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the-mad-starker · 5 years ago

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Starker Smut: Spilled Lemonade

This was a fic I was writing for an event last summer (prompt was lemonade) but hadn’t finished in time so it was gathering dust 😅 Finally got it done so it’s my first offering in my 3k celebration. 😊

Summary: Peter’s a good omega. He takes care of his daddy and daddy takes care of him. They have such a good relationship but he’s glad that he gets to choose his own mate and not his father. Or so Peter thinks until one of his friends, another omega, comes sniffing around his alpha.

Notes/Warnings: intersex omega, unspecified age but probably high schoolish?, incest, normalized sex in public, jealousy, hole spanking, creampie, one sided Harley/Tony

WC: 6734

Ao3 Link

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It was 3 AM when Peter carefully snuck out of his daddy's bed.

The older alpha's arm was like dead weight across his belly but with a little wiggling, Peter was able to squeeze himself out. His entire body was aching, mainly his thighs and wrist, but overall, it was a lot better than usual.

Plus, with his daddy asleep, he was able to sneak himself some cookies as a reward for being a good omega. He had a whole bowl of them and a tall glass of milk as he went to soak in the jacuzzi.

He knew he should've showered off the mess before getting into the jacuzzi… There was alpha come and omega slick wetting his thighs, but he allowed himself to be bad just this once.

His daddy, Tony Stark, was going through one of his quarterly ruts. Peter, being his only son and an omega, was helping him through it.

At least, it was summer vacation so he didn't have to miss out on school. He was one of the top students and while missing a few classes wouldn't have cost him anything, the homework would've been annoying to catch up on.

His daddy's ruts took up a lot of his time and he needed to be present whenever his father fell into a mood. Ruts were normally two to three days of intense sexual frenzy with an alpha fucking an omega and breeding them up… But between father and son, Tony never took him in that manner.

No, all Peter did was… help.

He was happy to help and while the beginning was rough because of his inexperience, Peter was much better at it now. He knew just how to relieve his poor daddy, whether it was sucking on the alpha's cock or jacking him off with his hands…

Or there were times where Tony just needed a soft, pliant body to rub his cock against… Peter didn't mind stretching out on his tummy, legs spread while his daddy rutted his thick alpha cock against his ass or maybe between his round, soft cheeks… Sometimes, between his thighs.

It felt nice, after all.

What they did really depended on his alpha's mood, but they never went beyond that. Peter was still a virgin and his daddy was a perfect alpha gentleman, never pushing for more even when he was in a rut. He touched Peter's ass and his pussy plenty of times to return the favor but he'd never actually put his cock inside of Peter's holes, aside from his mouth.

He loved his daddy and his daddy loved him. Things were simple and they both got something out of it.

He had just taken a bite of his third cookie when his father walked in.

He hadn't bothered to put anything on. Clothing, even those of the finest quality, tended to irritate an alpha's oversensitive skin while they were in a rut.

It took two lazy, confident strides for Tony to reach the jacuzzi and one small sigh before he joined Peter in the warm water.

The smaller omega should've expected it but he still squeaked when his daddy picked him up and settled him on his lap.

"Dad…" Peter complained when Tony nipped the cookie from his very fingers.

The alpha's cock was settled against his ass, previously soft but rapidly swelling once the feel and scent of an omega reached his nose.

Peter bit his lip but like a dutiful omega, he shifted in place so that it could poke between his thighs instead of rub against his ass. He shuddered when the thick length slipped against his pussy.

"Do you think it'll be done in time for my pool party?" Peter asked while he started to stroke it with one hand.

Tony grunted in reply, leaning back against the jacuzzi wall as he let his son work him over. For his father, verbal replies were a bit harder to give during rut.

"Yeah," Tony grunted softly, "Tonight."

Peter smiled and let go of his daddy's cock. Before the alpha could protest, he got on his knees and started to rub it against himself. His actions were met with another grunt and a large hand settling on his hip to help keep him steady.

It didn't take his daddy long to release and Peter himself moaned when he felt the alpha's knot fill beneath his hands.

"Thanks, sweetheart," Tony murmured when he pulled Peter close, kissing his forehead.

"You're welcome, daddy," Peter chirped back.

He nuzzled against the alpha and relished the close bond they had.

It was as Tony said.

His rut ended that night so Peter was looking forward to the next few days of recovery. He contacted all his friends to confirm that they'd be attending his pool party and made sure that those who needed picking up would have a driver sent to them.

It wasn't a big party but it had all his closest friends and some of the members of his school decathlon team. No one could refuse a party that was being held at the Stark residence.

Good food, good music, good company.

Peter had only been concerned that his daddy's rut would make it difficult for him to set up. But now that it was done and over with, all plans were moving full speed for the weekend.

Then… Then a thing happened, a thing that Peter wasn't particularly happy about.

He was over at Ned's house, MJ listening to music in the background. It was right after his dad's rut had finished so he still smelled strongly of his father. Not that that was a problem.

He was his daddy's only omega so how else was his father supposed to get through his rut?

It wasn't a big deal but as soon as the third of their friend group arrived, it was called out in an entirely strange way.

Harley Keener had transferred to their school a year ago. He was a loud and obnoxious omega who didn't let any alphas, school or otherwise, scent him despite not having an alpha father around.

Peter had known about Harley's crush on his daddy since the very beginning but he never paid it much mind. Plenty of omegas had crushes on his father but none of them were so brazen and bold about it in front of Peter.

"Is your dad gonna mate you?" Harley bluntly asked, making Peter sputter into the coke he was drinking.

MJ threw a pillow at him but Harley remained undeterred as he stared at Peter with intense blue eyes.

"What– Why would you even ask that?" Peter demanded once he recovered. "Who asks that kind of question?"

Peter's reaction seemed to satisfy Harley for some reason. He went back to idly writing down something in his notebook.

"You smell like him," Harley pointed out like it wasn't obvious. "Usually that means your alpha wants to keep you for himself."

"Or," Peter emphasized, "my dad just had a rut and needed me to help him. It's not a crime to help my alpha when he needs me."

Harley frowned a bit. "He could always ask another omega…"

Peter rolled his eyes and answered, "Dad's too busy to go chasing around omegas. He didn't even ask me the first time. I found him working through it while he was in the lab."

"I always thought he'd mate you, too," Ned pipped up.

"That's… stupid," Peter pulled a face at his best friend. "I just– I love my dad but not… Not like that. And he hasn't mentioned mating either so… So, I'll probably find an alpha of my own someday..."

He glanced down at his fingers and noticed how they were scrunching up his shirt.

"My dad's awesome and he wants me to be happy," Peter said adamantly. "There's nothing wrong with… with that. With um… Alphas and their omega kids… It's just compatibility… But my dad's never pushed for us to mate."

Harley nodded, satisfied and for a moment, Peter thought the conversation would settle down and go back to something normal. Then the other omega got this glint in his eye that Peter knew spelled trouble.

"Maybe I can offer myself," Harley said casually with a smirk. "I can even become your stepmom if Tony really likes me."

This time, it was Peter's turn to launch something at Harley, another pillow that was deflected but it got his point across.

"Stay away from my dad, you perv," Peter growled, little omega fangs bared.

Harley only grinned in reply.

It was a joke so it was okay. Harley didn't make much sense to Peter most of the time but he was a decent friend. He just liked teasing people a lot by saying ridiculous things he never really meant. He often did pranks or just… things that he thought were funny so Peter just chalked it up to one of his quirks.

Peter didn't let Harley's casual use of his father's first name get to him. Tony instead of Mr. Stark. That was annoying, but Peter ignored it.

Their hang out day continued normally with a movie and popcorn. Peter didn't think of Harley's jokes for another minute and with the pool party coming up, it quickly faded to the background.

He didn't think about how his daddy didn't look at other omegas. He didn't think about how he'd never thought of looking at alpha boys his age.

His daddy was the only alpha in his life and when he compared his father to other alphas, they all just seemed lacking. Like pale imitations of what a good alpha should be. They were scrawny and filled with hot air, boasting about omegas they'd had and talking about things they knew absolutely nothing about.

The bragging was annoying. Peter was certain their cocks and knots were tiny, pathetic things compared to his daddy.

An alpha bragging about never touching an omega's cocklet? Or never pleasing an omega with their mouth? He didn't even have a bonded alpha and Peter knew he couldn't, wouldn't, mate with an alpha that didn't do any of that. His daddy's hands on him… and his daddy's mouth… Peter refused to settle for less.

Such thoughts made the young omega frown and wonder if he was doomed to never find an alpha that was even a quarter as amazing as his own father.

They were distracting thoughts that he pushed aside. He wasn't planning on leaving the nest anytime soon so what did it matter? He still had the pool party to think about and he spent the next couple of days focused on that and that alone.

The pool party was a success.

Peter got to show off his new bathing suit. It was a two-piece for male omegas, but he didn't care much about wearing the top. They were tiny little things, little triangles of fabric just barely big enough to cover his pink nipples. They'd probably call more attention to his chest compared to if he went without it.

Besides, his main reason for getting it was the bikini bottom in red and gold. It resembled a tiny, tiny skirt with just enough length that it covered the soft little bulge his cocklet made at the front. It was perfect.

There was food being barbecued and grilled by hired staff nearby. Fresh lemonade was being served in tall decorated cups at the beverage table. There were garlands of colorful flowers hanging on the tables and the small, shaded area near the pool.

The music was turned up, summer in its every beat. Someone had hooked up their phone to the surrounding speakers and judging by the songs, he figured it was MJ.

There were a couple of adults that tagged along with their kids, taking advantage of the stark hospitality. He saw a couple of them engage in unnecessary small talk with his dad, thanking him for the invitation and just being friendly in general.

They left the kids to do their thing though. Floaties and pool noodles of all sizes and shapes were to the side and readily available.

It was a huge pool. Most of the adults were enjoying the jacuzzi situated next to the pool. Tony, himself, was lounging on one of the pool chairs and only wearing swimming trunks. His tanned legs were stretched out, flip flops hanging off his feet as he basked in the sun.

And of course, he wore his signature shades so Peter couldn't be sure if he was resting his eyes or watching the party around them.

Either way, Peter popped on over with a cold beer in hand and kissed his daddy's cheek before he ran off to join his friends.

Peter was a good omega, after all.

They played a couple of rounds of water chicken. Peter won some as well as lost a couple. It was all fun and games.

They were just about to start a game of Marco Polo when Peter noticed their team was missing someone. Rolling his eyes, Peter pulled himself out of the pool to search for Harley. The other omega had excused himself to use the bathroom some time ago and had never rejoined them.

Peter was about to walk into the house when he caught sight of his target.

Harley was talking to his dad.

With a slight frown, Peter watched what was going on. The older omega was sitting on the edge of Tony's pool chair, a pink lemonade in his hand.

Peter could only see the side of his face but the way Harley leaned over his father was causing some emotion to burn inside him. Pool water dripped on Tony's bare chest and Peter's eyes narrowed before he quickly made his way over.

Harley was offering the pink lemonade to Peter's dad and whatever irrational feelings had been brewing, erupted at the gesture.

Unceremoniously, Peter knocked the lemonade out of Harley's hands.

The entire thing flew out of the other omega's grasp and for a moment, Peter was grateful that they hadn't used glass cups. Harley hadn't even noticed him but he whirled to face Peter.

"What the fuck, Peter?" Harley demanded, face turning a blotchy red at the interruption.

"We're playing a game," Peter bit out. "Marco Polo. Let's go."

Shifting Harley's attention away from his daddy made the uneasiness subside just enough that Peter could act.

He grabbed the other omega by the arm and attempted to drag him towards the pool, but Harley refused to budge.

"I don't want to play," Harley huffed but before Peter could respond, Tony interrupted.

"You're both making a scene," Tony told them, sitting up. He had nudged his shades down a bit, looking at the quarreling omegas with an unreadable expression. "Go on, Harley, enjoy the pool. Think Peter wants to talk to me about something."

Peter gave a bright smile as Harley pouted but reluctantly got up. The omega turned that bright smile towards his father but the look in Tony's eyes–

"Peter." Peter had never heard his father use that tone before. Low, almost close to something like a growl.

A shiver raced up his spine, goosebumps breaking out along his arms.

"Wanna tell me what that was about?" his daddy asked.

It was only then that Peter realized that the lemonade had spilled on his dad. Sticky, silvery trails over his chest and his previously dry swim trunks were damp with the spill.

Peter huffed and wandered closer, claiming the spot Harley previously had.

"I didn't mean to spill it on you," Peter mumbled, tone almost apologetic but not quite there. "But Harley's just being annoying. He keeps saying all these weird things and I know I shouldn't have but–"

He made a sound of frustration, bit his lip, and then sighed.

"I'm sorry, daddy," Peter ended up saying.

He knew he was wrong to have done that. Harley was a guest, after all, and his daddy had taught him to be polite.

Tony was quiet for a moment but when Peter peeked at him, he had taken his sunglasses off. There was a curious expression on his face before his daddy smiled indulgently.

"Harley had some interesting things to say," Tony said casually. "Something about how he had his first heat recently and he's not adjusting to toys very well."

Peter frowned. Harley had probably mentioned something like that the last time they hung out. Peter had even sympathized because he had plenty of toys but he just couldn't seem to scratch that itch without help. His daddy, though, was more than capable of taking care of him when he whined about it. But Tony was his daddy so he had all the right to know about Peter's heats.

"That's… That's not something an omega should be talking about to any random alpha," he complained.

The idea of Harley talking about such an intimate topic with his dad… Nope, Peter didn't like it. Not at all.

Seriously, what was Harley's problem?

"No, it's not," his alpha agreed, "Unless the omega wants to start a heat contract–"

"No!" Peter immediately rejected the idea.

His daddy was his alpha and he didn't want one of his classmates trying to take his daddy away.

"Pete–" That tone was a warning. Peter's voice had gotten a bit high in volume and the simple word had attracted the attention of some nearby guests.

"What about my heat contract?" Peter demanded.

Tony quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Sweetheart, if I recall," his daddy said, patiently, "you like your toys just fine."

Peter flushed at the reminder.

During his last heat, his daddy had worked him open for hours before finally letting him have his practice knotting dildo. The omega had literally wailed at the penetration, small hips pushed back while he begged for more.

It had felt utterly perfect… The stretch of the toy and his daddy's alpha scent clouding his mind.

"Maybe… Maybe it's different now," Peter muttered.

And maybe, it was.

He couldn't look his daddy in the eyes. His face was flushed. How could he explain that he didn't like the idea of another omega taking his place without sounding like a brat?

He'd never allow himself to think about taking his daddy's knot. Their cycles and how they handled them were normal routines that maybe… maybe Peter just hadn't considered that they would change.

That as he got older, he would want more.

"Different, how?"

"Maybe…" Peter shuffled closer. "Maybe I want daddy as my heat alpha."

More silence. Peter was tense as he waited for his daddy's reaction. When he couldn't take it anymore, he glanced at Tony from beneath his lashes.

His daddy looked… pleased?

"You know I'd do anything for my baby boy," Tony said. "We can talk about it after the party, baby. Your heat isn't for another two weeks, anyway."

It wasn't a rejection!

Peter beamed at his daddy and threw his arms around him in a hug, regardless of the drying sticky mess the spilled lemonade made.

"Thank you, daddy!" Peter hummed then pulled away. He gave his alpha a sheepish grin. "I should go get some napkins or a paper towel… I made alpha all messy…"

He made to get up only to have his daddy's keep him in place. Puzzled, he turned back to his alpha, squirming a bit at the way Tony's hands settled on his waist.

"You were still pretty rude to your friend, baby," Tony reminded him. "Think we need to do something about that."

Peter bit his lip. He didn't think saying Harley deserved it would win him any points with his father.

The alpha gave a low chuckle and then tapped his lips with a single finger.

"And judging by that cute little pout you got, you don't feel very apologetic either," his daddy sighed.

His pout only deepened as Tony pointed out the obvious but Peter knew he was in the wrong so he gave a reluctant nod.

"I'm sorry, daddy," Peter admitted.

"You're not yet," Tony observed, "But hmm. I think–"

Peter squeaked as Tony easily manhandled him onto his lap like a little pup, face down and backside vulnerable. The omega found himself laid across his father's lap, legs kicking out in surprise.

"Daddy–" Peter complained but then fell silent when the alpha's warm palm settled on his ass.

"Don't wanna play, sweetheart?" His daddy asked.

A slow rub of his palm over the omega's clothed bottom had Peter reconsidering. If he turned his head… A glance around the pool party showed that most of the guests were still doing their own thing. But if Peter did this now… It was inevitable that they'd draw everyone's attention.

Peter felt a rush of mixed emotions. Excitement. Embarrassment. He knew if he really didn't want to, his father would save this for another time. But… His cheeks burned when he caught sight of Harley watching them.

He wanted to flash his fangs at the other omega but instead, he wiggled in place. He could already feel his daddy growing hard beneath him. These kinds of things always excited his alpha daddy… always excited him too, now that Peter thought about it.

Like father, like son…

"I'm– I'm sorry," Peter murmured, going limp in Tony's lap.

A soft rumble answered him and he gasped when his father tugged his bikini bottom down, just low enough to expose his cheeks.

"I believe you, baby," Tony told him, rubbing and squeezing in preparation. "I'll believe you more after you apologize when I'm done with you."

The first swat on his ass had the boy jolting in surprise. It wasn't even all that hard, just the initial impact had startled him.

In the beginning, Peter kept his whimpers at bay. As Tony continued to spank his ass, it brought more and more of their guests' attention to their private little area. They were never so nosy as to outright stare, but Peter knew they were watching.

It… It excited him. His quiet whimpers came out as soft little moans the harder his daddy spanked him.

"It isn't punishment if you like it, kiddo," Tony said above him.

"Sor– 'm sorry…!" Peter squeaked but it was futile. His cocklet was hard now, too.

His alpha chuckled, and the deep rumble only coaxed more heat into the boy's belly.

Tony paused his spanking and Peter squirmed, the only response he could give that didn't outright beg his daddy for more.

"Such a pretty pink," his daddy admired above him. His large hand rubbed the area of impact, mixing soothing heat and the dull ache into warm pleasure. "It's like you were made for me, baby."

His breath hitched when he felt his father spread his cheeks apart, exposing his pink little hole. His pussy was already wet. There was no doubt in the omega's mind that there'd be a little stain over Tony's swimming trunks.

Whether it was from Peter's slick or the abundant amount of precum his dad's cock was producing, it didn't matter. They were making a mess together.

What Peter didn't expect was for the next impact to be directly over his hole. He gasped, too surprised to let out a proper sound. Tears actually prickled in the corner of his eyes as shock and heat rocketed through his smaller frame.

"Daddy–"

"Too much?" His alpha purred.

Peter shook his head wildly, curls bouncing and tears flung off his cheeks. Nothing was ever too much if it was his daddy.

Another smack right over his hole and the omega cried out, thighs tensing, pussy flooding and dripping with even more slick. His father's cock felt rock hard beneath him now and his knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the pool chair.

Every impact of his daddy's hand had the boy crying out, voice muffled in an attempt to avoid attention. He was almost certain everyone was watching now but he was too caught up to look.

He squirmed and wiggled, cried out and moaned as the spanking continued. His muscles tensed and jumped beneath his daddy's palm. His daddy varied the spanks and kept him guessing as to where the next hit would land.

It was exciting and with every exhilarating touch, Peter's mind floated closer to that soft, perfect hazy world where it was only him and his daddy. It helped that Tony had started to murmur words of encouragement. He called Peter a good omega for taking his punishment so well.

Good omega... Good boy… Peter was caught in a mix of sensations until the pain bled into pleasure and it was white-hot and so good...

When it finally stopped, Peter's cheeks were wet with tears but the omega felt better than ever. His alpha pulled his bikini back over his pink ass but his bottom still felt hot and sore.

His daddy helped him sit up and he practically melted in Tony's embrace. Warm, loving hands cleared the tears from his eyes and his alpha's gentle purring had Peter sighing in contentment.

He did it. He had taken his spanking like a good omega.

They weren't done, yet.

The delicious ache had him squirming and his daddy's cock pressed against his wet pussy like a promise. He whined, rubbing against it as he pressed tight against the alpha.

"Daddy– 'm sorry," Peter told him, brown eyes pleading and needing to hear his daddy say those words.

"I know, baby, I know," Tony reassured him. "My baby's a good omega, the sweetest, most perfect omega…"

His touch felt soothing as he gently rubbed Peter's sore bottom. His words, too, soothed the omega's hazy mind as they settled in deep and comforted him.

"You want daddy to bring you inside, sweetheart?" Tony asked. "I'm sure your friends won't mind."

His friends… Peter nuzzled close but glanced at where he had left them in the pool. Once he turned his eyes towards them, it was like the rest of the party came back into focus.

Guests talking. Laughter ringing. The scent of barbecue and hot dogs. The warmth of the sun on his face and back.

"M okay." He melted against his daddy, resting there. His daddy's hard cock against him was a warm, soothing weight. He knew his daddy was more than fine just holding him.

He felt the soft purr rumble beneath his cheek as Tony acknowledged his words. The skin was warm and… sticky.

The lemonade. His fingers ran over the dry sticky part and he looked at his daddy, a lazy smile on his face.

"Alpha…" he breathed. "Wanna clean you up, alpha…"

Whenever they got intimate together, whether it was Peter's heat or Tony's rut, cleaning up always meant feeding Peter every drop of cum his father spilled so it wouldn't go to waste. Peter loved the saline taste of his load and he also loved nursing on Tony's cock when he was insatiable with heat. He often made a mess during his heats, slick dripping all over Tony's fingers while he got Peter off.

Peter always… always cleaned up after them.

And what he offered now was no different.

"You sure, baby?" Tony nudged him, "I know you're shy, especially with your friends here "

"Not shy," Peter refuted stubbornly. Some of the haze had cleared, the omega's fiery personality shining through.

He had just chased away one omega and declared his daddy as his alpha… His sore bottom reminded him of what being rude would incur, but he wasn't being rude now. He was just… Just staking his claim.

"Daddy's my alpha," Peter said resolutely. As he tossed a look at Harley, one sharp fang peeking out.

Tony chuckled and gripped Peter's face to turn those defiant eyes back towards him.

"You wanna show them, baby?" Tony asked.

And even though Peter actually did feel a bit shy, he nodded firmly before leaning forward and brushing his lips against his alpha's in a sweet but chaste kiss.

No one knew his daddy better than him and Peter planned to really rub that in.

As soon as the first kiss ended, he initiated another. He invaded his daddy's space, slender chest pressed against the alpha's larger form. He shuddered when he felt his daddy tweak his nipples, quick flashes of brilliant pain that had his mouth gasping open. It was his daddy way of teasing and warning him to behave, a two in one.

Peter was pliant and willing when his daddy took over. His tongue slipped between Peter's lips and the boy went with it, offering his warm mouth for his daddy to do with as he pleased. Soft, sloppy kisses followed.

He actually whined when Tony pulled away, dragging his heavy eyelids up to stare at his father.

"There's my sweet omega," Tony rumbled, dark and as smooth as sin. "Go on then, baby, clean daddy up. You made such a mess because you got jealous, didn't you?"

Peter didn't like the reminder that he was jealous. Didn't like it because it was true.

So, he didn't say a word, he only settled himself between his alpha's knees with pouty lips and pink cheeks. Tony's cock tented the front of his swimming trunks, an intimidating bulge that had Peter's mouth-watering. He was right about earlier, too. His slick had seeped through and formed a dark spot over the fabric. It only served to draw the eye in that direction.

Some part of him didn't want the others, Harley specifically, to see his daddy's cock, but another part preened that this was his.

He ran his hands from Tony's collarbone, over the bit of chest hair, black and greying, and all the way down to his belly. He gripped his daddy's cock with both hands over the cloth.

"Daddy… I'll take care of you," Peter promised, clever fingers running over the length, outlining the sheer girth of it with his small hands.

"I know you will, kid," Tony murmured before leaning back, legs shifting apart to give his son more room.

Peter settled onto his belly, legs kicking in the air as he uncovered his prize.

His daddy's cock was everything an omega would want. It was everything another alpha would be envious over. His daddy… There was a term for what kind of alpha his daddy was. It was an old term that no one really used anymore, but Peter had heard it once upon a time.

A prime. A stud. The best of the best. His daddy was in peak condition and with his girthy cock and fat knot, Peter was the envy of his class. It'd make sense for Tony to have a harem of omegas to service him but he only had Peter.

And that was how Peter wanted it to stay.

The omega's mouth watered as he drew closer. He hefted his daddy's balls in one hand, gently playing with them just how Tony liked. They felt heavy and full in his hand, the skin soft. He knew it'd feel tight once his father got close and he was looking forward to milking them dry. He'd give his daddy some comfort then.

He knew he was doing it right when he heard his daddy give a low groan of appreciation.

Pink lips closed over the swollen tip and when he looked up, warmth flooded his cheeks. His daddy was watching him, dark brown eyes taking in everything.

His breathing picked up with the realization that everyone was watching them.

But all that mattered was his daddy.

His daddy had already been rock hard so he didn't get a chance to work him up to it. It didn't happen often, but there had been a few times Peter was able to suck on him while he was just starting to get hard. It was always an experience.

From being able to fit his daddy's soft cock in his mouth and then feeling it thicken and grow with each thrust… His lips would drag against the length of his daddy's cock and when he became fully erect, the stretch was almost unbearable. But Peter knew exactly what his daddy liked and how to do it just right…

He maintained a good suction on his alpha's cock, taking the length in with only a little bit of struggle. He knew what got his father going but there was still plenty of practice to be had, especially when Tony's size was just on the good side of too much.

Peter tasted the tart sweetness of the lemonade he'd spilled and the omega made it a challenge to lick every drop from his father's skin. It didn't take long until every sugary hint was gone and then there was only the clean taste of his daddy's cock and the bitter, salty taste of his precum.

When he pulled back, his hands worked on the exposed inches, never leaving a single inch of bare skin unattended. He felt the still soft bulge of his father's knot as his alpha got closer and closer to the edge.

He had yet to be able to successfully take his father's knot in his mouth but he wasn't going to try that today.

Before it could inflate, Peter let his daddy's cock pop out of his mouth.

"Daddy– I want…" he couldn't even say it.

His cheeks were flushed as he scrambled back up onto his alpha's lap. He rubbed his poor, neglected pussy against Tony's erection, biting his lip so he wouldn't whimper from the sheer need wracking through his body.

"What do you want, sweetheart?" Tony asked, voice tight with restraint.

His daddy's voice was ragged with hunger. Peter nuzzled close even as he reached back, angling his alpha daddy's cock right where he wanted it.

"Daddy knows," Peter groaned just as he nudged the tip against his pussy. "Daddy wants it, too…"

His stupid bikini was in the way though and he desperately tried to slip it to the side so his daddy can push in.

The alpha's cockhead strained against his bikini, pulling it tight. Peter's squirming allowed the tip to nudge right over his opening and he moaned, hips twitching as he tried to get his father's cock inside. The fabric stretched, even allowed Tony's tip to nudge inside a bit before it couldn't go any further.

"You wanna do that here, sweetheart?" Tony teased. "Give up your first time with a real alpha right here?"

His hands felt so warm and safe on his hips, thumbs brushing against his soft belly in the center. "Right here in front of all your friends?"

Peter moaned and clutched his daddy closer. He fumbled with the stupid bikini, dragging the edge to the side. He was so eager to show his cute bikini off and now he was cursing it for being in the way.

Finally, the part that was keeping his daddy's cock from slipping inside him was tugged to the side.

"Yess…!" Peter hissed as he sank down on his father's cock.

