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tirednotflirting · 4 years

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does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes?

baby’s first au whaaaaaat?

special thank you to @clumsyclifford for linking the prompt list i got this idea from! this was the prompt (it was a whole slew of celebrity AUs: “wait, you’re supposed to be DEAD and i just recognized you at the grocery store, turns out you just didn’t want to be a celebrity anymore” au. bella is also writing one from this list and it’s one of my most favorite lashton things i have ever read, highly recommend, 10/10, i could yell about hello, hello for ages omg

also here is the ao3 link if that’s your preferred way to read :)

There are few things that bring Luke as much joy as his Friday night (well, Saturday morning, really) grocery trips.

He had started working the night shift at the nurses’ desk at the children’s hospital about a year prior after graduating. He had found the job through the friend of a friend of a friend who was a nurse herself and mentioned the job needed filling fast. Luke had never really considered the idea of a night job but ultimately the work wasn’t all too bad. He made coffee every couple of hours (he made an effort to never let the pot empty which got him lots of smiles from the nurses) and every once in awhile Lina, the 6 year old cancer patient whose room was just around the corner from the brightly colored desk, would wander out to ask him to check for monsters under her bed and to be tucked back in. It was pretty simple (and heartwarming) work.

However, staying up through the night for 5 nights a week made it damn near impossible to be awake during the day on his weekends off. Luckily enough for Luke, he had friends like Michael who tended to play video games all night despite working through the day (he stopped questioning how he managed it a long time ago) and his favorite grocery store was a 24 hour location.

The first time Luke had come to do his shop at around 2am, he had felt a little spooked by the parking lot and eerie silence in between Top 40 songs that played over the intercom in the store. But he soon grew to find the general atmosphere pretty calming and he made friends with the nighttime stocker (a guy named Calum who also never saw himself doing nighttime work but here they were) and it became something he really looked forward to on his Saturday (very early) mornings.

He arrives at the store just a bit after 1am. He just finished ‘a late breakfast’ (he still always finds himself giggling at the concept of eating meals at opposite points in the day as everyone else despite the obvious logic to the schedule) and has a list tucked into the pocket of his sweats. It’s a little chilly out so he grabs the first sweater he sees on the backseat - a blue cardigan - since he knows they also keep the store pretty cool in the night to make sure everybody stays awake through their shift.

As he grabs one of the smaller carts as he heads into the store, he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulls out his list first and drops it into the baby seat of the cart and then grabs his phone. Luke’s faced with the wild selfie Michael set for his profile picture and he rolls his eyes as clicks the icon to answer the call.

“What’s up, Mikey?” he answers as he starts pushing the cart in the direction of the produce section.

“You at the store yet?” Luke can hear the clicking of the buttons on the controller in Michael’s hands.

“Yeah, just got in. You need anything?”

Michael then rambles off a short list that Luke jots down into his notes app since he doesn’t have a pen or anything with him. He assures his friend he’ll come drop off the odd collection of snacks and things (“They have to be the dinosaur shaped ones. I swear Luke they do taste better.”) once he finished up his shop of real groceries.

Luke wanders around the produce, picking out what fruits and veggies he wants to have around for the week. He takes his time finding the apples without the bruises, bananas that will be the perfect amount of ripe by midweek, some leafy bunches for the salad he’s been assigned to bring for the breakroom potluck on Tuesday. He’s checking out some strawberries that he thinks might be nice to toss into the mix too when a human sized figure appears in the corner of his vision.

It’s a man around his size (in similar cozy clothes) facing away from him. He’s got hair the opposite color to Luke’s bleached blonde. His messy black curls are pulled back into a tiny bun that mirrors Luke’s own. The other man is broad and has a tattoo of a bird across the back of his neck, just barely visible above the collar of a faded blue sweatshirt. The tattoo is one that seems oddly familiar to Luke, as though it belongs to someone he knows. The man begins to wander off toward the bakery section of the store though and Luke shrugs off the recognition, figuring it might be someone he’s seen around a waiting room in the hospital at some point. He settles on some strawberries and starts pushing his cart in the direction of the deli and meats.

As he stares at the different packages of chicken and breakfast sausages, he can’t help but think back on the man he saw though. There was something achingly familiar about him, and more than just the tattoo. He can’t shake the thought for some reason and finds himself jumping in surprise when he feels his phone buzz once again in his pocket.

He doesn’t even have to look to the screen to know that it’s Michael calling again to add something to his list. In fact, he happens to even know the items that his friend failed to mention the first time he called. Luke presses the accept button and lifts the phone to his ear.

“Froot Loops and the character shaped fruit snacks?”

“The superhero ones, if they have them please!”

Luke continues around the store, grabbing all the bits from his list (and Michael’s 12 year old boy list) and eventually lands in the dairy section. He grabs the yogurt he’s been mixing granola into for breakfast lately and some butter for the cookies his mom sent him a recipe for. Only thing left in terms of food is cereal milk and coffee milk (2% and oat, respectively, of course). When he looks up from the list to make his way over to the fridges containing the plethora of milks, he is faced once again with the familiar stranger.

Except this time, as he catches just the briefest glimpse of the man’s face, of his hazel eyes and strong jawline, he realizes this isn’t a stranger. Very much not a stranger. It’s Ashton Irwin, the host of at least three of those reality dating shows he forces Michael to watch with him on the weekends since he can’t watch them when they air live on Monday and Tuesdays.

Or, well, he was the host of all of those shows until about two months ago.

Because Ashton Irwin has been dead for two months due to a freak heart attack while on vacation on some remote island.

Luke glances away from him for a moment in a panic. Has he completely lost it? Have the late nights finally gotten to him and he’s starting to actually see things that don’t exist? Was Calum right all along and the store really is haunted? (Though it's a little lost on him why a star TV host would want to haunt a grocery store. And not even a good one like that Whole Foods in Downtown.)

Then he realizes that perhaps he was just wrong. (Though now that he thinks about it, he very much remembers liking an Instagram picture of that tattoo on Ashton Irwin’s account a couple years back.) He’s far enough down the aisle from him that he can chance a look at the man without being caught. So, slowly, Luke turns again just slightly to look toward him.

It’s the hair that left him not immediately making the recognition. His hair has been dyed black, a stark contrast to his signature dark red but definitely a change that likely doesn’t draw as much attention. The sweatshirt he’s paired with black skinny jeans is pretty baggy and it’s a damn shame because Luke knows he has the arms of a god.

(Something Luke knows from the tabloid covers he glances at from time to time at the pharmacy and the summer version of the show that Ashton hosted, of course. He most definitely has never searched up his name + ‘biceps’ before. Never.)

But despite the obvious attempt to match the look and aesthetic of ‘2am grocery shopper’ he's still very unmistakably Ashton Irwin.

As Luke grapples with this new knowledge that apparently this person he thought was dead is not dead and also apparently goes to the same grocery as him, he fails to notice that Ashton has turned to face him and that he is still staring at him in shock.

Very quickly, Ashton’s face comes to mirror Luke’s expression and he’s rushing toward the blonde in a state of terror.

“Please don’t say anything,” he gasped in a hushed voice. The accent similar to his own that Luke has grown used to hearing on his TV sticks out some in his panicked words.

“How? I - uh? Are you,” Luke trips over every syllable that comes out of his mouth as he attempts to let his brain wrap around the situation. “Are you a ghost?”

The feared look of the black haired man actually fades some as he lets a quiet giggle escape (a very cute giggle, if Luke is being honest). “I’m, uh, not a ghost. No. Though I guess that does kind of accurately explain what I’m trying to be.”

Now Luke is even more confused. Based on the statement, he obviously wasn’t making up all of the tabloid stories he had seen about Ashton dying but something isn’t adding up to the present moment. “I don't-”

“Listen, if you’re going to go tell the press, can you at least give me like,” he glances down at his phone screen displaying the time. “2 hours to get back out to my friend’s place where I’ve been hiding?”

It’s now Luke’s turn to laugh. “You do realize if I go to some paparazzi or something and tell them I saw deceased Ashton Irwin wandering around my grocery store trying to decide between hazelnut and cashew milk they would just laugh in my face, right?”

The statement causes Ashton to look down at his hands to the milks in his hands. He sighs down at the cartons before tossing both of them in the cart. “Guess you’re not really wrong.”

“Is someone pulling some kind of long-winded, over the top prank on me right now? Am I being punk’d?” Luke asks, his head tilting some in a way that would normally have Michael making fun of him for the child-like behavior. “Because I know for a fact that I am not worth that much effort.”

The questions have Ashton smiling a bit again and Luke suddenly finds himself wanting to say increasingly dumb things so long as it’ll keep the hazel-eyed man smiling. “No, no. Not at all. I just,” his smile falters some, leaving his lips still turned up but his eyes drop some. “I started to get a little sick of the world and the world started getting a bit sick of me, I think.” Luke wonders if Ashton knew just how heavy his words feel.

He scoffs then, as if hearing Luke’s silent question. “Wow, sorry that was really dramatic,” Ashton shakes his head a bit before continuing. “Hi, I’m Ashton.”

Luke looks down to the tanned arm being stretched out toward him. He lifts a hand from his shopping cart and wraps it around Ashton’s. “I’m Luke.”

Ashton brightens again as he shakes his hand. “Well, Luke, you’re the first person other than my current landlord of sorts that I’ve come across since literally dying in the eyes of the media. So I guess I owe you an explanation? Since it seems like you’re familiar with that media viewpoint?”

Ashton moves to start pushing his cart in the direction of another area of the store but peers over his shoulder and gestures with his head to follow him. Luke quickly reaches into the fridge on his left to grab the rest of his dairy before catching up to him. “Well, you really don’t owe me anything. I don’t know you beyond what I see of you on my TV screen,” Luke wonders then if maybe he should have played it a bit cooler and not told the cute, presumed dead TV star that he watches his shows. “But I am a bit confused by whatever is going on and would like to hear anything you’re willing to share.”

“Cute and polite,” Ashton muses, avoiding Luke’s eye as he continues forward toward the packaged food aisles. “You’re already checking boxes, Luke.”

Some kind of intelligible noise falls from Luke’s lips as he feels a blush rush up to his cheeks because he’s flirting with him. Ashton only laughs and starts his story.

“Well Luke, you seem to be aware of what I did for a living up until about 2 months ago. I’ve been doing this job for like, about 5 years and before every new season of anything, there’s all these big network and programming meetings about production and filming and such. And every single time, I get hounded by our ratings people because I apparently don’t do enough to instigate and promote drama. Like my contract was getting threatened like three times a year because rather than trying to make peoples’ lives miserable, I just want to help them fall in love.

“And so at this particular meeting, about two and half months ago, just before the ‘accident’,” he punctuates the word with air quotations. “I got the boot. Ratings from the previous season were down by 3% and all of the uppers decided it was because of my congeniality and not the fact that the guy they chose for the season was a complete dick.

“So that night I have to host the red carpet stuff for an awards show. And I’m talking with all these glittery people who also do TV work and it suddenly hits me, harder than it ever has before, that every single person I’m speaking to would never even bother to smile in my direction if they didn’t know who I was. If I was just a plain old guy, the kind of guy I was back in school before I signed on to the shows, they probably wouldn’t pay me a single bit of kindness. So I decided, right then, as I was talking to some Grey’s Anatomy actor, that I wanted to get out.”

He turns into the chip aisle then, and Luke follows close behind. “You decided you wanted to step away from television and your first idea was to fake your own death?”

Ashton laughs as he reaches for a couple tubes of Pringles. “It was more than that,” he starts as he tosses the tubes into the cart. “I wanted to escape celebrity all together, not just the world of television. A friend from back home that I would trust with my life had this cabin kinda out in the middle of nowhere in this forest and he only ever uses it for like, two weeks in the summer and said I could camp out there until I find a way to get back to Australia undetected to live at the house I bought over there a few years ago. My manager helped with all the media stories and such. And two months later, here we are.”

“That’s insane,” Luke shakes his head as he speaks, reaching for his own tube of Pringles as he realizes it's been quite awhile since he got his hand stuck in a Pringle tube so why not?

“The journey is a bit wild, I will agree, Luke, but the life I’m living right now is much more enjoyable than faking it every damn day.”

