#Invitation fiscale

[shoutsindwarvish]

i was supposed to meet with my synagogue's executive director today to touch base and discuss my membership pledge and she has full-on ghosted me 🫠

[moonstruckme]

have a bonfire - send a character + a trope (one bed, fake dating, etc.) and I’ll write a drabble

steve harrington + friends to lovers maybe? definitely feeling lovesick steve rn 😮‍💨

Thanks for requesting lovely mal <3

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 698 words

The movie theater is dark, and yet Steve catches sight of you the second you step inside. His heart does a dumbass little somersault. 

“Y/n’s here?” he whispers to Robin, who’s sitting next to him and using her licorice as a straw. On his other side, Eddie’s kicked his feet up on the seat in front of him like a total asshole. 

“Oh, yeah.” Robin waves to you, and you spot them, heading over. “I invited her.” 

“You didn’t say she was coming.” 

Robin gives Steve a sideways glance. It’s tinged with a meaning he refuses to decode. “I didn’t realize I needed to check with you.” 

He huffs. You’re climbing the steps, still three rows from reaching them. “Move over by Eddie.” 

Robin turns towards him now, eyebrows raising. “You’re not serious.” 

“Go!” 

“Dingus.” She musses his hair spitefully as she stands, just so he’ll have to fix it, waving over her shoulder at you as you start shimmying down their row. 

You wave back, smiling bemusedly as you take her seat beside Steve. “Hey,” you say. 

“Hey.” He’s grinning like an idiot, and he can’t seem to stop. He wasn’t expecting to see you today. “Long time, no see.” 

You go a bit sheepish, the previews casting a red hue over your features. “Yeah, sorry. Work’s been keeping me busy lately. Three people quit at once, so everyone’s expected to cover until they can hire new ones.” 

Steve grimaces. “Yikes.” He has the urge to tell you to quit and let him pay for everything, as if that’s something he can fiscally manage or even remotely normal. “That sucks,” he says instead. 

“Yeah, hopefully it’s not for long.” You get comfy, slipping off your shoes and putting your socked feet up on the seat. Your knees lean onto your shared armrest, within a pinkie’s reach of Steve’s hand. “I actually just got off, I didn’t grab anything from concessions because I was worried I’d miss the beginning.” 

“Oh, no way.” The movie starts, and he lowers his voice but neither of you turn towards the screen. “Want me to run and grab you something?”

You give him a funny smile. It makes your cupid’s bow flatten out and Steve thinks that if he were to kiss you, he’d start there. “No,” you whisper, “you shouldn’t have to miss anything either.” 

“It’s okay,” he promises you. “I don’t even really care if I see this.” He has been looking forward to it ever since he saw the commercial, honestly, but he’s happy to miss it for you. 

“I’m fine,” you reply, “but thanks, Steve.” 

“At least have some of mine.” Eddie shushes him loudly, and Steve kicks the underside of his knee, making the other boy curse. “I’ve got coke and popcorn, that okay?” 

The movie glows blue over your face as you grin, eyes twinkling in the low light. “Classics. But I’m not gonna take your food.” 

“I’m not gonna eat it all,” Steve argues. “These are both extra-larges. You think I bought that all for myself?” He absolutely did. 

You lean in closer, your knees touching the side of his hand. “You paid for them,” you whisper. 

“So?”

“So, I’d feel bad.” 

“Then make it up to me.” Steve hopes he doesn’t look as nervous as he feels. He’s never been able to lay on the charm with you like he can with other girls, he doesn’t know why. Or maybe he does. “Come with us back to my place tonight. We’re ordering pizza.” 

“So,” you murmur through a smile, “make it up to you by taking more of your food, is what you’re saying.” 

“Uh-huh, exactly.” He takes a sip of his coke and then angles the straw in your direction. “Deal?” 

You drop your eyes for a second, shaking your head like he’s silly, and Steve knows he’s won even before you meet his gaze again. 

“Deal.” You wrap your lips around his straw, sucking in a mouthful before letting go. “You drive a hard bargain, Harrington.” 

Steve grins, laying bay in his seat and totally not thinking about how his pinkie is grazing your thigh. “Yeah, that’s what they tell me.” 

[actuallysaiyan]

The First Time(Aka How Nanami Kento Lost His Virginity) Chapter One: A Lesson In Kissing

Chapter One: A Lesson In Kissing

warnings: kissing, exploring sexually, fluff, mentions of IRL creative licenses/pop culture references pairings: Emo!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: after a few weeks of getting to know the shy and stoic Nanami Kento, you invite him over to your dorm to watch some anime. as things progress, you realize that you have taken his kissing virginity...

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @seireiteihellbutterfly @benkeibear @kenpachisbrat. @gennaray

MDNI banner and Support your writers banner by the lovely benkeibear!!!

Masterlist

Classes had begun fairly well and you were getting into the full swing of things. Moving to a different city and going to a prestigious university hadn’t been your initial plan, but when you won the bursary and the scholarship, you found yourself unable to say no. Your parents had encouraged you to go, praising you for your high grades and your charismatic nature. So with that in mind, you had been very excited about the prospect.

You had worked in a bank a little bit during your last year of high school. And it completely changed your mindset about money. You decided not long after that that you were going to study to become a financial advisor. You wanted to be able to help people with their money. You wanted them to see that they could make good, fiscal plans with their assets.

And taking classes in business and finance could open a lot of doors for you. Even if the financial advisor job fell through, you could make your way into a job in stocks. Anything in the financial and business field would make you happy.

This is where you met Nanami Kento. He’s shy, sullen and stoic. He hides in the back of your shared classes. You swear he’s not paying attention whatsoever, but he’s acing the tests and the quizzes. He’s at the top of the class, no matter the subject. He’s got his nose buried in a book or his notebook most of the time.

It was his amber eyes that drew you in. Most of the time you only got to see one as he covers the other with his bangs. He rarely smiles, which also draws you in. Everyone else is dressed in business attire, whereas Kento wears business casual. And he’s very heavy on the casual side of things.

But due to his academic successes and good grades, nobody is batting an eyelash at him. Seemingly you might be the only person in these classes that is even remotely interested in him. One thing that really caught your eye was his collection of pins on his jacket.

You approach him one day after class, and he shoots you a confused look. Everyone is leaving the classroom, but you wanted to get to know him more. You wanted to approach him. And the minute you do, you notice not only does he have a look of confusion on his face, but he’s also blushing.

“You’re Nanami-san, yes?” You inquire, even if you know the answer.

He pulls his bag over his shoulder, “Y-yes. That’s me.”

You introduce yourself and extend your hand out to him, “Nice to meet you. I really like your pin.”

When he doesn’t shake your hand, you point at the cute little GIR pin on his lapel. Not many people you know have watched Invader Zim. He sort of looks at you in shock for a minute before turning away. 

“Thanks, see ya.”

And you don’t approach him for another few weeks after that first encounter. You wonder if he’s just shy or if he’s abrasive. He seems so cute in your eyes. So you push yourself to make an effort to talk to him more.

The second time, you invite him out to lunch. He doesn’t outright say yes, but he also doesn’t say no. He begins to follow you to the cafe just outside of the campus. You both order a coffee and sit in silence for a little bit.

“How’d you find the test?” You ask him, taking a sip of your coffee.

He shrugs, “It was fine.”

“You must be very smart. You’re at the top of our class.”

He blushes and shrugs once more, “I don’t know. It’s just not too hard for me.”

The conversation dies down before you head over to the counter and order two sandwiches. Then you return with the two plates and Kento is confused. It’s been a long time since anyone has bought him lunch. He’s really not sure why someone as beautiful as you would even bother with him.

“Do you like the band The Used?”

Kento’s eyes widen, “Y-yeah! You like The Used?”

You nod. “Love ‘em! They are so awesome.”

This begins an acquaintanceship between you and Kento. You spend the lunch hour chatting about your favorite bands, your favorite manga and anime and of course, your favorite tv shows. You both discover very quickly that you have so much in common.

By the time lunch hour is over, you’re both upset that you’ll have to end the conversation. You see Kento in a whole new light, and him…he realizes that there are still some good people in this world.

The next time you two meet, you invite him to your dorm room. He’s never been invited to someone’s dorm since he enrolled, so he’s a little nervous about it. Not to mention the fact that he thinks he’s developing a crush on you. This coupled with the fact that he’s entirely a virgin scares him. Nevertheless, he makes his way to your dorm and knocks on the door. In his other hand is a bag of snacks and drinks to share with you.

“Kento-kun! Nice to see you! Come in,” you greet him in such a sunny way. Your demeanor was beginning to remind him of someone from his past.

He smiles shyly, “Thanks.”

He makes his way into your little space. Despite it being small, you’ve managed to make it feel so nice and cozy. It’s well decorated with band posters, comfy furniture and even a little kitchenette area. He’s surprised that you could make such a small place look so much like a home.

“Sit down,” you motion to the couch. “I’ll get us some cups.”

You return to the living room area of the room and join him on the couch. On your little TV, you have some old anime playing. Kento is immediately sucked in. You find the drinks in his bag and pour the drinks. Your fingers brush against his when you pass him the cup. He shudders from the sudden contact, hiding it by returning his attention to the TV.

“You like this?” You gesture to the TV.

He nods, “Yeah, this is Ninja Scroll, right?”

“Yeah! I didn’t think anyone was still interested in this sort of stuff.”

You and Kento begin a conversation about anime and the movie that’s playing. You both can’t stop talking to each other. It’s just like the conversation continues to flow so naturally between the two of you. The more you conversed., the more you found yourself liking him. He’s cute, knowledgeable and not like a lot of the other guys you’ve met.

As the conversation dies down, both of you sit in a comfortable semi-silence. The movie comes to a point where the romance is noticeable. You feel your heart pumping a little faster when you look at Kento again.

He’s blushing as his eyes lock with yours. He’s never even kissed before, but he’s not stupid. He knows where you want to take this relationship, but he’s so damn scared to fuck it up. There’s got to be some sort of false confidence he could display.

Yet the minute your soft lips press against his, he knows you’re going to be able to suss out his inexperience within seconds. He doesn’t know how to kiss you back, so he sits there stunned. His hands are shaking as you sit even closer to him. And then when you pull away, you notice the look on his face.

“Shit, I am so sorry, Kento. I thought…well, I thought maybe you wanted to make-out.”

Kento’s cheeks burn even more, “I-I do, I just… Idon’tknowhowto.”

You can barely make out what he’s just said. But the sentiment is there and you pick it apart. He’s never made out before. Your brain turns this information over a few times and then it clicks. That was probably his first kiss. You begin to blush and apologize profusely.

“I am so sorry, I thought that maybe…”

Then he surprises you. He kisses you. It’s sloppy and harsh, but you appreciate it all the same. Your hand reaches out to cup his face, and he shudders again. You’re so soft and you smell so good and the feeling of your lips on his makes his heart race. When he pulls away, he’s the one apologizing.

“Don’t even say you’re sorry. That was a sweet kiss.”