It was nothing like his toys. Warm, hard living flesh pushed inside his needy pussy and Peter's back arched as his knees weakened.

He felt his daddy's warm breath on his neck and he shuddered violently. Daddy just happened to breathe right over his mating gland… The one spot that his father hadn't set his teeth into.

Doing so would claim Peter as his. His omega to fuck and breed, to take as his mate.

Peter's fingers ran through his father's hair, clutching the alpha as he started to eager bounce on his cock. At this point, he barely felt how hot and sore his ass felt from the spanking. All he felt was the pleasure of being filled and that pleasure doubled, tripled, because it was his daddy pushing into him.

"Look at you go, sweetheart…" Tony groaned, leaving a bruise right on his mating gland. "So eager to take your father's cock…"

Tony's arms wrapped around his small waist. The boy whimpered when Tony actually used some strength to hold him down, keep his hips in place as he started to fuck into him.

"Shh– shh, let daddy help, Pete," Tony growled in his ear. "None of your toys are as big as daddy. Gotta open you up… gotta fuck you loose so you can take the knot…"

"K-knot…?" Peter echoed. His face pressed against his daddy's sweat damp neck and his pink tongue dipped out, licking the salt from his sun warmed skin.

"Mhmm…" the alpha enforced with a harsh thrust. "Gonna knot you right here… Think that'd be a good punishment to add, hmm? Being so rude to another omega… Spilling lemonade all over your alpha… Yeah, sweetheart, I think letting daddy knot your sweet pussy is just the thing you need…"

Peter went limp in his arms. He let his daddy drill into his wet pussy, that thick alpha cock spreading him apart and filling him up so good. It was brutal and perfect, his alpha daddy using him just like Peter craved.

Every moan and every cry his daddy pulled from his lips were well earned. Peter was being fucked like a rag doll, body being manhandled easily and pulled up and down with no resistance. His dad wasn't even like this during his ruts though that might change now.

Everything would change with this new element in their relationship.

Peter couldn't find himself to care or worry about it. How could he when his entire body was being flooded by pleasure, his pussy squelching as his father's cock fucked in and out… In and out…

"O-Ohh… God…!" Peter squealed when his daddy's cock finally bottomed out. He felt so full! Felt like his daddy's cock was right there nudging against his womb…

"Daddy– dadddy…" Peter cried out, grinding on his father's cock and body shuddering with how good it felt.

"Yeah, that's it, baby," Tony purred into his ear. "Almost there… almost there, sweetheart. Just squeeze down on daddy's cock, just like that–"

Peter's body knew what to do and was already doing it even before Tony said the words. His insides massaged the alpha's length, squeezing and clutching in such a rhythmic motion.

Milking his daddy's cock so that the knot would pop.

"O-Oh!" Peter gasped when he felt it. The knot was growing...

"Good boy…" his daddy purred. "Such a good son… Taking care of daddy's knot…"

Then Peter's inexperience overruled his instincts as an omega. The sudden pressure inside him, the knot swelling and catching, had the boy shuddering and trying to escape this weird, exciting feeling.

His father's hands held him securely, making sure that the knot wouldn't be tugged as it was growing.

Peter whined and fell limp in Tony's arms.

"It's okay, sweetheart," Tony reassured him, "Just take the knot, baby… I know you can do it… Daddy's gonna fill you up..."

The soft little whimpers fell away. Warmth surged into his body and Peter clutched onto his daddy. His daddy was… Filling him up… Coming inside him…

After that, Peter could barely keep his eyes open. The surge of warmth filling him up kept going… It'd continue for as long as the knot was firm and plugging him up.

His eyes barely fluttered open when Tony stood, supporting his weight and pulling Peter's legs so they wrapped around his waist. He saw flashes of his friend's faces as they entered the house but the only one that remained with him was Harley's. The omega had rolled his eyes in exasperation but Peter had only returned a bone-deep satisfied smile.

Tony settled them in his bed and their combined scents only had Peter purring in contentment. And when his alpha started grinding into him, Peter only sighed, back arching and lips gasping open in pleasure.

Outside, he can still hear the music blaring and the sound of splashing from the pool. He couldn't smell the barbecue or the sweet tart scent of lemonade being served.

The knot softened and he felt the rush of come spill out of his abused pussy only to be fucked back in, his daddy's cock not softening and eager to spill another load.

He had an alpha to please and Peter knew everything he needed to in order to please his daddy.

#starker #madstarker writes #nff #alpha tony #omega peter #intersex omegas #moody mads #omegaverse

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pickalilywrites · 4 years ago

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hi everyone!!! here’s the eretra au that a few of you might remember from my wip posts a few months (?) ago! i’m really excited about it, so i hope you guys like it. it’s very loosely based off a kdrama called big, although there aren’t very many similarities. i hope you guys enjoy it :)

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My First Love Come Back to Me

Eretra. Big AU.

I’ll Love You in the Rain or Shine Series: Chapter 1

12788 words.

Read on Ao3!

Eren stands in the deli section of the grocery store staring down at the premade sandwiches that have, judging by the wilting lettuce and stiff-looking squares of cheese stuffed between dry bread buns, been sitting there all day after being passed over by other customers for more enticing premade meals like the colorful, little sushis in their plastic containers or the burritos so stuffed with filling that beans are practically spilling out of the tortilla wraps meant to contain them. He looks at one particularly sad-looking sandwich. Turkey chunks and droopy lettuce leaves are shoved inside a stale bread loaf. Tomato juice from the poor fruit that was cut to make this depressing sub bleeds out from the bun, dripping onto the plastic wrap that can hardly hold the thing together. A strange assortment of veggies also poke out from the bread - bright yellow bell peppers, chunky strips of carrots, and slices of onions - but they look as though someone has carelessly dropped them into the sandwich because they’re not even evenly dispersed through the sub. It is, Eren thinks, the most wretched sandwich he’d ever laid eyes on.

It’s a little sad, the fact that Eren is spending so much time picking out something to bring to a family dinner that he would claim, if anyone bothered to ask, to not give a single shit about. And, really, he doesn’t, but it makes him feel slightly better about going to those miserable gatherings if he’s able to bring something he knows his stepmom will hate. Except she’s not really his stepmom. To be more precise, the woman is his father’s first and only wife - the bastard having never married Eren’s mother - and his half-brother’s mother. In all honesty, Eren can completely understand why the woman hates him. He is, after all, a constant reminder of his father’s infidelity. It’s not like Eren likes her either and, with all of the snide comments about his upbringing and disappointing career path (although Eren has no idea why that is any of her business), she hasn’t given Eren any reason to.

Eren looks down at the sandwich again, leaning towards not getting it. As much as he would love to purchase it and slap it down on the dinner table with a cheerful smile, there are only so many times he can buy disgusting sandwiches for his family dinners. He really outdid himself last time with a self-made sandwich with all sorts of odd ingredients (blue cheese, coriander, tuna, onions, cherry tomatoes, the works) that had no business being slapped between the same two buns. He even remembered not to toast the bread buns. Apparently, the only thing his father’s wife hates more than sandwiches are untoasted sandwiches, but not everyone can afford a $300 panini press like she can. Apparently, any panini press with a smaller price tag can’t be called a real panini press. Eren only half-regretted his decision to bring the disgusting thing to his father’s house an hour later when he sprinted out of the house and biked half a block away to empty the contents of his stomach on the edge of a poor neighbor's sidewalk. No, a normal deli sandwich would be a step down from his previous contribution to family dinner, Eren decides.

He walks up and down the aisle of the grocery store, taking his time even though he’s already a half-hour late for dinner. (He’s doing them a favor. Nobody in their right mind should be having dinner at five when the sun is still high in the sky.) His green eyes glaze over tubs of soup and plastic bins filled with salad. For a moment, he wonders if he should walk through the shelves of chips on the other side or maybe into the frozen food section so he can haul a tub of melting ice cream to his father’s house, but he wonders if that’s too petty. It’s probably best not to, Eren thinks with a grimace. He doesn’t want to ruin junk food for himself forever.

In the end, Eren purchases a little tub of potato salad, hoping that it’ll be enough to piss off his Disney-esque sort-of stepmother. It’s not perfect, but he supposes it will do. It’s probably not as grotesque as the stuff he’s brought before, but he likes how simple it is. That woman’s definitely going to be miffed that Eren bought potato salad as if he cared so little that he couldn’t be bothered to spend a few minutes in the kitchen to make the same dish. He’s really going to enjoy seeing the vein on her forehead pulse when she sees him standing at the door with the potato salad.

Eren thanks the cashier for ringing up his purchase, sliding two dollars into the charity box next to the register, and walks away with his tub of potato salad, whistling as he practically skips out of the grocery store. He hadn’t taken as long as he would have liked; there are still fifteen minutes before six and he had hoped he would burn enough time to arrive at six-thirty, but maybe he can take a roundabout way to his dad’s house, Eren thinks as he drops the tub carelessly into the front basket of his bicycle. He unlocks his bike with a click and pulls it off the bike rack before mounting it and pedaling away.

Taking the direct route would be too quick. Eren quickly pedals across the road as soon as the road is clear and finds his way to the creek that cuts across the suburbs. It’s the same creek Eren used to play beside when he was a child. He fell in there once trying to catch a frog and his mom scolded him for being so reckless. It’s also the same creek that he frequented during the spring of his sophomore year of highschool when he was assigned to do a bug project, which Eren hated especially when the same project was no longer mandatory after his school cut the science department’s funding the year after. Eren doesn’t think he’s visited the creek ever since he graduated from high school. He blames it on college and summer internships taking up all his time and never really allowing him to return to his youth, but the truth is that Eren wouldn’t have sought out his childhood even if he had the time.

It’s not that Eren had a terrible childhood. In fact, Eren would say that he had a fairly happy childhood. True, he grew up in a (mostly) single-parent household, but his mother was always patient and attentive to him even though he was a pain the ass about 75 percent of the time. Nothing incredibly significant happened. He didn’t win any awards and he never made the honor roll, but his mother was fine with it as long as he did his best. It was strange, but he got a lot more shit about his grades from his sort-of stepmom than he did from his own mother. He’s not particularly sure what his father thought about it. Eren’s father never said much of anything to defend him, but his father hardly said anything to him at all. It was kind of like not having a father at all, so it wasn’t really that surprising when Eren found a way to avoid his old neighborhood completely after his mother passed away after his senior year of high school.

Eren hadn’t planned on returning so soon. Actually, he hadn’t planned on returning at all after he had left for college. He only came back the summer after freshman year, but he bummed it at his best friend Armin’s house and only ventured as far as Armin’s front lawn. The following summers he crashed at his ex-boyfriend’s house - an art student-turned-tattoo artist who somehow ended up setting up a shop in the city Eren and Armin grew up in - or Armin’s dorm when they were both working at their internships. Somehow, they ended up landing jobs back in their hometown because evidently the big city did not want them and they were too young and broke to go up against the universe. Maybe another day.

It’s not that bad. Despite renting an apartment near his neighborhood, Eren hasn’t run into any childhood friends that might still remember all the embarrassing things he did as a teenager. He’s bumped into a few parents at the grocery store that would smile up at him and talk about how nicely he’s grown while reaching up to ruffle his hair. Other than a few childhood friends and the “family” he feels obligated to meet due to the biological bond he unwillingly shares with his father, Eren has successfully avoided most of his past.

He pedals past his old middle school, zooming past the gates and grimacing as he remembers the less pleasant parts of his past - struggling with algebra, running a mile at seven AM, and the terrible school uniforms they forced on everyone in a strange attempt to boost standardized test scores. He’s happier when he crosses the street and is greeted with the lit-up shops - the convenience store where he’d happily slurp down slushies with Armin after school, the Chinese restaurant that his class would frequent every year for Lunar New Year’s, and the bakery store that always smelled of freshly baked tarts and pies. Eren’s pedaling slows as he approaches the bakery and he inhales deeply, his lungs filling with the scent of buttery baguettes and chocolate tarts. The aroma is so distractingly sweet. His mouth begins to water at just the thought of them, and Eren wonders why he hadn’t bothered stepping foot in the bakery since coming back. He’s about to stop his bike and pop in for a brownie or a lemon bar only to realize that he’s biking far too fast and about to crash into someone.

“Shit!” Eren’s bike screeches as he swerves out of the way and he crashes into a pole so hard that he can feel his teeth rattle. He topples to the ground with a hard thud, groaning as he rolls over onto his side that didn’t get smashed violently against a pole. When he opens his eyes, he sees stars as well as the face of an old man that he had last seen a decade ago. Eren tries to sit up, but his side is throbbing and he can only clutch at his side, trying his best to suppress a groan so as to not startle the man he had nearly collided with. He gives the man a weak smile. “Hey, Mr. Ral. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

The old man’s mouth, which was already open to begin with after seeing Eren’s embarrassing bicycle collision, falls open a bit wider. “A-are you … okay?” he asks after a while, squinting a bit as he looks at Eren’s face and tries to place a name to it. Eren doesn’t really blame him for not remembering who he is. It’s been quite a while since they’ve seen each other and Eren has grown up a lot since then.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little bump,” Eren says, laughing it off. He manages to sit up and pushes himself off the ground, standing up and brushing off the little pebbles that have managed to stick to his face and clothing. He picks up his bike, leaning it against the pole before turning to the man again. “It’s Eren, by the way.” He pauses, observing Mr. Ral’s expression. When he sees that the man doesn’t recognize him, Eren politely adds, “Eren Kruger. I’m Zeke Jaeger’s younger brother.”

A spark of recognition finally lights up in the old man’s eyes at the mention of Zeke’s name. Eren’s not going to lie, but it kind of hurts. “Ah, Zeke,” Mr. Ral says fondly. Eren shifts from feeling hurt to feeling slightly jealous. “How could I ever forget him? And you, of course. You two used to play with my dear Petra back in the day.”

Petra, a name that Eren hasn’t heard in years, and yet hearing it still makes him blush like a young schoolboy. He ducks his head, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck, and he prays that Mr. Ral doesn’t notice the sudden flush of his cheeks. “Yeah, it’s been a while. How is, ah, Petra doing?” he asks. He had meant to ask the question casually, but he stumbles over the words a little too quickly.

“Petra? She’s well,” Mr. Ral answers with a smile. The corners of his eyes crinkle and his laughter lines deepen. He doesn’t seem to notice how flustered Eren is. “She just started teaching at the same university that Zeke is teaching at.”

That’s certainly news to Eren. Zeke hadn’t mentioned that at any of the family dinners Eren had attended recently. It could just be because Zeke hadn’t run into her yet or it had simply slipped his mind, but Eren kind of doubts it. If Petra’s father knew, then it’s highly unlikely that Zeke didn’t know. As much as Eren wants to frown, he fights the urge to turn the edges of his mouth downward and gives Mr. Ral a thin but polite smile. “That’s great to hear. What does she teach?”

“English,” Mr. Ral replies, his chest puffed out proudly. It’s endearing how much he adores his daughter. “She teaches some upper-division classes on creative writing and a few classes for freshmen on critical reading and writing.”

Eren’s smile is more genuine now, more fond as he listens to Mr. Ral speak about his daughter. “Yeah, that sounds like her. She was always really good with words.” He remembers lazy summer afternoons lying underneath the shade of a tree and pretending he was sleeping so that he could listen to Petra talk to Zeke on the front porch. It wasn’t even that he wanted to eavesdrop. He just liked the sound of her voice. Eren wonders if it’s still as wonderfully soothing and soft as he remembers.

“And what about you?” Mr. Ral asks, snapping Eren out of his reverie. The old man seems to ask out of polite obligation. It figures that he isn’t really interested in Eren’s life. After all, he hadn’t remembered that Eren existed until five minutes ago.

“I just graduated a few months ago. I majored in child education,” Eren replies. He looks down feeling slightly embarrassed although he’s not sure why. It feels like a step down from Petra’s accomplishments. His sort-of stepmom would certainly agree. She enjoys rubbing Zeke’s doctorate in Eren’s face whenever she gets the chance. Eren clears his throat and adds, “I’ve been working at Liberio Daycare. It’s near Shiganshina Elementary.”

It’s unclear whether or not Mr. Ral recognizes the name but he nods and reaches over to give Eren a pat on the arm, a grin on his face as if the old man is actually proud of him. “That’s good! Your parents must be proud.” He doesn’t notice the way Eren flinches and carries on. “It’s good to hear that you’ve been well.”

“Likewise,” Eren says. His eyes wander towards the bakery. It hadn’t occurred to him to look for Petra before, but now that he knows she’s back in town he can’t imagine doing anything else. He half hopes that she’ll be inside, maybe clearing the display for the night or wiping down the countertops, but all he sees is a girl his age at the register munching on some lavender bars that hadn’t sold. Before he can stop himself, Eren finds himself asking, “Is Petra in?”

“Petra?” Mr. Ral asks with his eyebrows raised. Maybe it does seem out of the blue that Eren’s asking. Petra was always more Zeke’s friend than Eren’s. Mr. Ral gives Eren an apologetic smile and a shake of his head. “I’m afraid not. She told me she was eating dinner at a friend’s house. I’ll let her know you stopped by. Maybe you two can catch up sometime.”

Eren shouldn’t feel so disappointed, but he can feel himself deflating at Mr. Ral’s words. He really doubts Petra would want to meet up with him. It’s not as if they were incredibly close before. Still, he gives Mr. Ral a gracious smile and says, “That would be great! I should probably get going. I have to, ah, eat dinner…” His voice trails off and he looks to bike only to find the front basket empty. Eyes straying further, he finds that his tub of potato salad had rolled out of his bike basket and onto the ground where it lay pitifully. Thankfully, the tub hasn’t broken and the potato salad hasn’t spilled out, but somehow the salad looks even more pathetic than it did when Eren purchased it. It’s something Eren would have been happy about fifteen minutes ago, but it’s embarrassing now. Quickly, he goes to pick it up and drop it into his bike basket with the slim hope that Mr. Ral wouldn’t think much about it, but Eren has never been that lucky.

Mr. Ral must find him pitiful because he asks, “Why don’t you take some dessert home?” He’s already heading back into the bakery, gesturing for Eren to follow him despite Eren’s protests. “If you don’t, they’ll just go to waste. Or into my employee’s stomach, and goodness knows that she’s already eaten enough desserts today already.”

“Thank you so much, sir,” Eren says, humbly bowing his head.

“Sasha,” Mr. Ral calls the girl at the register. “Could you ring up a few things for Eren?”

The girl’s head snaps up at the call of her name, her cheeks filled with pastry and crumbs all over her mouth. “Sure thing,” Sasha says, gulping down the last of her lavender bar and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She walks over to the side, Eren following her on the other side of the counter, and washes her hands hastily. As she wipes her hands dry with the hand towel, she looks at Eren brightly and asks in a chipper voice, “Do you have anything you want in particular?”

Eren’s eyes scan over the display, but he doesn’t really look at anything in particular. He just wants to get out of this situation as quickly as possible. He’s embarrassed himself quite enough for today. “Just … whatever you’d recommend,”

“Alright-y,” the girl hums, taking a bag and stuffing it full with little tarts and tea cakes and croissants. Eren looks at her briefly, realizing that he doesn’t recognize her. She must have moved here sometime during the past six years when he wasn’t around.

As Sasha finishes preparing the bag, Eren walks over to the register and gets ready to pull his wallet out but Mr. Ral walks over, shaking his head. “No need to pay for it,” Mr. Ral says. He reaches over the counter and takes the bag from Sasha, presenting it to Eren with a smile. “Consider it a treat. Really, you’d be doing me a favor just taking it. They would have gone to waste otherwise.”

“Ah, thank you,” Eren says, his face flushing once more. He takes the bag from Mr. Ral with a small bow of his head. “It was great seeing you again, Mr. Ral.”

“Likewise,” Mr. Ral says with that same crinkly smile. He walks Eren to the door, watching as Eren packs the desserts alongside his potato salad. “Take good care of yourself, Eren, and tell your brother I said hi.” He waves as Eren assures him he’ll do just that, returning to the shop only once Eren has biked away.

This is not how the night was supposed to go. Eren was supposed to be wandering around the neighborhood with his potato salad before waltzing into his father’s house an hour late, his sort-of stepmother silently fuming at the dinner table while the family sat and waited for him. He hadn’t planned on bumping into his childhood crush’s father, and he certainly hadn’t planned on looking so incredibly pathetic in front of Mr. Ral. He can only imagine what Mr. Ral will tell Petra when she sees her dad tonight. Maybe something about how he grew up to be such a loser even though his half-brother managed to graduate with a Ph.D. and is now a successful anthropology professor at the local university. It’s not something that usually gets Eren down, but thinking about it now is making him feel especially miserable.

Eren’s not sure why the thought of Petra knowing how his life is so embarrassing. He hasn’t spoken to her in years, so her opinion of him shouldn’t matter. And even if she did have an opinion of him, he’s sure it wouldn’t be unkind. Petra had always been nice to him even when he was a kid and just being an annoying third wheel to her and Zeke. When his childish admiration of her turned into puppy love and eventually evolved into a full-fledged crush, she never brushed him off or thought him annoying, although there was a chance that she just never noticed. He couldn’t blame her for that when Zeke, honor roll student and valedictorian Zeke, was always standing right in front of her. He wasn’t even surprised when they started dating. It was inevitable. And when they eventually broke up for some reason that Eren still isn’t quite sure about, Eren knew he’d never be able to compare so he never tried to pursue her. It’s not surprising that he and Petra ended up losing touch.

As much as he would love to blame Zeke for it (and it would be incredibly easy for him to blame Zeke), he can’t. Maybe it’s strange that he doesn’t harbor a deep hatred for his half-brother. Their relationship has all the makings of a classic sibling rivalry - a complicated family history, stark differences in accomplishments, and affections for the same girl - but Eren could never bring himself to hate Zeke. Even if Zeke’s mother liked to hold all of her son’s accomplishments over Eren’s head, Zeke himself never bragged about them. In fact, he was quite humble and would even offer to help his younger half-brother if he was struggling with something in school. Oftentimes he would invite Eren to hang out with his friends even though their age gap made it a little awkward. He even remembered Eren’s favorite snacks and would make sure they were in supply whenever Eren came over to visit. If Zeke’s mother was an evil Disney stepmother come to life, Zeke was that one fairytale sibling that was kind to the tragic main character, so Eren had no choice but to like Zeke. Even when Zeke broke up with Petra and Eren couldn’t understand why, when Zeke told Eren that it “just happened,” Eren kind of left it at that and accepted that because he couldn’t imagine Zeke doing anything wrong.

Could Eren be classified with an inferiority complex with regards to his brother? Probably, but most siblings can. Eren would have to challenge whether or not someone with inferiority complexes would admire their brother as much as he does, but they might in a weird way. Eren’s sure that he and Zeke’s relationship would still be complicated even if they didn’t have all the weird history with Eren and Zeke’s parents.

Eren sighs as he flies down a dip in the road, letting gravity carry him down instead of pedaling. He really doesn’t feel like he’s in the right headspace for this family dinner. Usually, he lets all of that woman’s snide comments ricochet, but his armor has grown weak and he can just imagine her landing the right thinly-veiled insult, her words burying into his skin and hitting right where it hurts. For a moment, Eren considers calling the dinner off with an excuse that will be sure to piss his stepmother off — probably something about how he has to restructure his lesson plan for the upcoming week — but he glances down at the potato salad and bag of baked goods in his bike basket and realizes that he really doesn’t want to eat them all by himself. If he’s going to suffer, he might as well make the rest of his family suffer alongside him. And besides, he’s pretty much already at their house anyway.

His bike slows as he approaches the white-picket fenced house. He takes the potato salad tub and the bag of baked goods before leaving his bike on the driveway, not bothering to chain it to the fence because nobody would want to steal the old thing he bought from a garage sale anyway. The sight of it lying in front of the house instead of properly locked up will be sure to piss off that woman too, which is just an added bonus. With a sigh, Eren marches up the front steps, shifting the food all on one arm so he can ring the doorbell. The familiar chime rings out, muted from behind the wooden door. A muffled voice mumbles something Eren can’t hear, but he already knows that the speaker has nothing good to say about him.

The door is thrown open and Eren looks down to see his stepmother glowering up at him, blue eyes a raging storm. “You’re late,” she hisses. She doesn’t even give him a greeting; she just stands there in front of him silently fuming. Behind her stands Eren’s father. As expected, he says nothing to defend his son’s tardiness. The man just stands there, uncomfortable as he quietly observes.

“Sorry, Dina,” Eren says, squeezing past his stepmother who makes an indignant noise. He dangles the food he brought in front of her face, rolling his eyes when she snatches the bag from him only to wrinkle her nose in disgust when she sees the potato salad. “I brought dessert, too. Do you want me to put it somewhere …?”

Dina snatches the bag of desserts from him too, still huffing. “We have a guest tonight too. Do you know how rude you’re being?” she says, continuing to nag at him even though Eren has stopped listening to her years ago.

Eren’s father gently grabs Eren by the elbow, subtly ushering him inside to avoid any more conflict but Eren yanks his arm away.

“Well, maybe if you told me we were having a guest beforehand I would have showed up on time,” Eren snaps. He sounds angry as he says it, but he really does mean it. It’s one thing to be rude to his stepmother, but it’s another thing entirely to be rude to a guest he doesn’t know. He’d at least wait for introductions before deciding whether or not to show any manners.

Before his stepmother can say anything more, Eren stomps off into the dining room where Zeke and the guest are waiting. He keeps his head down, cheeks burning, as he pulls out his chair - the one furthest from everyone - and slumps down into it. “Sorry, I’m late,” Eren mumbles, still looking down.

“Eren,” says a deep voice that Eren recognizes as Zeke’s. Hearing the voice of someone other than his stepmother’s makes Eren relax a bit and he rests with his back against his chair, a little more at ease now. He can hear Zeke’s small smile as his half-brother asks, “Aren’t you going to say hi to our guest?”

“Uh, yeah. Hi,” Eren says. His eyes flicker upward, first at Zeke who sits across from him, and then at the guest. He looks so quickly at first that he doesn’t register exactly who he’s seeing until he does a double-take, his green eyes widening as they take in the woman sitting there. It’s someone he hadn’t expected to see ever again, much less sitting at his family’s dining table, and he’s so surprised that he almost chokes. For a moment, he thinks it might just be a doppelganger, but there’s no mistaking the soft dimples that appear in her cheeks as her lips curl in a smile. “...Petra?”

“Hi, Eren.” Petra’s voice is still as gentle and soothing as Eren remembers, the sound of it so honey-sweet that he feels his cheeks bloom a soft pink. There’s so much about her that’s different, but there’s so much more that’s the same. Her hair is shorter now, no longer falling right at her shoulder, but curling right under her chin in a short bob. It’s the same shade of ginger it was when he was a kid. If it’s under the right light, it would probably burn a fiery gold. Her doe eyes are the same pretty amber, sweet and dangerously entrancing at the same time. She’s even dressed differently, her button-up blouse and slick gray trousers such a departure from the casual jeans and t-shirts she wore ten years ago when Eren was still in high school. Eren feels horribly underdressed - his ratty university sweatshirt over a thin cotton tee and his ripped jeans are so shabby in comparison - but a glimmer of silver on Petra’s wrist attracts Eren’s attention to the charm bracelet she wears, jangling with charms that Eren remembers her collecting in her high school days, and he feels a little less like he’s meeting a stranger and more like he’s reuniting with an old friend.

“How are you?” Eren asks shyly, his smile bashful.

“I’m well,” she answers, and Eren feels himself melting into her voice the same way he did when he was thirteen. When she smiles, her head tilts ever so slightly to the right just the way it did when he first met her and her dimples deepen into her cheeks. “How are you?”