Luke shakes his head (and ignores the fluttery feeling he keeps getting when Ashton says his name). “No, I mean it’s insane that I am somehow the first person that’s caught you.”

Ashton’s brows perk up at the statement. “Oh yeah no, I’m also pretty surprised by that. Figured I would have had to pay off a lot of people by now to keep them quiet.”

They’ve both pushed their carts up toward the self check out how and start scanning away at their items. Luke looks up halfway through his cart and catches Calum giving him a look from a little ways away. He’s got a suggestive look on his face. But thankfully it's one that reads much more as “ohhh Luke is talking to a boy” rather than “ohhh there’s a celebrity in my store”. Plus Luke knows Calum wouldn’t be the type to go rushing to media people to out the presence of dead celebrities in his grocery store at 2am so he chooses to subtly flip him off before reaching for the next item in his basket.

They’re both about done scanning and bagging up their groceries when Luke starts to realize he really...doesn’t want this little bit of time he’s spent with Ashton to end yet. And given his lack of normal human interaction during daylight hours as of recently, he’s a bit out of practice on the whole asking someone to extend a conversation beyond the grocery store aisles. He drops his bags back into his cart to roll back out to his car and as he watches Ashton perform the same action the words just sort of leap from his mouth. “Hey do you, uh, have anywhere to be right now?”

Ashton gently places a bag containing some produce into his cart before turning to Luke, a teasing smirk resting on his lips. “Luke, it’s 2am and I’m presumed dead to everyone but about 4 people,” he catches that Luke still looks somewhat nervous (something he would later reflect on to tell him just how damn cute it was) and continues. “So I’ve got just about all the time in the world.”

“Want to come to mine for lunch? We could make something and watch a show or keep chatting or something?” he asks, tentatively.

He watches as Ashton’s face shifts a bit, obviously confused by some part of what Luke’s just said. “Why would you ask if I’m free now if you were wanting to make lunch plans?”

Luke realizes his request requires some explanation for people that live during normal human hours. “Oh, because I have lunch at about 3am. Because I work nights. So right now feels like,” he pauses a moment, trying to decide and calculate what time this would have been for him before taking his job. “It feels like about 11am-ish for me right now. So close to lunch time.”

They’re out in the parking lot now and Ashton just stops for a moment beside Luke in the middle of the lot and looks up at him for a moment, a smile spreading across his face, his dimples, ones that Luke had grown used to seeing on his TV screens over the last few years, increasingly deepen. “Lunch sounds nice.”

Ashton follows Luke back to his apartment (and to the brief stop he makes at Michael’s where he ignores the comments about the man parked in the car behind his) and they park in the garage, carrying their groceries in their arms up to his unit. They each deposit their cold and frozen items into Luke’s fridge and he pours them each a glass of water as Ashton takes a seat at his kitchen counter. Luke sips from his glass as he watches Ashton glance around his kitchen and living room.

“I try to keep it cozy,” Luke explains as he reaches into a cabinet for a couple pots and pans. He migrates over to his sink to fill a pot with water to boil. “Needed it when I first started the working at night thing and I needed to find a way to force myself to sleep when the sun was up. Gonna make some pasta and chicken thing, that cool?”

Ashton smiles warmly from his place at the counter. “Sounds lovely. You mind if I use that?” he points to the opposite corner of the space where a black Keurig machine sits. “I don’t often do this whole living like normal in the night thing.”

Luke laughs at the comment on being nocturnal. “Go for it.”

He turns back to the pan of chicken, chopping it up and moving it around some before turning to a different burner and tossing in a few things to make a garlic sauce. He can make maybe two things that qualify as meals rather than just large portioned snacks so he’s opted for one of those since he so rarely has company.

“What do you do then that’s got you up all through the night?” Ashton asks as he opens the cabinet above the coffee machine pulling down a bright yellow mug. The color suits him, Luke thinks. “You work in tech support or something?”

“Thankfully very far off from that,” Luke starts with a giggle. “I’m absolute garbage with computers. I work the nurses’ desk for the recovery wing at one of the children’s hospitals. It’s a lot of checking and distributing charts, ordering things for the nurses, talking to parents when they want more logistical updates on their child’s care there. Sometimes I get to help entertain the kids who get to go out and about. Yesterday I let them request songs to play for awhile and then we had show and tell.”

“God, you’re like something out of some cheesy movie, huh?”

Luke turns to see Ashton smiling up at him, his arms crossed at his chest as he leans against the counter to face him, the coffee machine whirring to life behind him. Luke bites at his cheek to avoid an entirely too large smile to spread across his face though he knows he can’t help the blush painting it’s way across his nose and cheeks. “It’s a good job. Even worth the whole graveyard shift situation.”

Ashton grimaces at the end of Luke’s reply. “Night shoots used to kick my ass. There is nothing in the world more terrifying than slightly drunk women in hot pink crying over some complete asshole rejecting them after a cocktail party at 2am.”

“Was there anything about it that you liked, though?” Luke asks after he turns down the heat to let the sauce simmer for a bit. He watches Ashton stir some milk into his mug that he retrieved from the fridge.

“Of course,” Ashton answers quickly, in a tone that projects honesty rather than just being used to answering the question. “I got to travel to places I would have never made it to otherwise, meet people that I considered heroes growing up, provide for myself and my family. And for a while that’s why I just dealt with the bull shit. But I started to realize I was working my ass off for all of that good stuff I was getting. That I didn’t have to deal with things in exchange for those things that were mine because of my work.”

Luke isn’t quite sure what to respond to that. Because he’s right, the logic is obvious and sound on all of it. As he’s trying to formulate a response though, Ashton cuts in again. “Though I guess maybe that’s a pretty privileged logic I-”

“No, don’t,” Luke cuts him off. “You shouldn’t justify the unfair parts of your job like that. You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your own values about the way people should be interacting with one another for the sake of drama for good TV ratings. You don’t owe anything to anyone who doesn’t actually give a shit about you as a person. I’ve known you for like two hours and it already just baffles me why someone wouldn’t want to know who you are behind the stage makeup and scripted lines.”

He watches as Ashton lifts the mug to his lips, pink cheeks peeking out from each side (he wonders if the change in color comes from the heat of the mug or the words he’s just said). He lowers the mug and his lips lift into a lazy smile. “See now I’m starting to wonder if I’m actually dead. Your kindness is angelic.”

Luke hasn’t a single clue how to respond to that so he gives the hazel-eyed man a small smile before returning to his saucepan. Ashton shifts the conversation then, asking Luke more about his job before telling him about the gardening he’s taken up since being stuck out in the middle of nowhere on his own. He shows Luke pictures of his herb garden and points out each one as he names it. As he starts putting food into bowls, Luke offhandedly mentions how he’s always wanted to grow lavender but tending to plants when you sleep through the sunshine makes gardening difficult. He drops a fork into a bowl and when he turns to hand it to Ashton, Luke watches as he hits the “Add to Cart” option on an Amazon page for lavender seeds. His heart does some kind of funny rhythm as butterflies burst in his chest. Their eyes meet as Ashton locks his phone and looks up to him.

“Pretend you didn’t see that, I want it to be a surprise,” Ashton whispers between the two of them, his right eye winking up at Luke as he accepts the bowl.

“So this is going to be happening again then?” Luke muses as he grabs his own bowl and walks toward the living room. Ashton follows behind him. “I should plan for future early morning lunches with a dead celebrity?”

“I know it comes with some amount of risk for both of us but,” Ashton looks down toward his feet, scratching at the back of his neck as he tries to come up with the right way to phrase things. Luke turns to face him as he hears the hesitation in his voice. “I really want to see you again. This has been nice. And not just because you’re the first person I’ve spoken to other than my mother in two months. I...want to know you, Luke.”

Luke smiles tiredly, feelings the earliness of the hour in a way that he hasn’t in quite some time. He watches as Ashton’s fingers fidget with a string hanging from the end of his sweatshirt, obviously nervous about what he’s just admitted to the man he’s only just really met, still. Luke reaches forward for his hand, tangling their fingers together as he squeezes his palm against Ashton’s. It feels nice to be close to someone like this. It’s something he didn’t realize he was missing out on while only really living in the night.

“I think you’re worth the risk, Ashton.”

He watches as Ashton looks down to their intertwined hands, Luke’s eyes following to the same place. His hands are pale from the lack of much sunlight other than what he gets at sunset when he goes out to take his walk after waking. Ashton’s is warm and tanned, likely from the sun he gets from days in his secret garden hideout. He barely knows this man, apart from the apparently highly curated version he’s seen on screen. He wants to know the Ashton that speaks like sunshine and loves love enough to lose his job over. He wants to know the steps he knows he’s skipping in his story right now that led to him faking his own death. So it’s no surprise that the next words have him smiling bright enough to light up the early morning they found each other in.

“I think we’re worth the risk, too.”

#lashton #lashton fic #i honestly have been staring at this for so long i can't even tell if i like it anymore #i had to end it in domestic fluff i am SORRY #i have no idea how to end fics otherwise #this is Such a funny au though #like there were def better ways to do it but it was fun #esp for never having given AU a shot before #wow we're rambling in the tags anyone surprised? anyone?#also almost made the title a line from when the day met the night by patd but decided against it #i picked this title on the 1d anniversary and i feel the need to honor My Men

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sarcasticgaypotato · 4 years

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Another ChellDOS prompt fic as a thank you gift! I wasn’t given anything too specific to work with, just fluffy GLaDOS content. I hope it is enjoyed!

This wasn’t going to be difficult.

In the vast expanse of tasks that would be considered difficult- great feats of science, trying to make ATLAS and P-Body useful, not killing humans with deadly neurotoxin- this would not rank even close among them.

People made cakes all the time.

Aperture made cakes; with merely a press of a button, there would be an aesthetically perfect, mostly nontoxic, baked good just waiting for a deserving test subject to consume it.

If GLaDOS had simply been allowed to use that process, this would’ve been over in a heartbeat, and she could’ve gone back to more important things.

But no, Chell specified that she wanted GLaDOS to make her a cake for her birthday, by hand.

GLaDOS regretted ever letting the human look at a calendar in her time down here long enough to figure out when her birthday was, and start asking for things.

Who was Chell to be making demands anyway? All she did on this date all those years ago was have the misfortune of being born; that was hardly something to pamper her over. If anything, GLaDOS ought to have used this day to thank Chell’s mother for having the common sense to abandon the lunatic not long after.

The fact that GLaDOS was obliging her didn’t mean anything. It was just easier to keep such a destructive force pacified rather than risk being murdered again.

So, as GLaDOS reluctantly resigned herself to her mobile, android form- another idea of the lunatic’s; to make it so humanoid- she set off in the early hours of the morning, given that she didn’t need to sleep. Best to get this done so that Chell could wake up, see that GLaDOS had easily completed her menial task, and then wouldn’t be pestering her about it.

That was, assuming that the smell of burning didn’t wake her up at 2am first.

Stupid test subject kitchens, with their stupidly ineffective appliances… what stupid scientist made such a terrible design choice? Whoever it was ought to be dead-

Oh, wait, they already were.

Letting that thought give her a small sliver of satisfaction, GLaDOS disposed of the smoking remains of her first attempt before turning back to the counter. That was a fluke. This time, she’d have it over and done with before she knew it.

This wasn’t going to be difficult. Right?

...

It was 10am when Chell finally got out of bed, evidently taking her birthday as an excuse to sleep in several hours later than usual. Just because GLaDOS was letting Chell under her roof didn’t mean she wanted the human thinking that she was going soft; so she made a habit of not-so-nicely waking Chell up at 7am every morning.

But this time, she hadn’t.

Chell slowly roused herself from sleep, lazily padding her way out from her room towards the rest of the living quarters GLaDOS had so graciously gifted her, no doubt to make herself a cup of coffee- another luxury, mind you.

Her wild mane of dark hair was untamed and messy as it tumbled over her shoulders, and her usually powerful stance was cheapened by the way she slouched in her pajamas. Chell looked great terrible, and on any other day, GLaDOS would’ve taken the chance to make a snide comment- or twenty- about it.

However, on any other day, GLaDOS wouldn’t have been standing in the middle of Chell’s kitchen; covered in a dusting of flour, specks of batter, and smears of frosting, her left eye twitching dangerously.