Then the two of you turn to face each other. The tension could be cut with a knife. You reach out to cup his face again, pulling him even closer. His hands shake as he tries to caress you, but he’s just not even sure what to do. You lead him through another kiss, this time you deepen it just a bit more.

His fists stay clenched at his side for the first part of this kiss, then you gently reach out to intertwine your fingers with his. The minute you do this, he melts into the kiss.

Then you pull away, leaning your forehead against his. Your hands are so soft against his face. He nuzzles his face into your palm before he leans in once more. This time, Kento takes the lead which surprises you. He pins you down on the couch with his body weight.

The kisses that follow are so tentative and slow. He’s learning how to be less sloppy and more precise. He’s gaining confidence the more you two explore, and soon you feel his hands on your sides. He caresses you so softly, almost like he’s afraid you’re going to slip away and end up being some figment of his imagination.

“You’re a good kisser,” you compliment him when you both pull away to breathe.

“T-thanks…you were my first.”

You cup his cheeks, “I know that, baby.”

Then your lips meet in another sweet kiss. But this time you surprise him by gliding your tongue along his bottom lip. Kento freezes for a moment, then he parts his lips.

‘So soft, so sweet…tastes so good.’ His mind is racing with thoughts like this. ‘Wanna taste her even more…’

Your tongues rub and roll together sensually. Soon you feel him grinding against you and you notice just how hard he is. His erection is poking against your thigh. And as much as you want to keep going, you think it’s probably for the best that you pace these things out.

So you pull away, leaving Kento panting and looking so dazed. He’s so sweet like this. This is the cutest look on his face you have ever seen. His lips try to chase yours a little, but you pull back just enough. Then you caress his cheek.

“Let’s slow this down, yeah?”

He swallows hard. “Oh uhm…yeah okay.”

You notice his disappointment, “I just don’t want you to rush into this. Let’s make this something special,”

He finally nods and smiles. His heart feels full of affection for you. This was exactly what he needed after all the trauma in his life. You were truly someone who cared and you were looking out for him.

You kiss his cheek. “Don’t worry. I really like you. I’m not kicking you out.”

He smiles shyly, “Okay cool. Can we maybe cuddle?”

You wrap your arms around him and bring him even closer. His head rests on your chest and you two fall into the blissful happiness of cuddles.

[argumate]

I’ll use an analogy. Imagine if GDP is a layered cake, like a wedding cake. You can add layers to it, and that’s GDP growth. You then slice the cake and give it to your wedding guests, and those slices are called per capita GDP. If you add layers, people can get more cake, higher per capita GDP. If you add more people, but don’t add any layers, everybody gets less cake, lower per capita GDP.

To reiterate: GDP growth is adding layers to the cake, and population and population increase is inviting more wedding guests. Savvy? Okay, now check this out: Canada is inviting a shit ton more guests, and not adding a lot of layers to the cake, so the wedding guests get less cake. Canada’s per capita GDP has been falling since the immigration floodgates opened. In the third quarter of 2024, per capita GDP fell 0.4%, which was the sixth consecutive quarterly decline. That is not good. In economic terms: line should go up, not down. Line goes down once? Maybe you can recover. Line goes down twice? Looks like trouble. Line goes down six fiscal quarters in a row? Oh that is not good. No good at all. Bad. Wages and salaries also down, not up. Also bad.

Okay, what about unemployment? Unemployment is up. But unemployment is a bad stat. In economic terms: line should go down, not up. Household debt is up, not down. Food bank visits are up, that’s something that should also go down. The things you want up are down, and the things you want down are up.

Actually, I’ve been sending you these stats about Canada, and you haven’t said they’re wrong or looked for alternative stats that might support your case, you just ignore them. By any measurable criteria for standard of living, Canada is getting worse, and it is largely because of the corpulent mass of brown sludge that has been imported by the government.

The funniest possible take is your old take, which you have now conceded is wrong, and I thank you for that, that you can reduce every facet of the economy and life experience to immigration rate, and it is the only factor, that more immigration = better economy no matter what

I literally just said that immigration is not the only factor that affects an economy (I mean how could it be? productivity growth and housing policy and monetary policy and institutional structure and rafts of other factors are going to affect it) you racist sack of shit, so go fuck yourself, thank you.

[blradley]

Sunday Snippet (from King of the World!)

Aka: 'is it a meet-cute when you're his mortal enemy who tried to kill him as a baby?'

Rating: 15+ (book is Adult) Warnings: murder, attempted infanticide, sex work, more attempted murder, suicide, and more attempted murder. All played for laughs.

The prophecy was simple.

One clear winter’s night some twenty-seven years ago, a boy was born beneath a very special star.

One clear winter’s night in the future, when that comet once more blazed across the sky, that boy – now man – would slay a dragon. Specifically, Malevoloth of Aurica, tyrannical ruler of Kraz.

Humanity would be freed. Azrael would humbly accept the crown, to a symphony of cheers that echoed across the kingdom; and (despite his dearth of political experience, fiscal acumen, or ability to listen to two lords bicker over which of them should finance their fourth cousins' upcoming nuptials without slaughtering the entire court) everyone would live happily ever after.

Except Malevoloth. Because he would be dead.

So you see, it wasn’t personal, when Malevoloth dispatched ever-stronger squadrons of demons to rid the world of his foretold foe, starting just hours after Azrael's birth. He hadn’t set out with the intent to raze Azrael’s quaint little village, scorching it (and Azrael’s parents) off the face of the earth.

Or rather – he had. He'd just hoped Azrael would die with them.

But prophecies were finnicky like that. Instead of being reduced to a puddle of grease and blackened bone, Azrael had been nabbed from his crib by a plucky young lass who fled the village as fast as her stocky legs would carry her, a cold eclipse falling over her back as dragon wings blocked out the sun.

Similarly, years later, when Loth set a Vellich on Azrael’s trail, the fearsome assassin had never reported back. After searching for him failed and torturing his family produced no leads, Loth had – out of sheer frustration – summoned his spirit.

It was then that he discovered his most loyal killer (whose blade had never faltered while piercing the heart of man, woman, or child!) had been overcome with teary-eyed reminiscences of his own newborn son, when his bright-eyed little target caught him looming in the shadows and invited him over to play knucklebones. Ashamed by his life choices, the Vellich had played three games, letting the child win each, before turning his destructive power on himself and erasing himself from existence.

Then there’d been the time Loth hired a succubus, presuming that – in the way of young humans – Azrael was governed by the direction of his bloodflow. It was ingenious. She would disguise herself as a human woman and infiltrate his group, earning his trust over a period of months. When the time was right, she'd let him tup her, moan and gasp, ooh and ah in all the right places - then introduce her claws to his throat when pleasure softened his guard.

Or so Loth had presumed. Two months later, the succubus had sulked back into his court, whinging that the teen had been honoured by her offer, but was (and she quoted verbatim!) saving himself for true love.

(She had demanded extra compensation for her wounded pride. Loth, teeth gnashing, had paid it, for if there was one clade of creature you never wanted to stiff, it was succubi (as illogical as that may sound). While their memories were long, their ability to hold a grudge was much, much longer.)

To top it all off, Loth had dispatched his youngest son three years ago under instructions to bring him Azrael’s head or not come back at all.

He hadn’t seen the lad since.

No – despite all of Loth’s efforts; despite the considerable time, energy and coin he had sunk into organising Azrael’s gory demise... the man just didn’t have the decency to die.

It was infuriating.

#

(Yes, Loth is going to be that true love. No, he will NOT be normal about this.) Anyway - do you like doomed enemies-to-lovers with lots of mutual yearning and oblivious idiocy? Do you like problematique villianous protagonists who are Very Shitty People, but loveable regardless? Do you like massive character growth? Then you should check out my current WIP - King of the World!

[harryforvogue]

hello. here she finally is, the harry and mia blurb (which i also offer as the 200k reads celebration story). i hope you like her. she's like 7k words so she DID take some years off my life but it's okay. as long as YOU guys are happy hehe. there is basically no smut in this, but i like to think it's quirky and funny. happy reading! and thank you, as always, for you patience <3

i literally cannot come up with a synopsis for this so. yeah. just read it THANKS LOVE YOU BYE!

***

Just two weeks ago, Harry and Mia had been invited to a birthday party.

To be specific, which is very necessary in this situation, they were invited to a kid’s birthday party. Harry had promoted one of his employees to a high position, and as a thank you, the woman had invited Harry and a plus one to her child’s 6th birthday party. Harry had looked down at the invitation wondering if there was a typo. He couldn’t fathom the idea of going to a regular birthday party, much less a kid’s one.

But his employee had insisted. And Harry had hinted that taking him out for lunch or something would be even better in his books, but the women refused to budge. So a few days later, Harry and Mia stood in a venue with drinks in their hands, dodging children left and right.

His arm was slung around her waist. Mia was quiet for some time, a pensive look on her face as she watched the child who was “it” bellow, “CHAAAARGE” before sprinting to tag the other kids. Usually, something like this would make her twitchy, but something about her still figure and soft brown eyes made him ask, “What do you think? Should we get one?”

Mia had blinked at him. “A kid?”

“No, a bouncy house.”

“Oh. Um. Well, I wouldn’t be opposed, but…”

“Mia. Never mind. Yes, a kid.” He sighed deeply and slanted his head towards her, his brows raised. “Thoughts?”

“I mean…” They’d talked about it before. And both of them wanted children. But it seemed like something that would happen after the wedding. But even that was really close – in three short months. “You know I want your kids.”

Harry laughed softly and shook his head. “You always emphasize that they’d be mine as if I’d expect them to be somebody else.”

“Well, you know,” she smiled back, nudging his shoulder with hers. “I have to remind you that they’ll all have your big head.”

“You love my big head.”

“I do.” She took a sip of her drink. “And you? Think we should get on it?”

If it were up to Harry, he would have liked to wait just a year more. He wasn’t in a rush. Though recently he had been enjoying the idea of having a baby to erase, and the feeling was always tainted by terror. “Maybe when my job is a little…”

Mia nodded. “Yeah.”

Harry had been so busy recently. His father’s company had just bought another, right before the end of the fiscal year. They had so much to work on for reports. It was driving him insane and causing him to work overtime. He just needed to get over his hurdle. And then he’d relax. He’d come home on time. He’d have more time to take Mia out rather than force her to attend a birthday with him. This felt like work anyways.

“But I do look forward to it,” he’d insisted, kissing the top of her head. He watched as two kids ran into each other and began sobbing on the floor. “Well. Mostly.”

A week later, Mia had come out of the bathroom at night with a pregnancy test in her hand. Her eyes were wide, hesitant. “I thought it would be funny,” she said, “if it was negative because I missed a period and–” 

She handed him the test. “You said you wanted kids a little later… what if we had one in nine months?” She looked at the wall, dazed. “Well. Seven months really, if I’m doing the math correctly. Which I’m probably not. You know what? It doesn’t matter. I think you get the point.”

Harry peered down at the test. It was a very solid positive. He’s silent for a moment. Then – “Holy shit.”