“Good,” Eren answers because he doesn’t trust himself to string together more than a word or two at a time. He wonders if she realizes how he’s unraveling at the sound of her voice or if she’s as oblivious as she was the last time.

“I’m glad,” Petra says, and the warm look Petra gives Eren reignites a flame in the pit of his belly that he had thought he extinguished long ago. Her head tilts a little bit more to the side, her eyes twinkling. “I missed you,” Petra tells him, and Eren finds himself in love once more.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

There are rules to dealing with your ex-boyfriend after you’ve broken up, Petra knows, but it’s been ten years and she figures that these rules can be bent. So what if the last time she saw Zeke she was broken-hearted, crying in the rain as he turned his back on her? She was younger then, her feelings out of control for someone who didn’t care for her nearly as much as she cared for him. And, sure, maybe it’s terrible that she never received the closure that she deserves, but she can’t hold a grudge against him forever. They work in the same university and cowering behind the nearest trashcan every time they meet doesn’t seem to be a viable option. Petra’s older now and so is Zeke. They’re mature. They can be friends like adults are after they’ve broken up, so the universe should be able to understand her accepting Zeke’s dinner request that evening even if her friends couldn’t.

She only started to regret her decision when Zeke offered to drive her there after his classes ended - saving gas and the planet, he explained - and she agreed. Although Petra repeatedly told herself that it was a simple family dinner and that such an invitation was extended to Zeke’s other friends on occasion, she found herself sitting impatiently in her office, biting her nails down so close to the quick that her fingers started to bleed. Having to bandage her fingers as she waited did absolutely nothing to soothe her nerves.

“I don’t see why you’re so nervous,” Levi tells her over the phone. He taught in the mathematics department, but they had met after Petra had nervously stumbled into the wrong building and into his office on her first day at the university. The man has a perpetual scowl on his face, and that very same expression had nearly sent Petra running until she weakly explained that she must have gotten lost and he kindly redirected her to the building her office was located in. She thought that was going to be the end of their interaction until he emailed her shortly after asking if she had gotten to her office alright. Finding him a kindred spirit, he had become her first (and sadly only) companion at the university aside from Zeke. “If you’re friends with him, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

“Well, it’s just that I haven’t really seen him since we, you know, broke up,” Petra explains, but she doubts that Levi understands. She had told him her history with Zeke a few weeks ago after he asked her why she was so jittery at the faculty luncheon, but he didn’t have much of a reaction. It was sort of nice having someone to talk to that wasn’t as hyperbolically reactive as the rest of her friends, but it was also painfully difficult when Levi didn’t show her any sympathy.

“You saw him last week when you were at the library to look for reference books,” he reminds her as if it were the same thing. “I don’t know why this dinner has you in a panic. You left me nearly a hundred messages while I was teaching class.” He hadn’t even replied to her texts, the bastard. He had simply left her on read until midnight before sending her a thumbs-up emoji to let her know that he had read her messages, which was not exactly the response Petra was waiting for.

“This is different!” Petra insists, but she knows Levi will never see it that way.

“You’re making this a much bigger deal than it needs to be,” Levi says. She can hear him scribbling something on the other end, probably correcting exams for his differential equations classes and marking a poor student’s paper in an abundance of red. “Either cancel or just go to dinner with him. You’ve had family dinners with him even before you guys got together right?”

“Yeah, but that was back when we were kids,” Petra mumbles, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

“Then you’ll be fine,” he tells her.

“You’re horribly unsympathetic sometimes,” she sighs.

“If you wanted sympathy, you shouldn’t have called me,” Levi says with a cluck of his tongue, but he chuckles when he hears her groan on the other end. “Really, it’ll be fine. You’re just overthinking it. I’m sure it’ll be fine. And you said the kid will be there, right? His brother, so it’s not as if you’ll be alone with Zeke and his parents.”

Petra lays with her head on her desk, her phone pressed against her cheek. “Yeah, you’re right,” she mumbles, but her lower lip still sticks out in a pout. The thought of Eren being there, sweet little Eren with his eager puppy eyes and wide smile, does make her feel better if only a little. She probably hasn’t seen him since she broke up with Zeke. She wonders if he’s changed very much. He’d be in college now? Or maybe he graduated. “I haven’t seen him in awhile though. What if he hates me now?”

“You’re overthinking again,” Levi says. He sighs on the other end. If Petra didn’t know him very well, she would think she was bothering him, but he’s always like this. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes. No. Maybe,” Petra sniffs. She looks sadly at her bandaged fingers and picks at the ends of one of them. “Should I just cancel? Maybe I can tell him I fell down the stairs and had to go to the hospital or something -” Someone knocks at the door and Petra lets out a startled yelp, nearly falling out of her chair because she’s so surprised. When she looks at the door, she sees Zeke’s silhouette against the frosted glass pane. The sight of it makes her want to hide behind her desk. “God, he’s here already!”

“Too late for you to run then,” Levi says, not even bothering to hide his snickering. He’s such a sadist that Petra doesn’t even know why she’s friends with him sometimes. “Have fun at your absolutely normal dinner with your friend and his family.” Click!

“Asshole,” Petra mutters under her breath before shoving her phone in her bag. There’s another knock at the door — the same long, slow knocks that are a signature of Zeke’s — and she hastily shouts, “I’ll be right there!” before shoving her papers in her bag and stumbling out of the door, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process. She must look like a mess because Zeke raises an eyebrow at her when she emerges from her office. Petra catches a glimpse of her reflection in the window and winces at her frumpled shirt and the hair falling out of her bun. She mumbles an apology as she pulls the hair ties out of her bun, her hair falling in loose curls around her face.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Zeke asks.

“No! God, no,” Petra says, inwardly cringing at every word that comes out of her mouth. Even she can tell how awkward her responses sound, a little too quick and desperate. What is she being so anxious for? It’s just dinner with a friend — an ex-boyfriend, but a friend nonetheless. Petra clears her throat and asks as casually as she can manage, “How are your parents?”

“Hmm? They’re well, I suppose,” he answers. Everything about him is familiar. He’s grown just a bit taller since Petra last saw him, his shoulders a bit broader and his jawline a bit sharper, but he still wears the same double-bridge glasses and the right corner of his mouth still quirks upward just the slightest bit when he speaks. He even walks the same way, his strides a little too long and quick, and Petra finds that she still has to struggle a bit to keep up. If Zeke notices the same thing about her - how she still wears the same shade of lipstick, how she still has that habit of wrapping her hair around her finger when she’s nervous like she’s doing now, how she bites her lip when she’s not sure what to say next - he doesn’t mention it. “My father’s still working at the hospital with my grandfather. He’s been promoted to director of the orthopedics department.”

“Oh, congrats!”

“And you know my mother has been at the hospital now that she doesn’t have to worry about me anymore,” Zeke says. It’s strange how casually he says this, as if he doesn’t remember that the last time he spoke about his mother to Petra was when they were still together. “She really missed being in the OR. Says she’d rather be doing surgeries all day than taking care of me.”

“It’s nice that she can go back to it.” She nearly stumbles over a step but catches the railing before she can. When she looks up again, Zeke is already on the sidewalk and she hurries after him, a little breathless. “And Eren?”

“Eren?” Zeke seems a little surprised by the question although Petra doesn’t know why. He leads her to a car - a slick Mercedes with a shining blue exterior and tinted windows that don’t quite match Zeke’s academic profession — and opens the car doors with a click.

“Your brother,” she clarifies as Zeke walks over to the driver’s side and slips into the car. She opens the passenger car and slides into the seat beside Zeke, setting her bag down next to her feet. The door swings shut behind her. “He’s coming to the dinner too, right?”

Zeke turns on the engine and the car comes to life with a pleasant hum. “Most likely,” Zeke says as he checks the side and rearview mirrors before pulling out of the parking space. He even drives the same way, his arm resting on the side with his hand tapping against the door while one hand is on the wheel. Just watching him makes Petra’s chest feel tight.

“Ah, that’s good. I haven’t seen him in so long,” Petra says. For some reason, knowing that Eren will also be there makes her feel a little more relaxed about the dinner. “Is he still in college? I think he should have graduated by now.”

“He graduated a little while ago. He’s teaching now. Still on probation, but he says his colleagues like him so he’s not too worried about getting tenure after the probationary period is over.” He slows the car to a stop at an intersection and leans over, fiddling with the radio dial. He sets it to the jazz station and the sound of smooth brass and relaxed percussion fills the car.

Somehow, driving down the streets with Zeke is far more nostalgic than it ever was when Petra drove on her own. Some nights Petra drove home by herself, and all it ever felt was lonely. Maybe it’s the familiarity of having Zeke beside her like when they were teenagers, driving back home after watching a movie downtown or returning from a basketball game at their high school.

Petra doesn’t ask any more questions about Zeke’s family. She figures she can catch up with the rest of the Jaegers when she sees them at dinner. Instead, she asks Zeke about his classes and finds that conversation with him comes more easily after she stops stumbling over her words. He tells her a little bit about teaching anthropology (“Far less painful than you think it would be, at least when the kids aren’t just taking it to fulfill their core classes,” he says), his plans for the upcoming week (“It’s midterms, but the students should be fine if they actually look at the study guide.”), and the butterfly exhibit opening up at the museum downtown (“I’m thinking of putting it up as extra credit. Who knows, they might actually look at the other exhibits while they’re wandering around.”). Petra also fills him in on her own life, mumbling about how she still has to make the answer key to her own midterm and expressing interest in the butterfly exhibit Zeke mentions.

They pull up next to Zeke’s house, the very same one he grew up with. Not much has changed from the outside. The white picket fence is a little worn and the rose bushes have been replaced with peonies. The house is still the same shade of cream, but Petra is sure that the Jaegers had it repainted over the summer like they usually do. She looks up at the second-story window where Zeke’s room should be and vaguely wonders if it’s still his room or if he’s moved out and hasn’t mentioned it yet.

Walking up the brick steps to the door is a bit surreal. Petra doesn’t realize just how silent she’s been until the chime of the doorbell startles her and Mrs. Jaeger opens the door. As with most of Zeke’s family members, Petra hasn’t seen Mrs. Jaeger since she broke up with Zeke, but she had an amicable relationship with her. She can’t recall Mrs. Jaeger ever being angry, so she’s surprised when Zeke’s mother opens the door with a terrible scowl on her face.

“Mom, you remember Petra,” Zeke says, moving aside so that Petra can enter first.

The scowl quickly slips from Mrs. Jaeger’s face, replaced with a smile that Petra is more familiar with. “Petra, of course! I haven’t seen you in ages,” Mrs. Jaeger says, her voice strained. She waves Petra and Zeke in, shutting the door gently behind them. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Petra mumbles. She looks at the kitchen doorway where Zeke’s father leans and gives him an awkward wave. The man, just as silent as he was when Petra was young, gives her a polite smile and a nod in acknowledgment.

“Sorry, we’re a bit late,” Zeke apologizes as he shrugs off his coat. He walks over to the dining room, Petra and his mother trailing behind him. “A student wanted to talk to me and it took a bit longer than I thought it would.”

“No need to apologize! Eren hasn’t arrived yet anyway. He’ll probably be late. Again.” There’s a harsh tone in Mrs. Jaeger’s voice that Petra hasn't heard before. When she looks up, she sees Zeke’s mother hovering around the table and arranging dishes, the same polite smile on her face as she does so. “Your brother, of course, didn’t bother to send a text to notify us that he’d be late.”

Petra wonders if Mrs. Jaeger usually speaks about Eren with such disappointment in her voice. Maybe she had always spoken about Eren like this and Petra had never been around to witness it or maybe it’s something that developed while Petra was away. Whatever it is, Zeke and his father seem used to it. Zeke merely shrugs, pulling out his phone to flip through his phone while his mother continues to mutter about how disrespectful her stepson is. Mr. Jaeger continues to stand at the doorway, not bothering to join them at the dining table, his eyes fixed on the carpet. He doesn’t bother to defend his son.

“Maybe he’s busy,” Petra says, interrupting Mrs. Jaeger mid-rant. She feels rude for speaking while Mrs. Jaeger is talking, but sitting in silence while Zeke’s mother speaks ill of Eren doesn’t feel right either. All eyes are on her now - Mrs. Jaeger a little surprised, Zeke with an eyebrow quirked upward as if in amusement, and his father with a look that’s almost relieved. Petra clears her throat and continues. “He’s a teacher, right? It must be difficult teaching so many children every day — making the lesson plan and everything. Maybe texting slipped his mind. He’ll probably be here soon.”

God, she hopes Eren will be here soon. Her cheeks are starting to burn bright red and she’s thinking that perhaps speaking up might not have been the best decision.

“Ah, you’re probably right.” Mrs. Jaeger seems a little more composed now, perhaps remembering that they have company over. She settles down in the chair across from Zeke and flashes a pleasant smile at Petra. “He can be quite forgetful of these things. Of course, you’d never worry your father like this. You’ve always been so responsible.”

Has talking with Zeke’s mother always been this difficult? Petra’s head is starting to spin, unsure of what response would be appropriate. She feels as if she should defend Eren, but she doesn’t want to make things awkward either. In the end, she smiles awkwardly at Mrs. Jaeger as if accepting the woman’s compliment and reaches out for the glass of water in front of her, raising it to her lips before she can say anything else that she might regret.

“Dear, come sit next to me,” Mrs. Jaeger calls. She gestures for her husband to join them at the table and Mr. Jaeger stiffly walks over from the doorway before taking a seat at the head of the table. Mrs. Jaeger folds her hands on the table, her gaze still on Petra. “How have you been, Petra? We haven’t heard from you in a while. How long have you been back?”

The series of questions leave Petra tongue-tied and unsure of how to answer. It’s so strange how casual the Jaegers can be about asking after her, like she hadn’t been such a large part of their lives — or at least Zeke’s life — ten years ago before disappearing completely. As if they didn’t know the real reason she hadn’t kept in touch. She’s not sure if she’ll ever be able to act as oblivious as them.

“Er, I’ve been back for a while now,” she replies. She bites her lip when she sees the look of surprise on Mrs. Jaeger’s face. When she glances over at Zeke, he doesn’t look back at her. He’s returned his gaze to his phone screen, ignoring her. Nervously, she laughs. “I guess Zeke didn’t tell you, but I’m teaching at the same university he is. A few undergraduate English classes and then a graduate course on nature and romantic poetry.” Petra doesn’t know why she feels a lump at the back of her throat or the sting of tears at the corner of her eyes. She nibbles at her lip again, looking down at her lap so that she doesn’t have to look at Zeke or his family. She doesn’t have a reason to feel hurt or upset. Maybe Zeke was busy and didn’t have the chance to mention it to his parents or maybe it just slipped his mind. It isn’t a big deal.

“Oh, that must be nice! Who knew you two would be working together after all these years?” Mrs. Jaeger says. She subtly pushes the cheese plate on the table towards Petra, gesturing for her to take one.

“Mmm,” Petra says, nodding as if she agrees with Mrs. Jaeger. It’s not as if she’s wrong. Petra certainly didn’t know any of this would happen. She knew some of it would — getting her degree, teaching at a university, eating dinner with Zeke’s parents — she just hadn’t predicted other things like Zeke breaking up with her, not speaking with him for ten years after knowing him her entire life, or having to pretend that she’s okay.

Petra reaches for a cracker and a spread of raspberry goat cheese and shoves the entire thing in her mouth, hoping that she won’t have to answer any more questions.

“The university is nice,” Zeke’s father murmurs. It’s the first time he’s spoken all night. The sound of his voice startles Petra, but the other Jaegers don’t seem too surprised. “It’s near the museum too. Very convenient.”

“Ah, the museum!” Mrs. Jaeger clasps her hands together and looks at Petra expectantly. Petra nearly chokes on her cracker out of nervousness. “Have you been there yet?”

“Er, not yet,” Petra says hastily, wincing at the pain in her throat. She takes a quick sip of her water to relieve it. “I haven’t really found the time, I guess.”

“Oh, you should absolutely go!” says Mrs. Jaeger brightly. Petra had never thought Mrs. Jaeger was one to love museums, but there’s probably a lot about the woman that Petra doesn’t know now. All Petra really remembers about the woman is that she stayed at home during the daytime and worked at the hospital at night. She’s bound to have found other ways to occupy her time now that she doesn’t have to worry about Zeke anymore.

“You sound as if you really enjoy it.” Petra nibbles at another cracker. She feels as if she should smile right now, but she’s not sure if she’s able to. “Are there any exhibits you would recommend?”

“Oh, they’re all good! The staff especially …,” Mrs. Jaeger gushes, but her voice begins to trail off. Her eyes flicker over to Zeke as if waiting for a sign to proceed, but her son pays no attention to her. He simply reaches over for an almond on the cheese plate and pops it into his mouth. His mother’s smile tightens and she continues, “The butterfly exhibit that’s opening soon should be exquisite!”

Petra looks from Zeke to Mrs. Jaeger. Aside from Mrs. Jaeger’s forced smile, Petra really can’t tell what’s wrong, so she puts on a false smile of her own and nods. “I know. Zeke was telling me about it on the ride here.”

There’s a long and awkward silence. Zeke puts no effort in speaking and neither does his father, who still sits and stares at his lap. Only Mrs. Jaeger and Petra seem to be putting in any effort to pick up the conversation, both trying to appear calm as they search for some common ground to work with. Instead, the doorbell rings and Petra swears she hears a sigh of relief escape Mrs. Jaeger’s lips.

“It seems Eren has finally arrived,” Mrs. Jaeger says, her chair scraping across the floor as she gets up from the table. As she turns to leave, she flashes Petra an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry you had to wait so long.” Petra is about to tell her that it wasn’t a problem, that she didn’t mind waiting (even if it was a lie), but Zeke’s mother has already disappeared into the next room with Zeke’s father following silently behind her.

For a moment, Petra wonders if she should try to talk to Zeke so more. It’s not that the quiet bothers her, but she’s never felt comfortable sitting silently next to others unless she was completely comfortable with them. Ten years ago this would have been fine, but now sitting with Zeke beside her without saying a word is making her skin crawl and her throat dry. She glances at him from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge his interest.

Zeke doesn’t seem to be bothered by the silence at all. He’s still scrolling through his phone, occasionally reaching out to pluck a cracker or another almond from the cheese plate. If he’s fine without any conversation, Petra figures she shouldn’t bother him. She settles down with her back against her chair rather unhappily and tries to occupy herself another way.

Petra tries not to eavesdrop on the conversation going on in the other room. First, she stares down at the lace tablecloth, gazing at the delicate pattern until the floral designs are burned into her corneas. Mrs. Jaeger’s voice begins to drift into the dining room, her tone just as cold and harsh as it was when she spoke about Eren earlier this evening. Another voice floats into the room as well, a voice like Eren’s but a bit deeper and rougher than Petra remembers. As the two continue to talk, Petra finds herself straining to listen to the conversation, but she can’t quite make out the words. The words exchanged don’t sound incredibly pleasant though.

“...if you told me we were having a guest beforehand I would have shown up on time,” Eren hisses as he walks into the room. He’s taller than he was when Petra had seen him last — probably as tall as his brother if not taller — but he walks with his head down and doesn’t seem to notice Petra seated at the table even as he pulls out a chair to sit down. Without looking up, Eren mumbles, “Sorry, I’m late.”

Zeke looks up, his expression amused. “Eren,” he says, setting down his phone for once. He rests his chin in his hand, mouth quirked upward in a smile. “Aren’t you going to say hi to our guest?”

“Uh, yeah. Hi,” Eren says, mumbling into his lap. His eyes flicker upward, first at Zeke and then Petra, but he doesn’t really register who Petra is until he takes another glance. His eyes are huge like a doe’s. He’s always had big eyes even when he was a child, large and green like gemstones. He’s grown into them more since the last time Petra has seen him, but they’re still enormous, growing wider as he recognizes her. His mouth falls open in surprise. “... Petra?”

She can feel her lips curling in a smile. “Hi, Eren.”

Eren smiles back at her, a little nervous but a lot more relaxed than he was when he first arrived. He’s still shy when he smiles, looking up at her before glancing down at his lap again. “How are you?” He sits up straighter in his seat, no longer slouching.

“I’m well. How are you?”

“Good,” Eren answers.

“I’m glad. I missed you,” Petra tells him, and she means it.

His smile is a little wider now and Petra feels the most relaxed than she’s been the entire night. It’s nice to know that, despite everything, at least Eren hasn’t changed and she feels less awkward being at a Jaeger family dinner after ten years of estrangement.

Mrs. Jaeger puts down a tub of what looks like a potato salad on the table, opening the container with a frown. “At least you didn’t come empty-handed,” she comments wryly.

Eren winces but doesn’t say anything.

Petra sits up. “It looks, um, delicious.” It doesn’t. It looks like a pile of mush and not at all like anything edible, but Petra begins to spoon some on her plate anyway out of politeness despite the look of alarm on Eren’s face. “Eren, your brother told me you started teaching recently. Where do you teach?”

“Just, um, down the street. Not really elementary … it’s a daycare,” he says distractedly as he watches her help herself to his potato salad. Eren hesitates for a moment before taking the spoon from Petra and switching their plates. He does it absentmindedly, almost as if he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he notices everyone looking at him peculiarly. Flustered, he explains, “It’s not, ah, I don’t think it’s very good. So.” As if to prove his point, he puts a heaping spoonful of it into his mouth, gagging on it as he swallows it down, and scrunches his face up in disgust.

Mrs. Jaeger looks rather smug as Eren chokes. “I’ll just put this away then,” she says, removing the tub of potato salad from the table. She gestures for Petra to help herself to the other food on the table. “Help yourself to everything else, Petra.”

“Er, thank you,” Petra says. She does feel bad about not eating the potato salad, but Eren looks pretty relieved. Because she’s talked Zeke’s ear off in the car and doesn’t know how to carry on a conversation with the Jaeger parents, she decides to continue her conversation with Eren. “Daycare seems like it would suit you. I bet you’re great with kids.”

“I’m alright,” Eren mumbles as he pushes the potatoes back and forth on his plate, but he’s hiding a smile on his face, secretly pleased. He’s never been that good at hiding his emotions, which Petra thinks is an endearing trait. “Teaching at a university is probably harder.” He freezes for a moment and then hurriedly adds, “Your dad told me you work as a professor now. I ran into him before coming here. He mentioned that you taught English …?”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, casting a side glance at Zeke. She thought Zeke would have mentioned that they were working at the same university, but maybe it never came up in conversation between the brothers or they just weren’t as close as they were before. Forcing a smile on her face, she nods, “Yeah, I teach English, but I wouldn’t say teaching university is more or less difficult than handling a daycare. They have their own challenges, right?”

“Yeah,” Eren replies, voice soft. His smile grows wider and, after Petra asks him about what it’s like teaching at the daycare, starts animatedly talking about his students. He seems very endeared towards a young girl named Gabi, a very mischievous but sweet troublemaker, and her companion Falco, a young boy that often has no choice but to be dragged into all of Gabi’s shenanigans.

Talking to Eren makes the rest of the dinner go by easily. He’s always been easy to talk to even when they were teenagers and she was dating Zeke. Sometimes she would wait at the Jaeger house and talk with Eren while they waited for Zeke to come back from baseball practice. Eren was always so animated when he talked, using his hands and sometimes bouncing up and down his seat when he got excited. He still does that now as he talks about his work at the daycare, listening intently whenever Petra or even Zeke exchange their own stories about teaching. It makes her feel as if the past ten years hadn’t really happened, like Zeke and Eren had been a part of her life the entire time.

“Oh, I brought dessert,” Eren says brightly. Before Mrs. Jaeger can say anything, he gets up to collect the paper bag on the kitchen counter and plops it on the dining table. He pushes it closer to Petra. “Your dad gave me some while he was closing up his shop.”

She laughs. “I eat too many of these as it is,” Petra says, but she plucks an almond cookie from the bag. Her teeth sink into the cookie, savoring its subtle nutty flavor on her tongue, and sighs. “Don’t tell my dad. He won’t let me eat anymore when I get home.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Eren grins.

Petra peers into the bag. “Did he give you any chocolate croissants?” She looks over at Eren. “Those are still your favorites, right?”

Eren looks surprised. “Ah, yeah,” he replies, blinking. “You remember?”

“Of course, I remember,” she snorts. She manages to find a pain au chocolat and places it delicately on Eren’s plate. It’s a little smooshed from the ride here, chocolate spilling out of its side, but Eren still looks at it hungrily. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Zeke leans forward. “I like the lemon bars. Let me know if there are any in there.”

She laughs and actually does manage to find one, but it’s a lemon-lavender bar. Zeke assures her it’s fine, picking off the little bits of lavender that are on the top of the bar. They eat like that for a moment and Petra feels an overwhelming wave of nostalgia. It’s probably unhealthy to yearn for the past, but Petra wouldn’t mind if things somehow ended up the way they were before.

When their dishes are scraped clean and the conversations begin to fade away, Zeke pats down the corner of his mouth with a napkin before announcing that they should stop for the night. He has papers to grade tonight, he explains to his parents who nod understandingly. The wooden legs of his chair scrape against the carpet as he gets up from the table and Petra slides out of her own seat, ready to follow him.

“Ah, Petra,” Zeke says, pausing like he’s just remembered. He looks at her, head tilting slightly. He’s stopped by the door to the living room, his hand resting on the doorframe. “Do you mind calling an Uber to pick you up? I’d drive you home myself but …”

“I …” Petra blinks, feeling like a deer in headlights. If she looked around, she would see that the rest of the Jaeger family has a similar expression. She’s not sure why she feels so surprised. Maybe it’s because she had expected him to drive her home, but maybe that was too much to ask of him after he had taken the trouble to drive her here in the first place. It’s not even that far of a drive to her house, but it’s probably too cumbersome for Zeke, who’s busy with grading papers and preparing for tomorrow’s lectures. There’s an awful lump in her throat like she had swallowed an egg whole, but Petra forces a smile on her face as she begins, “Sure, let me just call my dad -”

“I’ll take you home,” a voice says suddenly. Everyone turns to see Eren standing up from his chair. At first glance he looks angry, but Petra blinks again and there’s only concern on his face as he collects his jacket and walks over to Petra. He shrugs it on and smiles down at her, his expression a little apologetic. “Er, you don’t mind riding on a bike, do you?”

Petra has to lift her head to look at Eren and she wonders when he had gotten so tall. It must have been after she left for college. “No, that’s fine,” she replies numbly, too shocked to really think about it. She shuffles silently after Eren, mumbling a brief “thank you” when he helps her into her coat.

“It was lovely having you over again, dear,” Mrs. Jaeger says to Petra, a smile pasted on the woman’s face as she saw the two out. She doesn’t say anything about Zeke not offering Petra a ride back. “Do come again sometime.”

“Of course,” Petra says, although the promise feels empty. She’s not sure if Mrs. Jaeger notices or even cares because the woman shuts the door in her face before Eren and Petra are even out in the driveway. It’s not a cold gesture, but it’s a change from the days when Mrs. Jaeger would wait until Petra was almost out of sight before shutting the door and disappearing into the house.

Petra shoves her hands into the pockets of her coat and follows Eren down the driveway, watching as he runs to the bike he had carelessly discarded on the ground before entering the house earlier. Embarrassed, Eren hastily picks up the bike, brushing it off and mumbling something about how he had been in too much of a hurry earlier to properly lock up his bike. Petra assures him it’s fine. She’s only half-listening anyway.

“You can just sit here,” Eren says, patting a padded seat on the back of his bike. He throws a leg over his bike easily and looks at Petra, waiting expectantly.

