the only parent who was ever worth a damn, but she can’t see him without setting in motion something she’s not sure she can control. She’s homesick, living looking over the town she’s lived her entire life in and longed to leave, but now forbidden to enter.
She wants to express herself the only way she has ever known that matters. It’s why Liz has bought new canisters of paint and large canvases for Rosa to spill her guts onto, but Liz will admit she’s not an artist. She doesn’t understand that canvas is no good for Rosa. Her art belongs elsewhere.
The sun spills itself over the desert in fire and gold, sinking beyond the horizon to leave the soft cloak of night lying over them instead. She has a flashlight in her rucksack, but she’s reached the first patchy glow of streetlights and doesn’t need it to make her way through the streets.
There are changes in town, mostly small, mostly decay in fast-forward, paint peeling from buildings freshly coated a few months ago as far as she’s concerned. Empty storefronts of businesses which thrived days earlier—the shuttered Blockbuster and the darkened one-hour photo place. The new neighborhood that’s mushroomed out of the desert to the south of the town is a surprise. She guesses the Bushes sold their ranch to a developer.
It’s like playing immersive spot the difference, an assault on her vision as every glance brings something new. Everything except the first glance of home.
It’s not exactly the same. Papi must have maintained it some or it would look like shit by now, but as she crosses the street, ducking between shadows, it feels like she hasn’t missed ten years in one delirious night’s sleep.
She goes round the back. The diner is closed but there’s still the occasional car drifting by. It’s no problem when the spare key is still set in the wall, hidden behind a broken brick. Some things never change.
She turns to fumble and let herself in, but a remnant of her own past confronts her on the wall beside the door.
We are all alone.
It’s faded, like so many things, washed away by time Rosa hasn’t lived. But papi has never painted over it.
A passing car prompts her inside, where it is still and dark. Sure enough, the only sound beneath the electronic hum of appliances is the louder hum of papi snoring upstairs, a chainsaw drone that feels like it should rattle the windows. No wonder she’s having trouble sleeping at Max’s house. It’s too quiet.
Past the stairs, through the kitchen, ignoring her own memorial, she slips into the diner itself.
She only worked a shift here last week. Wiped the tables down, swept the floor, collected the ketchup bottles together. Stormed out on Liz because the stupid car had been vandalized. She could put the uniform on and serve like nothing had changed. Instead, she is barred from her home, left to drift through it silently, like the ghost she has become.
She will not cry.
If she cries, she will be tempted to run to her father, to the man who always patched up her skinned knees and made things better. If she cries, she may not be able to resist that temptation.
Instead she explores the space, running fingers over the table tops and backs of chairs like she feels every minute of the decade she’s lost. She passes by the jukebox, smiling at the way papi hasn’t updated it, only to lose the smile when she realizes why. Her footsteps falter as she realizes how long he has spent in this building alone, with nobody to tease him about his snoring, or nag him into painting over the terrible mural on the back wall. Liz has been a fleeting guest, almost as much a ghost as Rosa.
If she cannot come home, then she can leave a piece of her soul here to keep him company.
~
“You haven’t slept,” papi says as Liz yawns into her palm.
“I’ve slept,” she assures him, though she’s sure the concealer she’s liberally applied hasn’t actually covered up the dark circles she’s acquired from a long night in the lab.
“You haven’t slept enough.”
“I’m fine. I’m only helping during the breakfast rush, I’ll catch a nap after.”
“Liz, you know I like this boy, but not if he starts affecting your health.”
Liz suppresses the grimace that threatens to escape when her father mentions Max so casually. He thinks she’s spending all her time at Max’s house with Max. Everybody does, because they cannot know the truth. “I was writing a grant proposal,” she lies, and she should feel bad for it, but she doesn’t have the energy to spare.
She sees it when she takes out the trash. On her way inside she gives a yelp, one which brings papi running, but he only smiles when he sees what she’s looking at.
“You’ve seen our new friend,” papi says. He means the change to Rosa’s old stencil on the wall.
“Did you do this?” she asks, knowing the answer already. Papi is as artistic as she is. The wall’s been unchanged since Rosa first painted it in freshman year.
