#sigh. we rescheduled for thursday

[smile-files]

forgot my 5:00 zoom therapy appointment </3 noooooooooooo

[momotonescreaming]

STWG Daily Prompt: Date Night

“Does Thursday work?” Jeff asks, voice tinny and sort of muffled. Eddie can hear the sound of flipping pages, the creak of the plastic from the phone's speaker. 

“Shit, sorry dude.” Eddie says, looking at the loose pages of lined paper he's scribbled his schedule on. It works for him, and it's better than nothing. “That's date night.” 

A pause. For a moment, all Eddie can hear is the sound of Jeff breathing through the speaker. 

“Date night, huh?” Jeff eventually asks, and Eddie can hear the smarmy grin he's wearing. It's leaking into his voice, the absolute delight in it all. Just the right side of teasing, the bastard. He'd hate it, would snap and snarl and throw it all back if he wasn't also fucking delighted. 

He could say that now. He had a boyfriend, who holds his hands and kisses him and schedules date nights. He gets this. He gets to talk about it with his best friend. Can mention he has a date and doesn't have to hide the fact that it's with his boyfriend. He gets to share in the gentle ribbing for once. It's not just him on the outside looking in — as they tease Gareth for getting a date with a girl from his English class, or Jeff hitting his anniversary with his girlfriend. 

Eddie's been domesticated and he doesn't mind in the slightest. 

“Yes, it's date night,” Eddie retorts, trying to send as much faux malice down the phone as he can. He's smiling though, as he sits at the kitchen table, phone cord absently tangled through his fingers. “And Steve's been working hard planning it, so I will not be rescheduling.” 

“I didn't ask you to,” Jeff laughs, tone light. 

“Well good.” Eddie teases, wishing they were having this conversation in person so he could stick his tongue out. Really ham it up. 

Another pause, and Eddie uses the silence to flip through his papers, looking through all the events and dates and times he's scribbled out. Fuck, he really needs a calendar. 

“So?” Jeff prompts, drawing the word out. “Tell me about date night.” 

“You sound like your mother,” Eddie laughs, holding the phone in between his ear and his shoulder, pinning it there so he can free up his hands. So he can sort through his papers and fidget with the phone cord at the same time “Begging for gossip.” 

“You love my mother,” Jeff retorts — snappish — but it's obvious he's smiling. Laughing through it. “And you say that like you aren't gagging to talk about it. Come on.” 

“Okay fine,” Eddie relents. Sighing as he sinks into his chair, slouching, his socked feet skating across the floor. “You caught me.” 

“Not hard,” Jeff laughs. 

“Steve’s been talking a lot about wooing me lately,” Eddie starts, ignoring Jeff’s teasing. He finds himself smiling as he talks, creeping across his face uncontrollably. Fuck, the things Steve does to him. “As if he hasn’t wooed me already. So he’s planned this like, romantic dinner at home. Instead of going out to Enzo’s he wants to like, bring Enzo’s to us? Said he was going to treat me right. Have the fancy dinner I deserve, where we can play footsie under the table and hold hands without, y’know, worrying.”

By the end of his sentence Eddie’s feeling like he’s melting into his chair, insides melting into something soft and gooey. Pulling his hair across his face to hide his blush. Jeff can’t even see him, but he can’t help it. He wants to giggle and kick his feet. Jump and scream and flail around. It’s all building up inside him, this honey sweet affection. He doesn’t quite know what to do with it all. 

“He going to light candles? Have soft music playing in the background?” Jeff asks, teasing melting away into something softer. 

“Literally yes,” Eddie exclaims, dropping his hair and trying not to wiggle too much in his seat. “He’s so sweet, I’m going to throw up.”

“He’s good for you, man.” Jeff says simply, and it means a lot. That other people can see it — can know — just how happy Steve makes him. 

[Part Two]

[iluvmy-desire]

escape ᯓ soobin x femreader

genre: smut, slice of life, little teeny bit fluff

warnings: stress pretty much hard fucking you, sweetest boyfie service top!soobin, soft sex turned into... hehe. oral (f), pet names, spit / lmk if I missed anything!

it's been a hell week for you. you don't know if this is karma getting back to you or your classmates are really just a bunch of assholes making your life miserable.

monday and tuesday started as fine, but it turned into a nightmare after that. wednesday became your starting point—your pet peeves annoying the shit out of you and even corrected your behavior for scolding your classmates who are circling around a fainted girl. you're literally in charge of keeping the class not as chaotic as possible.

thursday really got you. some asshole wrote nasty words on your notebook and you were asked by your professor why did you write it. you explained to him in a panicked voice, "sir, even though I'm foul mouthed sometimes, I would never ever write stupid shit like that to my own notebook." good thing he considered it and gave you a good grade.