She hadn’t objected to the ride home before, but now she looks at Eren’s vehicle of choice skeptically. “Are you sure you’ll be able to pedal with me on it? I’m a whole other person.” Petra hovers beside the bike, but she doesn’t get on.

“Yeah, it’s fine. It was fine when my boyfriends were riding in the back, and they’re a lot heavier than you,” Eren replies. It takes him a moment to register what he just said and then his face begins to color, cheeks glowing pink even in the dim moonlight. “I mean my ex-boyfriends. I rode around with my ex-girlfriend too, but she was really tiny too. She was …” He probably would have babbled on and on if Petra hadn’t sat down.

“Your exes?” Petra asks, eyebrow raised. She hadn’t really thought about Eren dating, but it’s funny to think about now. She doesn’t remember if he ever dated anyone when he was in high school. She probably shouldn’t tease, but she can’t resist grinning at the boy and saying, “It looks like you were busy in college.”

“Not that busy. Just … probably as busy as your average college student,” Eren mumbles under his breath, face still flushed. He gestures at Petra’s hands and then makes a motion around his waist. “You can … around me if, you know, you’re comfortable with it.”

“Oh, right.” She leans forward and wraps her arms around Eren’s waist and wonders briefly how someone so tall can have such a thin waist. “Do you remember the way to my house?” she asks.

“Of course,” Eren says. “It’s not that far from here.”

For some reason, the way Eren answers makes Petra feel warm. Maybe it’s just the heat transfer from resting her cheek on his back. She closes her eyes, feeling the wind rush around her as Eren bikes her back home.

It feels so comfortable, clinging onto someone so familiar and breathing in Eren’s scent, something like pinewood and a little bit of peppermint. He feels strong too, sturdy like a redwood tree. Petra doesn’t know why she doubted his ability to bike with her additional weight. He’d probably be fine having someone twice her weight in tow. She experimentally gives Eren’s waist a little squeeze. It must have been too sudden of a squeeze because they come to a screeching stop, Petra’s face slamming against Eren’s back and the two of them nearly go flying.

“Oh, ouch,” Petra says. One arm is still wrapped around Eren’s lithe waist, but she raises a hand to rub her stinging face. “That hurts.”

“S-sorry!” Eren stammers. He twists around to get a good look at Petra, forehead wrinkling. “I didn’t mean to stop so suddenly I was just … surprised.” He brings his hand down to where Petra’s arm is hooked around his waist, but he snatches his hand away as soon as their skin brushes as if he’s been burned. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Petra assures him. Her nose is throbbing dully, but it’s not bleeding. “It’s my fault anyway. I was just surprised. You’re a lot bigger than you were the last time I saw you.”

“I’m alright,” Eren says with a shy laugh. He pushes off on the bike and starts for home again, pedaling easily despite Petra’s weight. He doesn’t startle when Petra leans against him again, her cheek rubbing against the cotton of his hoodie. His breath hitches a little when Petra wraps her arms a little tighter around his waist, but it goes unnoticed by her.

“Were they nice?” she asks. Eren makes a confused noise, and she can’t help but smile. Clarifying, she says, “Your exes. Were they nice?”

Eren pedals in silence for a while before responding. “Yeah. They were nice.”

“That’s good.” Petra sighs against his back, not noticing the way he shivers as if he can feel her breath on his skin. “You deserve to date nice people.”

Petra might have imagined it, but she thinks she hears Eren say something in reply. He says it quietly, though, and the wind carries it away too quickly for her to hear. She straightens her back, lifting her head from where it rests against Eren’s back, but he doesn’t repeat himself and she doesn’t ask. Maybe it’s just one of those things that are meant to be spoken aloud but not heard by anyone.

They don’t speak much the rest of the way home. Petra figures Eren is having enough trouble biking with two people and holding a conversation would only tire him out more. She just lets herself rest against him, watching as they pass streetlight after streetlight. It probably would have been more convenient to call a Lyft or an Uber, but Petra thinks accepting Eren’s bike ride isn’t bad either. It saved her from having to wait awkwardly for her driver to find the house while Zeke’s parents waited for her to leave.

She wonders if she should have gone to dinner in the first place. Maybe Zeke had only invited her out of politeness, but she had taken it to mean more than it did. She’s stupid to think that arriving at the Jaeger house meant that things could go back to the way things were. It was noticeably tense in the house. At first, Petra thought it was because of the strained relationship between Mrs. Jaeger and Eren, but now she’s not so sure. It’s not as if Mr. and Mrs. Jaeger had met her with open arms. They hadn’t been hostile, but they were polite in the way that people were polite to house guests and not in the way they would be to a childhood friend of their son. God, she’s so stupid. She should have just declined Zeke’s offer politely and never spoken to him again since he was obviously content with not speaking with her for ten years.

Burying her face in Eren’s hoodie, Petra gives him another squeeze. Eren doesn’t brake this time. He just lets out a surprised “oh!” and falters for a bit, bike slowing, before picking his pace back up and continuing on their way.

“We’re almost there,” Eren tells her. As he approaches Petra’s house, the bike begins to slow before stopping completely in front of the driveway. When Petra lifts her head, Eren is looking at her, smiling. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Petra nods. She gets off the bike and pats down her windswept hair, brushing some stray locks out of her face. She manages to smile back at Eren. “Thanks for the ride back. I hope it wasn’t too out of your way.”

“It’s fine.” Eren sits at his bike, his smile a little lopsided. He looks as if he’s about to say something, but nothing comes. It’s only when Petra turns around towards her house that he opens his mouth. “Hey, Petra?”

Petra’s hand rests on the gate of her wooden fence, just about to open it. She looks at Eren, watching as he fidgets with the handle of his bike. “Yeah?”

“Did Zeke …?” His voice trails off and Eren’s looking everywhere except at her face. He nibbles on his bottom lip and Petra wonders what he’s so nervous about. His expression looks pained as if he’s scared whatever he has to say will hurt her, but Petra’s not sure why it would. After a moment, Eren swallows and forces a smile on his face. “Did Zeke tell you that … I work near your university?”

“You do?”

Eren nods. He looks a lot less nervous now, his shoulders relaxed. “Well, it’s not that far by bike.”

“Really?” Petra hums. “I should come visit you some time then.”

“Oh, you don’t have to -”

“Or you could visit me?” she suggests.

He blinks. “I can?” Eren asks. “Is that really okay?”

Petra almost laughs. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be? You should just let me know beforehand if you’re coming,” she tells him. She walks over, pulling her phone out of her purse and handing it to him so he can add his number. “Text me or call me. I might not respond right away because I might have a faculty meeting or a lecture, but I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

“Oh, alright then,” Eren says. He types away on her phone, handing it back to her as soon as he’s finished. He watches with wide green eyes as Petra sends him an emoji — a simple “Hi, Eren! It’s Petra 😊” — and looks back at her with a grin. “I’ll come visit sometime.”

“That’d be great,” Petra says, and she really means it. “Thanks again for the ride, Eren. I really appreciate it.”

“It was no problem,” Eren tells her. He waves as walks through the gate and up the steps of her porch. He’s still waving when she opens the door and turns around, his smile a little goofy but cute at the same time. “Have a good night!”

“You too,” Petra says before shutting the door gently behind her. She takes a peek out the window and sees Eren still on the sidewalk with the bike. He stands there with a pensive look on his face before pushing off his bike and riding off into the night. Petra watches until he’s a tiny speck down the road. When she blinks, he’s gone.

Petra finds her dad waiting for her in the living room, sleeping because he can’t stay awake for very long after dinner. In his lap sits a half-finished crossword puzzle. Petra smiles affectionately at her father before pressing a soft kiss on the old man’s brow.

“I’m home,” she whispers as her father begins to stir.

“Ah, Petra,” says her father. He looks at her, eyes still bleary with sleep, and gives her a drowsy smile. With a hand, he pushes up the glasses that were slipping off his nose during sleep. “Did Zeke drive you home?”

Her lips press into a thin line. “No. He was busy,” Petra replies, trying to keep her voice as even as possible. “Eren took me home instead.”

“Eren?” her father repeats, not seeming to remember the name.

“Zeke’s younger brother,” Petra reminds him. She leans against the back of her father��s armchair as she tries to describe the half-brother. “He was a few years younger than me. Brown hair, big green eyes, kind of gangly.”

“Oh, Eren,” her father says, nodding. Petra’s not sure if he actually remembers or if he’s just being polite, but then he suddenly says, “I saw him earlier this evening before I was closing up shop. He’s very polite. He’s a nice boy.”

Petra leans over to rest her head on her father’s shoulder while her arms lay folded on the back of the armchair. She thinks about her ride home, how it could have been cold and miserable and lonely. And maybe her thoughts were all of those things, but the ride wasn’t. She can still feel the warmth Eren emanated from underneath his hoodie, how comforting it was to have someone to hold.

“Yeah. He’s a nice guy,” Petra says softly.

#eretra #petra ral #eren jaeger #zeke jaeger #big au #ilyitros #i'll love you in the rain or shine series #modern au #snk #damn i love food so much!!!

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cluelessnamelessao3 · 4 years ago

Text

But It’s Not Funny

4. But I Can’t Stop Laughing

You stood in the backroom, washing out a water bowl that one of the dogs had managed to tip the entire contents of their food bowl into. It had turned the dry kibble into a gross gravy-like mush. Plus, it didn’t exactly smell great either, so it needed to be dealt with now. Right now, because you were not ready to deal with smelling that rancid stink for another minute more.

“You’re like a Chihuahua,” Frisk said suddenly, causing your hands to still as your brow furrowed with confusion.

You blinked at them, your face growing warm. Your eyes were narrowed and indignant. You weren’t sure you liked being compared to a small, yappy dog.

“What?” you exclaimed, “I am not!”

“You’re just so small and angry. Like a Chihuahua! You even shake like one…” They were giggling, their face hidden behind their hands and you were trying your best not to look too offended.

“I’m not even that small! You’re the same size as me, punk!”

Frisk giggled again, “Yeah, but I’m, like, sixteen! And hoowww old are you?” They sang, wiggling their eyebrows at you with a smirk on their face.

“Okay, okay, like-sixteen, go put this bowl back in the kennel, please.” You were trying and failing to sound stern, and they made a face which had you laughing a second later. As they left, they turned to sign a quick apology for teasing you, but you shook your head, a small smile still stuck on your face.

The door rang and you turned, expecting… not… that.

You blanched at the sight but tried not to let your discomfort show as you mumbled out a weak “Hello! How can I help you?”

The mass in front of you shivered and wiggled—the skin on its face (well, you assumed that was its face) quivered slightly and a gaping hole appeared in the middle. The creature seemed to be panting heavily and their shaking increased as you stepped out from behind the counter.

It had… so many legs. The head was distinctly dog-like with large, pointed ears and something akin to a snout. There appeared to be a tail on the back of it, and between each leg looked to be the outline of a dog—but you weren’t sure. It was too hard to tell with how constantly the form seemed to shift and move and change.

You approached it slowly, trying to hide your queasiness by being friendly. You cooed at it, gesturing it to come closer.

It seemed to like that and bounded up to you within seconds, its odd, tail-like protrusion wagging sporadically, flicking specks of whatever substance made this creature up all over your store.

You laid your palm out flat in front of its face and…

The thing practically swallowed your hand whole. You were about to scream in terror when suddenly your hand reappeared from the mass with a wet pop… just covered in a thick layer of some sort of grey ooze. It was becoming harder and harder not to throw up.

As you tried to hold back your gags at the unpleasant presence of the creature, you noticed a familiar figure standing behind the shifting mass of goop that somewhat resembled a dog.

“Sans?” You squeaked, almost in disbelief.

“In the flesh… or should I say sans the flesh.” He winked cheekily and you furrowed your brows, “That’s your cue to uh, laugh, or, yanno, emote at all?” Then, seemingly more to himself he whispered, “Kid sure knows how to pick ‘em.”

You frowned, “I’m still here, and can definitely hear you.”

He shrugged, definitely not apologetic in the least, “Sorry, kiddo, just findin’ it hard to tickle your funny bone.”

Your mouth twitched and you fought the urge to laugh—He’d been rude to you! There was no way you were going to start giggling just because of a few dumb jokes. Instead, you chose to question the… creature… he’d brought with them.

“So, uh, do they have a name?”

At that moment though, Frisk popped their head out from the backroom and squealed with excitement.

“ENDOGENY!”

The quivering mass responded to Frisk’s voice by shaking even more violently than they were before, you swear you could see pieces of slime rolling off of them and splattering onto the floor. Each time it did though, it collected itself back into the creature’s—Endogeny’s form.

Sans, saved from answering your question, watched as you interacted with Frisk. It was interesting—you were interesting. But at least Frisk seemed to like you. He felt an ounce of regret; he’d reacted badly upon seeing you and he knew he hadn’t made the best impression on you, but it was too late to fix that. Fate would sort itself out anyway. That was what it always did.

It turned out that cleaning the amalgamation, Endogeny, wasn’t as hard as it seemed. Their skin was like wet clay, somewhat malleable and pliable, or maybe they were more like the silly putty you used to play with as a kid. The water tended to bounce right off of them, so you opted to use a dry shampoo on their fur—or lack thereof.

Sans watched the entire time and you tried not to feel too awkward as you and Frisk worked. He wasn’t necessarily doing anything wrong, but you could feel his eyes on you. It was wearing on your patience and eventually you turned around, an angry flush on your face, and snapped, “Take a picture, it lasts longer.”

He smirked. You resisted the urge to throw something at him.

It was almost a relief to see him go.

The rest of the day went pretty smoothly and soon you found yourself packing up to leave.

“So, Frisk, shall I take you home?”

They nodded, a smile on their tanned face, “Actually, we’re gonna go to Paps’ house, I’m staying the night over there!”

“Ah, okay, kiddo. Then, let’s go, yeah?” You grabbed Luna’s leash in one hand and Frisk’s hand in the other. In your short time of knowing the kid, you felt oddly protective of them. You were pretty sure you’d fight a bitch for this kid if the need ever arose. Though, you weren’t even that much older than them, you shouldn’t really be considering them a kid anymore.

As if echoing your thoughts, they spoke up indignantly, “I’m not a kid! I’m nearly an ADULT!”

You laughed as the two of you left the shop, “That’s what a KID would say!” It took all of your willpower not to smirk at them and their flushed face. They were too fun to tease. It was like being with the little sibling you’d never had.

Frisk chatted with you about their family the entire walk to Papyrus’ place, even mentioning a sibling of theirs that… apparently, wasn’t even a sibling. They weren’t even really a human—nor a monster. You’d never really questioned Frisk’s family, nor their mother that by all means could not possibly be their biological mother.

There would never be a more perfect time to ask than now, “Hmm, so, uh, how’d you meet… er, I mean, like, Toriel is your adoptive parent, right?”

They shrugged, “Yeah, I guess so, they’re more like my real momma than… my mother was…” Their voice trailed off and when you looked over at them, they seemed to be deep in thought. Gently, you reached out and tapped their shoulder.

“It’s okay, I’m glad you have Toriel. Found family can be better than the biological. So, uh, tell me about your brother… Asriel, right?”

They nodded, the haunted look in their eyes replaced with a much more affectionate expression, “Yeah! My brother Asriel is really great… Though, uh, he likes to be called Flowey now… And I mean, he’s also a flower, but like, it’s not a big deal!”

You’d have to keep that in mind—Flowey, not Asriel. Also, what? He wasn’t a human? And he wasn’t a goat monster? He was a fucking flower? Was he conscious? Sentient? You weren’t sure… “I’ll have to meet him sometime. Maybe we can have a little picnic with your mother and your brother next week!”

Frisk agreed enthusiastically, their smile wider than ever. ‘I want to do that soon!’ They signed quickly.

You’d begun to notice in the two weeks that you’d been working with them that Frisk tended to switch to sign language when they got overly excited.

“I’d love to meet more of your family and spend some time with them!”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you continued to walk. Frisk led you into a short alleyway and out onto a different street… a very familiar street… it took you a second to realize this was in the same neighbourhood as your apartment complex.

You got a sinking feeling in your gut as Frisk led you directly toward your building, but you were relieved—probably a little too relieved when you realized they didn’t actually live in your building, but rather just a block or so to the right of where you stayed.

You liked to have your space, even if you liked Papyrus a lot.

“Do you have family?” Frisk’s voice knocked you from your thoughts and you took a moment to blink at them confusedly.

“Uhhh, y-yeah… I… uh do.” You weren’t really keen on talking about them… There wasn’t much to say other than the fact that you didn’t exactly ‘get along’ with your family. You were, for all intents and purposes, completely estranged from them. Your father was neglectful, drowning his sorrows in alcohol, and your stepmother was hateful. She blamed you for a lot of things—she even blamed you for your own trauma.

You sighed, “They’re fine, I guess… I have a dad, a stepmom, and a stepbrother. My… my mother died when I was younger.”

Frisk nodded solemnly, seeming to consider your words carefully before asking, “Can I meet them someday? They can’t be that bad if they made you.”

You were saved from having to answer when Papyrus burst through the front door of his house, “OH WOWIE! I knew we had the TINY HUMAN coming over! But I didn’t think that they were going to bring the OTHER TINY HUMAN over TOO!”

He lunged toward you, arms outstretched, and you instinctively took a step back, fear swirling in your stomach. He seemed to take the cue, though, because he suddenly seemed a lot more subdued as he mumbled out a quick apology, “Sorry SMALL human, I forgot that you do not wish to be TOUCHED!”

You nodded meekly, and awkwardly patted his shoulder—or rather, his forearm, you couldn’t reach his shoulder. “It’s nice to see you again, Paps, maybe you, Undyne, and I could hang out again sometime.”

Frisk whined petulantly and you smiled affectionately, “Well of course Frisk is coming too, that’s just a given! It’s no party without little boss, here.”

The three of you chatted amiably for a moment before the two of them waved goodbye and headed into the house. You carefully picked your way down the stairs, hands in your pockets, Luna’s leash dragging on the ground beside you.

You were feeling weird—almost jealous? You wanted to head in and join them, maybe sit down for a cup of tea and talk for a while. You wanted to share stories of family and friends, gossip about nightmare costumers at the groomer’s shop, or complain about noisy neighbours. It’d been such a long time since you’d just hung out with someone for the fun of it—not counting the unplanned hangout with Undyne and Papyrus earlier this week.

You’d lost contact with most of your friends, either because they had given up on you, or because you’d isolated yourself; it was hard to tell who was at fault for your solitude. But that wasn’t right, because no, blame couldn’t be ladled out at your discretion. Everything that had happened was a matter of choice—you’d chosen the path your life was on… even if you hadn’t meant for it to turn out this way…

You hadn’t known the consequences. You hadn’t been prepared for them.

Luna pushed her wet nose into your limp hand, and you blinked, suddenly realizing you were still standing by the front steps of Papyrus’ house. Your face flushed with embarrassment. You hurriedly reached down to scoop up Luna’s leash.

Some days it just like your head got away from you and you found yourself staring into space as you thought and thought and thought and the thoughts kept getting thought and it was nonstop. Half the time it wasn’t until someone called your name, or Luna noticed and got your attention that you would snap out of it.

Time flew by when you were like that. It was so hard for you to get out of your own head when you started to overthink.

“Hey, kid!” A deep drawling voice rang out and you flinched, “Sorry, heh, I just saw you out here… I just got off work and was headin’ home. Were you droppin’ the little kiddo off?”

It was Sans, he was in his typical faded blue jacket with its fluffy white fur hood, the black athletic shorts he wore contrasting hugely with the bright white of his bones. It connected, at that moment, that you were just standing in front of his house. You knew Papyrus had a sibling, although you hadn’t realised it was Sans.

You nodded in answer, still feeling odd from your lapse in attention earlier.

He seemed to sense something was wrong, “Hey, it’s gettin’ kind of late, how about I walk ya home?”

You shrugged, "I can manage, it’s fine..." you trailed off, noticing the look of worry on his face.

“Look, to patella ya the truth, I think we got off on the wrong foot… So uh, throw me a bone here and I’ll take ya home?” He looked so awkward there as he sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, that you couldn’t help but take pity on him.

“Yeah… uh, sure… I’d, uh, be bonely on my own,” you giggled helplessly at the end of your own joke.

The expression on his face made it all the better as his eyes widened and he let out a most unattractive snort.

“That’s good, that’s real’ good,” he chuckled.

“Well, I mean…” you chewed your lower lip, thinking for a moment, “if you like puns so much, I happen to know a skele-ton of skele-puns.”

He laughed and gestured for you to start walking. The two of you made your way down the sidewalk giggling all the while as you swapped jokes back and forth.

All too soon you ended up at the front of your apartment building.

You were just about to head inside before Sans stopped you, “Hey uhm, I made kind of a shitty first impression… sorry ‘bout that, kid… Yeah, like, really sorry for being kind of rude…”

You waved a hand dismissively, “No, sorry, yeah, you’re totally fine… uh, don’t worry about it at all. Besides, I could have been nicer, right? Sorry… Er, I mean, I’m sorry as well…”

He chuckled softly, the smile on his face much softer than you’d seen it before, “No bones about it, I was a real numbskull.”

“Nah, don’t be sorry! I’m sorry, just, uh, let’s start over, how about?”

He nodded, looking slightly relieved.

You were just about to head inside once again when he stopped you once more. If anything, he looked even more nervous than he did when he’d asked to walk you home. “So uh, I was wondering… as, heh, a way to ‘start over’…”

He took a deep breath, like he was mentally preparing himself for something big; you waited with bated breath.

“Look, I lost my number, can I have yours?”

You snorted before you could stop yourself and clapped a hand over your mouth as you giggled, “That is the worst come on I’ve ever heard.”

You could have sworn there was a light blue dusting on his cheeks, but when you took a closer look, it was gone, and his mildly embarrassed expression was replaced with the typical easy grin. You held out your hand, gesturing for his phone and he handed it to you.

You settled for the name “NOT Tiny Human” and typed your contact information in, “There you have it… Just don’t, uh, text me at like three in the morning and we should be good—or do, I mean, I’m not your boss.”

He snickered and for the third time that night you said your goodbyes, this time actually making it inside. When you turned around to wave one last time, he was gone.

#binf #but it's not funny #chapter 4 #chapter 4 but it's not funny #binf undertale #undertale #sans undertale #sans/reader #sans/female reader #undertale fanfiction #fanfiction

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georgescatcafe · 4 years ago

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the rising chariot — 2

rating: t warning/s: none pairing/s: platonic dream team, karl jacobs/sapnap genres/tags: percy jackon and the olympians au, friendship, angst summary: Nick Pappas isn’t sure it’s normal for teenagers to be sent across the United States on a quest that could potentially kill them, but Nick has started to realize that everything he thought was normal is entirely false. George Davies doesn’t particularly want to spend three consecutive days with this new camper and that son of Hermes who snagged his win in Capture the Flag two weeks ago, but he knows he has to suck it up and go with them, no matter how irritating they may be. Clay Bryce just wants to prove himself and show that he’s more than that troublesome kid from Cabin Eleven, but even as the leader of this quest, he’s not sure how to when Nick has fire powers and George is practically capable of mind-control.

Yet what they feel and want will mean nothing if they don’t complete their quest. When a petty feud between gods has Apollo threatening to take the Sun from the sky, the three must head out to stop him, but not just that—they’re in a race against an ancient enemy of the god, one who definitely will try and kill him if it gets to Apollo first.

+ao3 +masterpost

Floris came by his house again the next day. Nick stared at him as he stood in the doorway. “School’s cancelled indefinitely,” Floris told him. “They said they’ll work on rebuilding as soon as they can, but while we still don’t have a physical school, we get summer break early.”

“Happy birthday to me,” Nick replied, though there was no mirth in his voice.

Floris smiled anyway before his eyes got all shifty, and he leaned forward, as if looking for something. “Are your parents home?” Nick wondered if Floris knew about his situation. He knew about Nick’s mom; or, at least, Nick assumed he somehow did. It wouldn’t surprise him that he knew about the rest of his living arrangement, either.

“I managed to get taken away by a deranged cop the day they left for their anniversary,” he answered. “And they aren’t putting that on hold for me.” His younger sisters—homeschooled, lucky them—were sent to their grandparents last week. The only reason Nick didn’t go was because he was old enough to handle himself. Or so he thought. “I’m home alone.”

“Nice,” Floris hummed, hand settling on the doorframe thoughtfully. “So about yesterday….”

Nick held up a hand, wincing as a headache bloomed behind his eyes. “I really don’t want to talk more about it.”

Floris made a face, but Nick was being honest. The whole ordeal just made him feel sick. “It’s good to—”

“Talk things out, I know,” NIck replies, “so you said. But, look, man, that was really traumatic, okay? And I think I hit my head too hard on the door because I was seeing things, and it was just really scary. I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

Floris studied him, gaze intense, and Nick straightened up under it, shoulders moving back and chest puffing up slightly. It wasn’t an intimidating look, but there was something… unnerving about it. He felt he had to prove something. Finally, Floris sighed. “It’s probably for the better for once. Just… if something like that happens again, you should take this.” He held out a small card, and when Nick took it, he realized it was a business card.

“Call me, okay?” Floris asked. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Nick stared at the card for another second before looking back up at the other. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll call.”

Floris gave him a final smile before pivoting on his heel. He was about to walk off when he spun back around. “Oh, uh, I made these for you.” He held out a baggie filled with what looked like lemon bars. “I don’t recommend eating them all at once. I’ve found they’re pretty good for when you need comfort food, or, like… healing. Or something.”

Nick accepted the bag. “Uh-huh. Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Floris said, before smiling for the last time for real and turning, heading down the walkway and taking off down the road.

Nick looked back down at the lemon bars. They weren’t his favorite. He definitely wasn't going to eat them all at once. Dumb of Floris to even tell him that.

He went about his routine like usual, now that school was out of the picture. It was a bit weird actually, sitting down to a day of mindless video games with no guilt, no homework to turn in or tests to study for. (Granted, most of his homework was left incomplete, and most tests were taken with no studying involved prior. Not that Nick was a dumb kid, school just… wasn’t for him. In case you couldn’t tell by the whole burning it down thing. Not that he meant to do that. Just to be clear. In case you missed that fact.) Nick sunk deeper into his beanbag chair, fingers flying across his Xbox controller as he focused on the small TV in his room. He wondered if his parents knew about his early summer already.

Probably not.

He played until the Sun went down, only stopping to pee or get food, and his routine looked very much like that for the next three days until his parents returned, and he found himself thrown into the monotony of chores and errands. It was preferable to reading-induced migraines, but he also missed the break from home school provided. The town he lived in on the edge of Houston was easy enough to navigate on foot, and his dad had started to give him driving lessons, but the lessons had to be put on hold for work, and walking around the city was a lot less fun when there was no one else to walk with.

The business card he’d taken to keeping in his pants’ pocket ever since Floris gave it to him seemed to become a paperweight then. Nick pulled it out.

Floris Larkspur Keeper Half-Blood Hill Long Island, New York (800) 009-0009

The information on it was terrible to read, in some fancy, looping font, but Nick understood it well enough once he squinted for a while. He frowned at the address and phone number. The number was obviously toll-free, meant more for business rather than personal use, and the location itself… New York? Nick frowned before returning the card to his pocket.

He’d have better luck running into Floris in the grocery store. Besides, the only bit of info on the card that didn’t leave him more confused than how he started was Floris’s name. Nick bit the inside of his cheek. Maybe Floris wasn’t the best person to walk around the city with.

Nick sighed, wondering if his stepmom would maybe send him on a grocery run. He was surprised when he walked into the living room to see his parents sitting on the couch, staring at him expectantly.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “I didn’t mean to burn down the school. I promise.”

