Disclaimer:
This story is purely fictional. Any names, persons, and events depicted in this work are fictional and parody.
✨
Mr. Trump has been estranged from his wife for quite some time. But he is rather happy with a rather young girlfriend who lo...
J stirs at the familiar dad like voice. The bed feels so soft and comforting, like a big soft hug. There's no way it's time to wake up...
"Get up now!! You are going to be late for work!"
"Mm~" she groans, snuggling deeper in the blankets.
"Look! Don't let me tell you again!! Get. Up."
"Mm~." She refuses to move, which was not the wisest choice, because as soon as she knows it, cold air hits her exposed body in nothing more than short pj shorts and a t-shirt as he rips all the covers off.
"..." -__-;
"I said get up. Now!"
"Ok, ok..." as she sits up, she comes to her senses noticing the clock, 5:40am. She really doesn't have much time to get ready before she has to run down to catch that 6:30 train downtown for her 7am shift.
It's not unusual though. It's always been hard for her to get up in the morning, which is why she's actually really grateful that Mr. Trump is on top of it.
And their struggle isn't unusual as well. Every morning plays out just like this - her refusal to get up, and his pressure to do so.
But something does seems unusual this morning. As she climbs out the bed to join him in the bathroom for her to brush her teeth, she notices something.
She feels off. Something doesn't feel right.
Whatever. It's getting late. If she misses that 6:30, she'll be ten minutes late for sure.
She hugs him good morning then they brush their teeth together, side by side, as usual. Then she rushes to throw on her black clothes and doc martens and then off to the kitchen to grab a small breakfast snack to put in her black Kanken bag.
But as she looks at the pastry she picked from the counter, a wave of nausea overcomes her.
Inhale.. Exhale.. Don't let it get to you.
Maybe you'll have ginger tea instead of the coffee when you get to the shop, myself!
"What's the matter with you?" President Trump inquires as he strolls into the kitchen, eying her.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Oh, nothing! Maybe I ate too much of that Chinese food. It's whatever..." she puts the pastry in her bag, feeling his steel gray eyes now burning a hole in her.
She looks up at him, who seems to give her a look like he can see through her BS. Which in fact, he can. He can read her like a book and she knows it.
"Uh...wellll, time to go!" ^^;
Hug. Kiss. And she rushes out the door, not only to catch the train, but to get from under the scrutiny of that steely intimidating analytical gaze.