friday—earlier, made you almost burst into angry tears. your professor presented a documentary to your class for reflection and to write your opinion about it, but before that happened, you noticed the girl who looks like a butchered barbie whispering to her friend. you shrugged it off, thinking it was nothing. after that, her friend literally sat down in front of you to block the tv from your view. you were pissed, you love watching documentaries.

after class, you immediately went to your boyfriend's house. you entered the house unannounced and plopped down on the couch with a loud, exaggerated sigh.

soobin, who is currently playing mario kart, paused his game to greet you with a kiss. "hey babe, how's school?" sigh, being a college student sucks when your boyfriend just freshly graduated.

you start to ramble about your day and how today's week has been pissing you off. your professor even scheduled to finish the powerpoint presentation by monday—and your group hasn't even started researching!

"I'm sorry about that, love." soobin sighed, placing his big hand on your cheek to caress it. "and I know you haven't got a proper sleep after your examinations. you need a break."

"how?" you asked. "I'm literally gonna cry out of anger right now, maybe even commit arson. but seriously, how am I gonna rest if I have a shit ton of work to do? our date is canceled because of work."

"love, as much as I want to help, I cannot control your professors. and we can reschedule our date, hon. don't worry about it." he says softly, planting a kiss on your forehead which made you feel relieved.

"why don't you let me help you relax and escape from the reality, hmm?" he continued, his eyes filled with lust and admiration for you. you nod at his suggestion, letting him push you gently on the couch to lay on it.

soft, breathy moans escape your lips, legs spread and tits out as soobin eats you out. it was messy, actually. but you didn't mind—he looks good with his mouth and chin covered in your juices and his drool.

your back arched slightly when he inserts one of his long ass fingers, and since you were lost in this pleasure, you started to grind on it because why not?

"a-ahhah... soob..." you whimpered, a sigh coming out from his mouth. "you greedy princess... look at you being fucked out when we just started."

soobin suddenly pulls out his finger, making you whine. he stands up and pulls you on the edge of the couch before aligning his cock on your entrance. you genuinely thought that he was going to be hard on you, just like he always does.

but you were surprised when he pushes himself inside you and starts to thrust with a slow speed, as if grinding on you. you had gotten a little sensitive since it's been two weeks without any sex, blame the shitty college shit of course. and oh, my. it felt like you were in heaven.

having sex with soobin was always passionate, but not as passionate as tonight. you grip his biceps, looking up at him with your mouth slightly drooling. "more.."

"hmm? you want more?" he says, smirking at your request. he paused his thrusting, his lips crashing into yours in a heated kiss.

"you want more, hon? I'll give you more."

© iluvmy-desire, 2024 [ please don't steal. reblogging and liking my posts will be very appreciated. ]

[btsqualityy]

The kim taehyungs being the symbol of relationship/family goals with how they both take care of each other and their family dynamic

"So, what's on the agenda for tomorrow?" Taehyung asked as he flopped down in bed next to you. After feeding, bathing, and putting the kids down for bed, it was a part of your nightly routine to go over all of the things that needed to be done the next day.

"School for Spence and Eli but Spence has an orthodontist appointment at 9," you said as you looked over the calendar on your phone.

"Oh, I didn't tell you?" He asked. "They called and asked to reschedule. They have some kind of conference to attend or something like that. New date is next Thursday."

"Spence isn't gonna be happy," you sighed, " It took us almost a year to even convince her to get the braces and now they keep pushing the date back to actually put them on."

"I know but I'm free that day so I'll take her," he told you. "She'll probably handle it better with me there."

"True but did you forget that Isiah and Josiah have their one year appointments next Thursday too?" You reminded him. "I can't take both of them to the doctor by myself, especially not with me being pregnant again."

"I know, I did forget about that," Taehyung admitted. "What time is that appointment?"

"10:30."

"Honestly, I might just have to meet you there once Munchkin is done," he said. "Or we could call my mom."

"Ohhh, good idea," you nodded. "I'll send her a text."

"Back to tomorrow," Taehyung sighed. "Anything else?"

"Nope," you shook your head. "Just don't forget that tomorrow is Friday."

"Friday movie night, I know," he smiled. "I already told Namjoon hyung that I have to leave the studio by 5."

"I'll pick up the take out once I get the kids from school."

"Sounds good," he murmured before leaning over and pressing soft kisses to your neck.

"Uh, what are you doing?"

"Just ending our night the right way."

"Tae, I love you but this baby is kicking my ass," you giggled. "I can't."