“No. He arrived overnight. I know you only believe in science, mija, but when I saw him this morning, I knew she’d found a way to let us know she’s okay. Look at him! He has to have been sent by Rosa.”
A new alien has taken residence. Characteristically red but with different words emblazoned over the old ones, and a chain of bright orange marigolds circling him like a halo.
“He does look like one of hers,” she agrees, though she knows the fresh paint was added by an earthly hand.
She’ll have to speak to Rosa about this. She’s been here, to the Crashdown, despite all the reasons she shouldn’t have come, and left her mark. Liz should be angry, but the way papi is this morning—smiling, whistling, happy in a way she hasn’t seen in years—anger is hard to come by. Liz already feels guilty enough for abandoning her father to take care of Rosa. If he doesn’t question this further, who is Liz to complain? The words are for his benefit, after all.
You are not alone.
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Fictober 21
#21. “Change is annoyingly difficult.”
Roswell, NM fanfic
Max & Arturo, Isobel, Mr. & Mrs. Evans.
Just as a mini note... this one is also the (rough) start to one of my bunnies hopping around in my head, so it might pop back up at some point in the future as Ch 1 of a multi-part fic.
Again, below the cut for a bit of length...
Year 1
There was a slight bounce in his step when he entered the kitchen that morning, and it was enough to draw his entire family's attention.
"Well look who is up and moving early this morning," his father greeted him dryly. "Got plans to do something with your life today, Max?"
Isobel snickered, so Max shot her a glare as he dropped into his seat at the table and poured himself a bowl of cereal.
"Cut him some slack," his mother protested on his behalf. "It's been rough for him lately. And I think it's nice to see you doing better, Max."
"Thanks, Mom." He replied with a grateful smile. It was a fairly typical family exchange. His father would criticize him for his lack of drive; for not being at college or having a full time job. Max would usually protest that he was working on his novel, or that tutoring students from the Military Academy was a real job, but his father would hear none of it until his mother shut the conversation down.
At least, that's how it would go on the days that Max left his room at all. Some days he had trouble even facing the outside world. Sometimes he couldn't even get out of bed, held prisoner by the crushing weight of his guilt in a queen-sized bed.
"Oh dear," his mother suddenly sighed with a shake of her head. She and his father were reading the newspaper over breakfast like they did most days, trading sections back and forth between the two of them as they ate.
"What is it?" His father glanced up from the sports section curiously.
"Oh, it's the anniversary of that accident last year where those poor girls were killed."
"Tragedy," his father mumbled with a shake of his head, as his eyes went back to the baseball box scores.
"The Daily Record has a memorial on the front page today for the two girls who were in the car. And an expose on that Ortecho girl that was driving. It says that her autopsy showed that she was drunk and high at the time of the accident. And she was known around town for being both a vandal and a drug dealer."
Max just kept his eyes trained on his cereal bowl. He didn't want to look at Isobel. He didn't want to know what was going through her head listening to their mom talk about the worst day of their lives.
Thankfully, he heard the newspaper pages rustling as his mom moved on to a different page. "Such a shame that she had to take two innocent girls with her when she decided to go."
He winced at her words, wanting to defend Rosa, who had no say in the matter, but knowing that he couldn't. After all, she was drunk and high that night. He saw her.
Needing to escape, Max shoved the last few bites in his mouth, and then rinsed his bowl, calling out a goodbye to his family as he hurried out the door.
It was a big day, after all. It was a day a year in the making, and he had plans.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He went straight to the Crashdown.
One year ago today, Liz Ortecho's sister had died. A few days later, she abruptly skipped town without saying goodbye and essentially broke his heart in the process. Since that day, he had spent twelve months fighting depression and trying desperately to write his feelings out, all while missing and longing for Liz.
His father wasn't wrong when he complained of Max having no direction in life. He had two plans at the end of high school. One involved following Liz on her road trip and falling in love and just allowing her life to take him along on her adventure. The other involved traveling Europe with Michael and writing his first novel. Both dreams burned to ashes in that blue car alongside the bodies of Rosa, Kate, and Jasmine.
But now a year had passed. And Max was heading to the Crashdown with a single minded purpose: to see Liz Ortecho again. After all, she would want to be with her father today of all days, wouldn't she?