“I know,” Mia whispered, joining him on the bed. “It’s a lot. But we’ve talked about it, right? And we’re getting married and you know it was gonna happen eventually. I mean–”

“Mia.”

“-- I’m just saying that with the amount of sex you and I have, protected or not, it’s totally a miracle that we haven’t gotten pregnant already. And yeah I know we ditched the protection, and birth control doesn’t always work but–”

“Mia.”

“--what I’m trying to explain is that I’m totally okay with this. I might be freaking out a little bit and I might have had a mini panic attack in the bathroom but I really just–”

“Mia.”

She buried her face in her hands. “What?”

“I fucking love you.”

He’d taken her wrists and tugged. When she gave up and let him, he grabbed her face and kissed her so hard, she squeaked in surprise, steadying herself with a hand on his chest. “That,” he murmured through the kisses, “was such a Mia way of telling me. You are unbelievable. I’m never going to get used to you.”

Her eyes had immediately welled with tears. “Yeah? This is all right? We can work with this right? I mean, I’ll likely have to get the dress tailored again but I don’t think I’ll be showing that much in two months.” She leaned in and kissed him again and again until he felt her tears on his own face.

“This is perfect,” he’d whispered, holding her tight until she was gasping for breath. “I fucking– Mia. Mia. You make it so hard when you give me all these gifts.” And then he was grabbing her again, making her straddle him. He kissed her again and again, unwilling to take breaks in between even when his lungs were aching for air.

“You,” he said softly, “are everything. Listen to me. Everything. And we’re going to celebrate tomorrow, okay? Anything you want. All day. Nobody can bother us. How’s that sound, hm?” He kissed her. “I love you. I love you so much I can’t think straight.”

When Mia fell asleep on his chest that night, his mind was racing with ideas on what they could do tomorrow. What could he do that could compare with the things she’s done for him? He held her tight. He was going to be the best damned father anyone had ever met. He couldn’t be anything less than that.

***

The next morning, Harry’s phone begins to ring. And it continues to ring until Mia groans and reaches over him to grab it. She looks down at the caller ID with squinted eyes. It’s as if a bucket filled with ice water has been thrown over her.

“Hey,” she whispers to Harry, pushing his shoulder to wake him. “It’s your father.”

He tucks his head against her neck. “Ignore it.” His voice is raspy.

She lets it ring until it stops. “You already have two missed calls from him. What if something happened? Like the company suddenly went bankrupt overnight? Like something with the stocks. Like the Great Depression? Do you know how bad the Great Depression was?”

“Then I guess I’m unemployed. I’m so sad.” He doesn’t sound sad at all. His arm that’s thrown over her waist tightens and he pulls her back down until she’s against the pillows again. “Go back to sleep.”

“Fine, but don’t blame me when you wake up destitute.” She closes her eyes when Harry’s warm body begins soothing her back into a peaceful state. Her eyes are heavy again. Nothing is more comfortable than Harry’s hold lulling her to sleep.

And then Harry’s phone rings again. It rings and rings until Harry finally raises his head and swears under his breath. He grabs his phone and puts it to his ear. “Hello,” he answers in a very not so kind voice.

“Harry,” Mia hears his father’s voice through the phone. She opens her eyes and glances up at Harry. “Why haven’t you been taking my calls?”

“It’s 5 in the morning on a Sunday,” Harry replies tensely.

“You will be having dinner with your step mother and I tonight.”

He doesn’t even bother asking. He just demands it. Mia watches Harry rub his eyes and sit up, turning away from her onto his side. “I’ve got plans tonight. Maybe another night.”

“No, tonight. I’ll be out of the country next week.”

“I can’t tonight.”

“You may bring Amelia as well.”

Harry pauses. He doesn’t correct him about her name as he always does. “I’d have to ask her.”

“I need to speak to you urgently about a matter regarding the company.”

“We can do this over a video call.”

“Harry, I’m not asking you. I will send you an address and you will show up. With your girlfriend or not, it matters little to me. This is an important conversation we must have.”

“Fiancée, actually. Which I’ve told you,” he says. He takes a breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. Mia knows Harry’s getting angry at his father from the long pauses he keeps taking. She knows he’s trying to calm himself down before he says something completely out of turn. She sits up and rests her head on his back, holding onto his arm.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, rubbing her hair against him. “We can go.”

He turns his head to look at her, his eyes wide. He pulls the phone away. “I wanted to celebrate with you.”

“We can do it another time.”

“No. This needs to be celebrated immediately.”

She smiles sleepily, raising her head to look at him. “We have, like, seven months to celebrate.”

His jaw tenses as he brings his phone back to his ear. She nods encouragingly and then lays back on her side, tucking herself under the warm sheets. She feels him staring at her a few seconds before she hears his soft voice say to his father, “We will be there.”

“Good,” his father says. “I will send over the details.”

“All right. Bye.”

She hears him turn his ringer off and then set his phone to the side. He gathers her into his arms and holds her close. His lips press to the top of her head. “I’m really sorry, Mia.”

“Don’t be,” she laughs softly. “Nothing we haven’t done before.”

“I know. But still.” His voice is quiet and sad. “I wanted to celebrate.” His hand slides over her stomach. “Take you somewhere nice.”

“I’m sure the restaurant your father picks will be nice.”

“I wanted to take you somewhere nice and alone.”

“We can do that any other day.”

He’s quiet again. “Yeah.” Before she falls asleep, she hears Harry apologizing again, barely audible.

***

Mia walks in on Harry pulling his freshly tied tie off his neck. He mutters a swear and tosses it on the bed and unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt, pulling his collar open. With a deep breath, he makes eye contact with Mia through the mirror. She’s in a long summer dress and white sneakers, pulling her jacket on. She’s done her hair in loose curls and pinned the front pieces out of her face. She smiles at him, but he doesn’t smile back, clearly lost in his thoughts. 

“Hey,” she says, frowning. She takes his hand and walks around to stand in front of him. “It’s okay.”

His eyes are distant. “I want a day off with just you and me. I’ve been working so much, I feel like I’ve barely seen you. And we live together.”

Mia presses his hand to her cheek. She feels his knuckles gently caress her skin upon contact. “I know. But things come up. We can have a day to ourselves next week.” She frowns deeper. “Oh wait. We promised Amara and Zack we’d do a double date.”

At the reminder of the plan, Harry looks pained. “We can just not show up.”

“That would piss him off.”

“Who cares? I’m pissed off right now.”

Mia stands on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck. A smile takes her face again, and she’s suddenly leaning in to gently kiss the corner of his mouth. “Well, I hope you know that you’re so cute when you’re pissed off.”

“I’m serious.” His voice loses a bit of its agitated tone. He holds her waist.

“As am I. Now come on. Stop brooding and look a little more happy. I’m having your child, after all. You owe me smiles for the next seven months.”

At that reminder, his eyes light up and one dimple appears. Then another. He holds her face and tugs her closer. “You’re absolutely right.”

She grins and then melts into the embrace when Harry kisses her. “I am always right.”

Mia doesn’t know how some people are able to keep the news as a secret until their partner is ready to take it. When she looked down at the positive pregnancy test last night, her first thought was to tell Harry. There was no way she’d be able to keep it to herself.

She lost count of how many times he whispered “thank you” and “I love you”.

Harry was in such a mess, they weren’t actually able to make love like she thought they would. Every time Harry would hold her face to kiss her, he’d tear up again and drop his head, whispering the words again, mixed with a healthy and colorful amount of soft, incredulous swears.

“I was thinking, actually,” he murmurs once he pulls away. He twists a strand of her hair around his finger. “We should go for a vacation. To celebrate, I mean.”

Mia says, “You know I am always ready for a getaway.”

“Mhm.” He kisses her again. “And when we come back, we can start telling people? Is that a thing that you do so early?”

“Well, I don’t have any other children so it’s hard for me to know.”

“Then maybe we wait until the second trimester.”

“Should we do a gender reveal party?”

Harry thinks about it as he kisses her once more. “Dunno. I mean, I would totally be okay with finding out the day off.”

Mia’s eyes light up. “I was thinking that too.” She slides her hands down his shoulders, fixing his collar along the way. “I would be happy with a boy or a girl.”

“Me too.”

“And should we do something like a big reveal for our friends and parents? No wait. I’d actually rather tell my parents in person.”

“Is that where our vacation will be? Staten Island?”

She fakes a shudder. “Don’t even joke about that.”

He kisses her for a final time, a very long kiss that has her pressing herself against him, his hands on her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin. And when he pulls away, Mia laughs softly and wipes his mouth. “Lipstick,” she whispers. Harry cleans up the corner of her mouth with his own thumb. “We should head out soon.”

Harry sighs deeply and nods. “Let’s get this over with, hm?”

“Let’s.”

***

Despite having been with Harry for four years, it still shocks her whenever they go out to a place as fancy as this. Because although Harry and her do go to expensive places, they’re never as high end as the ones his father picks. Harry complains that the super expensive places don’t have edible food, which she has to agree with. Looking at the menu in her hands, she scans it for anything that she even recognizes.

Most of the time, she has to elbow Harry gently and ask him what these dishes are. Unfortunately, Harry is having a discussion with his father about the company, something she usually just tunes out.

At least she’s decided what drink to have. And the post dinner dessert.

Harry jokes with her that she should listen to how the company is run or at least know its primary functions. He says that if he ever got sick, she’d have to step in to run the company for him. Mia’s not all that sure how much of that is the truth. They wouldn’t just give the company to anybody, right? Harry reminds her that his father handed a large part of the company over to him despite Harry not having the experience. Mia argues that that is a classic story of nepotism. Harry argues back that him giving her his job is also nepotism.

You really can’t win with rich people, Mia says, ending the conversation there.

After they’ve ordered (Mia playing it safe by ordering exactly what Harry does), they sit in relative silence until Harry’s father clears his throat and says, “Well, I have news to give you, Harry. In fact, tomorrow morning, we can start on the paperwork.”

Harry says, “Paperwork?”

“Yes. I’m sure you know of all the board meetings we’ve been having over the course of the past two months, and there have been rumors here and there, but I’d like to actually come straight to you to say it. I am stepping down as chief executive officer.”

Harry takes a sip of his water. “Great. Who’s the unlucky fellow that gets to take your place? Is this about voting? I told you having an even number of board executives was a bad idea for this very reason.”

Something flashes over Harry’s father’s face. Surprise, perhaps. “Well, I wouldn’t just hand the position over to just anybody.”

“Right. Do you want me to look over performance reviews and applications?”

“Harry,” Mia says softly.

He glances down at her and then his father. Then his step mother. Realization dawns. “Oh.”

“Yes. I will be passing duties over to you.”

Mia watches the expressions pass over his face. Confusion, surprise, then… something else.

“It was always set in stone that I would pass the company to you, son. I did think I would continue to be CEO for at least another 2 years, but I think it’s an excellent time for me to retire. The company is stable. The revenues have increased every year, our profit margins are better than ever. There are few fires to put out in distinct subsidiaries, but this previous quarter has been exceptional.”

“Right.”