His stepmom rose from her place on the couch. “We believe you,” she said, hand coming to rest on his shoulder. His heart pounded as his gaze dropped to her hand. “You aren’t in trouble. Actually, the opposite.”

He stared at her before turning to his stepdad.

“Your birthday, Nick,” he said.

His birthday. He completely forgot about it. He looked at his stepmom.

“We’re sorry we weren’t here to celebrate with you,” she told him. “That was our fault. So we did something extra special for you.”

“You didn’t miss much,” Nick replied, even as she guided him over to the couch where his stepdad opened his laptop.

“With no school,” his stepmom said, “we figured it would be okay if spring break came early.”

And there, right on his dad’s laptop screen, a ticket to New York City.

Nick’s eyes turned to saucers as he stared between his parents, gaze going from his stepdad, back to his stepmom, then vice versa. “You’re kidding,” he breathed.

“Your flight goes out in two days,” his dad said. “A week there and straight back.”

“By myself?” Nick asked, hardly believing his luck.

“You’re sixteen,” his dad replied, even as his stepmom made a face.

“We have a second ticket,” she explained. “We can resell it, but… if you wanted to take a friend—a responsible one.”

Nick didn’t have many friends. Constantly switching schools did that to a kid. He stared blankly at his stepmom, who offered him a tentative smile in return. He tried to give one back, but his mind was reeling, wondering who to invite—if they’d really let him go on his own or not.

“Y’know,” his dad started, “there’s this one kid I’ve run into a couple times, at the gas station, the store, kind of funny looking, ginger, always asks after you.”

Oh, God. “That’s,” Nick hid his face in his hands, humiliation rising in his throat, “Floris.”

“A friend?” his stepmom asked, hopeful.

Nick nodded.

“Perfect!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “And clearly he cares about you. I think that’s a good one to take.”

“Mom,” he said, even as the name tasted bitter on his tongue, knowing his actual mom was still out there, “no. There’s got to be someone else—or I could go on my own, right? Right, Dad?”

His stepdad said nothing. So that was just a fib, then. Nick’s face fell.

“I think Floris would be good,” she urged. “You don’t have to spend every second together.”

“But you’ll want us to,” he argued.

“I just want you safe,” she said, “and I know your dad wants the same.”

Nick made a face.

Finally, she made one too, expression souring. “Nick, we just want to do something nice for you—for once. Can’t you just accept it?”

“I,” Nick made a frustrated noise deep in his throat, “why now? You’ve never cared. Is it because I almost went to prison?” He looks to his stepdad. “Do you feel guilty or something? That you couldn’t stop them from taking me, just like you couldn’t stop them from taking Mom—my real mom,” he added quickly, unable to stop the glare he shot at his stepmom, polite as she may be.

Her hand flew to her chest, as if stung, and his stepdad sat up, brows furrowing, lips downturned in a severe frown. “Nick Pappas, don’t you dare talk to us like that,” he scolded.

“Or what?” Nick snapped. “You going to kick me out? I bet you’d love that! You wouldn’t have to look for a new school anymore; you wouldn’t have to look at me and be reminded of her. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“What’s gotten into you?” his stepmom cried. “You’re never like this!”

“I’m just tired!” Nick shoved himself up off the couch. “Thanks for the trip, but oh my God, just leave me alone—please!” He stormed into his room and slammed the door shut, pressing his back against it and immediately pressing his face into his hands.

He almost died Friday, and they didn’t care. Of course they didn’t care! And now they wanted to act nice, and he was supposed to just accept it? Without a modicum of suspicion? It was so not fair. He brought his legs to his chest, hands sliding from his face and elbows resting on the tops of his knees. He buried his head in his arms. None of this was fair.

What felt like an hour but was probably just ten minutes later, a soft knock at the door startled him into lifting his head. He scooted away from the door, and it opened slowly. In the doorway stood his stepmom. Nick bit back a groan.

“What,” he said.

The petite woman lowered herself to the floor, closing the door behind herself and taking a seat across from him. “I’m sorry I’m not her,” she replied.

Nick glared at her crossed legs.

“I mean it,” she promised. “I’ve never tried to be her—”

“You wouldn’t want to be her,” Nick grumbled.

His stepmom paused before a hand came to rest on his knee. “I never met her, but if she was anything like you, she couldn’t be bad.”

“You’re just saying that.” Nick’s glare strengthened. “I can’t stay at one school; I’m always setting things on fire; I almost went to prison just last week. I’m a terrible son.”

She didn’t say anything to that.

Nick flattened his lips.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “We’re… not good parents. I never wanted to be a parent. I am now, and I wouldn’t change it, but I’m not your mom, even with you calling me that, and I don’t want to replace her. And I could never be her because I know how much she meant to you, and I couldn’t do for you what she did.”

“You don’t even know what she did,” Nick snapped.

His stepmom sighed. “Can you please just accept this? I had to talk your dad into keeping the tickets after what you said.”

“You should have let him sell them,” Nick replied. “I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t.” She patted his knee. “You’re right. You did almost go to prison—you wouldn’t have deserved it, though. I think wrongful imprisonment deserves a trip to New York.”

Nick allowed a laugh to fall past his lips, bitter.

His stepmom took it. “Your flight leaves in two days. Tell your friend to come with you. You’ve got a whole week to run around NYC like the teenager you are. Have fun.” She gave a gentle shove to his shoulder. Nick rocked with the motion. “Okay?”

Nick stared at the floor.

“Okay?” she repeated.

He nodded.

“Good.” She pushed herself from the floor, running her fingers lightly through his hair before leaving, closing the door softly behind her. Nick squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a shaky breath.

Have fun. He can do that.

When he finally hunted Floris down at the grocery store the next day, he told him about the trip. “It’s short notice,” he apologized, “but it’s a week.”

“New York?” Floris asked. Nick felt like if the ginger had a tail, it’d be wagging.

“Yeah,” he replied. “A week and then we come home.”

“Got it, captain,” Floris said. “I’ll pack my bags tonight and meet you at your house bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“The flight doesn’t leave until noon.” Nick frowned.

“I like being prepared,” Floris replied. “Are you ready?”

“More or less,” Nick nodded, “not like I own much anyway.”

Floris stared at him, eyes narrowed, before nodding also. “See you tomorrow then.”

Nick gave him a mock-salute. “See you tomorrow.”

#sapnap #fundy #mcyt #karlnap #pjo au #georgenotfound #dream #fic #fanfiction #updates every friday #hfh

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seabasstrash · 6 years ago

Text

Spilling the Beans~S.S.

Word Count- 2483

Warnings- honestly just more fluff

A/N- SURPRISE SURPRISE I’m posting this one early this week, partly because I got it finished early and partly because my cousin is going to be here in a few hours and she’s spending the week with me so I wasn’t sure if I would get it posted on Thursday or not!! I absolutely LOVED writing this one!! I hope you all enjoy it!! I’m thinking for next week I’m going to write a Chris Evans one so there’s that. Also both ideas for announcing the pregnancy I got from Pinterest! Adding a read more link on this one just because it’s fairly long!

“What do you think about starting our family?” you hear Sebastian ask quietly.

“I’m sorry, what?” you ask, not sure if you heard him right or not.

“I’ve just been thinking lately… we’ve been married now for 2 years and I think it’s time we start a family.” Sebastian says shyly.

“Let’s do it!” you respond excitedly.

“Wait, really?? You’re really ready for this?” he asks not believing you.

“Well, yeah, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, I was just trying to figure out how to bring it up. Plus my mom and your mom keep asking when we are going to start having kids.” you smile at him.

“My mom’s been bugging me for years.” he rolls his eyes and walks over to you.

“My mom just started, but your mom has been not so subtly hinting for a while now.” you smile up at him moving your hands so they are around his neck.

“I would like nothing more than to start a family with you,” you say as he hugs you closer to him.

*A FEW MONTHS LATER*

You guys had been trying for a few months now but you didn’t have any luck. You didn’t know if there was something wrong with one or both you of you. Or if everything was fine and it was just taking you guys longer. You weren’t sure what was going on so you decided to go to the doctor to see what was going on. You hadn’t told Sebastian because you didn’t want to freak him out or anything. So you go to the doctors and talk with her about what’s been going on. She checks some things and then does some blood work. After she takes your blood work she tells you that it would be a little bit before you hear anything. She said it should only take half an hour so you decide to just wait there instead of leaving and waiting for a call. Plus you didn’t want to alarm Seb with any of this in case it turned out to be nothing.

As you wait you try not to freak out over it. You distract yourself on your phone so the nerves don’t get the best of you. After about 20 minutes pass by the doctor comes walking in with papers in her hand.

“Well, I think congratulations are in order, Mrs. Stan!” she gushes with the biggest smile on her face. .

“Wait...what??” you ask, not totally sure you were hearing her right.

“You are about 8 weeks pregnant!” she says.

“Oh my gosh!! I can’t believe it!!” you squeal in delight. “Thank you so much!” you almost give her a hug right then and there.

You decide to make a few pit stops on your way home. You picked up a few of Seb’s favorite foods to make for dinner but you also found a onesie that was perfect for you to tell him you’re pregnant. Once you got home you started making homemade pizza. It was your mom’s recipe and since you and Sebastian both loved pizza so much, you figured you’d make it to celebrate this new chapter in your lives starting. (Onesie pictured below)

As the dough was rising you go the little gift all ready to give to Sebastian. It was just the onesie along with some of his favorite chocolate’s.

Once Sebastian got home the pizzas were just coming out of the oven.

“Mmmm… smells good in here. What’s the occasion?” he asks as he comes to give you a kiss.

“Nothing really. Just felt like making pizza tonight,” you say trying so hard not to just blurt out that you were pregnant.

Sebastian went and changed into some comfier clothes and when he came back out he noticed the gift bag sitting on the table.

“What’s this?” he asks giving you a curious look.

“Oh just a little something I got for you today.” you hold back your grin so he wouldn’t figure it out. “Go ahead… open it!!” you say almost too excitedly.

He cautiously leans over to the bag and pulls out the tissue paper. He reaches down in there and pulls out some of the candy. “Oh, my favorites! Thank you, doll!” he smiles and looks over at you.

“Keep looking, there’s something else in there,” you say as you feel the butterflies in your stomach.

He reaches down again and this time pulls out the onesie. You can see how confused he is while reading the onesie. Then all the sudden it hits him.

“Wait?!? Are you really pregnant??” he asks, eyes wide and the biggest smile on his face.

You smile and nod your head, yes, your eyes tearing up with happy tears.

“I can’t believe it! I’m gonna be a dad!!” he yells as he picks you up and spins you around.

“And I’m gonna be a mom!” you smile as you put your hands on both his cheeks and lean in to kiss him. He deepened the kiss as he set you down and brought his hands up to run through your hair.

You finally pulled away to catch your breath and when you did you grabbed him into the biggest hug you could give him.

“You know you are going to have to take that onesie back and get one that has Captain America on it. I can’t have my child promoting Ironman when I’m on team Cap!” Seb chuckles looking down at you.

“Oh shut it! It was one of the first things I saw and I didn’t want to take too long because I knew you would be home at a decent time today,” you giggle.

You both decided to wait till you were 13 weeks pregnant to tell your families just to make sure everything was ok. Which turned out to be the hardest thing ever.

You were horrible at keeping secrets so the next five weeks were torture for you. Seb, on the other hand, was great at keeping secrets, since you know, he worked with Marvel and all. So he didn’t have any problems for those five weeks.

So once those five weeks were up you made the perfect plan for telling people. For your families, you got together with them and decided to take a jar of beans and spill them on the table with a picture of the ultrasound and a note that said, “It’s time to spill the beans.”

You had invited Seb’s mom and step-dad over along with your mom and brothers. You didn’t have a super close relationship with your dad so you decided you would just call and tell him and your stepmom the good news. As they all walked in you both greeted them and moved so they could go to the table. As they walked over to the table, Seb’s mom was the first one to spot the little ensemble on the table.

“OH MY GOSH!!” she basically screams. “This isn’t a prank, right?? This better not be a prank!” she turns around and points her finger at Seb. After hearing the commotion, your family comes over to see what the fuss is all about.

“No way!!” one of your younger brothers says.

“It’s about time!” your mom says with a big grin on her face.

“No, Ma, this is not a prank. We are really having a baby!” He says excitedly.

“I’m so excited!! Congrats to both of you!” she says coming to give you a big hug.

Hugs were given as everyone was congratulating you both. “Now, we haven’t told anyone else yet, so we need you guys to keep it quiet until we tell everyone else!” you give both of the mothers a stern look. Especially Seb’s mom because you knew how chatty she could get with others, especially when it came to her only son.

“Oh alright!” she smiles.

Seb’s step-dad walked over to her, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she doesn’t tell anyone yet.”

“Thank you.” You smile at him.

Then you guys go and eat the dinner you prepared and talk about all things baby.

A few days later you were having your friends over to share the news with them. Since you lived in New York with Sebastian and most of your friends were back in your hometown, you were going to have to facetime them and tell them the good news that way. So everyone that came over was mostly Seb’s co-stars from all the Marvel movies, which was fine because you had become good friends with most of them anyway.

You decided to announce your pregnancy a different way with these guys. Since they all loved your dog, Benji, you decided to use him to help announce the pregnancy. You put a bow on his color along with a picture of the ultrasound and a note that said, “Promoted to big brother, baby coming September 2019!”

You knew that once even one of them saw it the rest would all go crazy you were just waiting to see who would see it first. Everyone started trickling in and coming to greet you both. You loved having everyone over to your house. You loved cooking for big groups of people and entertaining them. Especially when it happened to be mostly Marvel cast there. They could be a rowdy bunch but you loved them all so much and loved spending time with them,

Chris Evans was the first one that stooped down to pet Benji. You watched as he pets the dog and waited to see his reaction to the note tied onto his bow. You see him look at it quizzically and then you see it register in his mind what it says. That’s when he looks up at you and you just have a big smile on your face.

“No way, are you being serious!?” He says quite loudly. Loud enough that those around him turned to look at him to see what was going on. Soon enough everyone was surrounding the dog trying to figure out what it said on the bow.

Chris came straight over to you and gave you a big hug. “Congrats!! I can’t believe you guys are having a baby!” He exclaims.

“Thanks! We can’t either!!” You grin back at him.

When you pulled away from his hug everyone else was realizing what was happening and they were coming over to congratulate you and Sebastian. Chris had moved over to give Seb a hug and congratulate him while everyone else started heading your way.

Everyone gave you hugs and said their congrats and then it calmed down a little bit. You all were just talking and enjoying yourselves. You and Scarlett were talking about different baby products and things that you would need since she has had a baby. She informed you that she would go through the stuff she had and would give you anything that you might need. And she said that if you had a girl she could give you some of the clothes that she still had from when her daughter was a baby.

Now, this whole time you couldn’t figure out why it was fairly quiet in your house because it could get pretty loud when you had the Marvel cast over. That was when Anthony Mackie came waltzing through your front door. “Aahh that’s why it’s been so quiet,” you whisper to yourself.

“What’s up my homies!?” Mackie yells as he walks in. You were hoping that no one would say anything to him about the baby so that he could figure it out on his own.

Everyone greeted him as he made his way over to you and Sebastian. You quickly leaned in and told Sebastian not to say anything to him about the baby. He just chuckled quietly and smiled as Anthony grabbed his outstretched arm and gave him a hug.

“What you chuckling at man?” Anthony asked

“Ah nothin man, just glad you’re here!” he says.

Anthony moves on to give you a hug, “And how is sweet, sexy Seabass’s wife?”

“I’m not too bad, haven’t been feeling the greatest, but good!” You try to hold your laugh in as you see Sebastian hide his chuckle behind a cough in your peripheral.

“Keep it away from me, whatever it is, chocolatechino can’t get sick!” he says.

He then moves on to talk to some of the others that were there.

“Oh don’t worry, you won’t get this,” you whisper so only Sebastian can hear you.

“Doll, you’re killing me here. We have to tell him!”

“Eh, give it a few more minutes. If he doesn’t see Benji’s note soon, we will tell him.” you pat him on the shoulder and head over to talk to Robert and his wife.

About 10 minutes later, you were in the kitchen getting yourself a little something to eat when you hear Anthony.

“WHAT? YOU GUYS ARE HAVING A BABY!!??” you hear him basically scream through the house.

Everyone else started laughing because they all knew and they were waiting to see his reaction when he found out. He was looking at Sebastian who was standing on the other side of the room with a big grin on his face.

You walked out of the kitchen to see Anthony standing there with wide eyes staring at your grinning husband across the room. He then turns to see you standing there with the same grin on your face as Sebastian’s.

“So it’s true, you really are having a baby??” Anthony asks as he makes his way over to you.

“Yes, we are having a baby!” you say excitedly as Anthony reaches you and gives you another hug.

“Is that what you meant by not feeling the greatest? You sly thing.” he grins at you.

Sebastian makes his way over to you both and Anthony grabs him in a hug. “Congrats man!! You’re gonna be a dad!” he says loudly.

“I am!” Sebastian chuckles.

You enjoyed everyone’s company the rest of the evening and by the time the last of them had left you were ready for bed. Part of being pregnant was that you were way more tired most of the time.

You looked over at Sebastian and gave him a tired smile. “Why don’t you go up to bed and I’ll clean up a little down here,” he suggests.

“I like that idea.” You say as you walk over to him and wrap your arms around him.

He leans down towards you to give you a kiss. You run your fingers through his hair as the kiss deepens. When you pull away a little he leans his forehead on yours. “I love you, so much, doll.” he kisses your forehead and gives you a hug.

“I love you too, sexy Seabass.” You say grinning as you hug him back.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagines #imagines #sebastian x reader #fanfiction #sebastian fanfiction #seabass #marvel #marvel imagines #sebastian stan fanfiction #k writes

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 7 years ago

Text

the ultimate citation list for Schneider of ODAAT, volume 1

A reference collection of quotes and details, organized chronologically, for the first 26 episodes of One Day At A Time. Used to create this character guide.

“Can you believe it's only been 10 months since you moved in? I remember 'cause I got my five year sober chip and your mom baked me that cake. I enjoyed watching you guys eat it." 1x01

"You're 40 and you look stupid." “I'll have you know, I was invited to several Pride parades." 1x01

Uses a “very expensive” Damascus steel hammer. 1x01

"I've been doing some outreach down at the rec center, talking to at-risk youth. You guys wanna start takin' bets? Actually, scratch that. I'm addicted to gambling.” 1x01

"Love isn't even real. It's just something your nanny says sometimes to your dad." 1x02

"Hey, I may have money in the bank and two living parents, and four living stepmothers but there is a hole in here. We never had family meals. I ate alone in front of the TV. Oh, don't get me wrong. It was a massive TV. Sometimes my nanny would join me, but only if I agreed to watch telenovelas. This one time, Rosa got jealous of the housekeeper 'cause she was makin' a move on her man, so she threatened to throw live scorpions on her while she slept. Rosa was my nanny. Ex-nanny. Now, stepmother." 1x03

[Lydia and Pen fighting] “It's startin' to feel kinda like home in here.” 1x03

Schneider cooks fancy hipster food. "Nutted quinoa, wilted broccolini with radish micro-greens, and venison carpaccio on a bed of nettles. Grab a cedar plank and dig in." 1x04

"Always interesting to be the sober one at a dinner party." 1x05

"I immigrated here illegally. I'm a Canadian. But yeah, born in the 'Couve, overstayed my student visa, forced to live in the shadows of Pepperdine University. Anyway, it's fine now. My lawyers made it all okay." 1x05

Uses sheet masks, knows about chauffeurs, butlers, estates. 1x06

“The kids barely touched my black olive tapenade.” “Thanks for helping out, but maybe next time pick a food a kid would wanna eat or has heard of.” “Yeah, and maybe next time, don't hand out masks with my face on them.” 1x07

"The members of my college band have finally put aside our differences and we're reuniting to play at the fair this afternoon. My band, Full Sail, plays yacht rock. These guys were like family. I used to show up at their dorm rooms unannounced and just hang out for hours and hours and hours." 1x07

"We were setting up for the show and our keytarist threw a decorative anchor at me. This is why Full Sail broke up in the first place. Too many passionate personalities." 1x07

Has a magnifying glass in his costume trunk. 1x07

"I know nothing about my grandparents and I never will. And they live in Pasadena!" (but he goes to 'the depot' in Pasadena) 1x09

"I have never seen such un-professionalism. This is why I don't work!" 1x09

"I need to find a new place to get my eyebrows threaded." 1x10

Has a safe. 1x10

"Well, Father believed it's best to have this kinda discussion in a car because you don't have to make eye contact. Plus, you're traveling in the same direction, which fosters intimacy. So we're in the Bentley with our chauffeur, Paco. Father said it's time to have the talk. We came to the next stoplight. He hopped out, Paco told me everything." 1x10

"I didn't get the period talk till I was 12. Paco just called it 'Shark Week.'" 1x10

"When I was a kid, there was an adult section in the back of the video store. Behind the beads. I'd always chicken out and just rent a Jane Fonda workout tape. Still worked. Still works." 1x10

"You'd be surprised how many of my hookups started with 'Ugh!' ...When I was 15, I told Father I wanted to be a professional tap dancer. He laughed. It was that lack of support that contributed to my drinking and drug problem. Oh, do you find that amusing? Because 15-year-old Schneider's drinking peach schnapps out of an unused tap shoe right now." 1x11

"You have a girl over here and you were offering to have sex with me?" - "Yes, Penelope. That's the kind of friend I am." 1x11

"My dad never came to my games. All he ever did was put me through rehab six times and buy me this building." 2x01

"Maroon 5 is the best." 2x01

"Okay, I decided to take a break from dating. See, I realized that women were just another one of my addictions, like alcohol, drugs, gambling, cigarettes, snow globes. The point is, I've broken the cycle of addiction with spinning. Five hours a day, every single day. I have to do it! Plus, it's the perfect substitute for dating, 'cause it burns a lot of energy and also numbs my junk!" 2x02

“Snow globes? Is this one of our family?” 2x02

"I come over, tell him to do stuff to me, he does it, I go home. You should get one." "I think what Nikki was kinda dancing around is that you don't always have to have a relationship with a capital "R." Sometimes all you need is what the great poets of the Renaissance called a junk buddy." "Exactly. You don't even have to like them." 2x03

"See, the great thing about having a green card is you get to live here without having to do all the stuff Americans have to, like vote or serve jury duty or become obese."

"Okay, but at least you vote in Canadian elections." "Mmm. No. Even in Canada, nothing ever changes. Clean air, sensible gun control, free health care. The system's rigged." 2x04

Can picture himself “doing it” with Elizabeth Warren, was Stephen Hawking for Halloween. 2x04

"You have to pay taxes with a green card? I just texted my accountant, and he said 'cause I'm in the highest income bracket, I don't have to pay taxes." 2x04

Keeps on hand: panic room, gas mask, water purification pills, MREs, enough cash to get to Cape Verde by boat. Followed Max on Instagram. Would be honored to be Penelope's maid of honor. 2x05

"I'm very patriotic. Look in that basket. There's a bald eagle thong." 2x06

All Elena's video game equipment belongs to him. 2x06

"Penelope, tell my third stepmother I loved her! Not the second one, though. She was kind of a jerk." 2x06

"Hummer limo's downstairs. My third stepmother used to take me to the racetrack to spy on Father. For the longest time, I thought she was saying, 'Your father is with Rebecca, that horse!' It's like I'm back at the racetrack with my stepmom. What's next? Throw a mint julep in his face?” 2x07

"I love Cuba! I've been there four times. Property manager, job's just temporary. My father owns the building. I'm really a musician. Play a lot of rap-rock-ska. I'm like a male Gwen Stefani. When you're hiring a nanny, make sure she's not too hot. That's how I met my fifth mom. I had four nannies and look at the results." 2x08

Did not speak a word of Spanish when he first met them, is interested in single moms. 2x08

"If you joined an adult kickball team after saying you were too busy to join mine, you are on a long road to forgiveness." 2x09

"Your idea of stress is when your chest-waxer goes out of town." "Roberto is the only one who doesn't make it sting!" 2x09

"I shouldn't have to need these either, but I do. To see. So it's Fourth of July, 2011. I'd been sober for a while, so I thought I'd celebrate with a beer. Woke up three days later in an alley. Then the bowling ball hit me. I was in the gutter for a long time. It's really slippery without the shoes. That was the day I truly accepted that I can't have alcohol or drugs, ever. Not a beer, not a glass of wine, not even six hits of acid at a Grateful Dead show, no matter how well it makes me dance. I kinda get where you're coming from. There's something I want that I can't have for the rest of my life." 2x09

He and Pen are best friends. Also considers Max his bestie. Wants to Netflix and chill with them both, together. 2x09

"My abuelita used to put Vicodin in her coffee. And her lemonade and her sandwiches. Maybe she had a problem. As my father said to me on my ninth birthday, 'You don't need me anymore.' I use my garage for pickling and sea horse breeding." 2x10

Loves puns. "This is Elena Alvarez, my handyman mentee. Or handy-manatee." "The toilet is a cruel mistress. She is flush with complications." 2x10

"Herb and Sherb McGurb. Her real name is Sheryl, but she gets a kick out of Sherb." 2x10

"Bonsai's for dorks. This is penjing. The gentle Chinese art of tray scenery. Now that you're working for me, I finally have some leisure time." "Oh, look, there's little people. Wait, is that my family?" "Could be any Cuban family." 2x10

"I may only look two or three years older than you, but I have the wisdom of that ancient bonsai!" 2x10

"Always take the lemonade. That's Handyman 101! So you watched Jeopardy with them and then what? Well, now we know what your problem is! You fixed their toilet, but you didn't fix their souls. Elena, growing up, I had everything. But I was always alone. I don't want my tenants to feel that way, so I do more than just fix stuff. Apartment 306, macrame with Mrs. Watson. 201, lose at chess to Mr. Roth. 402, listen to all their Cuban nonsense. That's the job. That's what takes four hours. That's the difference between being a handyman and a super." 2x10

Has heard 'you're fired' a lot. 2x10

"After a grueling 30 minutes of thought, Nikki, will you be my starter wife? You're on the rebound. That's the best time to get married. You don't have time to think. So you were never thinking about me? My emotions? My feelings? You used me, Nikki, Finn's mom! And not in the way I like! And that's not all, Sister Barbara. We knew each other. Biblically. And while we were doing it, she took the Lord's name in vain. A lot!" 2x11

"Last night, I was testing the pH of the water in my seahorse ranch and, as I looked at those vomiting little guys, I realized I suck at tests. All tests. Drug, sobriety, vision, IQ, smog. You name it, I fail it!" 2x12

"Have you ever been arrested?” “Does public nudity at a hockey game count?” “There is, uh, no mention of a public nudity charge in your file.” “Oh, you just go to YouTube and type in 'Zam-boner.'" 2x12

"Yeah, they didn't specifically ask if I got drunk and tried to ride a moose, so after that I was golden." 2x12

"How important is having kids to you?" "Never really thought about it." 2x12

"I'll have you know I babysat my babysitter's kids while she was babysitting my dad, so, yeah, I got a little experience under my belt. Oh, it's my cousin Gordy. He still thinks I'm full-on Canadian. All right, good news is Gordo bought it. Bad news is I'm judging a poutine festival in Saskatoon next week." 2x12

"You're the single greatest mother I know." "Thank you. That means a lot coming from a guy with five moms." 2x12

"Fuzzy Afghan she likes, picture of the Pope, picture of a different Pope, picture of your dad, picture of the family, picture of me with the family, picture of me by a waterfall. I'm just gonna keep talking 'cause I'm not good in crisis situations." 2x13

"It's so crazy how we're both immigrants. I mean, I would never compare my story to yours, but the parallels are spooky. You were 18, I was 18. You left your family behind. I left four step-families, a maid, a butler, a chauffeur, and a horse groomer who really got me. But Father was expanding his business to the US and so I had to go. I remember, at the airport, I was crying. But Father put his arm around me and he said, 'Son, only losers cry.' So that was a long flight. You don't know how dirty a dirty look can get until you're crying for a whole plane ride and you're not a baby. I really didn't wanna be in America. So I drank. And I recreated the snowy plains of Canada with cocaine. I'm told I attended classes at Pepperdine University, but I will have to take that on faith. So, I'm in a detox center in El Segundo. This was my fourth rehab. My re-re-re-rehab. I thought I'd been doing a kickass job keeping my drug stuff a secret from all the tenants and then you showed up in my room at that clinic. You brought me sopa de pollo and said it's Cuban penicillin. You told me, 'You eat this, you get some sleep, and tomorrow, you try again.' And then you tucked me in and kissed me good night on my forehead. Forehead kisses are wildly underrated. Just something really comforting about 'em. Then again, it might just be you. Dad never did that. Or my horse groomer. After I got out of rehab, I started hanging around your apartment a lot more, 'cause it helped. Back then, it must have felt like you had this annoying, intrusive guy over. Not like now. 'Cause now you're my family. Don't worry. I haven't legally changed my last name to Alvarez. My lawyer said it was a whole thing, so... Anyway, Pen said no crying, so I'm not gonna. Actually, for once, I agree with Father. Only losers cry. And we're not losing anybody today. Let's hit that oath ceremony soon, okay?" 2x13

#schneider #reference #odaat #one day at a time

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cicinicole-14 · 7 years ago

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tag game!