Chell had stopped dead in her tracks, blinking and staring like a slack-jawed idiot at the sight before her. “Don’t you dare say a word.”

GLaDOS brought her gaze to Chell’s, hoping that her golden glare would bore holes into her companion’s thick skull and instill some kind of fear or respect. Unfortunately, it had rather the opposite effect; as she watched Chell’s previously groggy expression perk up with a sort of sparkle in those grey-blue eyes.

‘I wasn’t going to start now.’

Oh, GLaDOS should break those hands of hers.

“I am never doing anything for you ever again, do you understand?”

GLaDOS straightened up from where she had been hunched over the mess-coated countertop, standing up to her full height as Chell came closer, that infuriatingly smug smile still sitting pretty on her lips.

‘I’m sure you won’t.’

GLaDOS wasn’t sure how Chell had adapted sarcasm into her silent communications, but she wasn’t quite sure she appreciated being on the receiving end of it.

“Well there’s your cake, so you’d better enjoy it. It’s the last one you’re getting.”

GLaDOS jabbed her finger in the direction of the confection; a black forest cake with a single, currently unlit candle, sitting rather pristine amongst the disaster that was the rest of its surroundings. GLaDOS, of course, had no intention of letting Chell find out about the remains of the past dozen failed attempts that had been sent to their graves in the incinerator.

“Of course I wouldn’t recommend you enjoy it too much, polite society tends to frown on those who eat entire cakes by themselves-”

GLaDOS found herself cut off prematurely by the feeling of warm flesh against her artificially-crafted lips as Chell clumsily pressed her mouth into what could only generously be called a kiss.

Granted, GLaDOS didn’t actually need her mouth to talk, that much was mostly for appearances- because apparently Chell found it ‘creepy’ for GLaDOS to speak without moving her lips- but she kept quiet for the few seconds that the contact lasted before Chell pulled back, licking her lips and looking more insufferable than ever.

“...What was that? Did you even brush your teeth this morning? Just because I can’t personally taste anything doesn’t mean I don’t have standards, you know.”

GLaDOS crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring the slight whirring of her internal fans working just a little bit harder as she spoke. She would’ve liked to say that this was the first time Chell had done something like this, but the truth was far from that. The lunatic was so brain-damaged that apparently she had started to impose her misguided human habits onto other, non-human entities. GLaDOS only let her do it because…

‘You had a bit of frosting on your bottom lip, I thought I’d clean it off for you.’

...Because something; she couldn’t quite remember what that reason was.

“We both know that’s far from an effective method of cleaning things.”

Chell simply smiled at her.

‘Thanks for the cake.’

GLaDOS huffed, diverting her gaze from Chell’s ridiculous expression to focus on quite literally anything else in the room.

“...Enjoy the anniversary of your birth.”

#chelldos #portal #portal 2 #glados #chell #android glados #just a reminder to anyone who is unaware #I don't do commissions #do not try to pay me for fic

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suicidalcatz · 5 years

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DOG DAYS ARE OVER : CHAP 5

AN: Hello frens! Are you having a nice sunday? In this chapter we exchange some texts. But also we make fun of Josh just because. In the next chapter, things get complicated between the three of you... I hope you’ll like it. Please feel free to comment or send me prompts!

Pairing : Jake Kiszka x Reader

Genre : College AU

Previous parts : Prologue ; Chap 1 ; Chap 2 ; Chap 3 ; Chap 4

Masterlist : here

Chapter five : New number, who dis ?

Packing never made me feel weird before. It was friday afternoon so a majority of students were going home or, like me, to their parents' place for the week end. Most of the time I'd stay in my dorm with Mandy because we had so much homework there was no point coming home at all. I already knew for a fact that I'll be locked up in my room all week end painting, drawing, and cutting paper, but I promised I'd see them since it has been a while. My parents' cooking and comfy house usually made me impatient but not this time. I knew the boys were staying on campus because they lived far away, and it gave me mixed feelings. Part of me longed for Jake, and the feeling of his touch on my wrist was still so vivid I sometimes got the impression his hand was still here. On the other hand, he and Josh were big family guys, and seeing them missing their home so much while I was reluctant to see mine made me feel like a spoiled brat. That's why instead of calling to tell my parents I wasn't coming home this week end either, I went home to enjoy every bit of it.

My mom had already made my favorite dish, and dad was excitedly chatting about this new movie he saw on tv the other day. It felt good, I could allow myself to relax a little, take a bath, hang out with some friends for an hour or two after finishing an assignment.

Sitting at my desk, I dropped the pen and stretched my back, falling back onto the chair and looking at my work. I did good this week, so the teacher didn't make me redo any of my assignments, which was very fortunate because I still had a flyer design to create. I unfolded that one Jake gave to me and took a look at all the infos, preparing a draft of my first idea. Why they didn't let the Illustration department do the visual com design was a mystery. By the look of it I bet it was the Music and Architecture dudes who made it. There was a bunch of band names thrown in the middle, what looked like a pixelled stock image of a Santa hat in a corner, « with beer ! » in a really ugly comic bubble in another, and the worst was that they though Comic Sans was an acceptable font choice. Unbelievable. That's why we can't let Architecture dudes do anything.

Creating a decent design took me a solid two hours, which was way faster than I planned. Getting up, I studied it from a distance, looking for flaws. It wasn't the best I could've done but it was pretty cool and not printed with neon yellow paper. For now, I'll rest my head for a bit and see if I can sketch the few more ideas I came up with later on. Feeling proud of my work, I took a picture to send it to Jake. It was dark and quiet outside, and one glance at the clock confirmed my thoughts on how late it was already. Biting my lower lip, I struggled. Maybe he was sleeping.

I never texted him since he gave me his number. I mean he gave it to me so we could talk about the flyers, right ? I would've been uneasy using it for another reason. Pondering whether of not I should maybe wake him up, I started pacing in my room, tidying and touching things, stuff I did when I was nervous. My arm still had some black marker on it, faded shapes and symbols vaguely resembling numbers, like an old letter with smudged ink and discolored paper. At first I didn't wanted to wash it off. Mandy and I got so excited by it we cheered together right after school, and classmates seemed intrigued by it. The cold weather didn't allow me to show too much skin so it could look like a tattoo, or a hot guy gave me his number (which was technically true). It could look like I just wrote it myself, but it was totally lame so I didn't want to think about it. Although I really enjoyed that empowering feeling of being someone's interest, at least a little, I scrubbed it hard the same evening. I didn't know if Josh was aware of it and couldn't raise suspicion in case he wasn't. It looked like we were doing something bad, and maybe we were, I had no clue. Guys had that weird rule regarding friends dating brothers and according to Netflix romcoms I was walking on thin fucking ice so I wasn't taking any risks. To be honest I don't think Josh would mind us talking but Jake seemed like a secretive guys so if he told Josh then I'll talk about it and otherwise, I won't. I'll just go with the flow and follow his lead on this, it was safer.

It was almost 2AM when I sent the pic and left my room to get a nice cup of tea/coffee after all these efforts. By the time I got back I had one new message.

« Hi to you too »

I felt my heart jump a little when I saw his name at the top of the screen, and his first text made me smile. I got so pumped by all these design ideas that I forgot to tell him it was me. The picture made it clear enough, though, but maybe it was a bit rude of me. Taking a sip of hot tea/coffee before putting the mug on the night table, I sat on the bed, eyes still on my phone, thinking of an answer. It took me maybe too long because I kept on rereading it to be sure I wouldn't embarrass myself with a typo.

« Hi, sorry. So what do you think ? »

The phone was threwn on the blankets and I turned on the tv to make me think of something else than his future reply. Saying that I was confident would be half-true. The design was good or so I thought so, but then again tastes were all too subjectives and art was tricky. He had all the right to hate it, I wouldn't take it personally (well at least not a hundred percent...). Idly watching a re-run of some old sitcom, I continued to quietly empty my cup and switch channels without really paying attention when I heard my phone buzz and let everything down to grab it.

« I got to admit you were right, our flyers sucked, this one looks fantastic »

And maybe my cheeks started turning pink. Compliments on my art meant a lot, more than those on my personnality or physic. It was really rewarding to have someone enjoy something you created from your own hands. It felt better than any other flattery, so the reply came naturally.

« I'm so glad you like it. I had a few more ideas in stock just in case »

His next message came so fast this time that I didn't even put down my phone yet when I felt it vibrate in my palm.

« Thank you for this, I really appreciate it. I'll owe you one. »

His sweet personality made a smile spread across my face. I took the flyer in my hand again, studying it. The number of bands playing this day was surprisingly high. Some of them I knew because I either heard people talk about it, or knew the guys playing. One especially because they kept rehearsing their rap lyrics in the dorms for everybody to enjoy, which I didn't since they started loudly singing at three in the morning and ignored all my complaints about the noise of their boombox. But most of the bands, no, I didn't know. I continued watching intently the names of the bands playing as if I'll have an epiphany and guess which was Jake's. Giving up, I took my phone again to tap.

« Don't sweat it, I'm glad to help. So... which one are you... ? »

Again, the reply was faster than the first texts we exchanged, despite the late hour.

« You mean the band ? Guess you'll have to come and find out »

I raised an amused eyebrow at this. Getting cocky, aren't we ?

« Alright then, Mister Mysterious, I'll wait and see. »

« You won't regret it. », replied Jake, and for some reason my face started heating up again.

We didn't speak for several minutes, I didn't know what to say now that the topic was closed, and I had nothing to add to it. Switching channels and drinking tea/coffee didn't gave me much help either, at this hour it was either old re-runs, or tv shopping. My eyes looked at the digital alarm clock, and it was almost three in the morning. That's how I knew what to write next.

« I just thought about it, but didn't I wake you up ? »

He was fast as ever again this time, probably wide awake and without anything to do.

« No, don't worry. Rehearsing with my brothers. I'm taking a break until Sam and Josh stop arguing and find a compromise for the new song. Our friend Danny's being the peace keeper once again, I left him alone on the battlefield and went out for a smoke. »

The war metaphor made me chuckle lightly, causing my imagination to run wild. The thought went through my mind that I couldn't believe they would argue, but since they were brothers it was normal I guess, even if they seemed pretty close. Close enough to form a band together at least. I never saw Josh angry, but he had a very vivid temperament, so it wasn't really much of a surprise either. My mind wandered a bit, and I briefly wondered how Jake looked in a heated argument. Probably hot, but also intimidating. He had that kind of quiet aura that seemed like it could become suddenly agitated, like a spotless watercourse that got troubled by the rain or rocks that ricocheted on it. I couldn't explain it, but it was how my limited knowledge of him perceived it.

My phone buzzed again, and this time it was a picture that made me snort in the ugliest way possible. It was a very unflattering close up of a moody and clearly unamused Josh who looked like he was in the middle of scolding Jake for doing whatever he did that got him upset. More of it came, one after the other, for my greatest amusement, and by looking at them in order I could see his actions and movements, like a flipbook of ugly pictures of an angry Josh wearing a colorful dyed t shirt and ample pants that I assumed were his pajamas. The last one got me shaking with laughter, poor Josh looked awful, in a middle of what I assumed was a menacing speech for Jake to stop his bullshit, with an eye half closed and his mouth stuck the weirdest twist of the lips humanly possible. I saved this one as blackmail material, might be helpful in the future.

I didn't even know what to respond to that, they all radiated such chaotic energy it was splendid. Jake was quicker, and sent me a text this time, saying Josh threw his slipper at his face and that he was lucky he hadn't had the tambourine in his hands at that moment.

« I guess rehearsal is over for today, hopefully they'll make up their minds about the song tomorrow. Thanks again for the flyers, see you on monday, we'll print them. »

I never knew I'd be that impatient to go back to school before meeting him.

#gvf fic #gvf x reader #gvf imagine #gvf fanfic #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka imagine #josh kiszka fic #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet #jake kiszka

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taehyung-the-baehyung · 7 years

Text

for science

◦ pairing: reader x jimin

◦ rating: m

◦ word count: 7.7k

m a s t e r l i s t

Absurd. Absolutely fucking absurd. It was 2am during finals week and the cafe was out of coffee? You had some colorful words for the person responsible. Dragging yourself up the stairs with sleep-ridden eyelids, you muttered curses under your quickened breath. You clenched and unclenched your fist. It was safe to say that your fifth espresso shot had officially just worn off. Despite the troubling rate of heartbeat and the fact that your hand was shaking all on its own, the subtle pounding of a migraine lingered between your temples in demand for something to keep it awake.