“It is not only because you’re my son. It’s also because of your commitment to the company. You have been strict in hiring and following the companies values. Your negotiating skills have never been more excellent. We gained a new subsidiary that brings in massive amount of profits because of you. The contracts you’ve renewed this year alone are commenable. You’ve put in the work and you deserve this position.”

“Right.”

“We will start the paperwork tomorrow.”

Mia realizes what’s on Harry’s face. Dread.

Because Harry’s never wanted that position. She knows it. Sometimes, he’d reveal to her that it was the only position left for him if he were to excel past his current one, and that he wasn’t sure how he’d react to the news. They all thought it would be a couple more years until this discussion was brought up.

But now it’s here. Harry is reaching for his water again, taking slow slips in thought.

The silence is unnerving. Mia puts on a bright smile and exclaims, “This is wonderful news! Congratulations, Harry!”

His step mother raises her glass in a toast and everyone except Harry clink theirs together. “Congratulations!”

“I understand it’s a shock,” his father says after drinking his wine. “But it is for the best of the company. I leave it in good hands.” He glances up at the waiter. “Thank you.”

As the plates are getting set in front of them, Mia puts her hand on top of Harry’s under the table. She notices that his fingers are cold, so she rubs them softly.

“You know what?” Harry suddenly says when the waiter leaves. He pulls his hand out from under hers abruptly. “I’ve got to get some air. I’ll be right back.” He pushes his chair out. “Excuse me.”

Mia watches him quickly walk out of the restaurant while undoing one more button of his shirt. Normally, she’d be annoyed that she’s been left with the shark of a father he has, but now, concern runs through her. She’s already on the edge of her seat when Harry mutters an apology to the host and exists.

She glances back at his father and step mother. They don’t actually look perturbed.

“I would have thought he’d gotten used to all this,” his step mother says, cutting into her steak carefully. “Does it always take him time to get used to something?”

“Yes,” his father says, chewing already. “He’ll be fine.” He looks at Mia. “How have you been, Amelia? The wedding planning is complete, yes? How’s the job going? You know, my offer at the company still stands. Well, now it’ll have to go through Harry, but I’m sure that the position he can get you would pay far better than the one you currently h–”

“Actually,” Mia says, standing up. She winces at the way her chair screeches against the floor. “I am so sorry. I’m, um, I’m going to check on Harry.”

His father waves his fork in the air. “Go on ahead. Talk some sense into him.”

She offers a nod of some kind and then walks out, trailing after Harry. She also apologies to the host and promises her return.

He hasn’t gone too far. In fact, he’s right out the restaurant, pacing with his hands tucked into his pockets. 

“Harry.” She jogs over to him, grabbing his blazer sleeve, stopping him in his step. “Hey. Hi.”

He looks at her with frantic eyes. “I’m not taking that job. I can’t take it. I can’t.”

“Okay. That’s okay.”

He stares at her for a moment before wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tight against his front. His heart is beating fast. “Mia. I don’t– Mia.”

“It’s okay.” She feels him drop his head to her shoulder. He takes a deep, shaky breath.

“I don’t want to be the CEO.”

She rubs his back. “I know.”

“I always thought it would be fine, yeah? Take on a few more responsibilities. But…”

“It’s just not what you want.”

“Is it wrong? I’ve always known, so is it cheating by refusing now? I mean. I know people who would kill for this job. My father probably thinks I’m being ungrateful.”

Mia shakes her head. “Well, you’re not. You’re trying your best, and this just doesn’t interest you. You don’t want it.”

“Maybe 5 years ago it’s what I would have wanted. I wanted to prove that I could be something big. Prove it to my dad. But things are different now. I don’t want to prove anything to anyone. I feel as if I’m different. You and I are different.” He squeezes her. 

“I understand,” she whispers. “I know.”

“What difference will it make anyways? We’re more than comfortable right now. I’m miserable at my job and I will be miserable as CEO.”

This is news to her. “I thought you were enjoying it a bit more.”

“No.” His voice is muffled against her dress. “You think I like a job that doesn’t allow me to see you?” He suddenly lifts his head and holds her waist tight. “Mia, this past week alone, I’ve come home so late that you’re already asleep. I don’t want that.” She sees something like fear in his eyes. “I didn’t pay attention to you the first time. And look what that did to our relationship. It was entirely my fault. I can’t do that again. I can’t handle that. I won’t ever show up. But that’s what we agreed on all those years ago, right? That I’d be there?”

“Harry…”

“I’ve been so good at showing up and that’ll all change if I take the job. There’s a reason why my parents never worked out. Why I never had a good relationship with my dad.” His eyes are wide, frantic. “I can’t be my father. I don’t want to be. I would never want to be. I can’t do that to you. I can’t do that to…” He puts a hesitant hand on her stomach. “God, I’d hate myself if I did that.”

“Harry…” Mia surges forward and throws herself at him, hugging him so tight, she feels her own ribs hurting. He holds her just as tight, head against her shoulder once more. “Oh, I love you, you beautiful person. I love you so much.”

“Yeah?” he whispers, turning his head to kiss her cheek. “Is that all right, then? If I say no?”

“I think you should say no, then quit your current job and let me be the income earner for the rest of the year. Won’t be able to pay for the wedding though. You’ll have to chip in. A lot.”

Harry chokes out a laugh. “We’ll honeymoon for the rest of the year.”

“As long as it’s not in Staten Island,” she giggles, planting kisses after kisses on his jaw. “I love you. Got that? I love you always.”

He pulls away slightly to look at her, apprehension in his eyes. “Always? Are you sure? It’s…it’s not easy loving me.”

Harry’s never been the type to ask Mia to remind him she loves him. She knows he knows that she adores him more than anything. But now, he’s asking, and he’s looking so hopeful with his pretty green eyes under the golden lights outside the restaurant. He’s looking all over her face, his gaze often lingering on her mouth.

“Are you kidding me?,” she suddenly laughs. “Harry. You know loving you has never been difficult for me. And not to mention, you’re kinda stuck with me. We’re reproducing after all.”

Harry groans. “Is that how you’re going to break the news to everyone? Hey guys, just wanted to say that my fiancé and I did have unprotected sex—“

“Wait! That’s basically what people say when they’re like oh yeah we’re trying. Like hmm okay, but we know exactly what’s going on no matter how cute you make it sound!”

“And yet it’s still better than we banged and here we are.”

Mia smiles. “But we did bang and here we are indeed.”

“Listen.” He takes her clip out of her hair and fixes her short strands back again. “Tell your friends however you’d like. But my family will be told a very specific, expensive way.”

“Like a party? You don’t like them.”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t seem to oppose the idea of celebrating such a big thing, though. As long as I get to kick people out on time.”

“But with Amara and Zack—“

“I give you full control.”

“Good. I want to make them cry.” She looks very determined. “I want them to be fighting for their life. Choking, even.”

Harry says, “Er, yeah. Whatever you want.”

“Maybe we can tell your father and step mother right now.”

Harry drags the back of his hand against her cheek. “Yeah?”

“I mean, you’re going to have to give a reason why you’re declining. And you can’t just say it’s because you love me so so so so so much.”

“Oh yeah? And why not?” He squishes her face, pulling her close, his voice tender. “Why can’t I refuse on the basis of loving my fiancée so so so so much?”

Her eyes light up. “Because that’s super out of character for you. He might think you’re sick. Although I’d love to see the look on his face.”

“Me too. He might have a heart attack at the idea of his son being happy.”

Mia suddenly frowns. “Don’t say that. That makes me really angry.”

“I know. Hey. We should go and make him angry instead, hm?”

“I like the way you think, Styles.”

He smiles and kisses her quickly. “Come on.” He takes her hand. “Let’s ruin their day.”

They share one more look before they head back inside. When they reach the table, they’re not surprised to see their plates untouched and the others nearly finished. They sit back down. 

“Have you finished with your dramatics?” Harry’s father says calmly.

“I will be refusing the promotion.”

Well, shit, Mia thinks. Just getting straight to it then.

His father’s eyes narrow as he slowly puts his fork down. He then takes a sip of his wine. Finally, he clasps his hands on the table. “And why, might I ask?”

“I have other priorities I need to focus on.”

“Something that is more important than your career?”

“Yes.”

“There is nothing more important to a man than his career.” His father shakes his head. “I’m disappointed. I wish you’d have learned this by now. You should take time to think this over. It won’t even be such a big difference.”

Harry says, “I have a different future in mind for myself. Something I think is more worthwhile.”

His father’s eyes narrow some more before they turn on Mia. “And I assume this decision is due to your influence as well.”

“I don’t think I influence Harry to do anything. I like to think I just encourage him.” Mia hates how she doesn’t sound confident in herself. “This is something we both happen to believe in.”

“He would not make this decision if it weren’t for you.”

Mia catches the bitter, criticizing tone, and so does Harry. She can tell by the way he tenses.

“Do not,” he says tightly, “speak to her like that. I am refusing the position and that is my final answer.”

Mia’s surprised when Harry’s getting up to leave. She scrambles to do the same, taking his outstretched hand. “Um. Goodnight,” she says even though Harry’s already dragging her away. The look on his father and step mother’s face is priceless. Mia wishes she could photograph it, blow it up, and put it on a blanket. It would make for an excellent anniversary gift.

Harry’s walking so fast, she needs to jog a little to keep up with him. When they get to the car, he stops and looks up at the sky. He laughs a little, but Mia’s sure he’s not finding anything particularly amusing. “Well, shit.”

“Uh, is he going to come after us?”

“Of course not.”

“Right.” She needs to say something to make him feel better. Anything. Anything ridiculous. “I wished we packed up the food. It looked really good.”

It works. He snorts and unlocks the car, releasing her hand. “Relax. I’ll feed you. Let that be the least of your worries.”

They sit in the car, but Harry doesn’t start it right away. Instead, he holds the steering wheel and takes several more deep breaths. After a moment of silence, Harry puts his head on the wheel.

Mia rubs his back. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Harry doesn’t reply for some time. His eyes are shut, his eyebrows furrowed. She continues to rub his back and lean over to kiss his curls.

Finally, his eyes open and he sits back up. He secures his seatbelt and then starts the car. “Okay. Let’s go home. No wait. We have to feed you first. Then we go home.”

“We can place an order for pickup.”

“An excellent idea. Let’s do that.” He gives her a pointed look. “Pick a place and order from it. Without any fuss.”

Mia smiles. “Yes, sir.”

His eyes narrow and he leans in for a kiss. “Good.”

He puts the car in drive.

***

“Should we buy a baby name book? I saw one the other day that had a thousand in them.” Mia bites down aggressively on her crouton.

“I’m pretty sure we can agree on a name collectively,” Harry answers.

“We don’t ever agree on anything collectively.”

“Touch.”

“This is really good. Are you sure you don’t want to try it?”

He looks at the monstrosity in front of her. A caesar salad but she’s coated it with pickle relish instead, and her pasta is covered with so much cheese and oregano, he can barely see the pasta underneath. She twirls her pasta on her fork and then stabs her relish covered romaine lettuce, shoveling it all into her mouth.