Tagged by: @criminal-anatomy thanks andie!!!! :D

Rules: Answer these 85 statements about yourself, then tag 20 people.

Tagging: @chloeswans @only-freakin-sunflowers @haughtdogs @alwayslance @nofrecklesforcate @ellieoswaldclaraoswinoswald @llstars-and-constellationsll @principessa101 and anyone else who wants to do it. I wanted to tag more but it made me stop here because tumblr can be stupid.

last

1. drink - water

2. phone call - dad

3. text message - @only-freakin-sunflowers and @unicornshepherdess in our group chat

4. song you listened to - um something off PP3 soundtrack I believe...

5. time you cried - last night/early am bc of the fEELS

6. dated someone twice - Nope

7. kissed someone and regretted it - no

8. been cheated on - no

9. lost someone special - Yes

10. been depressed - Yes

11. gotten drunk and thrown up - Nope

fave colours

12. Black

13. pink

14. grey

the last year have you…

15. made new friends - Yes!

16. fallen out of love - no

17. laughed until you cried - all the time

18. found out someone was talking about you - no

19. met someone who changed you - no?

20. found out who your friends are - Yes...

21. kissed someone on your facebook friends list - uh no

general

22. how many of your facebook friends do you know irl - I think like all but a handful I have met in real life. the rest are Tumblr friends I haven’t met yet

23. do you have any pets - yes! goose! I miss her.

24. do you want to change your name - nah not anymore

25. what did you do for your last birthday - omg so I had a birthday weekend. Friday the day before my bday, four of my friends (my 2 best friends and 2 other friends) and I went to an escape room. and then my friend had made me a cake and we ate that and sushi downtown. Saturday my actual bday my best friend Chelsey had stayed over and another friend came over and we had a really nice lunch and caught up since we live in different states now. then my other best friend came back over later that day and my dad made us a really nice bday dinner. then Sunday me dad stepmom and my two besties went out on our boat and it was freezing but relaxing and perfect.

26. what time did you wake up today - 1:07pm…

27. what were you doing at midnight last night - watching youtube clips of my otps

28. what is something you can’t wait for - this sUMMER I HAVE AN AWESOME VACATION PLANNED WITH @unicornshepherdess!!!!!!!!!!

30. what are you listening to right now - nothing but my fan

31. have you ever talked to a person named tom - yes

32. something that’s getting on your nerves - the freezing rain outside rn

33. most visited website - Tumblr probs

34. hair colour - like light brown? and the ends are pink.

35. long or short hair - med/long

36. do you have a crush on someone - nope unless we count celebrities and fictional characters, well then yeah.

37. what do you like about yourself - um I like to think I’m hilarious. also I think I’m a great friend

38. want any piercings? - yes I want more lol.

39. blood type - no fucking idea. I know this is bad to not know but….

40. nicknames - Cici, Coco, Punkins, Cecil

41. relationship status- Single

42. zodiac - Capricorn

43. pronouns - She/Her

44. fave tv shows - Criminal Minds, Grey’s Anatomy, Lucifer, JTV, Supergirl but its pissing me off, Blindspot, H5-0, and BROOKLYN NINE-NINE!!!

45. tattoos - I have a water lily on my ankle and I want like 913548029 more tats

46. right or left handed - Right

47. ever had surgery - Yes oh yes so many….

48. piercings - I have a nostril piercing and 2 ear lobe piercings I used to have 3 but the 3rds closed and I wanna fix that again…

49. sport - I’m a competitive napper

50. vacation - like where I’ve been or where I want to go? I’ve been to canada, Italy, going to the Bahamas this summer, Arizona, and most easter states. like all but the really New England states and Kentucky.

51. trainers - what

more general

52. eating - white cheddar cheese its

53. drinking - water

54. i’m about to watch - more yt clips of le otps

55. waiting for - summer and for this Friday bc concertssssss

56. want - food like I had a craving really bad for baked ziti

57. get married - meh idk

58. career - I don’t have a job rn but I am in school for nursing

which is better

59. hugs or kisses - hugs

60. lips or eyes - eyes

61. shorter or taller - I’d hope taller bc I’m not even 5ft tall and thats sad...

62. older or younger - No Preference

63. nice arms or stomach - arms ungh

64. hookup or relationship - either. depends on the person and situation

65. troublemaker or hesitant - A mix of both definitely

have you ever

66. kissed a stranger - Nope

67. drank hard liquor - Yes oh yes.

68. lost glasses - yes.

69. turned someone down - no

70. sex on the first date - Nope

71. broken someone’s heart - I doubt it

72. had your heart broken - no

73. been arrested - No thank god

74. cried when someone died - Yes

75. fallen for a friend - no

do you believe in

76. yourself - most of the time

77. miracles - eh not really

78. love at first sight - not sure yet

79. santa claus - No lol

80. kiss on a first date - depends

81. angels - Yes

other

82. best friend’s name - I got 5, Belle, Robyn, Autumn, Chelsey and Claudia

83. eye colour - blue (I didn’t forget this time)

84. fave movie - ugh so many…

85. fave actor - Katie McGrath, Chyler Leigh, Laura Wright, Kelly Monaco, Lauren German, Lesley Ann Brandt, Paget Brewster, AJ Cook, Stephanie Beatriz, Melissa Fumero, Bridget Reagan, Yara Martinez, Yael Groblas, Caterina Scorsone, Camilla Luddington, tHERES SO MANY AND THEY ALL PLAY BADASS LADIES

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sunshineoptimismandangels · 7 years ago

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Blind Dates and Other Misunderstandings (A Klaine Fic)

Pairing: Klaine Status: WIP with daily updates Chapter: 1 of 4 For: The wonderful @miasswier Beta: My dear friend @theatrevicki Summary: This is for miasswier who prompted: Kurt and Blaine's parents were all friends in college and ever since Kurt and Blaine came out they've been trying to push them to get together because they just really want to be in-laws. FF.net | AO3 Part 2

August

“Kurt, it is good to try new things.” Burt’s arms were crossed over his chest and he wore a serious expression as he watched his son move around the kitchen. “I know that dad.” “That’s right.” Carole chimed in, “You don’t know if you’ll like something until you try it.” Kurt shot his Dad and Stepmom a long-suffering glance as he took the pot roast out of the oven; they’d been going around and around on this subject for the last 20 minutes. And honestly, it wasn’t the first time it had been brought up by Burt and then subsequently shot down by Kurt. “I don’t know about that. I knew I wasn’t into girls without needing to try.” Burt shook his head and grabbed a bottle of beer from the refrigerator, “That’s different.” “You insist you wouldn’t like calamari even though you refuse to try it,” Kurt continued, lifting the lid to the roast and letting the steam and delicious scent hit his face. “Kurt, you’re talking about squid and-” “And Carole.” Kurt pulled off his oven mitts and turned towards her, she was watching him with an amused smile, “You know full well you should never… I don’t know… dye your hair jet-black! You don’t need to try it to find out.” Burt just let out a frustrated huff and sat down at the kitchen table with his beer. “Actually, I did die my hair black once, as a teenager,” Carole said, “It was a bad idea.” “Oh my god. I have to see pictures!” Burt cleared his throat to get the attention back to the matter at hand, “Don’t try and change the subject Kurt.” The subject was an old one, and it really felt like beating a dead horse at this point. How many times had his father brought up Blaine Anderson throughout the years? Blaine Anderson, the son of Ian and Pamela Anderson, old college friends of Burt and Elizabeth. They all met attending Ohio State back in ‘87 and were fast and inseparable friends. Blaine and Kurt had played together as very young children and their parents remained friends though the years – even through the Andersons’ move to Connecticut and Elizabeth’s death, they always stayed in contact; they’d even come to town for Elizabeth’s funeral. Now, the Andersons had moved back to Ohio and the old debate was brought up again. Blaine Anderson was a young gay man. Kurt was a young gay man. Even though they hadn’t seen each other since they were children, before either of them were even out, obviously, they must be perfect for each other. “Maybe that saying wasn’t appropriate in this situation.” Carole walked over to Burt and squeezed his shoulders reassuringly, showing him they were in this fight together. “What I meant was, you don’t know if you’ll like Blaine or not because you haven’t even taken the time to meet him.” “I don’t know why you are so invested in this blind date Carole,” Kurt said, trying not to smile. He wasn’t about to give up any ground on this matter, but he liked going toe-to-toe with Carole; she was surprisingly fiery. “The Andersons aren’t old college friends of yours.” Kurt was plating the pot roast on a nice platter now, arranging the carrots, potatoes and onions artfully around it. “No, but I’ve met Ian and Pamela on several occasions and I adore them. Pamela is a gem. And everything I hear about their son makes him seem like he’d be the perfect match for you.” “See!” Burt said, lifting his beer triumphantly, “I told you.” “But you haven’t met him yourself,” Kurt countered, bringing the food to the table as Carole took her seat. “I’ve met him Kurt,” Burt said, “And I’ve known the Andersons for over three decades. Don’t you trust my judgement?” “Of course I do.” Kurt was trying to think of a way to nip this idea in the bud without offending his father – who really did mean well. “I trust both of you, except for when it comes to setting me up. What you consider ‘perfect for me’ usually just means gay… and lives in New York. End of the list. Your criteria stops there. Remember Hunter?” Carole cleared her throat uncomfortably and his dad had the decency to break eye contact with him. Hunter was Kurt’s ace in the hole, and by far the worse date he’d been on in his 25 years of life. He was the son of a co-worker of his father’s, and the rudest most homophobic gay man Kurt had ever met. The only thing Kurt got out of that interaction was a chilling story to tell when people talked about the worst dates they’d ever been on. Burt didn’t have an immediate response to that. Instead, he started cutting into the pot roast, serving Carole and then Kurt. Kurt tried to hide his smirk; he may have just won this argument. “Okay… Hunter was a mistake, but I remember Blaine as a kid.” Burt looked up at Kurt with determination, “He was sweet and good-natured; he wore bowties at five-years-old, Bud.” Burt emphasized that last part as if it made his entire case, and Kurt wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the idea of a little five-year-old kid running around in a bowtie was pretty adorable. “You two played together and got along so well!” “I don’t really remember much about him though,” Kurt argued, “All I remember was him taking the toy transformers we were playing with away from me before they even had a chance to have a tea party.” “You’re remembering that wrong,” Burt said, cutting his roast with a little too much gusto, “Cooper –Blaine’s big brother – was the one always taking toys away from you. Blaine was a sweet kid.” Kurt paused, chewing a bite of the delicious, if he did say so himself, pot roast he’d made. “Okay, you’re right, I remember that now.”

Cooper was considerably older than both Blaine and Kurt and teased them endlessly. If Kurt remembered correctly, Blaine actually stood up to Cooper for his sake once or twice. “I am not trying to set you up with Cooper Anderson, he always reminded me of Eddie Haskell…” Kurt couldn’t believe it, but his resolve was wavering slightly. He did remember Blaine a little better now, and a boy who wore bowties and didn’t make fun of Kurt when he wanted to have tea parties with their transformers – instead of having them battle like most little boys would – seemed like someone who might have turned out alright. Carole must have sensed an opening because she took that moment to go in for the kill, “Besides, Kurt,” she smiled pleasantly as if she wasn’t sharpening a knife to plunge into Kurt’s back, “When was the last time you went on a date with anyone?” Kurt stabbed a carrot with his fork and narrowed his eyes at Carole, “Touché.” “Then you’ll meet him?” Burt was overly enthusiastic about this in Kurt’s opinion. “Just for coffee, and if you hit it off, you can meet up again when you are both back in New York. And if you don’t, hey, the Big Apple is a huge place, you never have to see each other again.” “Fine.” Kurt shook his head, unable to believe he was giving in so easily. “One date, just for coffee.” Carole actually clapped her hands in excitement, “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Pam!” “We could be in-laws!” “Oh my god! It’s just one date!” Kurt said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. What had he just agreed to? Meeting up with a guy his dad had wanted him to date for years? That was too much pressure. God, this was already a mistake. ___________________________________________________________

“And from what I hear, he loves musicals and fashion, just like you.” Pamela Anderson stood in Blaine’s childhood room with him, talking a mile a minute, as he got ready for his blind date. “Ah, a gay man who lives in New York and loves musicals and fashion. What a rare find.” “Don’t be like that. I really think you’ll like him.” “Mom, I know you like the Hummels, but just… don’t get your hopes too high, okay? I’m happy to meet Kurt, but I can’t promise anything will come of it.” “I know. I know. But… it’s the Hummels. I’ve always wanted to be related to the Hummels. And Carole? Maybe I haven’t know her as long as Burt, but when dear Elizabeth passed away…” Pam was quiet for a moment and Blaine waited for her to compose herself, “I never thought I’d see Burt so happy and full of life again,” she said softly and then smiled, “No man could have done better raising a son all on his own, but Carole has brought Burt back to life.” “That’s really sweet, Mom,” Blaine said honestly. “Still doesn’t mean Kurt and I are - what are you doing?” Blaine stopped midsentence, noticing his mother laying out a selection of bowties on his dresser. “Helping you decide what to wear.” “Mom! I’ve been dressing myself since I was four and you wanted to put me in denim overalls and I felt more comfortable in a sweater vest.” “I just want you to look extra nice.” “I’m wearing this,” Blaine said, looking down at his outfit--boat shoes, nice jeans and a purple button down shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. “I picked it out last night with my coffee date in mind.” “Blaine. You have to dress up more than that!” “It’s coffee.” “It’s Kurt Hummel! And you only have one chance at a first impression.” Blaine groaned, knowing this wasn’t worth arguing over with his mother. “You don’t have to be at the Lima Bean until 10:30am. You have time to change.” “Fine. That one.” Blaine said pointing to a canary yellow bowtie with thin purple stripes. “Let’s do this.” 40 minutes later, Blaine parked his mother’s car haphazardly in front of the Lima Bean. Pam had failed to mention that her car was nearly empty, and Blaine would have to fill it up before he could get anywhere, so he was running a little behind and kicking himself for it. He pulled out his pocket watch and looked at the time--10:38am, he winced – being late for a blind date was a bad start. He flew into the coffee shop, the little bell above him chiming, and scanned the room. He didn’t actually know what Kurt Hummel looked like, so he had to hope that he’d see some guy his age sitting alone and-

Blaine’s breath caught in his throat. A man, that he prayed to god was Kurt Hummel, was sitting at a small table near the window on his own and looking around as if waiting for someone. He. Was. Breathtaking. Holy fucking hell. Blaine was glad he’d listened to his mom and changed clothes. Though his black jeans, purple polo, yellow and purple bowtie and complementing cardigan still looked subpar compared to the Greek god sitting nearby with crossed legs and tapping his perfectly polished bluchers in the air. He was in black slacks and a white shirt with a form fitting back vest, the collar of the shirt was left partially open to allow room for a perfectly executed silk cravat – But none of that compared to the actual man. Long graceful neck, beautiful skin, an expression that immediately indicated intelligence, hair so expertly styled Blaine had only ever seen the likes of it in magazines, and sharp blue eyes that landed on Blaine with a perfect up-tilt of an eyebrow. His expression left Blaine frozen to the spot for half a second longer than necessary. Blaine shook himself, trying to come to his senses, as he smiled at the man and walked forward. “Kurt? Kurt Hummel?” Blaine held out his hand and the man looked at it for a moment as if he didn’t want to take it before he mustered the tiniest of perfunctory smiles and shook Blaine’s hand. “Yes, I’m Kurt. You must be Blaine.” Kurt looked him over, eyes stopping at his bowtie for a beat before moving on. Blaine straightened the tie self-consciously and he took a seat across from Kurt. “We finally meet. Or meet again,” Blaine said cheerfully, trying hard not to show the effect Kurt was having on him--increased heart-rate, overly warm skin, the slight edgy tickle in his throat that made it hard to talk--“My parents have wanted this to happen for years.” “Mine too.” “Can I get you something to drink?” Blaine asked, stomach turning over a bit, and he was actually nervous now; he suddenly really wanted this to go well. Kurt lifted his brow at the coffee cup Blaine hadn’t noticed on the table, “I’ve been here a while.” “Oh… I…” Blaine rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little foolish, “I’m so sorry. I had to get gas in the car, and I didn’t mean to be late. I would have texted but I don’t have your number.” Kurt just nodded coolly and Blaine was beginning to think he was missing something here. “Um, do you need a refresher? I’m going to grab myself something.” Kurt sighed and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Listen, Blaine, you seem… nice enough, but clearly neither of us wants to be here, so we don’t actually have to keep this up.” “Wait... what?” Blaine was definitely missing something because he’d been excited about this date, even more so after seeing Kurt, so why was Kurt being so cold? “Kurt, I do want to be here.” Blaine smiled at him; he knew from years of experience that even the grouchiest of people softened at his smile. Cooper called it Blaine’s secret weapon, “That and your damn puppy eyes, Squirt. You can’t just unleash both on someone unawares! It isn’t right!” Blaine wasn’t going full-on puppy eyes, but he did know how to play to his strengths, “Kurt, we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot.” Keep smiling, he will eventually smile back! “And I’m very sorry that I’m late. Can’t we start over again?” Kurt narrowed his eyes as if thinking it over, “A non-fat mocha.” “A non-fat mocha?” “I could use another coffee, if you’re still offering.” There was just the slightest upturn to Kurt’s lips that made Blaine hope for a true smile soon. He bet Kurt had a gorgeous smile. “It would be my pleasure,” Blaine said, getting up from the table and hoping things were going to get easier from this point on. Kurt was an enigma--he couldn’t read him at all--but Blaine was very interested in figuring him out. He glanced back at Kurt a few times while waiting in line. Kurt had gotten out his phone and seemed to be texting someone – either that or playing Candy Crush. Kurt was going to be harder to win over than Blaine had imagined, but Blaine always liked a challenge. He got back to the table with a coffee cup in each hand and sat down just as Kurt stood up from the table. “I’m sorry,” Kurt said, taking the mocha, “But I’m going to have to go.” Blaine laughed a little, “What? Not really.” “I just got a text from an old friend I didn’t know was in town and I never get to see her.” “I… okay, but...” “I’ll pay you for the coffee,” Kurt said, pulling out his wallet. “I don’t care about the coffee, Kurt. I just got here… and you’re leaving?” Kurt huffed, “Oh, are you going to lecture me on the value of your time? Because I’m the one that’s been waiting for you.” Blaine honestly couldn’t keep up with what was happening; it was like a smack of cold water in his face after looking forward to this date. Kurt Hummel was nothing like he expected. “Wow,” Blaine said, standing as well, eager to get out of there. “Wow?” “Yeah, just wow.” Kurt rolled his eyes, tossing a five-dollar bill on the table, “Well, I guess we can tell our parents we tried and it didn’t work.” “Guess so,” Blaine said coolly and watched as Kurt sauntered away. And damnit why did his ass have to look so good when he did that? Blaine was angry at him for crying out loud! Blaine waited, watching Kurt from the window until he pulled out of the parking lot, before exiting himself, leaving the five dollars on the table for the barista. ___________________________________________________________ “My god, Mercedes, he was so... so insufferable!” Kurt flopped down on her bed, kicking his shoes off. “And rude and arrogant and insufferable.” “You said that already.” “And okay, maybe I was a little stand-offish when he first got there, but he was an hour late! I was on time. I was there was there at 9:45am. And he just strolls in with this… this… smile and the bowtie! Ugh! As if he could just smile at me and get away with anything!” “What about his bowtie?” Kurt ran his hands through his hair, Mercedes beside him on the bed in the Jones’ guest room--the room that used to be Mercedes’s as a teenager. “And I was going to give him a second chance because it would make my dad happy, and because of the tea parties, and the smile, but then you texted!” “Tea party? I thought you were meeting him for coffee?” “I was! But he just barely shows up and then gets mad at me when I have to leave to see you. If he hadn’t been late we could have already had an hour to talk before you texted.” “You didn’t have to leave right then, Kurt,” Mercedes said, tugging on his shirtsleeve to get his attention. Kurt looked up at her and then scooted until he was sitting by her side, backs against the headboard. “I was already wary of meeting up with him in the first place. I mean blind dates are the worse and there was so much pressure for us to get along. And then I waited for him for nearly an hour, getting more and more nervous. I thought he’d stood me up, Mercedes. I’ve never been stood up!” “Who would dare.” “I guess when you texted me, I saw an out from an awkward situation and took it.” “Without giving him a chance.” “I gave him an hour.” “He had to have a reason for being so late. I mean, he did show up and bought you coffee and apparently there was some kind of smile that was significant? Do you think… maybe you bailed prematurely?” Kurt looked down to his lap, already feeling embarrassed by his earlier behavior. “No.” Mercedes nudged him with an elbow. Kurt sighed, leaning his head back on the headboard, “Maybe.” “You were offended and disappointed--I get that – but you were obviously at least a little excited about this date.” “I wasn’t.” Mercedes took a long look at Kurt’s outfit, the one he’d spent over an hour that morning putting together, “A little?” “Fine,” Kurt admitted, “I didn’t want to go at first, but the more I thought about it, the more excited I got. I do remember him from growing up a bit. I liked him. But we were just kids and that isn’t an indicator of who he is now.” Mercedes didn’t say anything, but he could feel her disagreeing beside him. “It doesn’t matter anyway, I blew it. Or he blew it. Or maybe we both did.” “It’s okay, Kurt; there are plenty of fish in the sea. And you, Kurt Hummel, are quite the catch yourself.”

Kurt gave Mercedes a small smile and a peck on the cheek. “I love you ‘Cedes.” “I know. Now you have to tell me what was going on with the smile and the bowtie …was it good? …Was it bad?” “It was… he was adorable, Mercedes. Adorable and still somehow as hot as hell.” Kurt sighed and leaned his head on the headboard. “Oh poor Kurt.” ___________________________________________________________ “I don’t even know what happened Coop,” Blaine paced the patio in his parents’ backyard, iPhone pressed against his ear, “It was like he was ready to bite my head off the moment I got there.” “How late were you?” Cooper said over the line, the sound of waves and seagulls in the background.

“Not even ten minutes! And I know that is still late, but he’d already written me off before I even sat down.”

“Well, then that is that. You tried, it didn’t work, end of story. The parents will just have to stop dreaming of Anderson-Hummel grandbabies.”

Blaine groaned over the phone. “Mom is going to be so disappointed.”

“They were putting too much pressure on you.”

“Why are you being so wise and supportive right now Cooper? You’re creeping me out.”

“Oh ha ha. I just don’t like to see you stressed, Squirt. You have to let this go.”

“I am letting it go. I’ve let it go. It’s gone.”

“Uh huh…”

“It’s just that I don’t get it! I’m a likable guy right? People typically like me.” Blaine ran his hand through his thick curls and tried to get the picture of Kurt’s stunning, but clearly not interested, face out of his head.

“Yes Blaine, you are a likable guy. People like you. You could win a likable contest.”

“Now you’re just being sarcastic.”

“Why is this bothering you so much?”

Blaine didn’t answer right away, peeking his head to look through the sliding glass door and make sure his mom wasn’t home yet; he wasn’t ready to face her.

“Oh god. I get it now,” Cooper said after a moment of silence.

“Get what?”

“He was sexy wasn’t he?”

“Cooper.”

“He was! He was sexy and got you all hot and bothered.”

“I’m going to hang up.”

“Squuuuuirt.”

Blaine blew out a deep breath, “He was hot, okay? Happy now?”

Cooper laughed on the other end of the phone. “How hot was he?”

“Stupidly gorgeous,” Blaine admitted, wishing he could pinpoint what went wrong that morning so he could go back and fix it.

“Awww, poor little Squirt,” Cooper cooed, but it sounded like he was about to laugh again. “Soon you’ll be back in New York and maybe he won’t seem as hot. He was probably just Lima hot.”

Blaine shook his head in disagreement, Cooper was wrong about that, “I’m sure you’re right.”

“I’m glad you’re out there looking, though. Actually, I have someone in New York I might be able to set you up with.”

“Yeah… I think I’m done with blind dates for a while.” Blaine shuddered and looked back into the house as he heard the front door open and close. “Gotta go break the bad news to mom now.”

Cooper laughed again. “Don’t tell her you thought he was attractive, it will break her heart.”

“Goodbye, Cooper,” Blaine said, hanging up before his brother could say anything else. It really wasn’t that bad. Kurt was just one guy, one very beautiful guy. Now to break the news to his parents.

#klaine prompt #dribble drabble #my fic #klaine fi

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anamorales · 6 years ago

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weekending

Hi friends! Happy Monday! How was the weekend? Ours was a great one. We spent a ton of time with family and friends, got to swim, and enjoyed some beautiful desert monsoons, so no complaining over here.

Friday night, the girls and I decided to enjoy dinner out, so we went to Commoner & Co. I wrote about this recently, but my brother Kyle has taken over as partner chef for Commoner and the popular brunch restaurant, Prep & Pastry. He completely revamped the menu at Commoner, so we were excited to check out the new menu options.

Kyle surprised us with this goat cheese tart while we were waiting for our entrees.

It’s a savory lemon thyme tart with fluffy brûléed goat cheese, served atop STRAWBERRY JAM. It was the perfect mix of sweet and savory… it was like my favorite bite from a cheese board (cracker, cheese, jam), completely elevated. It’s probably my new favorite food ever, and served with Kyle’s signature artistic presentation:

(Everything he makes looks almost too beautiful to eat)

For my entree, I rolled with the salmon, which is served on top of a bed of Spanish rice with veggies, olives, goat cheese, and Romesco.

Kyle also brought out the deconstructed cake for dessert. It was bites of pistachio sponge cake, cream cheese frosting, and a bunch of other deliciousness I can’t really remember because Liv and P were on either side of me and we were shoveling bites into our mouths in pure bliss. It was everything.