As Max drove his Jeep into the town square, he slowed, startled at the sight of a number of sheriff's department vehicles parked haphazardly in front of the Crashdown, lights flashing.
He pulled into a parking space about a block away and sat there, watching and worrying. He could see Sheriff Valenti speaking with Liz's father, while his deputies seemed to be cataloguing evidence from a crime. Arturo Ortecho looked stressed out. He was talking with animation, his anxiety clearly high.
Suddenly the sheriff stopped writing notes, placed a hand on Arturo's shoulder and seemed to ask him a question. Arturo nodded firmly.
Just like that, Valenti ordered his men to pack it up and call it a day.
"No crime to report here," he announced, loud enough that even Max could hear.
Within a few minutes, the police presence was gone, and Arturo was alone with a broom, sweeping up the broken glass on the sidewalk all on his own.
Angry and determined to help, Max stepped from his Jeep and crossed the street to speak with Liz's father.
"Mr. Ortecho." Max greeted him. "Can I ask, what happened?"
Arturo nodded at him. "Max Evans, right?" Max nodded. "Liz always liked you." He said thoughtfully as he swept.
"I always liked her." Max replied, trying to not laugh at what an understatement it was coming from him. "We were friends. How is she doing? Is she here?"
"Oh, no," Arturo dismissed, with a long emphasis on the denial. "No, she's working hard, summer classes and a research internship. My little genius. No time to come home to her Papi. It's good though. Better for her this way."
Max nodded, because as he surveyed the scene he actually did understand what Arturo was saying. Broken glass littered the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, and it looked like both the door and the windows along the square had been busted in.
"Can I help you clean up, Mr Ortecho? It's a hard enough day for you and I don't have anywhere to be."
"Oh, I…"
"It's the least I can do for Liz." Max insisted, and it seemed to be the right thing to say. Arturo swallowed his protest and nodded.
"I can handle this mess just fine, but there's plenty more inside. There's another broom and more cleaning supplies in the break room closet."
"Got it."
Max stepped through the frame of the door into the restaurant and froze, surveying the scene in front of him. Liz's father wasn't exaggerating when he said there was more of a mess inside. It looked like there had been an earthquake, tornado, or some other natural disaster. The floor was covered with broken glass, broken plates, mugs, bowls…anything breakable had been strewn around the room and destroyed. Even all of the restaurant's cutlery was tossed all over the floor.
It also looked like there had been a food fight. Clearly the intruders had gotten into the store room as well, and made as big of a mess of the place as possible. Gobs of ketchup dotted the tables, melted ice cream was dripping down the long front counter, and chunks of chocolate cake were sticking to the walls in a number of places.
But the mess wasn't the worst part. The worst part was the bright red paint on the wall screaming, "MURDERERS, GO BACK TO MEXICO".
Max's heart started pounding and he suddenly felt like he was losing his breath. He braced himself against the wall beside him and tried to force himself to take long, even breaths, but it quickly became harder, as he started crying and gasping for air.
We did this. He kept thinking. I did this. Because of me, Rosa was named a murderer and Arturo is a target.
Guilt flooded through him, overtaking the initial panic that he felt at the sight of the disaster in front of him. He forced himself to pull it together, surveyed the room, and got to work.
I did this. I will fix this. He decided.
He went to the back closet and grabbed a broom and a dustpan. He prepped a trash can for himself, and finally snagged a few of the plastic tubs from the bussing station. Slowly and carefully, he started sweeping up the debris, dumping a dustpan full at a time into one plastic bin so that he could fish out any silverware or anything else salvageable, before dumping the rest in the trash.
He had worked through about a dozen loads when Liz's father joined him from outside. Working together went much faster than alone, and soon the floor was clear and they shifted their focus to cleaning the booths, and then the countertops.
It was mid-afternoon, when Arturo emerged from the store room with a bottle of solution and a tag. "Since youve been so kind to help me, I will ask one last thing...can I please take advantage of your height and ask you to clean that for me." He gestured distastefully to the painted walls.
"Of course," Max agreed, and immediately went to work trying to wash away the stain of racism that the town had left behind.