“No, thank you,” he says. “I’m sure it’s…very delicious.”

“Not even my drink?”

She’s having orange Fanta to top it all off. “I’m okay, baby. You know, if we weren’t sure that you were pregnant before, we’re definitely sure now.”

“You’ve gotta remind me that I need to get a doctor’s appointment. I can get it for Friday afternoon if that works for you.”

She says it so casually, it makes him pause, his drink half way to his lips. He puts his glass down. “No. I’ll get leave for it.”

She glances at him. “You don't have to. I mean I’m sure you've got a lot to talk about with your dad and taking off in the middle of the week won’t be so good.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He frowns. “It’s time your schedule stopped depending on mine. You know what? I should start taking three days off a week.”

“You already come home early on Fridays.”

“They can survive another day without me.”

Mia shoves another crouton in her mouth. “You know I love having you in the house. Maybe if you can't get another day off, you can work from home.”

“Yes.” His mind is spinning with possibilities. “That’s a good idea too.”

“I am full of them.”

Harry takes his napkin and leans over the table, gently wiping the corner of her mouth. “You sure are.”

Mia quickly finishes up her food. Harry passes her water to have insead of the Fanta and she drinks it down quickly before getting up and walking over to his side. He spreads his legs when he sees her coming, patting his thigh. She falls into his lap easily.

“Hey,” she whispers, tucking her head against his shoulder. “I’m a little scared.”

His arms are tight around her immediately. “Of my father? Don’t worry about that. I’ll handle it.”

She holds his shirt tightly. “No it’s not that. I know you can deals with him.”

“Then what is it, baby?” He kisses her forehead and runs his fingers through her hair. “Tell me.”

She’s quiet for a moment until she says, “What if I’m not a good parent?”

“Oh, Mia.”

“I mean, I wasn’t even around kids at any point in my life. And I don’t have young siblings. I’m going to have to buy a ton of parenting books. I don’t even know anything. Did you know that you’re not supposed to warm milk up in the microwave for babies?”

Harry gently tugs her chin up so she can look at him. “Mia, between us, I think I should be the most worried about being a bad parent.”

“Harry, I know you’re going to be the best dad, and I’ve never been more confident of anything in my life. But me? I don’t know. I just learned how to start caring for myself, and sometimes it feels like I’m still learning. You’re going to be perfect though.”

He shakes his head. “There’s no such thing as a perfect parent. There’s a big difference between a good parent and a bad one though.” He takes a breath. “We are going to try our best. Right? Isn’t that all we can do?”

“Right,” she whispers, turning her face against his neck, her nose against the column of his throat. “Together.”

“Always. You said it yourself.”

She sniffles. “Are you scared too?”

“Absolutely fucking terrified. But I’m also excited. And also very relieved that it’s you I get to share this with.”

She raises her head. “Me too.” She sits up, blinking her grey, teary eyes at him. “ But I’m also sad. You’re going to be such a hot dad.” Her lip begins to wobble. “And I’m going to have to pry all the women off of you when you drop our baby off at daycare.”

Harry tries very hard not to laugh. It doesn’t seem like the appropriate time. “I will not even give them the time of day.”

“I should get a shirt that says That DILF is Mine!”

“As long as I get a matching one.”

He wipes her tears away, ruining her mascara in the process.

She sniffles some more. “I really wanted to have sex tonight but now I can’t stop crying.” She buries her face in her hands and cries harder. “This is r-really,really bad.”

Harry can’t help laughing then. He clutches her close to his chest and rests his head on hers. “Exactly how I felt yesterday.” He rubs her back as she’d done to him in the car. “It’s been a long day. It’s going to be okay. I know it’s very overwhelming.”

For some time, he lets her cry, thinking of ways to make her feel better. “Hey, I was thinking,” he finally decides, “if it’s a boy, maybe we can name him Axel.”

That gets her to stop crying. She immediately says in an icy voice, “I will divorce you.”

“Well, how about something classic like Bobby.”

She pulls away from him quickly. Her eyes are dark and annoyed, eyelashes still wet. Her nose is red, her cheeks pink. She looks like a vision. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“No?” he says innocently, wracking his brain for another terrible idea. “How about Clover for a girl?”

“You’re messing with me.”

“Delilah?”

She growls, “What is this – the early 2000s? I’m buying that baby name book tomorrow. You’re terrible at this!”

“I will admit I’m not the best at naming things. I named my cousin’s dog Pikachu.”

“You’re lying.”

He wipes her face gently. “Nope.”

“I will be naming this child.”

“I absolutely refuse to give you that right. Are you angry? Now you won’t have sex with me because you’re mad, right?”

Her eyes narrow. “On the contrary. I want to have sex with you even more now.”

Harry laughs and gathers her close, standing up. Her legs immediately wrap around his waist. “So romantic. Well, since you insist.”

She’s still going on about how terrible his name picking skills are when they arrive in their bedroom and Harry gently puts her in the middle of the bed.

He sighs dramatically, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand as he looms over her. “Well, it seems like I’m really, truly wrong. I guess the only thing I must do now is apologize.”

Mia bites down on her lower lip as Harry drops his shirt on the floor and slides his hands up her legs under her dress. She parts her thighs instinctively and tilts her head back against the ceiling. “Yes. You must.”

He hums, pushing her dress up until she grabs it from him, letting it bunch at her waist. He kisses her hip bone, then her thighs. Slowly, taking his time. He gently bites down on the flesh, growing harder at the sound of her gasp. He presses a feather light kiss to the waistband of her underwear before slowly tugging it down.

“Mia,” he says softly, slotting himself between her legs. “My sweet girl. When did you get so wet?”

She glances down at him. “Um, when you were being super hot and angry at your father in the restaurant.”

“Which was well over an hour ago?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to jump you in the car!”

“I wouldn’t have minded pulling over. Or doing this first.” He emphasizes the word when a careful lick against her. Her hands immediately fly out to grab his curls. “You know I never mind. Now.” He holds her thighs open. “Let me apologize properly.”

His fingers dig into her skin as he slids his tongue over her again. He relaxes into the mattress, encouraged by her strained groans and tight hold on his hair. He knows Mia well. He could do this in his sleep. He knows exactly what types of touches she likes, when she likes it rough, or when she prefers to be teased. He could stay here between her legs for hours, days even, submitting to her in whichever way she pleases. His heart thunders in his chest at the promise of forever. He’ll have her like this, exposed, and he’ll be at her mercy. All that she’s done for him, all that she’s tolerated. How much she’s fixed him. If only he could repay her.

“So good,” she whimpers under him, raising his hips against his mouth to create more friction. He focuses his attention on her clit and then slowly presses two fingers into her, listening to her gasp at the penetration. “I love you. Oh I love you. I love you. I love you-”

All the discomfort he’s felt today is suddenly gone. All he’s aware of is Mia. He’s wrapped up in her. He’s all hers. Hasn’t he always been? He closes his eyes and loses himself in the sounds she’s making, her heavy breathing, and the taste of her on his tongue. He’s never had any issue in losing himself in Mia.

It’s just him and her. 

He couldn’t be more happy.

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.198 Money, money, money

I don't stay in my feelings long because my life is great. Sometimes we think we know what we want, but the grass isn't always greener on the other side. I have everything I need. I love my lone child and my wife more than anything in this world. My sister and her children are the cherries on top of my life's parfait. I have friends whom I love, three beautiful homes, multiple streams of income, good health, and, of course, the fur babies. I don't need much more.

The rain stopped, so I jump at the chance to get started on the treehouse. I get as far as building a quick scaffold before Sophia comes out with an amazing proposal: we should invite Dub, Maia, and Tami over for a cookout. That is the best idea. We had such an awesome time together back in El Ciudad Enamorada, and we all insisted we needed to get together more often. But, of course, life does life things, and we still haven't scheduled anything. Sophia and Maia became good friends on that trip, and I'm glad she's taking the lead on this because, left up to me, we'd probably never do it. I'm always go, go, go, moving onto the next thing. I'm so glad my friends love me because I still suck at keeping in touch.

I give Sophia enthusiastic approval of her plan, so she goes back inside. I get back to building the treehouse, but within minutes I feel cool drops of rain rolling down my face. If this cat-and-mouse situation continues for the rest of the season, I'm never gonna finish this thing. Desiree and the kids will be teenagers and too big for it by the time I'm done. I stow my tools reluctantly and go inside. While it's on my mind, I text Dub to give him a heads up so we can start planning our next family shindig.

I find Sophia breaking in our new sitting area in the kitchen, so I join her. Shortly after, Desi finds us and enters the chat. It's in that moment I feel that release I needed about her going to school. I have no idea how or where that feeling came from, but when school starts back up again, I can let her go without being a worried mess. She loves hanging out with us, but I can tell she's eager to build her own social circle. I'll miss her, but I want her to thrive, and she can't do that hanging around us all the time.

"What do you think about giving Des an allowance?" Sophia asks.

"What's an allowance?" Desiree asks.

I don't say it out loud, but I want to know too. I mean, of course I've heard of it. Kids at school used to talk about how much money they made all the time, but I never understood its purpose. If I needed money, I just asked my mom, and she gave it to me. Most of the time, she gave more than I asked for.

"It's a set dollar amount parents give their children every week for doing chores and things," Sophia says.

I feel my face shriveling in confusion.

"But...shouldn't she do chores anyway because she lives here and should help us take care of the house?" I ask.

"Well, yeah, of course she should. It's not really about paying her to do the chores. It's more about teaching fiscal responsibility. My parents gave me an allowance, and it made me feel like I had more freedom."

I understand what she's saying, but I think we could accomplish the same things without the salary. My mom didn't just hand out money when we were kids. She started that in our adulthood when we could appreciate the extra funds. She always questioned our money requests, wanting to know our plan for it and all. We'd talk about it, and sometimes she would say no because it wasn't a good idea. I think those kinds of conversations are more valuable than letting a child have their own money to buy insane amounts of candy or whatever. But what do I know? I'm just a first-time parent with limited life experience.

"If you think it's a good idea, fine," I say. "I don't think it's necessary, but I'm sure she'd enjoy it."

I look over at Desi, and she's beaming, already spending the money in her head. I really hope this is a good idea.

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

By Isabel Vincent

The cash from Soros and his acolytes has been critical to the Columbia protests that set off the national copycat demonstrations.

Three groups set up the tent city on Columbia’s lawn last Wednesday: Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP), Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP) and Within Our Lifetime.

At the “Gaza Solidarity Encampment,” students sleep in tents apparently ordered from Amazon and enjoy delivery pizza, coffee from Dunkin’, free sandwiches worth $12.50 from Pret a Manger, organic tortilla chips and $10 rotisserie chickens.

An analysis by The Post shows that all three got cash from groups linked to Soros. The Rockefeller Brothers Fund also gave cash to JVP.

The fund is chaired by Joseph Pierson, and includes David Rockefeller Jr, a fourth-generation member of the oil dynasty, on its board of directors. The non-profit gives money to “sustainable development” and “peace-building.”

And a former Wall Street banker, Felice Gelman, a retired investment banker who has dedicated her Wall Street fortune to pro-Palestinian causes, funded all three groups.