Commoner and Co. was one of our favorite date night spots long before Kyle took over the kitchen. But I have to say that now that he’s there, it’s taken everything to the next level. Our dinner was my favorite meal we’ve had since we’ve been back in Tucson, which says a lot since we’ve eaten at a lot of amazing spots since we’ve been here. We’ll definitely be back soon.

After our incredible meal, we decided to head to Trail Dust Town. Like my friend Lindsay said, it’s like Oregon Trail Disney World. (With way less rides, but the girls still love it.)

We rode the covered wagon Ferris wheel and the carousel (which is unnervingly fast haha) and then walked around for a while, my nana met us there, so it was fun to walk around with her and check out the sights.

Saturday morning, I caught a leg and HIIT workout at the gym, and then we headed to a friend’s birthday party. The girls got to run around with all of their little friends and eat cupcakes, while I got to catch up with Meg and Lindy. After the party, we came home and watched the live version of Alice in Wonderland. I wouldn’t recommend it for a 2-year old – I kept hoping P would fall asleep on the couch, but instead she was intently watching to see if Alice would “slay the jabberwocky” *SMH – but it was definitely good.

After the movie, we went to the park for an hour and met my dad and stepmom at Bear Canyon Pizza for dinner.

Sunday was the usual church, errands, lunch with madre, then grilling/swimming at Uncle E’s.

I started reading Limelight, looking for something lighthearted and fun, and it’s fit the bill. Highly recommend it so far!

I hope you had a great weekend, too!

Today, I’m recording a podcast episode with a friend and subbing a class later this afternoon. Hope you have a happy Monday and I’ll see ya in the morning.

xoxo

Gina

The post weekending appeared first on The Fitnessista.

weekending published first on https://immigrationways.tumblr.com/

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adultstories4u · 5 years ago

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Two young girls celebrate their high school graduation. Eighteen year old Debra and nineteen year old Rachel are at Debra’s father’s house. Deb’s Parents are divorced. Her dad, Wayne, has a hot tub. The two grads swiped a bottle of Wayne’s whiskey and got drunk. He got home at 6 am. He has no idea the two teens are there. They are supposed to be with his ex, Karla, going shopping and other girl stuff. Wayne is very tired, and his back hurts. He had driven 459 miles in the truck. Up and down I-95. He took two Ambien for his aching back. He washed it down with some tequila. He needed sleep. He didn’t know the two young girls were in his home. He got naked and he passed out.

The girls got up. On their way to the bathroom, both teens looked in his open door. They both saw him sprawled out naked. Deb called out loud, “Dad, wake up, put some clothes on. Wake up!”

But he was dead to the world.

Her friend was throwing up. Half a bottle of whiskey and fast food did not sit well. She was really heaving.

Deb’s mom, Karla, his ex, showed up. Karla was about five six, slightly overweight, but not obese, she had really big tits, but she was almost embarrassed by them. She wore a minimizer bra, and bulky clothing. Likewise, her ass was kinda big, but men just adored it when they saw it. She hated her ass. She worked out tirelessly to get slender, but it seemed short of liposuction, she was stuck with a body men loved, and she herself hated.

Advertisements The end to her marriage was when she cut off her husband, and he went elsewhere for sex, after a six month, wife enforced abstinence.

It didn’t matter today. She was there only for her daughter. She would take her and her bff out for a girls day. Karla did have feelings for her ex, but she was very conflicted. The idiot had let the girls get some of his booze, and they got drunk!

Rachel was hung over. She asked to just lay down.

“Mrs. Powers, would you please not tell my parents about our uhh, party? And the part where I got really drunk. I feel like death, I just want to lay down.”

“Ok Rachel, I won’t say anything. You can sleep it off in Deb’s bed.” Karla knows this will make her think twice next time alcohol is offered.

“Thank you. I just need to sleep.” She can’t keep her eyes open. She lays down, and out like a light.

Karla and Debra are scheduled for mani and pedi, then lunch, then shopping. So they get going. Rachel throws up one more time before they leave.

“Do you want me to stay?” Debra asks her friend.

“No, no you guys go. I just want to rest. I’ll be fine. My own fault for drinking too damn much booze. I’ll be fine.” Rachel actually felt a little better, but still very queasy.

She cleans up, drinks a glass of water and takes two Tylenol. She lays down for a while.

Sex stories: Wife helps husband have sex with his mother Mom and daughter are having a great time, they meet up with another mom and daughter from school. They head to lunch. Debra tries Rachel’s phone. No answer. She’s probably still sleeping. Too much alcohol.

Rachel is curious about her friend’s dad. Actually about his dick. She tip toes into his bedroom and accidentally knocks his body spray off the drawers. Lots of noise. He never moves. She’s amazed he sleeps like a rock.

He is laying naked on his back, and his dick has a semi erection. She is fascinated by his penis. She touches him. He doesn’t move. She touches his dick. It’s hard and long and thick. She is fascinated. She puts the head in her mouth. He is still sleeping. She sucks up and down. Now he is really hard, precum comes out of the tip. She licks it up. She decides she likes the taste. She starts sucking his dick in earnest. Her head bobbing up and down. She feels wicked and dirty. She loves that feeling of being his slut, even if he doesn’t know it!He cums in her mouth. She wasn’t expecting the explosion in her mouth, and she choked a bit, some comes out her nose. She loves the hot cum in her mouth. Kinda salty and she swallows it all. She decides she is going to be his personal cocksucker. She would drain his big balls daily for him.

He was still asleep. She sucked him hard again and this time she was determined to fuck him. She noticed he had lube on the night stand. She wanted to save her virginity for her wedding night, so she lubed up her asshole. She had seen plenty of porn, so she knew she could take his dick up her ass. She played with her pussy and clit. She took his big cock and she sat down on it, pressed it into her tiny asshole. She was very determined. She has seen this on porn many times, so she knows it can be done. She finally gets him in her rectum. She felt a dirty triumph! She felt so naughty and bad assed! She loved the feeling of being so full of his big dick. She was concentrated on her clit now and his big dick, as she went up and down the shaft. His eyes opened and he saw her on top of him, with his dick in her ass. He said, “I must be dreaming, ” closes his eyes, and cums hard in her tiny butt.

She is loved it. She comes analy again, and again on his still hard dick. She feeds him her nipples, one at a time. He sucks like a baby. She never wants to stop!

She hears a noise. Her mom, Laura, is standing in the doorway! She has a look of incredulity on her face. Laura cannot believe her daughter was behaving like such a dirty little slut.

“Hi Mom. What are you doing here? I saw his perfect cock, and I just couldn’t resist. I sucked him off, and I shoved that big bastard up my asshole. I saved my vagina for my wedding day. Ohmygod I have cum so many times on this man. I am so happy.”

Sex stories: Dances to a hit song, father becomes a predator “You let him buttfuck you.”

“More like I used him to buttfuck me. He is out cold. But his dick still works perfectly. He has such a great cock Mom. You should try it. Look at the size of this thing! It’s so nice.”

“It looks like he fucked you.”

“Mom, he took two Ambien, and it looks like tequila too. I fucked him, not the other way around. Look at his dick. It’s beautiful. And it is still hard. He’s come twice and look!”She fisted his dick. It was still hard and thick. They both looked at it with fascination.

Laura came closer. “If you ever tell your father, I’ll kill you.”

Her mom leaned over and sucked the hard dick, she pulled off her shorts and panties and next thing, She was on top, with his dick in her tight pussy. Laura came almost instantly. She kept riding him.

“Your father hasn’t touched me in three years. I caught him sucking his friend’s dick two months ago. I’m afraid your dad is either completely gay, or maybe bisexual…I really need this fantastic dick. You are right, it’s a perfect cock!”

Laura fucked him silly, she pulled off her shirt and pushed her nipples into his mouth. His eyes opened. He said, “Holy shit I’m fucking an angel. So so beautiful!” He passed out again but he came hard in her pussy.

She lurched off of him. Her daughter licked his dick, and she savored the taste of her mom and his sperm. She loved it. She said, “Fuck it! I want him so badly!”

Rachel pressed her pussy down and broke her own hymen with his big dick. There was a sharp pain but also intense pleasure, she came like a rocket. She came again, and then a third time.

“I thought it wasn’t supposed to be good the first time. That was wonderful!” She said to her mom.

“You are lucky. My first time was awful. And the second time too. With your uncle Mike.”

“Your BROTHER?!”

“Yes. And he is built. What a man. Great dick. Not as good as Wayne here. That is a great big dick. I might move in. Did you come good?”

“Oh mom. So good. He is fantastic, even dead asleep. I got a little blood on him. I’m gonna clean him up.” She got up to get a washcloth.

“I got it.” Mom licked his dick clean, blood and cum from all three people. She loved it. She felt so damn dirty!

“Mom, you are a very dirty girl. A dirty little cocksucker. And I’m going to be one too.” She sucked his dick right after her mom. They both giggled.

He wakes up. “Laura?” He looks down “Rachel, why are you sucking my cock? I must be dreaming.”

“Wayne, can I sit on your face as my mom fucks you? Will you suck my pussy? There is a bit of blood.”

“Sure dream girl, let me lick your clit.” She had wrapped both legs around his head. Her mom was on his dick again, and she meant business. She clutched him with her cunt. She came, he came, her daughter came again and again. Hard orgasms all around!

Sex stories: My Sexy Stepmom “Wayne, you are the best!” Rachel told him.

Mom and daughter switched ends, mom perched on top of his face and his tongue in her cleft. Rachel had put his dick back in her pussy. She then had a huge orgasm. She said “That was wonderful. I’m going to give him a treat.”

She put him back in her anus and he fucked Rachel’s ass, and sucked her mom’s cunt. They all came again. Mom jumped off, and started sucking his dick. “Mom, I just had him in my pussy and my asshole. We should clean him.”

“I am cleaning him. I love being dirty. I’m giving him my ass too. Give me the lube.” She lubed her heiny and his dick. She sat on him, and forced his hard on into her tight sphincter. She came again and again. He filled her completely. She never felt so full of cock! She loved it. She came as he spurted into her rectum. Rachel came on his face and squirted all over!

They heard a car in the driveway. They all got dressed in record time, but mom in daughter’s shorts, and vice versa. Oh well.

“Do you think they will notice?”

Rachel asked her mom.

Wayne went back to sleep, his work was done. He smiled. He had just fucked the living shit out of a mother and daughter. One more thing off his bucket list. He was damn sure they would be back for more.

Karla, Wayne’s ex did notice.

She also saw some cum on Rachel’s cheek and some more fun on Laura’s leg.

“Did you both fuck my husband?” She demanded.

“Yes Karla, we both fucked him. He was fabulous. What a nice cock! I am sorry.” Laura was going to be honest with her friend, she owed her that.

“No, it’s ok. He is my ex. He couldn’t keep his hands off women, and both of you are very beautiful.” Karla looked dejected.

“He never woke up. He took some Ambien and washed it down with Jack Daniels.” Said Rachel. “He was out the whole time, except when we made him eat us out.”

“Dumb ass. It says not to do that right on the label. So he fucked both of you?”

“He thought he was dreaming.”

“That fucker. I’ll bet he was awake and just faking it.”

“I don’t care. He was great!”

She looked at her friend. “Why don’t you go get some. His dick is still hard. We gotta go. Please don’t tell Sam. Bye!” they hugged.

After they left, Karla said to herself, what the fuck? Why not. She went in her old bedroom and locked the door.

Wayne was in for a workout.

The post Mom and daughter share a tired man appeared first on Desi Stories.

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#English Stories #daughter #go-to-list-of-members-of-erotic-submissions-and-list-of-their-favorite-se

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marketerarena-blog · 6 years ago

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weekending

Kyle surprised us with this goat cheese tart while we were waiting for our entrees.

(Everything he makes looks almost too beautiful to eat)

For my entree, I rolled with the salmon, which is served on top of a bed of Spanish rice with veggies, olives, goat cheese, and Romesco.

After our incredible meal, we decided to head to Trail Dust Town. Like my friend Lindsay said, it’s like Oregon Trail Disney World. (With way less rides, but the girls still love it.)

After the movie, we went to the park for an hour and met my dad and stepmom at Bear Canyon Pizza for dinner.

Sunday was the usual church, errands, lunch with madre, then grilling/swimming at Uncle E’s.

I started reading Limelight, looking for something lighthearted and fun, and it’s fit the bill. Highly recommend it so far!

I hope you had a great weekend, too!

Today, I’m recording a podcast episode with a friend and subbing a class later this afternoon. Hope you have a happy Monday and I’ll see ya in the morning.

xoxo

Gina

The post weekending appeared first on The Fitnessista.

https://askfitness.today/weekending/

#fitnessgymfatlossweightloss #peopleblogs

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ceepceepceep-blog · 8 years ago

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DAY 1 - YOUR FAVORITE PICTURE OF YOURSELF AND AN INTERESTING FACT FOR EVERY YEAR YOU’VE BEEN ALIVE. (one of my favorites up there) I don’t remember too much of my childhood, it wasn’t that interesting, and my parents have barely told me anything about it (let alone specific years) so the first couple one of these might be hard. 1. ?? 2. ?? 3. Either I was two or three. My mom entered me into a couple beauty pageants. Not like Toddlers and Tiaras though, no crazy fake tanning and eyelashes and make-up (overdone, at least). I won three of them (gold, silver, and bronze trophies). I think I did four before she decided to take me out of them. I have no memory of them. 4. ?? 5. Either when I was five or six, my parents divorced. My dad was a functioning alcoholic, my mom, a druggie, so my dad got custody of me. I’d still occasionally see my mom on weekends at my grandparents’ but we barely spent any time together. 6. I failed kindergarten due to having trouble adjusting and had to redo it. I would cry when given work. :u And I remember that one of the only times I ever tried to cheat was on a spelling test durinf that year (ironically, I’m a great speller). Also my only time stealing… I somehow got away with putting a bunch of toy cars in my backpack. I also met the guy that would be known as my “best friend” (we weren’t all that close in actuality) and who would constantly be mistaken for my boyfriend throughout middle school and high school during my second year of kindergarten. 7. Met my childhood girl “best friend" during this time. I’d draw on my desk and I wasn’t a completely perfect ststudent. 8. I used to lick my hands when they were dry. One of my many weird old habits. I remember specifically a teacher telling me that year not to. Oh, and the older of my two half-sisters was born. 9. The year my dad married my then-stepmom. 10. Fourth grade… People would ask me for food all the time because I always had a packed lunch. I’d get mad and slap them if they wouldn’t take no for an answer the first time. Then I’d cry (genuinely cry) when my teacher would confront me over it. 11. I can’t remember but this might have been the year I joined Club Penguin? And I took a reading level test that year and got “college level” or whatever it said. 12. I made an online friend group during this time from CP. We continued to be friends for years after that and my times with them was one of the biggest parts of my childhood/youth. Not to mention I met the guy who would later be my ex on there. It was either this year or the next when my dad got divorced again. 13. One of my online acquaintances (she was more of a mutual friend) used to send me urbandictionary definitions of sexual terms. :u And I found out what a blowjob was from an iScribble board challenging people to draw one. This was also the year that I got the randomest crush on my guy “best friend” and I ended my friendship with my girl “best friend” over text. Wasn’t sad. Didn’t miss her. Had little reason to do it but I did. 14. Basically spent this whole year harboring an unrequited crush (that he knew about). And I had these neighbors who were the closest thing to a real family that I’d ever had. 15. Crush ended. My first relationship started with the guy who was a mutual friend of one of the people I met years ago on CP. Technically it was his idea, not mine. I had never considered a long distance relationship but it never happened. This would be the first time in my life that I ever felt close to anyone and my first time feeling love in any way (whether platonic, familial, or romantic). 16. Relationship became more on-and-off. He dated someone else for a year yet would still flirt with me and act possessive and jealous if anyone liked me. He’d go between acting almost as if I was his soulmate/best friend and getting angry at me, telling me he didn’t care about me, etc. I think during this time, I also lost one of the three (not counting me) members of my online (plus one friend from real life) friend group. I wasn’t sad at all at the time but it bothered me a year or two later. 17. Lost another one of my friends. This one was one I went to school with and had been friends with for a year. So that left me with only one of my original friends from CP (though the one I lost this year I met during school but he was part of the group? I know, confusing). Again, wasn’t sad at the time. Took a year or two to start being bothered by it. 18. Was back together with my ex from June to October 2015. He hardly seemed to give a damn about me at times and was already eyeing two different girls (one even being one of my friends). So our relationship ended for the final time. I spent months afterwards slowly realising how emotionally abusive he was (had similar realisations about my family) and I found out eventually that he had cheated on me from the start. And I started crushing on someone. 19. Crush liked someone else, she didn’t like him. And I still don’t know how he felt about me (both platonically and romantically). So neither of us got what we wanted. We don’t talk currently. Not because of anything dramatic, we just don’t. I started sneaking out for the first time while my mom would work night shift. I’d go driving around with a friend playing Pokémon Go. Sometimes we’d walk around town at night, too. And my first kiss happened… :u

#25 day challenge

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robertsmorgan · 8 years ago

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Psychology of Eating Podcast Episode #181: Letting Go of the Bully Within

For many years, Devorah has fought her body to lose weight. Going on diet after diet, she has the ideal weight in mind and is continually frustrated with how out of reach it has been. Even with her husband’s support and reassurance that she is fine the way she is now, she knows there has always been that little voice inside that says she needs to keep pushing herself to look better and weigh less. In this really important session, Marc David, Founder of the Institute for the Psychology of Eating, walks with Devorah on this journey to discovering where these thoughts and beliefs about herself began. He helps her see how she, the victim of bullying as a child, has become her own worst bully. Listen in as Devorah makes great discoveries about herself, her body, her health, her relationship with her mother, and how to begin healing in a really big way.

Below is a transcript of this podcast episode:

Marc: Welcome, everybody. I’m Marc David, founder of the Institute for the Psychology of Eating. We are back in the Psychology of Eating podcast, and I’m with Devorah today. Welcome, Devorah.

Devorah: Hi, Marc.

Marc: Hey. I’m so glad you’re doing this. And, Devorah, let me just tell new viewers and listeners just kind of how this works. So Devorah and I are just meeting now, and we’re going to have a session together. And we’re going to see if we can just help push the fast forward button on transformation as best as we can and come up with some good ideas.

So, Devorah, for you, if you could wave your magic wand and if you can get whatever you wanted to get from this session, what would that look like for you?

Devorah: Okay. Well, I made a list. Peace, power, no more shame, healing of all my relationships because I think food is symbolic of all relationships. I want to feel more like a victor and less like a victim. I want to feel like I don’t have to apologize for who I am. I’m in a healing profession. I’m a nurse, a registered nurse. And sometimes I feel like a hypocrite because I don’t follow the advice that I give. I want to feel a sense of abundance, and I guess the bottom line is I want to be able to fill that hole that’s inside of me that I seek to fill or that I notice when I’m binging. And it just doesn’t seem to fill up until I’ve eaten till I’m sick to my stomach.

Marc: Got it. Got it. Got it. Okay, that’s a nice, big magic wand wish. I like how you’re going for it. I appreciate that. So let me ask you this question. You started talking a little bit in there about kind of how things show up for you around food and body. Tell me a little bit more about your relationship with food, your relationship with your body.

Devorah: Okay, my relationship with food, I remember being obsessed with food for as far because as my earliest memories go. I remember like having a fight with my mother, may she rest in peace, about… One of my very first memories: I wanted watermelon, and we didn’t have watermelon. We only had cantaloupe. And she kept offering me cantaloupe, and I started crying, “No! I want watermelon!” That was actually one of my first memories.

Also, even if you look at my toddler pictures, I’m like really roly-poly. I was the fat kid in the class even at a time when childhood obesity wasn’t as much of a problem as it is now. And I was always like told I shouldn’t eat so much. I was made fun of. I was bullied for being fat. I was punished for eating things that were forbidden, so they became a “forbidden fruit”. And I learned how to sneak eat. I was very good at it. I was actually very severe—some of my worst punishments were for eating.

My mother, may she rest in peace, was a diabetic, and she took insulin twice a day. She would stick herself and, “You see what happens to you if you don’t stop eating so much?” And I know like trying to get in touch with my own appetite, trying to slow down, and I find I can’t do it. I find I don’t know what my natural appetite is. I’m always in a state of either being on a diet, trying to be on a diet, feeling guilty that I should be on a diet, and then just getting out of control and then hating myself afterwards for it.

I’ve been thin. I’ve gone through various diet programs. I am an OA dropout. I can’t do it anymore, but I have been “abstinent” for a long time. I was the 90-day wonder. When I was doing this program, I was like a perfectionist. But I was never still happy. I always felt that there’s more. Life could send you some curveballs, whether you’re fat or whether you’re thin. It doesn’t make a difference. But I felt like a certain, I don’t know, like, “Ha! I’ve got it. I’m thin. Finally, they’re not going to make fun of me for it, and it’s good.”

I’m like in a way almost like, “I’m better than them now because I’ve achieved it.” But I was always that one bite away that they talk about, and if for any reason I gave into that one bite which I think was inevitable because I don’t think it’s possible to be perfect, perfect forever. I think you could be perfect for a day, a week, a month, even a few years, but I don’t think it’s possible to do it forever, at least not for me.

And I would just do that one little thing extra and forget it. That would be the end, and I just totally lost it. I’ve yo-yoed my whole life. I’m so sick of it, and I know that it’s very unhealthy to gain weight. It’s better to just stay one weight than to gain and lose and gain and lose and gain and lose. And I just don’t want to do that anymore.

Marc: How long has that been happening for you? Like, when did you first start dieting again?

Devorah: I went on my first real, real diet when I was 10 years old in the summer between fifth and sixth grade. And I was getting all sorts of praise and everything. And then, the day before sixth grade my mother passed away, and that was the end of my diet, of course, because she was my biggest cheerleader. And all the beautiful clothes that my aunt had taken me shopping for… She had taken me to Lord & Taylor, Saks 5th Avenue, and I had never been to these stores in my life. And I had these beautiful dresses, and I was so excited. Of course, within like two or three months, that was the end of being able to wear those.

Marc: So who raised you?

Devorah: For four years, my father’s mother raised us, and then my father remarried when I was 14.

Marc: So then you moved back in with your dad and your stepmom?

Devorah: Well, no. My grandmother lived with us.

Marc: I see. But you were living with grandmother, dad, stepmom.

Devorah: Yeah, right after they remarried, then she moved out. My stepmother didn’t really want her staying with us, which I, looking back on, kind of understand it. You’re newly married. You don’t really want your mother-in-law with you. It’s enough taking on your second husband’s children, plus to have a mother-in-law, so then she didn’t live with us anymore.

Marc: Do you live alone now?

Devorah: No, I’m married.

Marc: How long have you been married?

Devorah: I have been married 38+ years.

Marc: And do you have kids?

Devorah: Yes.

Marc: How old?

Devorah: Ranging from 37 to 21.

Marc: Oh, how sweet.

Devorah: Yeah. And grandchildren.

Marc: Let me ask you this question. So I’m going to be bopping all over the place as you can tell, by the way. I’m just kind of gathering up all the information that’s helpful for me. That’s why all these questions that don’t necessarily seem to be related. Do you have a number in your mind about how much you want to weigh?

Devorah: The magic number is always 125.

Marc: Oh, okay. That’s a nice number. 125. How much do you weigh now?

Devorah: Don’t know. Don’t want to look at the scale.

Marc: Mmhmm. That makes sense. Okay. So there’s a magic number for you. And you imagine that when you hit that magic number, what would happen? Like what do you tell yourself?

Devorah: I’ll be able to go to the doctor and get on the scale and not be scared to face the number. I’ll be proud of the number. Other than that, I’ll be able to wear clothes. I won’t feel nervous about going to the store and hating the way I look in clothes and just not wanting to buy anything. I’ll just feel that sense of lighter.

Like I said before, I know that life does not all of a sudden magically change—the sun doesn’t shine any brighter. You don’t win the lotto. Everything doesn’t wonderfully fall into place just because you’re thin. I’m aware of that. But I guess a certain satisfaction almost like, “Look, Ma! I did it!” And all the family members like when we used to go visiting and say, “Ah, look. She got a little fatter. She gained weight.” It’s almost like, “No! I’m finally thin! Finally!”

Marc: I get it. Good for you. You actually have this well thought out, so I like that. How does your husband feel about your body?

Devorah: My husband feels as long as I’m not absolutely obese that he’s okay and I should stop obsessing about it. I should just be a normal person, and I should just eat like a normal person, stop trying to always be on a diet. And if I would just stop being on a diet, then I’ll be able to eat normal things. He’s one of these people who really—he eats to live and doesn’t live to eat. He’s the type of person that if he’s eating cookies, he’ll eat them for a few days or whatever. He’ll have the package, and if there’s three left and he decides he doesn’t want anymore, eh, that’s it. Fine. And it’ll go in the garbage. I’m not like that.

Marc: Sure.

Devorah: And I should cook normal food and just be normal. And he doesn’t understand why I’m so obsessed with this, but he’s lived with me a long time. And he knows that’s the way I am.

Marc: So what do you think, and this is an opinion question. I don’t think there’s any right or wrong, but I want your opinion about you because you know you better than anybody else.

Why do you think it’s been such a challenge for you to get where you want to go in terms of loving your body, being satisfied, feeling empowered, feeling at peace, feeling comfortable in your skin? What do you think holds you back? What gets in the way?

Devorah: What gets in the way? A few things. Number one, again, it’s almost like I have voices in my head, criticizing me and saying, “You see? You see? Look how fat you are. Look how gross. Look how disgusting you look. Look at you. You can’t eat. You’re not eating like a human being. You’re letting yourself go all to your urges, and you’re just eating like an animal.”

And there’s also this thing of like not enough. Financially, we struggle. My husband works. We live in a community that we have certain extra costs. We have to do things. How do I explain this? He likes certain religious dietary requirements that just cost a lot and a certain religious dress code. I can’t just wear jeans and a t-shirt. I have to wear skirts, tops, dress more… These things cost more and just certain things.

There’s almost like that not having enough. I live in a community I didn’t grow up in, and sometimes I just feel like I don’t fit in as much as I would like to. And I don’t know if that has anything to do with my eating, but not living here there’s almost like a certain cognitive dissonance. Like I sometimes feel like I’m in no-man’s land. I don’t belong where I grew up. I don’t 100% belong here. And also, I’m tired. I work night shift, and I can’t go home and go to sleep for seven-and-a-half hours in the daytime. I have too much to do. I worked last night, and I got now like one-and-a-half hours. Part of it’s I was nervous about this session, so I couldn’t sleep well. But I don’t sleep, and sometimes I just come home from work. And I have to unwind, but I know I have to make supper. And I know I have to do this, this, but I really want to sleep. But I can’t. I once heard somebody say, “Either you sleep or you eat. If you can’t sleep, you eat to stay up.” And I do that.

Marc: Got it. Okay. I think I have a good bit of information to just offer some thoughts and some feedback and some advice. So what I like about your situation is that you’re a smart lady and you have a lot of good understandings and distinctions about yourself, maybe even more than you realize.

When I asked you when this all started, oftentimes, oftentimes, not always, but when we’re trying to unwind something that we haven’t been able to fix and unwind for decades, that usually means we’ve got to kind of look at how things began to get a sense of why they’re so difficult to unwind. Because that’s what we have to do sometimes. Sometimes you don’t have to go back to the past. And the story that you shared about your early days and years, that’s pretty intense. That’s pretty intense back then to be the kid that gets picked on about weight and about body size. And to have your parents be so intense around the dieting and the food and the judgment, that is extremely difficult and damaging for the psyche of a young child.