There was still a menacing stack of papers left to grade. If something could pull you away from it all, you would have been thankful. It was almost nauseating, actually, how much work you had yet to complete. Who the hell said grad school was a good idea? The urge to scream rippled in the back of your throat, tempting you to let everything out and just empty yourself into time and space.

It did you no better to return to the study room –the very cramped one that you had booked privately for the entire day– to find a regretfully familiar face emptying his bag across from your belongings. “What do you think you’re doing?” You felt lightweight as the angry jitters travelled through your body. The heavy door slammed shut behind you. It sent a deafening sound cracking through the library.

“Well, look who it is…” he smirked, but only with his eyes. His face was otherwise expressionless as he stilled himself just to gather his eyes from your breasts. You certainly weren’t wearing anything stunning; it was finals week, and frankly, it wasn’t your style. The university t-shirt hung loosely around your frame, and your joggers hardly gave him much to work with. That being said, he had already made it very clear that he really loved your ass. Hell, he had practically memorized the outlines of your body. He was only curious to know how right he was.

“Jimin, I booked this room.” You were trying to stay calm. He was in his teaching uniform, the fancy prep-school blazer hooked over his body with only a single button holding it together. The velvety blue fabric nestled into his muscled body in a way that you had to objectively acknowledge as attractive. Still, this was Park Jimin, the most aggravating and shamelessly brazen man you had ever had the displeasure of acquainting. He wasn’t allowed to stay, and you certainly weren’t going to let him be your distraction. “Get out.”

“Call it fate,” he shrugged indifferently, releasing the button of his blazer with one hand. He braced his chest forward as he pulled his arms out of the thing. The thin white shirt he wore underneath was snug against his pecs, and only half buttoned to tease the delicious curves of his collarbone and the slender slope of his neck. Jimin threw the blazer on the nearby chair and continued to place stacks of papers on the opposite table, only stealing a glance through his lashes. “I booked it too. It’s a room for two, you know.”

You seemed to wither on the spot. With one hand, you dug circles into your temples. This was simply not worth it. You had too much work to do, and not enough time to do it. Jimin was the last thing you needed right now. Slowly, and with a sigh, you began piling your things into your bag.

“Oh, come on!” He seemed entirely too amused.

“Jimin, I am not in the mood for your bullshit right now.” The hostility gripped your words with an acidic tone.

Jimin could not help but wonder if he was truly that despicable to you. He was attractive, nothing short of pleasing to the eyes. His mere presence was enough to calm a thousand storms, at least that’s what he believed. You had always turned him down so adamantly, but he could tell by the way your eyes sparked when you looked at him –and not his face– that you were simply resisting. You were denying yourself a whole world of pleasures he could offer you, and he was more than happy to give it. He just wanted to know why you were so prideful in saying no to him. He was a catch. “You’re seriously going to leave because I’m here?”

You hummed, lips tight in a fake smile. “You're always staring at my ass anyway, so why don't you just be a good boy and keep doing that in silence and watch as I continue to walk away from you.” You zipped the bag, holding it close to your chest. The relentless thudding of your chest made you reconsider turning on your heel away from him. It was Jimin, after all. And you had a type.

You stepped towards the door, hardly even catching sight of the knob before Jimin scrambled from behind the table. He stretched his arms out, creating a wall between you and the door with his body. “Wow, I’m offended.”

“We both know what it is that you actually want.” It had only taken a glance for Jimin to have decided that he wanted to fuck you. And Park Jimin was not one for subtlety.

He had always been headstrong about the things he wanted, whether that was girls, or jobs. It wasn’t even the worst part that he got them. It didn’t matter who was getting hurt, who was standing in the way– they became forgotten scraps as soon as he moved on to the next shiny thing that caught his eye. And you were all too familiar with that feeling of being left behind for a new plaything; Jimin was bad news in the same way. So, you stayed away.

“I will save us both the time and tell you that it is not happening.” You took a step forward only to meet Jimin’s hand on your shoulder, pushing you back.

“That’s not exactly what I expected when I went through all that trouble to get the kid at the front desk to let me book this room with you.” Jimin clicked his tongue. Jimin had always made it clear that he was interested in you. Still, that didn’t stop him from fucking every other TA, and then some. It only made you confused and angry. How could someone so capable and intelligent be such an ass? Fuckboys were overrated, and they never changed. You just weren’t up for it. Not again.

“Oh, my bad,” you mocked an apology, swatting his hand away. “Did you want me to drop to my knees with joy upon seeing you? Beg for your cock in my mouth like a pretty little slut. Is that what you wanted?”

Jimin’s plush pink lips fell apart in surprise at your words. Having managed to get him to shut up for once, you continued. “Or let me guess, you were hoping I might take one look at you in that tight shirt and just spread my legs for you, so Daddy could push his cock right in without even having to ask, right?”

It was probably the caffeine withdrawal. The sleep deprivation, even? Whatever the case, you were only half aware of the words spilling from your lips. It was the sheer frustration you were more concerned with. Every time he walked into a room, your skin crawled with disbelief. He was so smart, and it was a waste. The horror of what you were saying had struck you somewhere in the back of your head, of course, but it seemed infinitesimal in the face of everything else that occupied your mind.

Jimin, however, was more than pleased. “Daddy certainly wouldn’t deny you the pleasures of his cock if that’s what you want.” He stressed the word Daddy, stepping closer.

“Well, sucks,” you replied dryly, hissing the syllable. “I’m not interested.” You were already well enlightened by the likes of Park Jimin: smarter than you could ever be without trying, and yet useless; little regard for the feelings of others, namely you; selfish, especially in the bedroom; and most of all the bastard would tell you he loved you and then turned around and fuck a dozen girls without blinking an eye– that too in your bed.

But, that was your ex– you had to remind yourself. This was Jimin. Still, with the same attitude, the same smugness, hell, even the same sense of style, it was hard to arrive at any other conclusion: Jimin was no different than your ex, and he was not to be trusted.

“You’re right, how is that fair?” Jimin mused. “Life is all about give and take. I should give before I take, huh?” He dipped his head lower, eyes fixed on your mouth, mimicking the movements of kissing you without actually touching your lips. “I should bend you over that desk, press my fingers into that sweet cunt of yours, right? Leave my handprint on that perky little ass, have you cumming all down your thigh... Is that something you want?”

“Not in the slightest,” you said. You kept the stone cold glare on your face, but fuck, you couldn’t unhear his words. In fact, they seemed to echo louder in your mind. He spoke with fatigue tangled in his breath, the raspiness of his voice leaving an unsettling warm sensation trickling through your core.

“Damn, baby,” he hummed, daring to stroke a finger down your arm, his touch feather-light. “You don’t know what you’re missing.” His soft digits climbed over yours, so tightly clenched around the handle of your bag. Your grip loosened with his touch. He smirked.

“You’re not the type of guy who could satisfy me. Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you warned. If you had to be objective, you had a type. He couldn’t know that you were already imagining every wild scenario possible– on top of him, under him, all kinds of sideways with him.

“You’re so uptight,” he dropped his voice to a husky whisper, sharpening the ‘t’ sound. With a swift movement, he pulled you by the thigh, sweeping your leg off the ground to hook around his waist. Your heart pounded from the fear of almost falling. He yanked the bag out of your hand, tossing it hastily behind him. Your balance rested entirely on him now. Your breath hitched against his shoulder. His lips brushed against your jawline, and his hands fully cupped your ass. “I think I could fix that, don’t you agree?”

You held your breath, because the truth was that if you let go, he might just hear how shaky it was. Sure, Jimin was attractive, and you’d even admit that he had an amazing body. Those were just unbiased observations. You were into men, and anyone with a brain could deduce from the way Jimin’s eyes widened at every passing female body that he was at the very least interested in women. So, it only made sense that your bodies were reacting to each other this way, especially when he was so close. It was science, nothing more.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, you pushed back to look him in the eye. “Don’t touch me.” With a glare, you moved to untangle yourself, but Jimin’s hands tightened around your body.

“Oh, really?” Jimin laughed at that. He laughed, because he knew you were wrong. He laughed because he could feel your thigh tensing against his side. “So you’re telling me that you’re not even a little bit aroused right now?” He squeezed the flesh of your ass, which even through your joggers, he was pleased to know was as firm as he had hoped. A shock snapped through your body. Your back arched in surprise at the sensation. “You’re telling me, you don’t want me to fuck you senseless? Right here, on this desk?”

You swallowed. The room seemed to grow hotter with each passing minute. Maybe it was just your body prickling with the warmth of his words. More likely, it was that Jimin’s hand was now very much under your shirt, and you had grown silent. How could you not? If you had to be honest, you were interested in Jimin. Okay, well, not in him, per se, but his body. God, his body was glorious. You wanted your hands all over him, but his personality was just unbearable. It was just the animal instincts programmed into every human being, you told yourself. It wasn’t Jimin. It was science.

“Oh, what’s wrong, baby?” Jimin thrust your bodies forward. The back of your thigh pressed into the edge of the desk behind you. One hand held on to Jimin; the other supported your body as you leaned against the desk, a small gasp falling from your lips. “Did Daddy manage to rile you up with all that?”

You cleared your throat, shifting in his hold to regain your own balance. “Oh Daddy, I’m so sorry to be difficult,” you pouted, batting your eyelashes, emphasizing the dulcet tone of your voice. “It’s just that…” you trailed off, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck. “I’m not like your other sluts.”

Jimin chuckled as he bent down, his lips ghosting over the skin of your neck. You pushed out a breath, tipping your head back. Jimin striped his tongue over a patch of skin. He felt warm. The heat searing in the base of your abdomen was unmistakably at the end of its patience. “Is that so?”

You weren’t sure where your sanity had gone at a time like this. “I’m not going to ask you to pin me down and pound your cock into me like a little bitch. I’m not going to stick out my tongue and ask you to cum all over it so I can swallow it like a good little girl.” You spoke fast. You were supposed to be holding your ground, walking out, and grading some more papers. Not this. God, anything but this.

“When are you going to tell me what you are going to do?” Jimin’s lips hovered directly over yours now, and he looked positively delectable like that: lust strung up in his eyes. He wanted you. And, you knew it.

When you realized just what was happening, you should have pushed yourself away. You were supposed to be yelling at him, or something. You sat up on the desk, finding yourself level with Jimin. Looking at him now, it wasn’t hard to understand why he had so much confidence. The way he violated you with just his gaze was enough to temper the red flags that came with his terribly overcompensating attitude. His arms enclosed you against the table, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to tell him to move. What could be the worst thing? His breathing had quickened, becoming more audible as his panting lingered in your ears.

Hypothesis, you drew up a mental note. Park Jimin is an asshole and he is not worth it. But what kind of chemistry major would you be if you didn’t at least test that hypothesis. For science, you decided. “I’m one of those girls who likes to see men on their knees.”

Jimin paused, lifting his head to study your expression. His eyes were wide and you could see the flickers of grey spilling in his irises. Even coated in their layer of greed for your body, his unrelenting gaze seemed to gather something pure. He was uncertain of just how serious you were. You threw him off his game. He liked that. And then, his lips were on yours.

His urgency was clear in the way he tugged at your clothes, keeping you against him. You could feel his length push against your stomach. He muffled the surprised sound that rolled off your tongue. You could stop this at any time, you knew you could. If you wanted to, that is. His fingers bunched the cloth of your t-shirt against your sides as he tilted his head into the kiss. You pressed your palms to his arms, wanting to pull back, but he just felt so good. He had no particular taste really: no sweetness, no toothpaste, no chapstick. You just felt the wet warmth of his tongue, and the friction of his roughness against you. Turning your head sideways with a gasp, you panted out his name. “Jimin…” You knew how this would end, so why even get into it? This was a bad idea. Just walk away, you told yourself.

“Fuck–” he grunted, moving his mouth sloppily along your neck. Jimin had always found you interesting, somewhat of an enigma. What started as a simple curiosity to your resistance became a craving for your body, for your tongue, for that incredible ass. Now, he was just curious what more that mouth of yours had in store for him. And he would do anything to find out. Call it an experiment, but he wanted to test you out in every way you would let him. He wanted to fuck you, and he knew that despite being a little tougher to get into, you were just like every other girl: easy.