17Free sandwiches from upscale takeout joint Pret a Manger are on offer at the encampment, worth up to $12, and $10 rotisserie chickens. Cash for the encampment has come from billionaire investor George Soros.NYPJ

Both SJP and JVP were expelled from Columbia University in November for “threatening rhetoric and intimidation.” JVP blamed Israel for the Oct 7 Hamas terrorist attack that left 1,200 Israelis dead.

“Israeli apartheid and occupation — and United States complicity in that oppression — are the source of all this violence,” JVP said in a statement on its website.  

SJP called the terrorist strike on Israel “a historic win.”

17Also on offer for the thirsty anti-Israeli protesters camped out at Columbia is free coffee from Dunkin’. Behind the scenes, the groups organizing the encampment have received cash from Soros and another former Wall Street banker.NYPJ

An analysis by The Post shows how Soros and Gelman’s cash made its way to the students through a network of nonprofits that help obscure their contributions.

Soros has given billions to the Open Society Foundations which his son Alexander — whose partner is Huma Abedin, Hillary Clinton’s top aide and the estranged wife of pervert Anthony Weiner — now controls.

In turn, Open Society has given more than $20 million to the Tides Foundation, a progressive nonprofit “fiscal sponsor” that then sends the cash to smaller groups.

Those groups include A Jewish Voice for Peace, which between 2017 and 2022 has received $650,000 from Soros’ Open Society. Its advisers include the academic Noam Chomsky and the left-wing feminist author Naomi Klein.

JVP has been a prominent part of the protests at Columbia and one of its student members was among a group expelled from the university for inviting the leader of a proscribed terrorist group, Khaled, to the “Resistance 101” Zoom meeting.

Soros has also donated $132,000 to WESPAC, called in full the Westchester People’s Action Coalition Foundation.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Banquet

Author’s Note: Hagiel’s No Good, Terrible Mission part 2. Originally this was part of chapter one, but it ended up over 6k words long, so I split it into two parts. Enjoy! Previous. Next

Playlist for this fic series: Spotify Youtube

Tagged: @undeaddream , @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: alcohol, flirting, references to the Red Thirst, canon-typical violence

Summary: Hagiel goes to the banquet. It goes great

word count: 2,893

There was live music playing in the banquet hall that Hagiel had been guided to by one of the Governor’s serfs after he’d gotten cleared up and changed into formal wear. The collar was bothering him, but Hagiel didn’t fidget with it, despite wanting to. He was going to be uncomfortable until he could change out of the too-thin and restrictive clothing. There were several dozen very well dressed and clearly wealthy mortals who were talking to each other. He was announced by the serf and the conversations stopped as he entered. Hagiel stepped into the room and gave them all a professional smile, relying on the meager political training he had been given “Good evening.”

Governor Shyrc looked up from where they were setting at the head of the large, ornately decorated table, and responded “Good evening, Lord Angel, Please come sit at my right hand.” 

Something niggled at the back of Hagiel’s mind about that, but he couldn't figure out what. Besides, he wasn’t sure how to take another spot without subbing the Governor nor displacing anyone else as there were exactly the number of seats available at the table as guests in the room. “My thanks, governor.” He made sure to move as softly as his large frame would allow, flashing closed-mouth smiles to mortals he passed, not wanting to unnerve them with his fangs. He didn’t recognize most of the mortals invited, though he did recognize Lady Sablescar, General Qvelt… And surprisingly enough. Xie Flint and vice admiral Egalth. “Good evening, Governor, how has your day been?”

“Busy with the reconstruction efforts of the city, how has yours been?” The governor responds, a small upward tilt of their lips.

“Busy as well. I focused on repairing the southern hospital. It’s currently partially functional, and should be repaired enough by the end of the week to be fully functional.” Hagiel responds with a small smile. Ideally it would be repaired by the next day or two, but he’d rather not tempt fate by saying that out loud.

“Why focus on one of the hospitals first?! We need to resume commerce as soon as possible in order to fiscally recover from the xenos raids!” One of the nobles whose names Hagiel did not know demanded, pouting a lavishly painted lower lip in his direction “The spaceport and surrounding infrastructure should be the highest priority!”

“Because there are quite a few injured people who are in need of medical aid, both among the civilians and the military casualties who protected this world, this system from the waves of xenos who tried to break our hold over this system, and grind us under their feet. Securing medical aid and ensuing that those who need it are tended to first is most important, though the spaceport is a high priority.” Hagiel gently corrected, raising one of his eyebrows fractionally at the sullen noble.

Vice Admiral Egalth spoke up “As we had explained to you earlier, the most critical parts of our infrastructure needs to be tended to first, and while our exports are a high priority, we need to tend to our people, before we can look to increasing profits.” There was censure in his voice that made the noble glare sullenly at him, the shining blue gems in her hair flashing in the candle light. 

She sniffed “As you say. But how are we to pay for these repairs? The cost of the materials surely aren’t going to just vanish into the ether.”

“We have emergency funds and stockpiles of supplies that are carefully maintained for exactly this kind of situation.” Governor Shyrc cut in, sending the whiny noble a sharp glare in silent reprimand.

“But must we use these funds on the lower classes? Surely we should-” A second noble started.

They were cut off by General Qvelt, who growled “It was us lower classes who fought and bled and died while you cowered behind your energy shields and personal guards and servants, waiting for salvation. It was us lesser people who held the line as  you fled in your fancy ships from this system while you tried to save your own skin, rather than stay and fight to defend what has belonged to your family for centuries, Lady Viskil.” 

There was a very pointed, very tense pause in the dinner conversations, as everyone collectively held their breaths, waiting for a response or reaction.

Hagiel broke the silence with a quiet hum “Well spoke, general. I remember losing four brothers to cover the retreat of your personal ship, against the Drukhari raiders. Can  you, in good faith, say that your life is worth the lives of four of my brothers?”

The Viskil’s answering glare was venomous enough to kill, were he a fellow mortal. Tellingly, she did not speak. Nor did anyone else.

Hagiel flashes them all a smile smile, this time with a hint of fang, shifting so that his sanguine eyes catch the candle light as the first course was served; in the shell of a local edible shellfish was a mixture of the shellfish itself, mixed with spices, fresh greens and cured with an herbal mortal alcohol. The shells themselves were a brilliant shade of pearlescent grey-white with shimmering flecks of gold in the shell. Hagiel was given five of them, though the mortals were served three each. “We should enjoy the dinner that Lord Shyrc has so thoughtfully provided for us.” The tension slowly left the room. 

He had no idea how to eat this food. Did he pop the whole thing in, shell and contents in one? They were certainly small enough to be a single bite for the astartes to consume, but… Most fancy nobles didn’t like eating things that were close to the texture and strength of bone, and these shells looked like they could be. 

Hagiel glanced surreptitiously at Lord Shyrc, who was already reaching for one of their oysters with a tiny spoon, scooping out the contents deftly, the rest of the guests following their lead, as the serfs poured them each small glasses of a dry, slightly bubbly white wine, likely meant to pair with the fishy dish. He quickly realizes that he is the only one who hasn’t started eating and hurriedly grabs the (absurdly tiny, in his hand) mother of pearl spoon,  belatedly realizing that it was not made of metal, and misjudging the amount of strength it would take to potentially damage the spoon. It cracked where his thumb and forefinger gripped it with an audible snap that brought all eyes to him.

“Is all well, Lord Angel?” Flint asked, mirth in xie’s eyes as the other looks him over.

Hagiel swore in his head as he tried not to panic, nor curl in on himself like a bashful and clumsy aspirant he felt like. “I. Ah. Accidentally broke one of the spoons. My apologies, Lord Governor. The utensil is a little… Small in my hand.” He slowly set down the two halves of the spoon, resisting the temptation to slowly ooze under the table in mortification.

General Qvelt snorts and drops the pearlescent spoon he’d been using to eat one of the prepared shellfish and grabbed it with a hand “I’ve broken more than one of these spoons before. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the only way to eat oysters is straight from the shell all at once. None of this delicate groxshit.” With that he tipped the rest of the contents of the open shellfish half into his mouth, sending Hagiel a small wink.

“How gauche, general -” One of the other nobles started, their face twisting into a sneer of disdain.

Governor Shyrc cut the noble off by setting their own pearly spoon down louder than was necessary, picking up the partially consumed shell “And I agree with you. We’ve all had a difficult and long series of battles. To victory! And reconstruction of our fair city!” they called out, gesturing with the shellfish.

Everyone else hurried to follow suit, and Hagiel picked up one of his as of yet untouched shellfish halves, murmuring “To our victory!” and downing the concoction. As with other kinds of prepared mortal foods, the flavors were intense and much more complex than the nutrient paste that he was used to consuming - and the faint metallic tang on the back of his tongue did nothing but whet the insatiable appetite that all sons of Sanguinius struggled with to greater or lesser degrees. The textures were strange on his tongue, but overall pleasant. Nowhere near the number of calories he needed, but he hadn’t expected to be properly fed until he left for The Resolve later tonight.

~

Six courses of extremely complexly flavored food that did little to staunch the slowly maddening, aching thirst even as the mortals around him became increasingly louder and more boisterous as their own stomachs filled and the freely-flowing mortal alcohols loosened their tongues and minds was almost enough to overstimulate Hagiel’s heightened sense.

WIth the ever-present discomfort of the uncomfortably tight formalwear he was wearing that itched and tugged unpleasantly against his bandaged wounds and the fact that he had to politely dodge several handsy fellow dinner guests as the evening had moved on from food to tipsy (For them) dancing in the adjoining ballroom as more than a couple of them wanted to get a close up feel for what a space marine’s body was like without their armor, Hagiel’s patience and desire to tolerate their shenanigans was rapidly coming to an end.

Lord Amacius - the haughty noble from earlier - was on one side of him, flirting with anyone who moved and had tried to grab him three separate times - was attempting a pincer movement with Lady Viskil and Viscount Thelish, trying to corner him into either a dance or an attempt at drunken debauchery. The three of them were in charge of the sapphire mines, agricultural distribution and the promethium mines as the heads of their families who owned and controlled such things, so pissing them off needlessly at such a delicate point in time was dangerous. Not that Hagiel had quite resigned himself to being pawed at and drunkenly flirted with by inebriated mortals tonight. “Come now, Loooord Angel~! Surely you want to have a… Proper celebration?” Amacius slurred up at him, attempting to stalk towards the space marine, and mostly managing a graceless drunken stumble.

“I lost many brothers defending these worlds. White I am grateful for the victory we fought so hard to attain, I don’t feel much like celebrating, lord.” Hagiel answered, slowly backing away from the mortal man, silently hoping that someone would come and distract the entitled mortal fuck. “What were you doing during the battling?” 

“Hmmm? Oh, I was in m’clan’s bunker, alongside my family and our favored concubines and serfs while the fighting happened. M’ not much of a fighter myself. More of a lover…” Amacius purred, waggling his eyebrows ridiculously up at Hagiel.