"Oh no!" Max exclaimed sadly when he realized the paint thinner was cutting straight through the mural beneath as well. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Ortecho."
"There's nothing to be done," Arturo said sadly with a shrug. "At least it is only the one wall. I'll have Maria come over to see if she can fix it when you're done. She isn't quite as talented as Rosa, but she's the next best option."
After he was done with the wall, Arturo offered to make Max a burger, but Max refused. "No, you take care of yourself, Mr, Ortecho. I'm good. I have something else I need to do anyway."
"Okay," Arturo replied, and he grasped Max's hands in his own. "Thank you for your help today."
"I'm glad I was here." Max started to leave, but as he reached the door, he paused and turned back. "Mr. Ortecho? Please don't tell Liz about this...me helping with the cleanup I mean. She doesn't need to know."
Arturo just nodded in agreement, and then Max was out the door and gone. He passed the window repair guy, who was just arriving to replace the windows. Max smiled and waved as he crossed the street and hopped back into the Jeep.
One year ago his entire life had changed for the worse, and for the last year he'd been lost, treading water, despondent. But today, a year later, he was going to change his life again. Because he knew after spending the day with Arturo exactly what he wanted to do with himself.
So Max drove straight to the Chavez County Sheriff's Department office in Roswell and enquired about the process to sign up for their academy program. He filled out the paperwork on the spot, and by sunset his future was no longer this nebulous unknown thing that he feared.
He walked into the house that evening and flopped onto the couch next to his sister, feeling lighter than he had in days, and it showed.
"What's with you?" Isobel asked curiously. "Did Liz come home like you dreamed she would?"
"No, actually, she didn't. I just finally figured out what I want today."
"Oh yeah, and what's that?"
"I...I want to help people, Iz. I want to feel like I'm standing up for what's right. I don't want being a bad person to define me for the rest of my life. I guess...I want to make up for my mistakes. So I signed up for the Sheriff's Academy."
"You what?" Isobel gaped. She stared at him for a long moment and then finally nodded. "No, actually, I can see it. You've always been a pain in my ass, brother. Now you can focus all of that 'do the right thing' energy on other people instead of me."
"Hey now!"
"Seriously, though. Change is annoyingly difficult, Max, and so far you've kinda sucked at it. I'm glad that you found some direction. I hope that this is good for you."
"Thanks, Iz."
Two months later, the next freshman class initiated their training program at the Academy, and Max was sworn into civil service. That day, while standing in his freshly pressed uniform in front of the U.S. and Zia flags, he officially became Deputy-in-Training Evans. When the oath was over, they handed him a white cowboy hat, which Max held in his hands for a long time, before carefully placing it on his head and following his training officer to his first assignment.
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Journal: Getting Back to the Real World…Easier Said Than Done Part 3
I had been having a pretty okay go of things lately…work was steady and not overbearing anymore…I was home on time to see the kids for a few hours every night before bed…I had kept my cooking schedule on point, only needed two early days to make everything ahead for the rest of the week…my back was healing just as planned.
Only problem, really, was all that the soreness and spilling my guts to Joey had brought back up. I knew this process was going to be hard, that it wasn’t going to be quick and painless on emotions, either. But I needed it to find my closure, to let him and that part of my life go. Though, it wasn’t exactly working out that way, if anything it was shoving all our memories and feelings in my face with the force of a canon. I’d here a song that would remind me of him somehow, just like it happened in the car the other day…I’d see a movie pop up on the Netflix queue, that I knew he would like…I was having more dreams, more frequently and they were getting more and more vivid.
I remember one was about that pool table. I had visions of what I wanted to do back then–and there were signs that he might’ve been having similar thoughts–but Diana Prince I was not. That was a no man’s land that I was not going to be crossing. I felt deep feelings for him and he had as much confessed the same, back before I fainted. But given that I was going to be leaving–and without him–I wasn’t going to mess with his mind anymore than I already had…(but, uh…you kinda did later, anyway. Shut up, you’re not supposed to be nagging me, that’s what these are for…so you don’t nag me. Hey, I’m just saying. Yeah, well, I’m just saying hush, it was–and still is complicated, alright?)…that time was just light and fun flirting–no matter how much I wanted it to be more. It was nice to let our hair down for a while, after all we had been through lately.