Jimin’s hands were firm as they grabbed all over your body. He couldn’t get enough of you. He wasn’t sure what else it would take to get you to cave for him. You were clear about you wanted, and he knew you were a stubborn one. “Fine,” he grumbled. Maybe he was wrong about you. Unlikely, he thought.

Watching Jimin carefully, you wondered what exactly he planned on doing. ‘Fine’ what? You could hardly think straight. Then, he sunk to his knees. Park fucking Jimin was sitting in front of you on his knees. And it only got better. “Let me fuck you,” he growled, looking up.

Your breath caught in the back of your throat, somewhere between a scoff and a gasp. Someone was certainly determined. It might have been against your pride to sleep with someone like Jimin, but if becoming another name on his list of women he had fucked was what needed to happen for you to get on top of that body of his, and to cum by the hands of someone else for once, you weren’t going to consider it twice. Truthfully, you were too horny to resist him any longer.

You nodded. “Only cause you look so pretty on your knees like that.” The wonders this would do for your ego were unthinkable right now.

Jimin hooked his fingers around the waistband of your pants, yanking them down in one motion with your underwear to your ankles. They slid down your skin without hesitance. You held your breath. The muscle of his thighs pressed tightly up against his pants, and you wondered how the seams were so strong to hold it together. Fuck, his thighs were hot.

“Can’t satisfy you, huh?” Jimin practically snickered. You blinked out of your trance, eyes searching for his face– and getting stuck lingering everywhere else. “I can smell you,” he said. With two fingers he dragged along your cunt, from entrance to clit. He felt cold against your heat and the chilling sensation made your breath hitch. But, you couldn’t let it get to his head.

“You’re the one on your knees ‘cause you want to fuck me so bad, remember?” It felt necessary to remind him of that much at least.

Jimin’s touch was gentle, but tormenting with his snail’s pace. It was as if he had no rush; his sense of urgency had vanished. And, of course, it hadn’t. Here he was, kneeling right in front of your pussy and his dick feeling strained in his pants. Oh, the urgency was there alright. It was just that he was damn well going to savor the moment when you finally caved in for him.

He seemed focused, falling silent as he pushed two fingers apart, spreading your lips. You struggled to push out a breath as the heat stirred painfully in the pit of your stomach. “So pretty…” Jimin mumbled, cupping his hand over you. “You’re going to be a good little bitch for me, I can tell.” You couldn’t even muster the strength to yell at him for that one. His cold hand sent an uncontrolled whimper from your mouth. It wasn’t him, though. It wasn’t Jimin. This was just how biology works, you reminded yourself.

Jimin smirked victoriously. “You like that, huh?” He brought his two fingers to his mouth, wetting them lasciviously. Pushing his digits in and out of his mouth, you saw the slick saliva coat his porcelain skin. You gulped. The sounds of his wet fingers slopped against his lips, and you clenched your thighs. Spit smeared along his chin as he brought his fingers to your heat. God, you were done for.

“Nuh uh,” you grabbed Jimin’s wrist. This was your game to control. “Lick.”

He looked up at you with a glare. This was already painful enough for him. Literally. His knees were beginning to grow sore, and he was suddenly more appreciative to all the women who had been in this position in front of him before. He made a mental note to be nicer to them when they were sucking him off so well while their knees dug into the floor.

“What?” You challenged. “Daddy can’t put his money where his mouth is?”

That was all Jimin needed to hook his arms around your thighs. He yanked you forward, tilting his head upwards to lick, his tongue flat. The warm wet feeling of his saliva on the back of your thigh, so close to your ass only made it better.

“Mmm…” you hummed, tipping your head back. Your hand found the back of Jimin’s neck, stroking it encouragingly as he flattened his tongue against your entrance. His hair was so thick, your fingers disappeared into the ash blonde mess. It was soft in your hands, so you kept combing through it. The grooves of his muscle scattered sparks of hot friction all along your body. “Oh fuck, just like that…” you said softly as he slid the tip of his tongue over your clit. Your hips rolled slowly with his movement, his grip on your thighs growing tighter. Having someone leave sloppy, open mouthed kisses on you never felt so good. Especially when Jimin had some notoriously plump lips.

It was a blessing and a half to have been saved from hearing the smug blathering roll off that tongue of his. This was a much better use of his mouth. The audacity in him was maybe what ticked you off the most. Just like your ex, he thought he knew everything. Still, Jimin was teasing.

Your squirming and sharp tugs of his hair hardly affected him. His pace was casual, and unhurried. Another brush of his tongue arrived at your swollen bud, his warm breath coating the sensitive area before his lips found a sense of holy ground there. Your jaw fell slack with that, head falling down to watch. He sucked and lapped his tongue across your clit with such devotion, determined to taste more of you with every leisured move of his mouth.

Your eyes drew all over him. His tongue darted out and against your cunt made you want to do all sorts of things to him. Jimin breathed from his nose, the warmth slipping about your inner thighs. He grunted every once in a while, tipping his face further upward for a better angle. His frustration was clear, and yours was slowly dissipating. He pulled you towards him, forcing you to squat slightly. You were practically sitting on his face. The scorching feeling of his fingers around your thighs was hard to ignore. “Jimi– oh,” the shakiness of your breath was not lost on him. He only seemed to hold you tighter. His fingerprints would surely last on the back of your thighs with his ironclad grip. He wasn’t going to let you go anytime soon.

Your hands lost focus, unable to keep up with the steady movement of running through his hair. Instead, they clung loosely to the collar of his shirt. It was only then that you could admit you were glad he had the same sense of style as your ex, because Jimin’s physique was just as good. His pecs pressed right up against the faint white material, leaving little to none to the imagination.

Relieving the supple skin of your thighs, Jimin moved his hands towards your center. With his thumbs, he held your lips apart. His thin-slit eyes opened to see the glorious mixture of your arousal and his saliva. He groaned against you, shaking a cry from your throat. Your pride had been holding that one in, but it couldn’t be helped any longer. Jimin just felt so good. “Ah– oh my god!”

“I hope you’re comfortable,” he chuckled, the vibration of his words buzzing against your pulsing core. The pretty pinks of his lips had been smeared entirely in a sticky mess of you. You almost came right then. You wondered why the hell you hadn’t done this earlier, then quickly reminded yourself it was because you weren’t a masochist that intended on getting hurt the same way, again. “Because –and trust me when I say this, baby girl– I’m not letting up on you until you’re begging to cum on my face.”

You couldn’t beg. You wouldn’t. Even with you fingers shaking in his hair, grabbing so violently at his shirt, with his tongue slicking along your soaked heat, you maintained that this was all to satisfy a curiosity– a hypothesis. You deserved better than Park Jimin. And despite the fact that you literally couldn’t find anyone else as interested and as determined to work for you as the infuriating smartass eating you out right now, you wanted to believe that much.

A shuddered scream tore from your throat when his palm struck your ass. The silken flesh warmed with the contact, and Jimin was grinning. He had been right. Your ass was as firm and soft as he had imagined so many times. “Use your words.” His hand struck again, branding the skin as yours. The spot was tender now as he brushed his fingers softly against it. Your back arched. “I make you feel good, don’t I?”

Gathering every ounce of pride you had left, you tipped your head back and forced out a bored sigh. “You could be doing a lot better.” Your thighs were almost fully shaking, ready to completely give into him. At this point, you just wanted him to take you over and over again. His mouth felt so good, so hot, against your throbbing cunt. You wanted him to fill you, and from the way his boner pressed against his pants, you knew he wanted it too.

“I know you’re dying to know what my cock feels like, filling you up. Just let me take you right here, on that table.” His offer was tempting...and desperate. Jimin’s panting breaths reached your core which was almost painfully throbbing now, but he was the one who was on the verge of begging now.

“Shut the fuck up, Jimin. You don’t even have a chance at getting anything until I cum.” You spoke in one breath. The decision was made before you started this; it was what you were banking this entire ‘experiment’ of yours on. You were going to get to cum.

To Jimin, your determination on the matter was just cute. With an inquisitive hum, he slipped his tongue in your entrance, pushing his thumb in figure eights over your clit. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” your voice cracked. The rough pad of his fingertip massaging your silky folds dissolved every thought that entered your mind. He was as good as he pretended to be.

Your thighs trembled from the strain of crouching ever so slightly to feel all of him. The t-shirt start stinging with heat as a thin glow of sweat beaded your skin. The thick cotton clung to your upper body; you couldn’t bear it. Watching Jimin’s full lips devour your cunt was one of the hottest things you’d ever seen– fact. Your abdomen seemed to twitch as your walls clenched tighter. Your chest caged in sobs that echoed Jimin’s name, let out only as muffled groans.

His nose began to nudge your clit as he moved his grip back around your thighs, pulling your body closer to his mouth. He didn’t want you to think you had any control. You let out a cry, your thighs burning with the pressure of your squatted position. The corners of his mouth turned upward at that; you could feel it. In a frantic, fumbling motion, you slipped your shirt up over your head. Pushing one hand up beneath your bra, you squeezed the flesh of your breast. “Don’t stop,” you choked as Jimin sped up his pace. His eyes were on you, and from this angle, he could see the way you were desperately working your breasts. He made note of that, for science, of course. “Yes!” You cracked. Your fingers were weak as they brushed limply over Jimin’s shoulder. “Keep going, oh– y-yeah– fuck!”

Hearing your voice shudder up into a higher pitch made Jimin’s stomach sear. All he could think about was how it would feel to have your pussy tight around his dick, so he was not going to waste more time trying to win this battle. “As you wish,” he said darkly.

Trails of fire seemed to set off along your body as Jimin moaned against your cunt. Something about his sweet voice scratching against the back of his throat as he lapped you up made you jerk your hips harder and harder against him. Your body grew unbearably hot by the second, sweat sticking to your skin. The shuddered screams and pants left your throat dry, and the deeper you tried to sink your nails into Jimin’s shirt, the weaker your body became. Everything fell slack, sounds disappearing altogether, and all you could feel was the tightness of your walls clenching.

You couldn’t stop screaming, couldn’t stop craning back as the orgasm shook through your body. Your hips moved in their own broken rhythm against Jimin’s mouth. The feeling of his shirt in your fists was almost numb as you trembled against him. It was intense and unending until a weak exhale came tumbling from you.

Your body felt drained and yet alive– better than any cup of coffee could do for you right now. The back of your throat felt dry, scratching with a plea for moisture. You gulped, letting out your panting breath quickly with satisfaction. So yeah, your initial hypothesis was incorrect. Like, super, totally, heavenly, and thankfully incorrect. The sex was so worth it. No big deal though, you could move on. In fact, now you had another, more fun experiment in mind.

“Now that I’ve cleaned up your mess…” Jimin stood, eyes determined as they bore into yours. He licked his lips, collecting your fluids in one, salacious move.

“Ah,” you grinned, slowly sitting up. Jimin rose his eyebrows, amused by your eagerness. “I guess it’s time to make another one.” Your voice was coarse, worn from the strangled moans and cries you so resolutely held in. You felt like you were floating, a dull ringing humming in your ear, your head swimming somewhere between euphoria and exhaustion.

“Glad we're on the same page then,” Jimin whispered, raking your hair back behind your ears. It was a rough, fast motion that was met with a curiously slow kiss. Jimin reached around your back, his hand flat against the base of your neck. He held you firmly, and for a moment you forgot that he must have been ready to cum in his pants by now. Which, for the record, would have been pretty hot. He cushioned your head as he laid you flat against the desk. When you eased at that, he grew bold.

He was just testing you, of course. How quickly were you going to let your walls down? He wasn’t surprised that it was so easy. It was a formula, really– one that he had tested over and over and over. He knew he was right. He always was. Girls are easy. Of course, this was the answer he had decided on for as long as he lived. His mother had shown him that much from all the late nights and the random men, and it had been Jimin who had to show them the door in the morning.

Brushing the coarse pad of his thumb over your nipple, he pulled away, eyes hooded to watch your reaction. The long whimper that strung out from your lips only encouraged him. You were still so sensitive, and the trembling heat in your core had yet to die down. Jimin had always been a fast learner, especially when it came to the science of making women beg and cum. He smirked at that. Jimin was going to get exactly what he wanted from you, just like he did with every other girl, and it would hardly take much.