"Ok, that's fine jags," he assured you as he looked up at you. "Cuddles?"

"Yes please," you smiled, setting your phone on the bedside table before you snuggled into his side. "I love you."

"I love you more," he murmured as he pressed a soft kiss to your head.

[fruitbowlsngoals]

Thank @sora-fish for helping me flesh out this AU and making more sillies they kind of co-own this AU

————

*Dakota working the counter*: Afternoon how can I help you?

*Inferno jumping the counter to deck Dakota in the face* : I'm not on the clock so legally I can beat your ass!

-

*Summer sitting in the cafe watching William climb in through the back window in his vigilante costume*: do- do you need help?

*William falling through the window and quickly throwing on his work apron*: NOPE- everything's all good what can I get you!

-

*Dakota working the back.*

*Ashe working the register*

*Mark walking in full wavelength costume*

Dakota: Ashe cover for me -

*Ashe looking at both of them*: okay-

*Dakota quick changing in the bathroom*: Wavelength, my arch nemesis!

-

*Origami sighing as he watches Doug and Dakota argue*: can you two take this outside

-

*William in full vigilante costume turning to Vyncent*: hey can we reschedule I got called into work-

*Vyncent also in his vigilante costume*: yeah sure does Thursday work?

*the next day*

*Vyncent at work with William*: how was yesterday?

William : tiring..

-

William: what did you do over the weekend?

Vynce: I hung out with someone

William: like romantically?

Vynce: No, were rivals.

William: just Rivals?

Vynce: were like Rivals with benefits.

William: WHAT!?

[aria-ashryver]

WIP Wednesday!

(yes, on a Saturday. Shh. It's fine.)

Thank you so much for the tags @stars-are-within-me @aallotarenunelma @peonierose !! This is was a lot of fun! 💖

Here's a ✨far too lengthy✨ look at some things I'm working on at the moment, because brevity? Don't know her!

Immortal Desires: Starlight, Chapter 38

‘I don’t ever want to fight with you again,’ Gabriel said on an explosive exhale, agony shaking loose from his lungs to lift free into the stale air. ‘I had no idea how much it would ache, not being by your side. Now that I know exactly what I’m missing. Never again.’

‘That shit sucked, yeah,’ Cas agreed, turning his head to press an idle kiss to Gabriel’s temple. ‘But, like… never? I dunno — that’s most of my schedule for the week. I had light bickering pencilled in for Thursday right after lunch, I’d hate to reschedule at such short notice. And then “fundamental disagreements about toast”, that’s locked in for Friday morning, after I bring you breakfast in bed…’

Cas shook his head ruefully.

‘Yeah, I just don’t see how I can get out of that one. Sorry, Adalhard.’

Gabriel sighed, a warm thread of laughter trickling down his throat to settle behind his ribcage. He nuzzled his cheek in closer —somehow— smiling against Cas’s skin.

‘Oh, you’re right,’ Gabriel said. ‘That would throw us right off for “squabble about whether to watch Blades or Bloodbound” on Friday night, god. We can’t miss that again.’

‘I’m sorry, Adalhard,’ Cas repeated.

His voice was insistent, tight with feeling; blinking, Gabriel looked up to see a muscle flickering in Cas’s jaw, his eyes bright and glassy.

‘I’m sorry, Gabriel.’

Immortal Desires: Into the Witch-Dark, Chapter 1

‘That was terrible. Again.’

Morag snapped her fingers; a sharp crack that echoed and warped in on itself, folding within the edges of space and time as they stole along an inky shore of black twilight. A sea of gold stars washed over Luca’s skin, turning it dazzling in this far-away, nothing space.

‘I’m trying,’ Luca gritted out, waiting to catch their breath where there was none to catch. A curious emptiness ached in the place where their lungs should be — here, he was little more than light, and choice, and reason.

His great aunt stared down at him, unimpressed. Where Luca would have met her gaze, he saw nothing but two burning, searing holes, the vacant glare behind them hungry for knowledge.

Funny that a ten foot light-being in a vaguely humanoid shape could still look so, so deeply unimpressed.

‘We have a handful of weeks, a month, at best, to get to the bottom of this. We don’t have time for “trying”. Succeed or die. Those are our choices.’

Luca scoffed. ‘Yeah, no pressure.’

Blades of Light and Shadow: Dorian (MC) x Aerin Fluff

After last night’s dismal attempt at putting together a meal —when Willow had politely but firmly told him that what he had created was an affront to nature and gently escorted him away from the cooking area— he’d woken this morning determined to redeem himself.

In the cooking department, at least.

Like his other attempts at redeeming himself, it wasn’t exactly going great.