It was the third day after my trip down to the parlor, and about my sixth morning waking up, reaching for him after another dream. Not to be crude, but being divorced five months…all the drama that lead to it for the nine months to a year previously–didn’t allow for much intimate time, for ol’ Mandy here. Having Johnny stay at the house last year, definitely made me realize just how long it had been–and he wasn’t exactly making it easy either. That damn Lawrence charm…and then teasing about taking a shower…(I think I still have that picture around somewhere, too. Hey, I never said I was a saint.) There was that HOT minute with Rick back on Halloween, but it was cut short when my boys needed me. I found out that he knew Robby and Anthony from the skate park–because he owned it, of course. After that night, we decided to take things slow and get to know each other. So…to say that everything was just coming to a breaking point, was pretty much an understatement.
I got out of bed and drank my coffee out on the patio. The kids were already off to school and since things were running relatively smooth at work, I had been going in a little later. Closing my eyes, feeling the hot liquid warm me up from the inside…I started feeling him sitting beside me…his arm around my shoulder and his lips on my neck…my hand on his thigh…hearing his breathing change as I moved my way upwards…
But I shook myself out of it, I couldn’t sit here and have a–a whatever this was–I needed to get ready for work. I didn’t make it to the shower, before I grabbed my phone and start texting him. (Okay, I broke…you happy? Actually?…uh, no Duh!)
Wanna play hooky and just talk on the phone all day, maybe watch a movie…with your voice so close to my ear, it’d be like you were right here with me.
If it’s the next best thing to being there (which I’m desperately wanting to be right now) then that would be a bad ass way to spend my day with you in my ear…I need to hear your voice and not just the memory of it in my head.
Okay…*smile grows on my face*…then should we make breakfast together?
Of course. What are you making me?
*goes and puts on my favorite blue and grey plaid shirt over the band tee I slept in…walks into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror…‘Nope, only over phone or not…this just won’t do.’ *brushes teeth and hair, wraps it in a ponytail before going downstairs. Walks into the kitchen*.
Am I calling you or are you calling me?
*smiles at his last message. Grabs blue tooth receiver, but changes my mind for my wireless earphones instead…(I need to hear his voice all around me)…and syncs them to the phone before dialing, smile plastered on my face as I stare into the fridge* “Good morning…what are you in the mood for today?”
“Good morning! You know that’s a loaded question…what do you have to give me?”
*hearing his voice close…two weeks, maybe three–hell, it could’ve been three months for all I knew…it’s been way too long, my head swims to the rhythm of his words and his laugh…chills rush over me, as I catch my breath. I had gone for longer periods without hearing him before, but this was different. So much had changed between us in the last month, we were more open and comfortable around each other…oh yeah, and his suggestive comments didn’t hurt* “Well, you’re in luck, I just went shopping yesterday, so you can have ANYTHING you want…for breakfast. We can have eggs, sausage and toast…or I can whip up some sweet potato waffles and some fruit…or your basic steak and eggs. Which will it be? I can always take requests.”
“Anything you want to make is good.”
“Okay…but I’m going to get you to eat my favorite sweet potato waffles one day…and you won’t be able to get enough of them. I hope you’re at least trying to eat a little healthier?”
“I can’t wait for those waffles…if anyone can get me to eat right it’ll be you. Does ketchup count? It’s like made out of a vegetable or something.”
*laughs* “It might count…if it wasn’t by the bucket load.”
“Good point, Batty…everything in moderation…well almost everything…”
“Oh, yeah…that. *smirks* I guess there’s some things I’m addicted too as well.”
Things…well, things kinda escalated after that. *grins* Spending the day with him again, even if just through the phone…it was just what I needed. After we ‘ate’ some waffles, sausage and a bowl of fruit, we talked about just how much we wanted to be close to each other again…something as simple as walking in a park would have been perfect. Our arms around each other…our hands in each other’s back pockets and my head on his shoulder…I could almost feel it. We went ‘grocery shopping’ and ‘fought’ over what to buy.
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