Watching the grin grow on Jimin’s wet lips made you all the more excited for your new plan. Jimin stood straight, hands flying to the zipper of his pants before you could even see clearly again. His eyes were on you as you traced your lip with your tongue, following the zipper in his hands. Then, you hopped down from the table.

“I won’t be sucking your dick, of course.” You spoke matter-of-factly as you stood before Jimin.

Jimin blinked, trying to process your words. “Uh...what?” Nothing registered to him. His face clouded over, as though the thought of not being sucked off was unheard of, preposterous, even.

“Sit down.” You spoke clearly. It was entertaining to see him try to calculate your moves and come up with nothing. Your ex had been the same way. It must be perplexing to people like them, to be constantly proven wrong by someone you are always underestimating. How long would Jimin really put up this front? You could tell he was desperate. New hypothesis: I can make Jimin beg for me.

“What do you–” Jimin’s eyebrows furrowed together. He scoffed before he realized that you were entirely serious. You were certainly peculiar. And then, all at once, it was as though ice had run through Jimin’s body, freezing in his veins so he couldn’t move. Your hand felt so good, so warm on his length, he thought he was imagining it there before he tore his eyes away from you to look down.

“I told you I’m not like your other sluts, didn’t I?” You dragged your hand up his body, stopping at his chest. Pulling Jimin toward you by the fistful of his shirt, you felt the rush of caffeinated energy run through your stomach. “And trust me, you’ll want to listen to me.” You practically purred in his ear, melting him like butter into your hand. You imagined this was how easy it had been for other girls to get your ex to fuck them. He took a faltered step back, and then again as you stepped forward to meet him, finger pressed to his chest. If you didn’t focus so much, Jimin even almost looked like him, like your ex.

Jimin’s mind went utterly blank –something he was not used to. He felt you shift the waistband of his pants lower with your other hand, teasing his cock with grazes of your hand. His eyes fell all over your neck, which was still glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. He could still smell, and taste, you on his tongue. It was with a dizzy smile that you looked at him, lost in the high of feeling so damn good. A curious blush of pink seemed to speckle Jimin’s cheeks as he looked up at you. It must just be the taste of her, he thought. It’s not her.

He wasn’t expecting any of this, least of all you actually caving in for him and letting him eat you out. Still, somehow he felt like he was losing. The way you looked at him was more than lustful admiration and yet less than mountain-moving love. He wanted to explore you in every way possible, but suddenly he was dumbfounded at how to act around you. You weren’t actually like the girls he’d met before. You weren’t easy.

Jimin swallowed when the back of his knee hit the chair that rested against the wall. The strap of your bra was twisted, the cup haphazardly covering your breast. He stared, unable to look at you in the eye.

You smirked, your half naked form hovering all too close his body, your hand firm against his chest. “Now,” With force, you pushed Jimin into the chair, pants only half down his legs. “Sit.”

The idea of riding his thigh was more than divine a thought to you. Your ex had always been in charge in the bedroom, but one last fuck with the likes of him couldn’t hurt. Jimin was just like him in almost every way. And you were going to get him to beg for you.

You stepped forward, both legs on either side of his thigh. Reaching forward, your fingers ghosted over his buttons, quickly undoing them. Your mind was blurry with whizzing thoughts, your insides stirring uneasily with the sole contents of coffee and arousal. The room was only swaying as you got the last of his buttons, ripping the shirt open to bare his chest. In the haze, you didn’t even mind that Jimin leaned forward to press clumsy, wet kisses to your chest.

His hands tangled through yours to unhook your bra and throw it to the ground. His thick saliva glazed over the skin of your breasts, catching the cool air with goosebumps over your skin. Jimin flicked his tongue over your erect nipple, his mouth sinking over the flesh immediately. Under the vacuum of his lips, a trail of purple drops littered around the flesh.

Jimin was far from comfortable –he felt like he might explode in his underwear right now– but fuck he loved this feeling. His hair brushed against your neck as he sucked your breast, his body jerking against yours for friction, his hands rushing all over you to get something. Your hand clenched into a fist around strands of his hair as the pressure of his tensed thigh pushed against your clit.

“Fuck, Jimin…” You panted, the moan pressing against the back of your throat. With your free hand, you ran over the toned muscle of his abdomen, feeling the soft skin run under the pads of your fingers until you reached the waistband of his boxers.

The gruff sound that left Jimin was ungodly, straining through his pride and escaping with his pained urgency, and it only encouraged you. The stiff lines of his muscle pressed against your bare core as you grinded against him. Your hand traveled back up his body, hooking around his neck for support as you dragged yourself over his thigh. The breathlessness came back quickly, and the thudding in your chest makes you feel like you’re hearing things– but you didn’t stop.

“You don’t really think you can keep this up, do you?” Your hands dove under his shirt, pushing it down his shoulders and further off his body.

“What do you want me to do?” Jimin’s gaze was no longer so violating, and you almost got off again just on the fact alone. He studied you carefully, trying to get a read on just what your plan was. He had no idea.

You pressed your thigh closer to his erection, drawing a long shaky groan from him. “Beg.” You nearly spat it before crashing your lips into Jimin’s. Your pace quickened, and it did you no better when Jimin’s hands found your sides and guided you along. The kisses were messy and so so fast. Jimin’s tongue slid against yours unrelentlessly. The tight grip of his fingers around you seemed restraining and arousing all at once. You couldn’t move to the speed you wanted and yet he was pushing you along his thigh, his pants still hanging to his legs– barely.

“Goddammit, I can’t just watch you make yourself cum…” Jimin’s voice faded into something of a whine. His nails scratched roughly up your lower back as he pulled you closer to him, dragging your clit along his thigh.

“Then beg,” you murmured with a weak chuckle, tugging at his lower lip. You pushed your leg against his erection again and you’re honestly surprised that he’s lasted this long. “You’ve been so good so far.”

The sugary sweet sound of your voice was what Jimin clung to. He growled pushing his head forward to rest on your collarbone. “Fuck,” he spoke through his teeth.

“Look,” you moaned, rolling your hips faster. “Your pants are stained.” Jimin scoffed. As though he couldn’t feel the damp sensation through the fabric. He was going crazy, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to hold back. “And this feels so good…” you mewled, pressing your lips to Jimin’s neck. Your thumb idly brushed over his ear gently and the sensation drove him mad.

“God, fucking hell,” Jimin couldn’t take it any longer. “Just ride me, suck me off, or don’t– just do whatever the hell you want.” He was covered in sweat, glistening all over his skin, making his shirt damp and his body scorching hot to the touch. “I want you, okay? I want you so bad, just fucking get on me.”

“So impolite,” you made a tsk sound, nipping at his neck.

“Please!” He yelled, body growing limp. “I won’t last long.” He sounded defeated. He looked defeated. So different from the boy that walked in here, ready to fuck you against the table.

You rose quickly before dragging his pants fully down his legs. They rested in a pool at his ankles. Jimin lifted his hips and shoved his boxers down to join. His erection sprang free, coated in so much thick white arousal that you almost jumped him right then. Still, you bent down. “Don’t cum.” You warned before spitting in your hand before running it all over his hard cock.

Jimin was panting now, more sweat beading along his upper lip and neck. He whined and huffed as you spit again, smearing his cock with your saliva. His knuckles were white, clenched around the flimsy plastic arms of the chair. “Please, fuck, Jesus Christ, I can’t–” He started chanting your name, pleading and pleading with you to just do something.

Then, it all happened fast. Holding his cock in your hand, you sunk over his slick member with ease. You were both soaked and unequivocally high on each other. Your repeated whines and panted breaths grew louder as Jimin set the speed. He held your sides, thrusting up into you. You didn’t even know hips could go that fast. Your walls clenched over his member, feeling the ridges of his cock against your walls. The loud, wet slapping sounds of skin and his raspy moans seem to echo and bounce off one another. “Oh Jimin, yes–” Nothing held either of you back.

“I hate you,” he whined. “Ah– shit.” His voice rose, shaking off into a higher pitch. The vein in his neck protruded as he groaned against you. He pushed himself forward, connecting his mouth with your breast again.

The slick wet feeling of your cum spread against your inner thigh, the sloshing sound of your fluids mixing as you bounced on his cock. His fingers sunk into the flesh of your ass, sweeping up the cum from your thighs. Tension snapped in your abdomen as a steady trickle of wetness flooded between your thighs. Your jaw felt as though it locked in place, open and moaning for him. Your walls clenched around Jimin but he didn’t stop pushing up into you. He was so close.

You broke into sobs, your vocal chords trembling with something resembling his name as his rhythm became erratic. The overstimulation was almost unbearable, but god you’d never ask him to stop. Your body weakened against him as your hands travelled chaotically along his back, pulling his body against yours.

“Shit, shit, I’m going to cum–” Jimin spoke breathlessly, hardly audible over the sharp sounds of skin hitting skin as he jerked uncontrollably. His teeth lightly scraped over the patches of broken skin, lips brushing up your chest to find your jawline. You felt the hot fluid inside you as Jimin broke out a choked groan. Grinding your hips slowly around him, you milked the last of him as he floated down from his heavy sigh.

Your hands rested gently on his shoulders, unable to find the strength to do much more. You were exhausted and crashing from the caffeine, and completely fucked out. The thoughts in your head were no longer swarming, but instead memories floated tenderly. They filled your chest with so much heaviness, your throat grew sore, holding back cries.

“What was is that you said– I’m not the type of guy that can satisfy you?” Jimin recovered, softly littering pecks along your flowering bruises, as though to apologize. He didn’t know what you were thinking. He couldn’t possibly.

Looking at Jimin now, you knew it wasn’t his fault, but you couldn’t be with someone like him. You imagined all the things you could have yelled at your ex when you left him. All the things you never said to him. You never blamed him or threw anything at him when he told you he cheated again. You stayed and you stayed. And even when you had enough, even when you left, you were silent.

“So, I was wrong about that part,” you shrugged, pushing slowly off of Jimin with a small gasp. That smug grin of his took but a few minutes to return to his lips. It was painfully familiar and unforgettably brazen. “But I’m still not interested.”

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xoxothevoid · 4 years

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Dispatch #3: Something Old

Mariah pulled the white satin dress up out of the box. At first she thought the package at the front door was another sample of wedding dress fabric, or something Kit bought her for the house. She had a long day, office hours with a professor who made her anxious, and grades to turn in for the class she was TAing, and a present would have been appreciated. But she noticed her sister’s return address in New York. Set on top of the dress, an index card with the note: Sent by way of Mamma. Something old maybe. - Liz

She wasn’t holding decoration samples or shoes but her First Communion dress, sewn specially by their mother for the occasion. White satin, a tulle underskirt for subtle lift, and guipure lace over the bodice and dissipating into the skirt. Mamma had made her own dresses a long time before, in her teens and twenties before she moved to the United States. Mariah was used to her mother quickly hemming dresses or taking in the waistbands of pants Mariah was meant to grow into, but when she was nine years old Mamma pulled out the Singer machine to stitch something measured and designed just for her. Dresses took a long time to make and Mariah remembered waking up at least once around 3AM with warm lamp light shining from Mamma’s bedroom as she gently pushed the pedal along. One day of the week leading up to First Communion she took the day off from the office to stitch the guipure by hand. When Mariah came home from school, Mamma was preparing a snack with blood dried on the sole of her left sock; she had dropped her needle during the day and found it the hard way.

Mariah had spent the last couple months riffing through white dresses of satin, taffeta, tulle skirts, and even linen, standing on a platform as she was pinned and pulled and hemmed into a wedding dress. The main difference was that her mother was not making this dress — in fact, her mother had nothing to do with her upcoming wedding to Kit. Their conversations had always been sparse and tense since Mariah went to college, but when she moved in with Kit, even the 2AM Bible verses and sudden calls featuring accusatory monologues stopped cold. She was truly a lost cause.

Mariah tried to call Liz but reached her voicemail, so she texted her sister “Just tried to call, hit me back soon” and finally peeled off her jacket. She tried to ground herself through her toes, her socks, the living room carpet, but as she broke down the box and folded it off to the side she could feel herself becoming ever more angry. Liz called her back within five minutes.