Of course he was. Most noble mortals were trembling cowards when it came down to fight for the imperium, for Him on Terra. Hagiel kept his emotional reaction from showing. Objectively, Amicus was handsome - high cheekbones, strong chin-line. Deep smokey black eyes, salt and pepper hair. But his cowardice and personality while inebriated left much to be desired in Hagiel’s personal opinion. Not that he was going to say that out loud. He bit off any comments he had about the other’s cowardly hiding before he said it out loud. He was an astartes, yes. But he wasn’t some blunt-voiced son of Dorn who couldn’t be trusted near high ranking mortals without a short leash and a dozen phrases sternly ordered to stick to, no matter his temper or internal response. “I see.” He answered diplomatically.

“I’d be happy to show you the bunker. It’s really quite-” Amacius slurred out, before being interrupted by Lady Viskil, who walked up to him before stumbling off of her high heels, the sharp points catching on the long hem of her dress.

“Ahh! Someone help m- Oh! My darling hero! Thank you for catching me, Lord Angel. My, you’re quite strong.” Lady Viskil purred as she looked up into his face, as Hagiel had automatically moved to catch the baseline human before she fell all the way to the ground. She was also objectively beautiful - her eyes were augmented to change color based on her desire, and were currently a deep violet color with chartreuse highlights. Her hair was wavy and pinned up in a complex series of braids with dozens of expensive sapphire gemstone-capped pins keeping them up. 

Hagiel sets the mortal woman on her feet before letting her go “As are all astartes, Lady Viskil.” He swallows down a mouthful of saliva. The six course meal had done little but whet his appetites and the sooner he got out of here to get the nutrient paste he needed… And maybe find a dead body or two to drain to beat back The Thirst so he could focus the better. But events like this always took long, agonizing hours where anything more constructive could be done, but wasn’t because of pompous mortals and their love of nonsense.

“Yes, but you’re the only Angel I’ve met in person. I’ve heard stories about how handsome and striking the Lord Angels often are, but I must say that the rumors do you little credit - even with your minor mutation.” Viskil croons, attempting to reach out and touch him.

Hagiel takes a couple of entirely unsubtle steps backward, making sure to avoid any pillars, walls or people to avoid being potentially pinned. “We tend to be kept quite busy, defending the imperium, which has over a million worlds touched by His light, so thatt is… Not surprising. Lady Viskil, you seem flushed, perhaps you should sit down and have some water?” He was about to ask if the alcohol was disagreeing with her, before remembering that most adult mortals would take offense at that, especially while inebriated.

“Mmm? Oh… I do feel surprisingly… Warm. Yes, I’ll go do that.” Lady Viskil murmured before wandering out of his sight line and thus, not his problem at the moment.

Hagiel started to slink his way over to where Governor Shyrc was, to make his excuses to leave the party, when vice-admiral Egalth called out to him “Lord Hagiel?”

The Lamenter sent a silent prayer to his genefather Sanguinius for patience before turning to him and saying “Yes, vice-admiral?” trying to keep his voice light and pleasant.

“You reminding Viskil of the real flesh and blood cost to her cowardice was gutsy, Lord Angel. The only one with more political capital in this system than she does is the Lord Governor and his second in command, and even that’s debatable, depending on the month.” The mortal hummed. “Still, she needed the reality check.”

“I am a stranger to this system, and will not be lingering long. I am likely to be leaving alongside the Ultramarine inspection crew, unless I receive additional orders from His Regency.” Hagiel responded with a small shrug. 

“Ehh… Fair enough. Speaking of, have you ever met him?” the vice admiral asked.

“Please clarify?” Hagiel inquired, having a guess as to who the other meant, but wanting to be sure.

“The Regent.” Egalth clarified.

“No, but my chapter Master and the captains of each of the-” surviving “-company captains have. As a rank and file battle brother, I have yet to be given such an honor. But I have heard stories of his grace and presence.” Hagiel answered earnestly.

“I haven’t either. Shyrc’s going to be wrapping this thing up, and I have worked alongside Astartes before, as has he. He’ll understand if you leave without saying goodbye to him. I’ve also got a small gift for you.” The mortal murmured, reaching out a hand to shake.

“Oh?” Hagiel murmured, shaking hands with the vice admiral, feeling as the other slipped him something. It was a small tube of Astartes grade rations. No more than a quick snack, but it was much more than the six course meal and the accompanying mortal alcohol had given him. Hagiel swallowed another mouthful of saliva - by the Emperor he was starving all of a sudden and murmured a quiet but fervent “Thank you.” He didn’t bother to pop open the cap, swallowing the entire tube down, packaging and all. “Please give the Governor my regards.”

“Of course.” Egalth hummed, nodding.

Hagiel turned on his heel and started to leave the room. He heard a yelp as one of the serfs stumbled back, clutching their face as the scent of fresh blood, sweet and tantalizing washed through the room and hit Hagiel with the force of a tsunami. Lord Amicus was standing over the bleeding serf, yelling beligerently, even as teh Governor’s security team dragged the ranting man off.

He could taste the sanguine temptation on the air, see it glitter beautifully in the warm candlelight. His fingers twitched before the litanies of his chapter began in his mind, to keep himself from succumbing to the Red Thirst and feeding upon the injured serf in front of all and sundry. He turned from the scene and fled the governor’s manor, into the night before his Thirst overpowered his hunger.

[darkmaga-returns]

Starbucks is reducing its corporate employees’ holiday bonuses by 40% due to declining sales and financial struggles.

Key Facts:

– Bonus Cuts: Corporate staff will receive only 60% of their usual holiday bonuses this December. – Sales Slump: The company experienced its worst year since 2020, with revenue increasing less than 1% and operating income dropping 8%. – Customer Cutbacks: Cash-strapped customers are spending less on expensive menu items amid rising prices. – Operational Issues: Long wait times and controversies have further impacted customer satisfaction and sales. – Leadership Changes: New CEO Laxman Narasimhan is implementing strategies to revitalize the brand and regain customer trust.

The Rest of The Story:

Starbucks is facing significant financial challenges, prompting a substantial cut in holiday bonuses for its corporate employees. The company’s revenue growth has stalled, and operating income has declined, marking its most challenging year since the pandemic began. Customers are scaling back on premium beverages due to increased prices, leading to a slump in sales. Additionally, operational hurdles like lengthy wait times and public controversies have strained the company’s relationship with its clientele.

In response, CEO Laxman Narasimhan, who took over in September, is spearheading initiatives to rejuvenate the brand. These include hiring more baristas to improve service efficiency and redesigning store spaces to make them more inviting, reminiscent of Starbucks’ early days as a “third place” between work and home. Despite these efforts, employees at various levels are feeling the impact of the company’s financial downturn through reduced bonuses and halted merit raises for senior staff.

Commentary:

The financial woes of Starbucks are a reflection of the broader economic challenges many Americans face today. High inflation, often attributed to current economic policies, has eroded purchasing power, leaving consumers with less disposable income for non-essential luxuries like a $5 latte. The concept of “Bidenomics” has been criticized for contributing to rising costs of living, making it harder for average people to justify spending on premium-priced coffee when budgets are tight.

Moreover, the steep prices at Starbucks have long been a point of contention. In an era where every dollar counts, consumers are opting for more affordable alternatives or skipping the coffee shop altogether. This shift in consumer behavior underscores the need for economic policies that alleviate inflationary pressures and help restore financial confidence among the populace.

Looking ahead, there’s optimism that future leadership changes at the national level could steer the economy in a more favorable direction. Pro-growth strategies and fiscal policies aimed at curbing inflation could rejuvenate consumer spending. Such economic revitalization would not only benefit companies like Starbucks but also provide much-needed relief to consumers feeling the pinch of current economic strains.

The Bottom Line:

Starbucks’ decision to cut employee bonuses highlights the challenges businesses face amid economic hardships and shifting consumer behaviors. Addressing the root causes of these financial struggles is crucial for both the company’s recovery and the broader economic well-being.

[mist-touchedxiv]

One of the most baffling things to happen to me occurred about 3 or 4 months ago with someone on here I thought was my friend.

Long story short, I politely declined an invite to an in-game gathering on XIV to celebrate them getting 600 followers on BlueSky because I was unsubscribed due to not feeling like playing at the time and really couldn't justify buying a month sub to show up for an hour and not knowing anyone else. I had previously done that for their 200 followers celebration and ended up spending two hours off to the side playing my Switch and periodically checking in to keep from getting kicked for inactivity; wasn't really fiscally responsible on my part, but I thanked them for the invite and sincerely congratulated them on the milestone.

They responded by getting angry and accusing me of calling them a "clout chaser" and of being selfish.

I was so baffled by the nastiness that I tried to apologize and explain that I was genuinely happy for them.

This just led to me getting blocked.

-A

[aita-blorbos]

Am I the AITA for having a double affair?

I, (36M) have been cheating on my wife (35F) for over half a year now, with my lab partner (34M), F. However F has been emotionally neglecting me and is the cause for both my PTSD diagnosis and my several ongoing addictions. (No, I cannot go to rehab) A few months ago W(27?FM) came into my life. W quickly alerted me to the unhealthy behavior from F but said that I should stay in partnership with F because “it’s what the Lord would want” (I am Christian, W self describes as “all of them” and mixes religious imagery in W’s everyday clothing. I don’t know how to feel about this.) W has made me have genuine conversation and connection with God himself, and he echoed the same sentiment. However, knowing that F is a not so good person has distanced me from F and heightened my connection with W, this is when the “double affair” started.

A little bit of backstory: I’ve known F since college, F always had a bright spark in him and I immediately had interest in him, however I came from a highly conservative background and did not realize what these feelings were until this last year when he invited me to work with him. I have realized over this time not just that I have feelings for my lab partner but that I am 100% homosexual, I have not divorced my wife yet due to social stigma and due to the fiscal benefits of marriage.

So, am I the AITA?

[meret118]

The first and oldest lending library in continuous existence in the United States is located in Franklin, Massachusetts. The Franklin Public Library opened in 1790 with the purpose of loaning books, free of charge, to its constituents. Centuries later, this central mission has not changed. In fact, libraries have only expanded the communal resources they provide, with branches across the U.S. now offering free health and wellness courses to visitors.

These health programs vary in content and form, and, as with other library resources, are available to anyone regardless of age, insurance status, or language skills. Classes range from fitness and cooking to conversation sessions about mental and physical health. Some libraries even lend out blood pressure monitors and kits as they would books.

AP recently investigated this growing trend, reporting on the courses found at several library locations across the country. A public library in Smithville, Texas, for instance, provides boxes of surplus food from local farmers and has developed a peer support group for those experiencing isolation. Another library in Milwaukee focuses on arming children and teenagers with information about nutrients and healthy diets, which takes the form of a weekly after-school program run by a local chef.

Mobile health clinics also travel the country’s libraries, inviting visitors to ask questions and learn more about their wellbeing.

“What we do is a Band-Aid on a broken (health care) system,” says Carolyn McCarthy, a nurse practitioner at a mobile health clinic.