‘I am nothing if not consistent,’ Aerin said to no one in particular as he watched a spray of oil spit and leap from the sizzling pan. He yelped as it landed in the flames, the fire leaping up in an orange-red column of flame.

‘Woah, there, let me just—’

A large, calloused hand reached past his waist to grab the pan by the handle, adjusting it on the cooking stand until it was no longer in danger of setting itself, Aerin, and the entire Whimsywood aflame.

‘Okay, first we save breakfast, then we save Morella.’ Dorian fixed Aerin with a grin. ‘Move it.’

Bumping him out of the way with his hip, Dorian took over at the helm.

‘I had everything perfectly under control,’ Aerin lied.

Blades of Light and Shadow: Dorian (MC) x Nia angst

He’d knelt before her to tug out her old, ragged laces, grinning up at her as she’d wobbled on one foot, balancing her hands on his shoulders. He re-laced her boots with swift, deft movements, stealing half a moment to lay his hand over her own when he was done and give it a quick squeeze.

‘Wouldn’t want you to trip and fall in front of the dwarves of Zaradun, now, would we?’

His palm was broad and calloused, warm where it lay over her own. It was the first time he’d touched her in nineteen days. Since he’d healed her by the lake in the Whimsywood. She’d counted. She ached for him. All too soon, Dorian drew is hand away and rose, tossing her a carefree wink as he sauntered off.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

It never did, these days.

Blades of Light and Shadow: Dorian (MC) x Aerin angst + smut

[A/N: no smut in the excerpt but there is a smooch 🥰]

Aerin worried his lip. ‘I wanted… I wanted to believe it was real,’ he admitted. ‘That even despite all I’ve done, there might somehow be a way. That you could truly—’

‘Love you?’ Dorian cut him off, his gaze insistent. The night air lashed wildly around them, branches whipping in their trees. Though it was cold, Aerin’s skin seared beneath Dorian’s hands. ‘I do.’

Aerin blinked. ‘W-what?’

Frozen, Aerin could only watch in quiet bewilderment as Dorian lowered his head to meet him. He caught Aerin’s lip between his teeth, biting down on a snarl, kissing him with a fervour that bordered on punishing. A needy moan escaped Aerin’s throat as he opened to him, their tongues meeting in a heated glide that had Aerin grateful for the tree at his back, lest he lose his footing entirely.

They broke apart on a shuddering gasp. Heat flooded into Aerin’s cheeks.

‘Does this feel real to you?’ Dorian growled.

For a long time, they simply looked at each other. Dorian’s gaze bore into his own, and all at once, Aerin understood he wasn’t looking, he was seeing— Dorian saw to the very heart of him; all his bitterness; all his lies; his hate and pain and open scars and chose to love him anyway.

‘Say it,’ Aerin choked out, his voice a colourless whisper, the weight of the revelation so immense that it had all but rendered him mute.

Dorian tilted his head, his eyes raking slow over Aerin’s face; eyes, nose, lips, back again in tender passes.

Aerin wasn’t breathing.

‘I need to hear you say it.’

Tagging @lovehugsandcandy @nukritus and @dreamscapingsblog (and anyone else who feels like it!) in case you want to share anything you've been working on lately! I'd love to see what y'all are up to!

(no pressure of course, feel free to ignore this) 🤗🌸

[xxrainshadowsxx]

Interpersonal Chapter 4

Heh. I'm not going to spoil anything, but things start to get spicy this chapter.

A couple weeks later, you were putting up with a particularly slow day when your computer pings with an email. You pull it up and see that it’s an invitation to some sort of event. You forward it off to Mr. Onceler, not expecting to hear about it again. He gets a lot of these requests and so far, he’s ignored every single one of them. So you’re surprised when he comes into your office moments later, asking you to clear his schedule for Thursday and Friday so he can attend.

You pull up his schedule and hasten to reschedule and cancel his appointments for those days, trying to avoid his eyes. Despite your agreement to forget what had happened, every time you see him, you’re reminded of it, and more often than not, the memory causes your cheeks to become enflamed. You’ve also caught yourself staring at him all too often, which both annoyed and confused you. 

“Anything else you need from me? Travel ticket?” you ask, still attempting to be diligent with your job, no matter how awkward you felt.

“No need. We’ll just take my private jet,” he shrugs. The sentence is casual enough, but a few words catch you totally off guard.

“Wait a minute, pause. What do you mean, ‘we?’” you ask. He looks at you in confusion.

“You’re coming with me, of course,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Hope you didn’t have anything important this weekend, we won’t get back until Sunday.”