“Hey,” Mariah answered and walked into the second bedroom that served as her office. She cringed at the stack of essays in front of the computer monitor. Usually on phone calls she ended up placing the phone in front of her on speaker, so she could pace around, put away dishes, or fiddle with the dog ears on papers. On especially casual calls, she would scroll through Instagram and Twitter almost blindly. But for Liz, she made herself sit in the chair and kept the phone pressed to her ear.

“You got my package?” Liz asked.

“She couldn’t send it her fucking self?”

“Mariah, she doesn’t have your address and I wasn’t about to give it to her.”

Mariah felt her ears grow hot at Liz’s loyalty even in the face of her harsh words. She put the phone on speaker and started folding a post-it note (made irrelevant three weeks ago: request edits) between her fingers.

“Sorry — sorry. You’re right. Thanks for sending it.”

The dress tradition had actually started with Liz, unfortunate for the self-proclaimed family tomboy. Mamma didn’t want her to have one of the same three dresses candidates would buy from the local dress warehouse and Liz was annoyed she would miss a soccer game that Saturday for the service. Nevertheless, she was stitched into an awful combination of poofy sleeves, a sweetheart neckline bordered by white flower buds, and a skirt almost as full as a ballerina’s tutu, complete with the white bow in the back. In her photos with Mamma, Mariah and the Bishop, she looked like she was prepared to run all the way home once the camera shutter clicked. Mariah figured that she — quietly standing still for measurements, buzzing with excitement for the dress which was thankfully less obnoxious than Liz’s — was so disappointing to their mother because she had been the wild card. She wondered where Liz’s dress was — hopefully already shredded and used for scrap.

“Of course I’m right, M. You know I’m surprised she even gave it to me, she’s pretty mad Akeem and I are going to the wedding I think.”

“You think?”

“And also that I’m in the wedding party...I mean there was something about the line between tolerance and endorsement, but I was also trying to leave before she started asking when we were getting married so —” Liz rambled on to summarize her last conversation with Mamma, her questions about who else had been invited.

When dragged from the closet unwillingly in college, their mother made it known in no uncertain terms that she never wanted Mariah to be publicly queer to the family, to wait until she was dead to move forward with marriage, and “ — if you really want to act foolish, having children and what not.” Mariah knew her aunts and uncles and cousins (and her mother) had seen her engagement online. Some liked her Instagram with no comments of congratulations, but Mariah and Liz knew which ones would not accept an invitation even if they received one. The guest list was a group of friends, and relatives ranging from progressive to skeptical.

“Claire and James and Alyssa are coming, right? Do you think their dad would?”

Mariah snorted, “Probably not, unless we told him it was an open bar.” The post-it became as small a square as Mariah could fold it into, and was grimy with the oil from her fingertips. “And also why he wasn’t invited.”

“And that’s why when I’m married, I’m doing it in Vegas,” Liz said.

Mariah threw the little piece of paper toward the back corner of the desk, where it wouldn’t be found until she swept up later that week. She would be married in two months, to the love of her life whose hands were callused and strong, but knew how to fold a fitted sheet perfectly and brought her breakfast in bed on the weekends. In the frenzy of guest lists and flowers, watching the invoices come in, she debated calling the whole thing off and running with Kit to City Hall. But she wanted a nice wedding. When she looked at herself rendered in triptych as Martha measured and pinned her dress, she remembered her First Communion ceremony — meant for all the candidates to confirm their baptism rites which most of them had undergone in infancy. To take a vow in public felt very grown up to do, and now Mariah could do so as an adult, for someone she could touch and feel and didn’t live in fear of as someone who could smite, destroy, and create. If Liz and Akeem eloped, the family would tut for only a bit, but ultimately their marriage would be recognized. Mariah didn’t want to be the auntie who didn’t have a husband but lived with a “roommate.” She wanted something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.

“Hey I have to go,” Liz said. “Let me know what you do with the dress.”

Mariah said goodbye quickly and sat in the office for a while after, letting the setting sun settle the dim light around her. In front of her, the bookshelf was filled with Munoz and Alexander, spelling out marriage as an exchange of property to re-inscribe the nation-state. She had read those passages over and over, cobbling them into papers she was surprised other people enjoyed reading. By the time Kit’s key turned in the front door, she was imagining the performance art pieces and collages that could be made from a ten-year-old’s dress, promises to God repeated into a smoky room.

#fiction

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survivorazores · 7 years

Text

Ep. 9 - "I'm an online Survivor player not a fortune teller dammit" - Francie

After eight tribals full of crackedness, wild strategy and of course puns, the Espirito and Salao tribes merged.

https://survivorazores.tumblr.com/post/163925460048/announcements

Omg I made merge I am so happy!!!! Reunited with my fellow INFP's! The only downside is that those 2 are definitely closer to each other than me :(. But I am still happy to have made it this far

I've achieved my goal of making merge at minimum so I'm happy for now. Now to not be the next one out lol

I MADE IT PAST MERGE I ALREAY SURPASSED MY EXPECATIONS

I'm so happy

MERGE!!!!! I ACTUALLY MADE MERGE!!!! I'm so happy to be reunited with Bryce!!! Amanda G and I have tea to spill and I can't wait to hear his tonight when we call. Also, the Gal Pals want to call and talk too. I have some stuff to clear up before Amanda Lynn gets called out by Gwen. I need to figure things out before things get out to everyone. I'm a little nervous.

Also, about Espirito's tribal, I almost shit myself when Bryce's name was read out. That shit was scary. BUT OMG MERGE BONDING!!!! SO WHOLESOME!!!! I'm so happy :-) This was a goal, now my next one is to win an individual immunity for myself. Let's hope I can do that. Also, I'm super excited about getting that merge idol clue. I can't wait to figure out what it is!!! AHHHHH!!!

My showmance Ashley Sarah is gone and I'm SO SAD but I'm more sad that Francie and Amanda didn't tell me how they were voting, but I'm just so excited that for at least a little while no one knew we were best friends and we got to play together, she was ROBBED and should have been the first member of the jury but it was fun playing with her and i hope she wins the record for the most votes casted against her in the season hehe. Going forward I'm going to be loyal to Will and probably only Will, everyone else is a RAT and I can't wait to get rid of Gwen still for swiping RIGHT on me.

It's merge time and the INFP's are reunited once more! I'm so happy to have us back together again. We might have to do some recruiting, though. We'll only have 3/12 votes if we go to tribal council like this. I really like Gwen, but we betrayed her by voting out Nayeli. I think we might try to get Ali and Francie on our side because Emily and I trust them, but we'll check with Bryce first. We need two more people, but we'll figure that out later. I'm also happier because now Emily's merge idol clue is able to be used for our advantage!!

https://survivorazores.tumblr.com/post/163928032843/reward-escape-room

https://survivorazores.tumblr.com/post/163928380688/merge-idol-hunt

We're all getting heckt.

Get hect.

I didn't know how much activity this challenge required (or just paying attention enough) otherwise I wouldn't have picked Gwen bc she's not on enough. Aksjdhskda. Hey, I'm an online Survivor player not a fortune teller dammit.

*Gabriel Reyes voice* D E A T H C O M E S

Can I vote out whoever created this challenge lol

The challenge ends, but the merge tribe is unaware of the challenge’s real nature

How was a five minute long challenge so emotionally painful?

Made the merge? Loving it! Won the first reward challenge? Also loving it! Finding the idol? Gonna do it and loving it!

Francie’s team: Francie,Emily,Ruthie,Mo,Michael and Gwen are sent to tribal

https://survivorazores.tumblr.com/post/163930618868/reward-results

I'M SO SCREWED THIS ROUND NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

What kind of bait and switch was that smh. Can I sue the hosts for emotional damage??

Emily is a rat.

Holy SHIT I found the idol???? I just spent so much time doing all of that and I actually found it I am so proud of myself oh my god this is beautiful this is amazing I feel blessed I feel incredible. This could easily be what carries me through these next few votes if anything starts to look fishy... and I'm loving it.

I'M SO MAD!!!! I wanted another idol and someone else got it :(. I do have my Espiriro idol, though, which is beneficial to my game. I'm really nervous about the next tribal council because my team won the competition, but that sent Emily to tribal council. I hope the can make amends with the majority and be able to survive.

So we merged and I'm so happy! But I also found out that apparently I was at a higher risk than I thought I was originally. But this idol thing was so much fun. Even if I didn't find it I had so much fun doing it. I wonder who got the idol tho its so scary :s.

i made merge!!!!!! me and Amanda did it together!!!! its amazing content im so alive! We had a """""""""reward""""""""" challenge that had me and amanda on a team together and we won and it turned out to not be reward and were immune! but emily and francie are not but they seem to be on lock so it should be okay. Will has been a little shady and im like 75% sure he found the merge idol BECAUSE amanda and I went on a spree and finished the hunt and it was gone so :\\\ very disappointing but ive never won a game where ive had an advantage and i did win when i had no advantages so its all fine and dandy we still good! I want to stick with the gal pals alliance most, will has been giving me iffy vibes lately but i also want to stick with him for as long as i can. He isnt making final 4 though if I have anything to say about it!

Well, after a long night of idol hunting, we have realized that the idol, in fact, has already been found. Iconic? I love flopping. But my favorite part of this was being on call with the INFPs!!! I love them. I feel like the bad decisions made by the cracked INFPs sprung from Toph and Raffy... I'm hoping that Amanda G, Bryce, and I can make some smart moves and not flop? Unlikely, but it's fine. But on the dark side of things, I'm going to tribal tomorrow night. I'm so emo. I know I have to vote with Francie because of the Gal Pals. I don't want to vote her out anyways. I can either vote out Ruthie, Gwen, or Michael. I don't want to vote Mo out. I need time to think about my decisions. I'll probably write a lengthy confession tomorrow or record a video confession. I need time to decide and sort things out. I'm just going to enjoy the time I have with the INFPs for now :') I hope I don't go home this early, though it is jury. I don't want to be the first jury member. :0

Helen was pushed and Jodi was robbed. And EMILY IS MAKING IT INTO THE ACTUAL BB HOUSE SO KNOW THAT!

The idol I helped hunt for, spent 45 minutes one that jigsaw dog puzzle for, is gone. I stayed up til 1am and Abbey and Amanda stayed up til 2am ish based on the chat. This stinks worse than... something that stinks r e a l l y bad. (That was lame bc I'm Tired ok)

WHAT THE FUCK LIKEEEE HOW AM I VOTING OUT THIS TRIBAL!!?!??! no one is talking game to me. I'm sorta alienating myself by not talking to mo or ruthie but like they can try to me too like wtf. i wanna get ruthie out the most bc i backstabbed her at that challenge but that was obviously needed so i was safe. but anyways like why isn't anyone trying!!! I'm gonna try to play harder soon to make a move bc this clearly is gonna be me if I'm left in the dark like this. idk how to make a target of someone i barely know.

yeah i sersiouly don't like amanda lynn whatsoever and its annoying me sooooo much like strictly in a game way that she has so much control it feels like. i liked her in the beginning but then i WOKE TF UP!!!! like francie stop being her doormat and also me n micahel are trying to get ruthie out to send some shots amanda's way! don't fuck with us amanda i swear to goD!!! and i can't wait to expose her ass with this alliance reward!!! atm thats who i think is running the game and I'm pretty sure I'm right

yup this is sketchy i can't when francie just said "it isn't separate tribes anymore" like yup me or michael aren't going home. and it seems everyone on my tribe has flipped to the other tribe LIKE YOU ALL CANT DO THAT LOLOLOL ONE OF YOU IS GOING TO BE LEFT OUT. there has too be this big ass alliance and idk who it is !!!!! no one is giving anything up and idk where a crack is at all.

yup its evident from the captains pick list that me n micahel being picked last wasn't good at all!!!!!!!!!! soo I'm going to maybe to talk to micahel about getting mo n ruthie on our side or something idk

i think theres an alliance with francie amanda abbey emily n ruthie but once again just speculation

ok i might suck at this game but i definitely wanna go out with a bang rn but honestly also i wouldn't mind voting for michael if thats what i have v to do to stay in

Honestly I've been trying to play nice with these people but I'm just exposing people now in chats because literallly me and Gwen are at the bottom of this tribe