Libraries boast a plethora of other free resources as well. Whether it be digital access to magazines or vast catalogs of music, movies, and TV, our library system serves an indispensable role within our democracy by providing free and accessible information.

Despite this, libraries are still vulnerable to budget cuts. New York’s Public Library, to name one, faced up to $58.3 million in cuts this year. The decision was luckily reversed due to intense public protest, and the full funding will be restored in the 2025 fiscal year.

[eliotquillon]

now write about what chase was doing at the benefit...

well if you insist. for first time listeners: this is set post fwb era for maximum dramatics (although the eighth oncology benefit probably would’ve actually fallen around the events of fetal position)

At last year’s oncology benefit, on the way out to the parking lot at six o’clock in the morning, Cameron had tugged on Chase’s suit jacket and squinted at him appraisingly under the dawn light. “You look like a glass of Guinness,” she said with a wry little smile, gesturing at his all-black ensemble and then up to his carefully-styled blond hair, and it wasn’t like it was the first time that Cameron had insulted him in a borderline-flirtatious way, but it was the first time that Chase wondered just how far he could get her to go with it. “Very fashionable.”

“Since when do you know what Guinness looks like?” Chase had teased back—because Cameron hardly ever drank beer, preferred wine or vodka sodas—and he’d thought about parrying back with something about her dress: how the red made her skin glow ghostly-white, or how the cut of it reminded him of a tulip, except he was exhausted and all-out of adrenaline and he couldn’t figure out a way to make it not sound like a blatant come-on. Besides, House had already covered that ground nearly twelve hours ago with his blatant double-take when they’d all walked into the conference room. So instead he just said, “Good job tonight. Same time next year?”

“Funny,” Cameron had rolled her eyes, rolling her shoulders in that way that always foretold whenever she was about to hightail it to her car—but before she left, she added, “You too.”

A year later—well, a year and a month, give or take—Chase surveys the eighth annual oncology benefit and tries to convince himself that he only chose to repeat his suit from last year out of fiscal efficiency, and not because he’s hoping for Cameron to sneak up on him and make fun of him for it again.

Not that she would, obviously. Not when she seems so determined to avoid him. Right now, Chase is playing a waiting game; he’s always been good at those, at showing a patient mask to the rest of the world, and the current situation with Cameron is no different. She’s being stubborn, he knows, pulling away because her feelings are scaring her and because she’s embarrassed to have been called on it—she can say whatever she likes about him being presumptuous, but Chase knows her, and you’re ruining things is not the same thing as you’re delusional. He has to remind himself of this fact regularly, whenever the metaphorical Berlin Wall between them grows too tall to bear. Historically, Chase has not had a great track record at keeping his faith in people.

It helps, he thinks, that it’s a dry event this year. It’d probably be easier to bear this restlessness if he had a drink, but at least this way he doesn’t have to resist the temptation of getting blackout drunk and seeking her out to lay all of his feelings on her all over again, or, worse, sneaking into some supply closet for drunken non-committal sex with someone who isn’t her. Trying not to say her name into a stranger’s ear. It wouldn’t mean anything, of course. The thing is, though, Chase is getting really fucking tired of things not meaning anything.

So he wanders, for a while. Invites himself into a conversation with some of the guys from surgery, just to see how quickly he can turn their ‘man-I-hate-this-guy’ smiles into the real thing—because, well, he’ll probably need their congeniality next week when they have a new patient who needs to bump everyone else down the priority list for an OR—and then when that succeeds and he finds himself bored, he gets chatting to Wilson’s secretary. She’s his third this year, green enough that she doesn’t immediately grimace at the sight of Chase, and the engagement ring on her finger means he doesn’t have to worry about leading her on. Chase figures that this must be the exact line of thought that led Wilson to hire her after sleeping with her two predecessors, and he sort of hates himself for understanding the logic in it.

“So, are you seeing anyone?” the secretary asks, after regaling him with the story of her proposal, and the question makes Chase’s stomach sink like a stone. There is no true answer that makes him not sound completely pathetic. He just smiles at her, and shrugs.

“Ah, it’s complicated,” he says, looking carefully past her in case Cameron is in earshot and about to berate him for implying there’s still anything between them. She isn’t, of course. She might not even be here at all; a few weeks ago, when the invitations were first sent out, she’d teased him about how she was going to rock his world with her outfit this year, but that was a few weeks ago. Things have changed. He half-hopes she’s not here, except her not being here would make him infinitely more pathetic for his heart skipping a beat every time a brunette with her build walks past him. “Ask me again in a few weeks.” He doesn’t quite feel the confidence with which he says it, but, well. A lot can change in a few weeks, after all.

“She’d be crazy not to call you back,” the secretary beams, “you seem like such a great guy!” And the thing is, she’s right, but Cameron is totally fucking crazy: it’s exactly what Chase likes about her so much.

It is pathetic, really, how much time he spends wondering if she’s thinking about him. How often he reweighs the pros and cons of how things might have been if he’d let her keep on pretending that they weren’t anything more than just fuckbuddies, even as she befriended his neighbours and left a spare bottle of her perfume in his car and linked her pinkie with his while they walked over to collect their takeout order together. Pretending that they were just pretending. He’s doing it right now, at this benefit: talking to Wilson’s fucking secretary and wondering if it is more or less honest to retract his previous statement and refer to Cameron as an ex. Sort of hard to dump someone you were never officially seeing. Sort of hard to decide whether or not you’re avoiding someone when you’re not even sure if she’s in the building.

“We’ll see,” Chase says, and out of the corner of his eye he finally sees Cameron. Just in profile: she’s on the other side of the lobby and sitting at one of the poker tables, hair pinned up and dressed in an electric shade of cobalt-blue. He can’t see her face, which is fine. It means she can’t see him looking. Next to her, Foreman glances over and sees Chase looking. The expression on his face might be pity as he lays down his cards to fold.

[sleephyuns]

Not a request, just some random thoughts I’d share because I thought you’d find them interesting~

So I couldn’t decide between Mihyo, Sahyo, or Mohyo as the mood today, so i came up with the ultimate ship, Misamohyo, or as I call it, the “harem anime” ship because Jihyo is at the center of the relationship.

Jihyo and Momo being their futch/tomboy selves with their femmes Sana and Mina, Misamo being best friends turned lovers who invite Jihyo into their polycule and treat her like a goddess because they’re all unfathomably attracted to her; her face, her body, her really nice… heart (one of them is a boob girl so she LOVES this part, can’t decide which) her even-keeled and responsible yet still fun personality…

and a really, *really* nice cock if she’s G!P in this scenario (I’d like to think both she and Momo are)

Of course with three contrasting personalities Jihyo is NEVER bored, and even though they can be a LOT sometimes in different ways she loves them all the same and wouldn’t have it any other way 🤭

Love this idea. I imagine misamo are very comfortable in their relationship (not like it’s boring or anything) and Jihyo just kind of draws their attention. Some thoughts i’ll add on:

Sana:

* Definitely dragging Jihyo on the most dates

* Also loves spoiling her the most

* Takes her out shopping to try on a bunch of clothes and ends up buying a few outfits for both of them (because maybe Jihyo just looks way too good in that button down. and those joggers. and that sweater. and that sports bra. and that polo-)

* Jihyo ends up carrying all the bags after tho lol

* Also makes sure Sana doesn’t spend too much. Even if she thinks Jihyo looks hot in something, being fiscally responsible is key

* But going out to eat on these trips is a must for Sana, so Jihyo caves with the money a bit

* Very big on skinship. Sana loves laying all over Jihyo whenever she can

* That sort of carries over into the bedroom too. She loves to be on top/having Jihyo under her

* Really big into body worship, though she’s never put a name to it

* Will always tell Jihyo how much she loves the tone of her muscles. Rubs over them, kisses them, compliments them, the whole works.

* Does it to her dick too (because of course she does)

* But overall it makes Jihyo a flustered mess and Sana loves making her melt like that

Mina:

* The one who Jihyo spends the most time with at home

* A lot of their time together consists of hanging around either misamo’s or jihyo’s apartment

* Watching movies becomes their thing. The pick a specific day of the week (or every other week) to do it. They get pizza and just spend time together while watching

* Sometimes Jihyo will be doing some form of work during it, but Mina doesn’t mind. She takes the chance to work on knitting projects too (when they’re not eating of course)

* A multitasker match made in heaven

* Also. A match made in heaven because Mina’s the boob enjoyer of them all (of course she likes them all but Jihyo’s heart captivated her the most of course <3)

* Always staring indulgently at first, but now Jihyo just lets her have at it if they’re at home (and yes she’ll take any opportunity to cop a feel when it’s just the two of them alone)

* When they have sex they’re both pretty quiet in bed (the opposite if when Jihyo’s with Sana really). But that’s because they’re kissing whenever they possibly can

* Mina loves missionary for that reason (also to hold Jihyo close)

Momo:

* Was the most awkward with Jihyo when they started out

* Had Jihyo thinking she wasnt interested at first. Just that she was dating MiSana and was cool with her gfs dating her too (obviously not the case)

* Really it was just that Momo thought she was so gorgeous, she found it hard to look at and speak to her

* Thinking of something like the mohyo TwiceDate where they start getting closer and just go out for drives. No destination in mind, just a way to spend time together

* On one of their outings Jihyo drives them to a nice grassy area and they just sit and talk. Maybe bring some snacks. And it’s there Momo confesses about being into Jihyo too

* Well, more like: “I’m sorry it took us this long to go on a proper date. Even if I can’t drive we could’ve taken the train somewhere nice. I understand if you don’t feel the same way about me as Mina and Sana.” “…Huh? Date?”

* Also ended up being the first one to tell Jihyo she loves her somehow. Even with the late start

* They start going on gym dates, bar dates and golfing dates

* Momo isn’t big on golfing but is more down to try than Mina or Sana soooo

* Sometimes they make it even by going to one of those indoor golfing/arcade places so Momo can have her own fun if she gets bored (Jihyo ends up joining her anyway)

* For bar dates, of course there’s a lot of beer involved. Jihyo ends up teaching Momo how to shoot pool too

* Even if theyre both a little tipsy they still do it (and maybe Jihyo uses it as an excuse to cling to Momo’s back. maybe momo uses it as an excuse to grind back on Jihyo)

* Momo is the one who sex the most often with Jihyo. Mostly because she’s always down for it

* She’s not really a top but she’ll end up wherever Jihyo wants her to end up

* If Jihyo wants to get filled that day? She’s on it. If Jihyo wants a hole to breed? She’s on it.

* Also? #FutchesWhoFrot (Momo also likes being kissed a lot so this makes it easy. Also likes how Jihyo’s dick feels against her own)

When they’re all together it’s a great time. Both sexually and not. Sometimes they break off into twos depending on what they’re doing, and it’s nice to see one of then in their own little world with Jihyo while the other two do their usual things. Can also imagine that, when things first started out, Mina and Sana would tease Momo whenever she and Jihyo got paired off. Cue them pointing and giggling and Jihyo’s just like ??? while Momo doesn’t even realize she’s being teased until later LOL

[jeffhirsch]

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