Were your parents mean? Did they hate you? No. They somehow weirdly thought that this is the right thing to do because they love us and they worked on the best information that they had. That’s what they did. They used the best information that they had. Granted, they would probably do it different nowadays, but that’s what they knew to do. And it wasn’t helpful. In fact, it was kind of harmful.

Then when you tell me that kind of the first time you were on a diet at a young age and then your mom passing like at this crucial time in your life, at this crucial age, when we’re young. Nobody wants to lose their mother, their father, or their parents at that age. It’s hard, especially your same sex parent. For a girl, her mom. For a boy, his dad.

So in a lot of ways, what happens is—I’m not saying this is happening for you, but I’m suggesting it is because I’ve seen this—that oftentimes what happens is dieting becomes associated with my mother for a woman. And it’s almost like your connection to her. The body challenges that you’ve gone through, it’s almost like your connection to her.

And I especially believe that because you even said to me, when I said, “What would it look like for you if you got where you wanted to go finally?” And really the first thing you started sharing was you said this other voice in your head, “You see, Mom? I did it. I did it, Mom.”

So in a way, you are still talking to her which is fine. It’s very beautiful. You are communicating. You’re staying connected to your mother through dieting and through being that little girl because that little girl, all of a sudden, her mom is gone.

When we get hurt at a certain age, a part of us stays that age. Now, you became a woman. You became a wife. You became a mother. You became a grandma. You’re a professional. So you’re all these great things. You’re not a kid. And there’s a part of you that’s a kid. There’s a part of me that’s a kid. The part of you that’s a kid is particularly the part that got hurt, wounded, at a young age when your mom died. So there’s a place where certain patterns get locked in there because we’re not able to move forward because there’s a trauma in the system, trauma meaning my mama died.

And I get that you’re still connected to her. You have a special connection with her, and that’s important for you, as it should be.

My parents are deceased; I still feel connected to them. The relationship doesn’t stop. It evolves. We evolve, even though that person we can’t see them and they’re not here. The challenge is you’re still relating to your mother as if you’re that little girl.

And as long as you’re still relating to your mother as if you’re that little girl, you will be dieting. You will be unhappy with your body. You will not be in your power. And you will be trying to finish what you were trying to do 50 years ago. You’re trying to finish that. It makes sense by the way. This makes sense in terms of how the psyche works, how the mind works.

We’re psychological creatures. We operate in a certain way. So I’m just sharing from my view some of the ways that the mind operates. So you’re trying to finish something from 50 years ago that you didn’t get to complete, so that when you finally complete it, you go, “Okay, done! See, Mom, I did it. See? I’m loveable. See? I’m this great little girl. See? You can stop judging me and love me unconditionally. So I can feel good about myself, and now I can launch myself into the world.”

So in a perfect setting, our parents launch us into the world with all kind of love and positive regard and we feel good about who we are because I’ve gotten good messages. “You’re loveable. You’re okay. You don’t have to be taller, shorter, thinner, fatter, richer, whatever.” So that’s ideal. But not all of us get that. Maybe few of us get that.

A part of you is still that little girl, and that’s how you’ve been operating. And when I said to you.. Also, I asked you, “So what do you think holds you back?” First thing you said and you were very clear, and I agree with you, you said, “These voices in my head.”

Now, let me translate what people mean by voices in my head because it’s true. We’re not crazy. There’s voices in our head. Why? Because there’s a lot of people up there. You’re a grandmother. That’s a particular voice. That’s a specific role. You’re a wife. That’s a very specific role. You’re a mother. That’s another specific role. You’re a nurse. That’s another very specific role. Those are voices, personalities, personas, people.

I’m a professional. I’m a son. I’m a father. I’m a friend. I’m a scientist. I’m an artist. So each one has a different head space and a different expression. And at any given point, depending on what we’re doing, one of those voices is doing most of the talking. Now, some of the voices in our head we have less control over. So as a for instance, your professional voice, you can probably turn that on and off really easy. You get to work; there you are. Boom. You put on your professional gear, and you’re in that voice and you’re in that role. And then when you come home, like you drop that at the door and you’re you when you come home.

So a part of us goes into—in this case for you, you have that little 10-year-old girl persona. Doesn’t feel good about herself. Doesn’t feel good about her body. Has not gotten the message that you are loveable. What the message she got was “you are not yet loveable” until you, oomph, lose this weight, look like this, and get our blessing. So you’re waiting for that moment.

So what I want to say to you—and by the way, if you were my client, we would be getting to this place that I’m talking to you about right now probably after about four or five months. So I’m cheating. I’m giving you what I think is the goal, is the keys to the kingdom here, because normally we would kind of go through a journey and sort of arrive there together.

So what I think your task is to get where you want to go, to get that magic wand wish that you said, “I want to be at peace.

I want to feel empowered. I want to just be comfortable with this. I want to love who I am. I want to stop all this nonsense,” great. I’m on your side.

I want you to do that too because it hurts me so much that here you are—how old are you? 50? 60?

Devorah: 59, turning 60 next month.

Marc: 59. Okay, so this is your time in life to be a queen. This is your time in life to be sitting on your throne. This is your time in life to feel empowered, not to be burdened by this nonsense. So that hurts me to see you being burdened by this nonsense. Now, I’m not saying that’s your fault because this is how we’re taught.

So nothing you’ve done is your fault. This is how you were brought up. This is how you were taught. And then the world comes right in and says, “Yeah! You need to go to Overeaters Anonymous. You need to be abstinent.” I don’t like Overeaters Anonymous. I don’t like it at all. There’s no such thing as abstinence from food. There’s no such thing as a food addiction; you need food to live.

It’s all about learning how to have a healthy relationship with food, how to encounter food, be with food, not how to be abstinent from it. That’s ridiculous. I’m just telling you right now. That’s why it doesn’t work, and it didn’t work for you. Can it work for some people, sometimes, in certain situations? Sure.

But overall, the philosophy is flawed because food is not the enemy. We’re not trying to be abstinent from alcohol here. You don’t need alcohol to live. You need food to live. So that’s too much of a conundrum for the brain. It makes no sense, and it just causes confusion.

So what I’m saying is that in order for you to get where you want to go, you, personally, need to step into your queen, step into your womanhood more, and be acutely aware every time you let your little girl take over.

Because when you let your little girl take over and drive the car and run the show and run the ship and be the voice in your head that dominates, you’re in trouble. You go back to being a 10-year-old girl, but even though I’m talking to a 59-year-old wonderful lady, I’m really talking to a 10-year-old, which is fine, which is very sweet. Again, we all have that.

Any person I talk to with an eating challenge, at some point I can help identify like, “Oh! Here’s the age that you’re enacting with your eating challenge.” So this is a time when you have to willfully mature yourself. You have to self-initiate. You have to change your religion. And when I say change your religion, you have very strong commandments and beliefs that are religious about how it all works.

Your belief is if I lose this weight and get to where I’m supposed to be and hit that point and show my mother that, look, here I am. And look here I am, everybody. Because it’s not just mom, but you’re also showing off to all the other kids, like, leave me alone. I’m cool now. I’m one of the good people now.

Those people don’t care. They’re gone. Nobody’s waiting for you to do anything in terms of losing weight. There’s no room of judging people going, “Okay. When is she going to do it? We’re waiting for her.” They don’t exist. That’s a made-up religion.

Sure, there might be some people that judge you. There’s always people judging us. Who cares? Leave them alone. Get rid of them. You don’t need people in your life who are judging you. Somebody’s going to judge you for how you look? Great. Cross them off your list.

So you have to change your religion, meaning you have to understand that the strategy that you’ve been trying to use to get where you want to go is not the right strategy. If it was, it would’ve worked. It would’ve worked a long time ago because you’re a smart lady, and you’ve tried and you’ve efforted.

So you get an A+ for effort. You get an A+ for trying. You get an A+ for grit and elbow grease and putting in all that work. And now, we’re going to take all that good energy and put it into strategies that actually are going to take you where you want to go.

Devorah: Sounds good.

Marc: Yeah, so the strategy that I’m talking about—and this is gradual. You’re not going to do this overnight. It’s not like, “Oh, I’m going to take a pill, and I’m going to be all better.” Or, “Oh, I’m going to just do this one, simple thing and I’m going to be better.”

This is a practice like practicing a musical instrument. If you don’t know how to play the piano, this is going to be like you learning how to play the piano. But guess what. You’re going to be young again because you’re going to be fresh, and you’re going to be a beginner. How cool is that?

And what you’re starting at as a beginner is to understand that you are a woman, that you’re a queen, and you have to make sure that she is the one who is driving your life and your experience when it comes to food. Because your queen, mother, woman, mature personality checks out when it comes to food and body for you, and you become that little girl.

So I want you to start to catch yourself. How do I know you can do that? Because you’re unbelievably observant about yourself. You’re smart. You’ve noticed. You know yourself. You know your habits. You know your thoughts. But you haven’t quite known how to spin out of all that information. You haven’t quite known how to put that information together.

So I’m suggesting this is how you put the information together. You notice, “Oh, here I am in this little girl voice. Here I am being a victim because that little girl feels victimized,” because she was. She was a victim. She was an actual victim. She was being bullied. That’s a victim. So victim is not always a bad word. So that girl was harmed emotionally, energetically, spiritually, physically. That’s not nice.

So the good news is that offense is over. You are not that girl anymore. There’s nothing similar. You’re not that little girl anymore.

You’re this whole other person who’s created this whole other life, and you don’t always see that. You’re just seeing all the issues and all the problems. You’re seeing the world oftentimes as if you’re that 10-year-old girl, like, “I don’t have what I want.”

So you have to start to let go of what that 10-year-old girl wants. And you have to talk to her. It’s like talking to a voice in your head. You have to be the good mother that you didn’t have by your side. So whatever you would’ve wanted from your mother, you have to give it to you. It’s called re-parenting. Nobody else could do this for you but you, to re-parent yourself.

So every time that little girl goes, “Aw, I want people to love me. I want to weigh exactly what I want to weigh,” what would a good mother tell that little girl? What would you say to her? “Hey, honey. You’re beautiful as you are. It’s okay. Take a deep breath. You’re perfect. You don’t have to diet. You don’t have to do anything.”

So I want to see you start to live with the body you have right now as if this is it. This is the body you’re going to have for the rest of your life and love it for who it is and what it is for the first time ever, without trying to change it.

Might you want to change it, I don’t know, five months from now? Tweak it? Sure, if that’s what you really want to do. But I’m more interested in you having an experience for a number of months where you ain’t trying to change it. You’re like, “Time out. I’m okay as I am.”

Because if you did that, then you would have to be the new you. You would be saying, “Okay, I am ready now.” Only you could say you are ready. So here’s what happens. The child’s mind in you, the 10-year-old girl in you, goes, “Well, what do I have to do? How do I do this? How do I make this happen?”

And that child’s mind cannot solve the problem because it’s a 10-year-old mind, and it makes no sense to you because you’re just trying to be happy. And all you need to do to be happy is lose this weight and get the approval of parents and get the approval of all the people in the environment who finally say, “You’re acceptable.”

And then your queen, woman, wise person brain needs to come in and go, “Oh, look at me. I’m going into that old thinking. I’m going into 10-year-old girl thinking. That doesn’t work. Why? Because who says I’m acceptable? I do.” You do.

There’s nobody you need to impress at this point. Your husband loves you. Your kids love you. There’s nobody you need to convince of anything. So you have to choose you for the first time. You’re waiting for other people to choose you. You’re waiting for other people to grant you the right to be loveable and acceptable.

It’s kind of like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz at the end. They say, “Hey, you always had the power to click the shoes.” That’s you. You’ve just got to click the shoes. I mean that. I really mean that. I’m not kidding you. We’ve been taught to look outside for the answers. We’ve been taught that you read a book, you take a pill, you do some system, and this is actually what I’m saying is hard work. It’s a different kind of hard work where we have to dig deep within. We have to face ourselves. We have to look at ourselves, and we have to see, “Oh! Here’s where I’ve got to make a little bit more effort.”

What happens is humans can often be very—we can be very motivated when it comes to work. We can be very motivated when we have to push our bodies, and we can be very motivated when we have to push ourselves to make money. Sometimes it’s easy for us to get just spiritually a little more lazy because it’s a harder kind of work. It’s a, oof, you’ve got to get in there. And you have to self-initiate. Again, meaning there’s nobody out there who’s going to do it for you. Nobody. Not me. Not anybody. And you have to get that.

And when you get that, then you are your own woman. Previously, you were not your own woman. There’s moments where you’re your own woman, but then it quickly goes into, “Oh, but this body’s not acceptable. This body’s not okay. What do I have to do to make you invisible, strange people love me and accept me?” And then the slightest bit of evidence that you gather that somebody’s judging you or you’re comparing yourself or you’re not this, you’re not that, the slightest bit of evidence throws you off.

So what I’m saying is that’s because you’ve been trained to give your power away. And now we’re going to go back to the source which is you. And you’re going to say, “Okay.” And this is literally doing like a life review. This is you looking back on your life and going, “Okay. Here’s my journey. It wasn’t easy.” So I’m hearing your story and I’m thinking to myself, “That’s not an easy journey. That’s not an easy start.” If I was you, I’d be sitting here with the same challenges.

So chances are, my guess is, you’ve done phenomenally well, given your start. So I want to say congratulations. All things considered, good for you for creating a beautiful life because you could’ve been a mess. You could’ve been a mess, and you weren’t. You’re quite the opposite. Are things perfect? No, but who are they perfect for. So all things considered, you’ve been a success. And now, you are wisely saying, “Wait a second. Enough.” Because you can’t continue in the same mindset anymore. You can’t. You will start to get very, very, very unhappy.

So you look back on your life and you start to bless your journey and you bless your story. And you say goodbye to that little girl in terms of you’re not going to be running the show anymore. She’s going to be by your side. You’re going to be holding her hand, and you’re going to be talking to her as if she’s your little girl. And you’re going to say the things that she would’ve needed to hear. So it’s almost like you’re pretending you’re the greatest mom you’ve ever had when you need to talk to her and soothe her.

So then you’re invoking the part of you that is indeed the person you want to be. So the person that you want to be you have to bring her forth. You have to bring her forth in actions, in thoughts, in words, in deeds. Then you become that person slowly, as you practice being that person. Just the same way when you first have a child, you’re practicing being a mom. So you’re being in mom role a lot, and it gains momentum. And then all of a sudden, you’re a natural mother. When you start being a nurse after your first few weeks on the job, okay, you’re being in that mindset. And then it starts to take over. Same thing. You’re adopting a new role. You’re adopting a new personality.

And, to your point, yeah, it’s not the victim. It’s the victor. How do you be the victor? You look back on your history, and you go, “Wow. Job well done. All things considered, whoa. Success.” Do we want to improve on some things? Absolutely. But all things considered, wow. And when you start to lapse into being a victim, the woman in you catches it, sees it, notices it, and you don’t let yourself go down that tunnel.

It’s no different than if one of your kids was having a tantrum. At some point, you’re going to stop them if they’re going for hours. Or if they’re going into a dark place, at some point you’re going to, “Hey, how’re you doing? What’s going on?” So you can’t abandon yourself anymore. Part of you got abandoned. You were left. When a parent dies young, we feel a sense of abandonment.

And what happens is that becomes part of our life. So even though your mom has passed, there’s a place where you’re still reliving that abandonment when you abandon you. What does that mean? You abandoning you means you insulting yourself, means you becoming the bully. “Oh, look what you ate. You shouldn’t have eaten that. Look how fat you are.” That’s being a bully. Other people bullied you; now, you’ve taken that on yourself. So that’s what you have to break.

You’ve got to realize, “Oh, wait a second. That’s not a good strategy.” You’ve got to catch yourself. If somebody starting bullying you right now, I hope you would stand up to them.

If somebody started insulting you or insulting one of your loved ones, I hope you’d stand up for them. Same for you. If you start bullying you, I want you to stand up for yourself.

So I’m busy yakking away here. How’s all this landing for you, young lady?

Devorah: It makes sense. It really makes sense. I hate to use this expression. It’s one of those always expressions, but it sounds like simple, but not easy.

Marc: 100%. Brilliant observation. Simple in concept. Another word for simple in concept is it’s exquisitely elegant, obvious. And correct: marriage is simple in concept. Hey, I love you. Hey, I love you. Okay. Let’s get married. And it’s not easy to execute.

Devorah: Oh, no. It takes a lot of work.

Marc: Okay. So that’s what I’m saying. But simple in concept. Two people get together. We love each other. Okay. Let’s make a life together. So that is correct. So the kid in you might protest. Why? Because when you give me a bunch of homework to do, I protest. The kid in me protests. I don’t want to do homework. I want to go out and play. I want to have fun.

So I want you to notice who’s protesting. And follow me here for a moment. You will mount an immune response to what I am saying here, meaning there’s going to be a part of you that’s going to want to reject it because it is going to be a little work. And it isn’t easy; you’re correct. So if it’s not easy, then it’ll be easy for us to go find excuses why we can’t do it. And you’ll want to push it away.

So I’m just giving you a heads up warning because this is what happens when human beings come face to face with the real work that we have to do. I’m just being straight with you. When we come face to face with the difficult work, it’s hard to do. You know people like this. I’m sure you have people in your circle, friends that you know, that you could say, “Okay, I know where this person needs to do a little work in their life, and they’re so resistant.”

It’s natural. It’s just kind of what we do because the work is hard and because we do have to face ourselves. And there will be some pain in there. What’s the pain? The pain is sometimes to see, “Oh, it’s been so hard to live like this. Oh, my God, I wish I would’ve figured this out sooner. Oh, my goodness, I wish it wouldn’t have been so many years doing this.” That’s where I go when I realize, “Oh man, I’ve been thinking a certain way for the longest time, and, oof, was that the wrong direction.”

So we have to contend with a lot inside of us, but we can and that’s the sign of adulthood. It’s the sign for you as a woman of queenhood where we manage the challenges and the conflicts with grace. And we understand that life is short. And we understand that you are not immortal. And we understand that unless you have a clear path, you’re going to keep doing the same thing because you have been.

So your strategies don’t work. The strategies that we collectively use around all this stuff, honestly, not very effective. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be in this conversation. You would’ve done it already, and everybody would be having an easy time when it comes to body image and weight and loving themselves. It’s not easy. The cards are stacked against us because the world is always giving you messages. The world’s always telling you, “Hey, you should look like this. You should look like that.” The movies, the media, the magazines, it’s all reinforcing how bad we are.

And even you said this, “I’ve got to spend all this money dressing a certain way and looking a certain way.” The world often wants that from us even if it’s not living in an orthodox community. It’s like the world has its dress code and its look and its feel and its shape and its weight, and it’s crazy. It’s crazy.

So again, what I’m saying is, yes, you’re right. It’s hard work. What I want you to find in yourself, my wish for you, is that you get to the place where you realize this is the kind of work worth doing.

So you asked me before we got on and I remember exactly the words you said, “So if I listen to you, can you guarantee me that it’s going to work?”

And I wouldn’t say yes because it’s not fair to say that. It wouldn’t be true because I can’t guarantee it. But here’s what I will say that if you grapple with what we’ve talked about and if you take it to heart and if you truly in yourself believe, “Huh, I think this is the right advice for me,” and if you put it into action, I guarantee your life is going to change.

But you have to make the choice that this is right for me or not. You can’t dabble. “Oh, let me try this diet for three days and see if it works. Let me read this book and see…” Those are passive things sometimes. It’s about you making the choice and you putting things into action.

So that’s why I can’t guarantee because I don’t know your work ethic here. But what I’m saying is if you can get, “Oh, this is the kind of work worth doing that’s going to get me where I want to go,” how could you not get there?

Devorah: I hear it make sense.

Marc: Mmhmm. What’s happening for you right now?

Devorah: What’s happening? I’m absorbing all this that I heard. I’m listening. I’m almost like trying to, as silly as it sounds, picture Queen Elizabeth and I’m picturing this 10-year-old girl. Like what you’re saying about me being the bully, bullying myself, that’s really, really resonating. It’s really, really resonating. And I almost feel like I need to do things that I don’t even know how to do.

Marc: Yeah. But you can learn because you’re smart and because you’ve gotten this far in life and look at all that you’ve learned. You’ve learned how to be a mother, a grandmother, a wife, a professional, a good human being. So you’ve got some talents. Okay? You’ve got some life talents and life skills, and you’ve got great instincts. And honestly, in my opinion, man to woman, you are not fully aware of your own super powers. You have a much lower self-opinion of yourself than you actually deserve.

And I’m not asking you to be arrogant; I’m just wanting you to be able to own yourself more. And I want you to think about that queen image because I like that for you. I want you to think about yourself sitting in a throne because I like that for you. And it’s not like you’re a mean queen. A good queen gives of herself.

Devorah: Oh, yeah.

Marc: A good queen loves her queendom. Everybody in her space is part of her queendom. A good queen delivers wisdom. A good queen grants people her presence with her wisdom, her love, her insights.

A good queen doesn’t sit on her throne and go, “Hey, everybody! Am I skinny enough? Do you love me? Do I need to lose more weight for you to love me as your queen? Because if you do, I’ll go exercise.” You would never follow a queen like that.

Devorah: No.

Marc: No. No. So be the queen that you would want to be with, you would want to follow, you would want others to be around. So it’s you literally stepping into that. And as you step into that, the little girl in you starts to find her rightful place which is this cute thing that’s part of your past that is now healing because you’re bringing in this other part.

So on one level it’s less about fixing what happened, and it’s more about now continuing your evolution and stepping into this new part of you. And, yeah, you’re going to be doing a little bit of tweaking because when that little girl acts up, the queen is going to go, “Oh, I just want to tell you something, honey. You are okay exactly who you are. You don’t have to do anything else.”

Every day I would love for you to make some kind of affirmation where you tell that girl she is loved and she needs to do nothing more to be loved and accepted. So she can get once and for all you are granted the right to exist and to be loveable. And we love you. I guarantee you if I could talk to your mom right now she’s not trying to change you. You think she’s on the other side wishing you were doing something different with your weight or your diet. She couldn’t care less.

Devorah: That’s true.

Marc: She wants you to be happy. You want your kids to be happy. Do you look at your kids going, “Oh, you should lose five pounds”? No, you want your kids to be happy. At the end of the day, you want them to be happy. That’s what she wants for you. She doesn’t want you to diet.

So this is a new way of thinking. And I just want to say from my perspective I’ve thrown a lot at you here. I’ve put a lot in your court. This is not a simple, casual conversation. But I said to you before we started recording, I said, “I’m going to give this my best possible shot.” And I mean that. I really want to see you get where you want to go. I really do. It’ll make me feel better about myself. It’ll make me feel better about the world.

And for me, I find it unacceptable that women and men are being held back in their 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s because of body image, weight nonsense. And we’re not being in our power, and we’re not giving our real gifts to the world. It’s unacceptable to me. So we’ve got to do something about that.

So that’s what this conversation is. It’s us banding together as comrades, as humans, on the journey together. There’s certain things I know more than you. You know more than me. And just sharing, “Hey, here’s what I’ve noticed.”

So that’s where this is coming from. It’s less me as the expert, and it’s more me as the person who just spends a lot of crazy time dissecting these things and analyzing them because that’s what I’m weirdly passionate about. And I’m reporting to you from my neck of the woods, “Here’s what I think is going to move you forward.”

It’s not about believing me. I want you to be really clear about that. This is not about believing me and doing what I said. This is about you seeing does this resonate for me and am I willing to put this into action? So it becomes your choice as opposed to me saying what to do. Because if it’s me telling you what to do, then it’s that little girl again, going, “Oh! Here’s what he told me to do, so I should do that. And if I make him happy, then I’ll be…” No.

Devorah: And that’s my instinct of what I want to do.

Marc: Because your little girl is so strong, and that’s very endearing and very sweet. You have a very child-like quality to you, and I mean that as a compliment. So that’s part of what makes you endearing, but it also gets in your way sometimes. So good. You caught yourself. I caught it too. Okay. So I could already feel you being a good girl, and going, “Oh, he says I should do this.”

Devorah: That’s right. I’m like, “Okay, so give me homework. Give me step-by-step this, do this. What homework you should do.” Even like, “What paper should I write?” And I’m always the A+ student because I have to do everything right and perfect, and I see this is much deeper than that.

Marc: It’s deeper.

Devorah: And this is where I feel like I’m going to completely different waters than anything I’m used to.

Marc: Yeah, exactly. Exactly! And those different waters, completely different, is where you want to be living. And it’s good that you’re noticing it’s completely different because what you said at the beginning in terms of what you want is completely different than what you’ve had. Do you follow me? What you want is completely different from what you’ve had.

So logically when you’re intuiting, “Huh, this is completely different,” it is reasonable to deduce that I’m on the right track here. I meaning you and I in this conversation. We’re on the right track because, “Huh. This is completely different.” You bet it is because what you want, the outcome you want, is something completely different than what you’ve had.

So, based on that, you’re going to be—I would love to give you specifics at this point. You’re going to have to instead kind of come away from this conversation and start to resource yourself and tune in and be the queen.

Because sometimes a queen is given a challenge, and there are things going on. And here’s the situation. Here’s the conditions. What should we do?

And then you make a choice in the moment. You tap into your wisdom. You listen to your inner knowing. It might not come out right away. You might have to think. You might have to meditate a little bit. You might have to marinate a little bit and give yourself time and space to tap in as opposed to, “Okay. Tell me exactly what to do. And what’s the first step? And what’s the second step?”

Yeah, we could do that, and that might be useful for you at some point, quite honestly. But given this relationship right now that we’re not going to be doing this 12 more times, it’s probably a good thing for you because I would love to see you just kind of jump in the water and start to get comfortable and start to resource yourself. Start to tap into your wise woman within. I really mean that. You can be a wise woman, Jewish sage. You’ve just got to let that voice start to come out in you. She’s in there, right? Am I right? Yeah.

Devorah: Yeah.

Marc: Yeah. So it’s you starting to claim that. Because then you’re in the rightful place where you ought to be at this stage of your life which is sitting on your throne not being that lonely little girl trying to lose weight. You’re not her anymore. And now we’re going to just catch up to that.

You have been a very excellent sport here. Excuse the sports’ analogy, but you’ve been very willing. You’ve really shared very openly about yourself, and I feel you haven’t held anything back and have just been very honest about your process. And that’s beautiful to witness. It’s very mature. It means to me you have the right tools to move forward.

And it just reinforces what I’ve been saying to is that you just have way more super powers than you realize. You let that little hurt girl show up so much that it eclipses these other really brilliant parts of you more than it needs to, and you forget that you’re a wise woman. You just forget. So I want you to stay in remembrance more. Then you’ll happier.

Devorah: Mmhmm.

Marc: So, Ms. Devorah, we are at that time. Good job.

Devorah: Thank you.

Marc: Yeah. Great answer. Excellent job. I’m so pleased by this time together for us. I would just love for you to just kind of marinate and consider and just dream on things and watch that you don’t get into your head too much, too much, too much. You can get into your head at some point, but I think it’s really good for you to just kind of feel. Just feel, like you’re doing right now. Make sense?

Devorah: Yes.

Marc: Mmhmm. Great job. Excellent job, and I’m going to wrap us up now because I think this is a good place. And if I have you nice and quiet, then that’s a good thing. That means you’re thinking and that means you’re feeling. So, again, thank you, Devorah, and thank you, everybody, for tuning in. Once again, I’m Marc David on behalf of the Psychology of Eating podcast. Always more to come, my friends. Take care.

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from Robert Morgan Blog http://psychologyofeating.com/the-psychology-of-eating-podcast-episode-181-letting-go-of-the-bully-within/

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