Prepare for possible explosion in red tribal chat

Honestly me and Gwen are at the bottom of this tribal right now. We are spilling everyone's tea to each other Francie,Emily,mo,and other girl who I forget her name and I'm too lazy to look it up are all coming to us in individual chats and talking shit about one another like :/ y'all have some ugly personalities, but me and Gwen are desperate to stay

I don't understand how people are literally so blind by Emily's game. Emily and Amanda & myself gbut I don't wanna be that bit*h) have played the best games so far and I haven't been doing the best to hide my tracks I guess. People just do whatever Amanda says some reason, but Amanda does whatever I tell her to do so it's weird. Anyways Emily is a rat and lies to everyone saying she's (insert alliance here) strong, but she's not. She just flops over to wherever the power is. Which is a strategy and she's probably going to outlast me so werk I guess, but she has so many premade alliances in this game that she's not a newbie like she says she is

I'm just gonna submit my thoughts on these people here: Ali T: he's nice, but easily manipulated, I don't really have thoughts on him. Amanda G: I literally know nothing of this person, I haven't talked to them once but honestly she's gonna go far probably because I highly suspect she has a premade alliance. Amanda Lyn: I thought I wasn't gonna like her when I first started, but I've actually grown to like her but like girlll she does the most when it comes to the immunities. Emily, myself and her are playing the bet games I feel right now but tbh they've probably done a better job at hiding their tracks then I have, and put more effort than I do. Bryce/Will ( because they are literally the same person in this game playing the same game): honestly Bryce is my pick to be in the final 3 but I wouldn't be surprised if will was there too. They literally have done nothing in this game and are just floating their way to the end. They just flop to wherever the power is. Boring gameplay. Emily: honestly I would argue she's playing the best game right now, she has misted everyone into doing whatever she wants, but it's not like it's hard since literally only 3 people are actually Playing an actual game here. Everyone else is just playing scared and floating to wherever the power is. Literally she has two premade alliances in this game so it's just stupid. She won't win but she has the best resume right now. Francie: doormat and a waste of a casting Gwen: honestly she's so genuinely nice and the only person I enjoy talking to in this game, I want her to win but she won't because she's not set up to win. She'll be taken out next if I'm taken out this time. Mo: idk anything about this person but I just don't like them for some reason. They just seem extra. Ruthie: I have no real thoughts on her, I forget she exists and she's a final 2 with Amanda Lynn. Another waste of a casting Zabbey: I literally didn't even know this person was in the game until I was looking at the merged tribe list.

IM SO DONE, SOMONE FOUND THE IDOL EMILY JUST TOLD ME, also this tribal is gonna be explosive, Emily told me that shes voting off Gwen and Michael is going off at her, francie is playing a good game tho

I'm honestly too old for this game, this is gonna be my first and last one of these gmes, unless I get asked for all stars then hmu

So I'm one of the 6 going to tribal today and I'm a tad nervous. I'm happy that I have Francie, Ruthie and Emily with me but when there's half of the players going to tribal and then another half of us watching our decisions whilst still in the game. The consequences could be really bad.

This would be a great confessional to have recorded because I just have so much to say but I look absolutely horrendous so I'm not going to make you suffer through that.

So the gist of this round, I hate it. I'm going to tribal tonight and I knew for a fact I wanted to vote with Francie. Francie did not seem to want to vote with the original Salao tribe members even though they were more than willing to do so. I was unsure about how Francie was planning on voting which was why I didn't want to make plans with Gwen and Michael last night. Now, that has come to bite me in the ass because now that I ACTUALLY want to vote out Ruthie and vote with Gwen and Michael, MICHAEL WANTS TO TARGET ME! And honestly, the last thing I want to do is scramble right now! I don't know what to do! I feel like I can't message him because then he'll know I'm getting word from everyone that he's spreading things around that I'm dangerous and all this stuff. And like, smart of him for figuring it out. I don't think many other people have. But if I can just get Francie, Amanda Lynn, and Ali to get my name out of Michael's head, I think I'll be fine. Francie won't vote against me and I know that like 90%. Michael, Gwen, Ruthie, and Mo, however: wildcards! I haven't talked to Ruthie at all and Mo and I have talked no game. I have wanted to vote with Gwen and Michael from the moment they messaged us last night but I was unsure because of FRANCIE! I think I might be safe tonight, but I'm truly not sure. I think the pros and cons of voting out all of these different people are like all over the place, but I'll try to figure them out.

Voting out Michael pros: one less person targeting me. Voting out Michael cons: he could expose me in his last words, Ali is close to him and I get information from Ali, it would further confirm his theory about me being a mastermind. (HONESTLY, THIS BOY IS NEVER ACTIVE BUT NOW THAT HE IS HE DECIDES TO TARGET ME? NOT CUTE!) Voting out Ruthie pros: I prove to Michael that I'm loyal, I get out someone I have not spoken to at all. Voting out Ruthie cons: Voting with Michael could result in me getting voted out. I just got out of a call with Francie and we discussed a plan. I am going to get her to suggest to Michael that this tribal be a test of my loyalties. I told her to tell Michael that she thinks I'm going to vote with them. If the votes end up being 4-2, then I voted with them and I can be trusted. If the votes are 3-3, then they can vote me out in a revote. I'm hoping Michael agrees to this plan, votes out Ruthie, and I can prove a bit of my allegiance to him. Even though I have none. I just don't want him throwing my name around like this is some baseball game??? PLEASE leave me alone, dearest Michael! I am probably going to stress cry over this tribal. I don't want to leave. And then I won't be able to talk to Amanda G or Bryce and I DON'T WANT THAT! I'm like severely in danger because of this stupid twist (Just to clarify, it's not stupid, I'm just sad about how it's affecting me.).

Michael honestly was not on my radar at all before this round. But BOY he is now. I know I can't vote him out this round because that would probably put a bigger target on my back. And I know I can't call him out. I'm not messy like that. And that would ruin my allies' games too. But the moment I get the chance to vote him out, he's gone. My biggest fear is that Michael and Gwen sway Ruthie and Mo to their side and vote me out like that. That would suck for me. That would suck for Francie too. Especially because she's planning on voting for someone who was close-ish with.

Also, Michael claimed to Francie that I was in a pre-made alliance with Toph which is bullshit! If I had known how cracked that boy was BEFORE the game I would've voted him out first. How rude of Michael to assume I'm silly like that. I still love Toph, don't get me wrong. But :0

I'm trying to get more information from Ali. I think Michael will tell Ali his final plans for this tribal and Ali can then tell me. If Michael wants to vote with me, then good. If Michael decides to get Mo and Ruthie on his side and vote me out, then I will have to beg Amanda G for her idol. If she gives it to me and I play it, I'll claim that's what I won in the auction. That'll be my lame excuse. But it'll keep me a bit safer for another round? Who knows I DON'T KNOW! That's a bad plan. I won't do that. But I just DON'T WANT TO GO HOME!!!!

I'm just waiting for Amanda G to come online so I can talk to her about this whole situation. I'm very worried and her idol would very much come in handy right now? But I also don't think I'll have to use it if Ali and Francie can protect me enough. AHHHHH! I also feel shitty making Francie low key blindside Ruthie but like... Oopsie. I just wish I wasn't about to be chopped up and served for dinner right about now. Who wants to die? Emily does!

I have a strong feeling that a lot of people are going to be bitter or mad towards me once they read these confessions and realize what was going on... let's just hope nobody gets bitter while we're still playing though :) An idol and a fake idol? Loving this concept. Using the fake idol to turn everyone on overly paranoid people? Even better. And the best? Having people just give me information without me even having to ask for it. This game is fun.

Hopefully this works. It took forever to upload https://youtu.be/cfD5n6MlLkU Basically I'm voting Gwen and so are a few others. Girl tried to play us like a fiddle but she didn't tune us properly.

So much tea has been spilt and I'm SO overwhelmed! I think things are looking up possibly! Gwen messaged Mo and Ruthie and told them that she used her alliance reader on me and revealed that I am a part of five alliances. I believed this for a hot minute (Because we all know I'm in like ? a lot of alliances?), but then I realized that Gwen messaged me just a bit earlier saying that she used her alliance revealer on RUTHIE and that SHE was a part of five alliances! WOW! I think we caught Gwen and Michael! HMMMMMMM! Also, Gwen is wrong about the number of alliances. I'm probably in like ten alliances. Oopsie.

So now Francie, Ruthie, Mo, and I will be voting for Gwen at this tribal :-) Ruthie and I are comparing notes and OH MY GOD Gwen T R U L Y dragged me through the mud. She and Michael are totally right about me orchestrating Nayeli's tribal. And they totally found me out. But I have ties with the right people, I suppose, and I think I have the votes to stay this round. AHHHH???????

I think my favorite part about this is that Gwen and Michael are, in fact, correct in their assuming I orchestrated stuff and that I have a good social game. And I recognize that this is going to probably make my target even bigger, but I need Michael or Gwen out. And soon. I don't think Gwen is going to end up going after Amanda Lynn until I'm gone. So I'm going to make sure Gwen leaves before I do? And Michael has been talking the most shit to Francie, Ali, and Amanda Lynn about me. Mo told me he thinks Michael will go next. And that sounds good to me.

I need to stay a bit under the radar for these coming tribals? I'm worried that the Nayeli tribal really put a huge target on my back. And I was prepared to live with the consequences but now I want to Die™ because Michael and Gwen have me between a rock and a hard place. I need to see what I can do.

Gwen and Michael are trying to get my girl out. Oh no, boo boo. You tried, and you're going to fail! Emily and I are making a plan to save Emily and to get Gwen out. I think it's best for our game to get Michael out because he's the one saying this shit, but as long as it's one of them I'm fine. Get heckedt, guys :).

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=T5rIKz4G4Gc

Okay so I forgot to send in a confessional this round so I'm using speech to text to make sure that I get in all my thoughts before the deadline. Hopefully autocorrect loves me today. Anyway we merged! I'm so excited to be back with Emily and Abby and Ali! So we did a reward challenge which wound up being not a reward Challenge and half the tribe is immune and I'm part of the half that is immune so woo! Unfortunately Francie and Emily are part of the tribe that has to go to tribal. Boo. I'm hoping that everything turns out okay and that both my girls make it out alive. I promise hosts I will make a more detailed confessional later tonight. It's just been a really short round and I have not had too much time. :-)

As tribal looms closer, I'm getting more and more nervous. I want to help Emily out and give her the idol, but it's the Espirito idol. I think she's going to be safe so I wouldn't give it to her this round. I would give it to her in a round where I knew she would go home, but she was never on Espirito. If I feel in danger and don't want to use my idol, I'm giving my idol to Bryce because he's been on Espirito pre-swap and post-swap.

I can't wait for this idol maneuver. I have a real merge idol (1), a fake idol from the auction that I've re-labeled "merge idol" (2), and a fake idol that's a picture of a feather from google labeled "auction idol" (3). So the plan is to give someone the "merge idol" which is really just #2, get them to trust me with that and possibly watch them crash and burn if they try to use it, then later on have someone (probably Abbey) fake a betrayal of me by giving them #3 saying "Will trusted me with this, but use it to get him out" or something like that making them feel comfortable while actually just setting them up to be voted out a la Randy in Gabon. And of course, I'll save the real idol for myself when I need it most. But oh boy this is gonna be a good one if I can pull it off. And if y'all are reading this and I got voted out before I could do any of this, I'm just a big fool but hey at least I'm going for the gold here. And Amanda G's idol? We'll do something about that soon enough :)

https://survivorazores.tumblr.com/post/163965445583/tribal-council-9-pelatao

LAST WORDS: practically i had a lot of fun i really did end liking ali toward the end surprisingly! i love my main bitches nayeli & michael rip :**. anyways if these people know whats good for them they'll 1. start targeting strong social players and not like ... ppl with no social power in this game lol 2. start doing shit with the jury !!!! like i hope they do know that you cant just blindside everyone and not try to at least have ppl who like you on the jury.... 3. making the voting more interesting i think this season has been almost entirely unanimous (yes that 3-2-2 vote is included in that). anyways back to me, my final words are watch out I'm totally returning for villains season or all stars! bye bye silly bitches :***

Gwen becomes the (in theory...) first member of the jury

#imthegreatergood #episodes

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