“No, that’s fine. I can come,” you mumble. “So, I’ll get two train tickets then?” You’re desperately trying to distract him and make him forget about the other thing he said that you didn’t particularly like. 

“No, I told you we’ll take my plane.” Dammit. No such luck. You squirm uncomfortably.

“Do we really have to fly?” you ask desperately, abandoning all sense of pride.

He raises an eyebrow at you, looking highly amused. “We won’t get there fast enough if we take the train,” he points out. “You’re not scared of flying, are you?”

You sigh. You were hoping to avoid this topic. “I’m not overly fond of it, no,” you reluctantly admit.

He chuckles, and you attempt to glare at him, but he puts his hand over yours and your brain completely short-circuits. “Don’t worry,” he reassures you. “I’ll be with you the whole time, nothing’s gonna happen.” He begins to walk back to his own office, leaving your hand cold. “Don’t bother coming in tomorrow, I’ll pick you up at your place around nine. Plan for four days.” With that, he exits, leaving you to process your new weekend plans.

To distract yourself from overanalyzing his hand touch, you pull up the email again to try and gauge how fancy this is going to be. After you scan the invitation, you find that it’s a charity gala. Okay. So very formal. Which means you were likely going to be completely out of your element. Great.

You were also questioning why the hell he needed his PA at a gala he wasn’t even hosting, but you suppose that point isn’t worth arguing. It was very much in your job description to accompany him to events. You just hadn’t realized those events would see you rubbing shoulders with some of the richest people in the country.

Before you leave for the evening, you make a pit stop at Mr. Onceler’s desk. He’s working on some form of paperwork, but immediately looks up and puts it off to the side as you approach. You try and ignore his very obvious delight as you pull up a chair, instead doing your damndest to focus on the questions you had. “So, dress code for this? Black tie?”

“Yup,” he clarifies easily enough. “Do you have something or do you want me to bring you anything?" The question is asked with no judgment, but it nonetheless makes you squirm as you're reminded just how damn wealthy these people are, and that you absolutely don't run in the same circles.

"I should be okay… but maybe grab something just in case? I'm not exactly in familiar territory here," you say.

"It's really nothing to worry about," he promises. "Just a bunch of people trying to prove that they're more philanthropic than whoever they happen to be talking to. Just stick by me, you'll be fine."

"You say that, but you do realize the most formal event I've ever been to was my senior prom, right?" Your tone is light enough, but your words were 100% sincere. "This isn't exactly something I'm going to be comfortable at, even if you tell me it's no big deal. It's a big deal for someone like me."

"I promise, it's going to be fine," he reiterates. "All you have to do is show up, look pretty, and stay on my arm all night if you're really that nervous. I'll even pay for all your drinks."

"Oh, that's all I have to do?" you tease. Despite everything, he has managed to drastically improve your mood, and you can't resist the opportunity to slip into your easy banter with him. "Looking pretty is not as easy as you think it is."

You're fully expecting him to tease you back. You are not expecting him to snort and mutter, "Trust me, looking pretty is the least of your worries." You feel your cheeks flush crimson as you try and figure out the meaning behind that. Was that an attempt at a compliment? You really aren't sure. But before you can do more than open your mouth as you flounder for words, he beats you to the punch. "I don't want to keep you here all night. I'm sure you have packing to do."

"Oh… of course," you stammer as you collect your things and what remains of your dignity and begin to leave. You've nearly reached the door when you remember to say, "Good night, sir."

"Good night." You don't turn around, but you feel his eyes staring at you until you exit the room and shut the door behind you.

Well. It was going to be a very interesting weekend, that was for sure.

The next morning, as you wait in your living room for him to show up, there's a honk outside at 9 a.m. sharp. You wheel your hastily-packed suitcase behind you, but stop short the second you open the front door.

When he'd said he'd be picking you up, you assumed that meant he'd be driving. But you've learned Mr. Onceler is never one to do anything small, and this is clearly no exception; he's shown up in a whole ass limo, complete with a driver waiting to hold the door open for you.

"Allow me," he says when you get over your shock and manage to make your way down to the car. He relieves you of your luggage before opening the car door, and you receive another small shock when you actually do see Mr. Onceler. For the plane ride, you'd opted for comfort and were only wearing leggings and a T-shirt. He's sitting there in his usual green suit. You feel totally underdressed, which is ridiculous seeing as you're going to be on a God-forsaken plane.

"You weren't expecting me in business casual, were you?" you ask, just to confirm, as you slide in next to him.

"Nah, whatever makes you comfortable," he shrugs. "I'm just most comfortable in this." You suppose you can't argue with that, although you are questioning who the hell felt most comfortable wearing a suit of all things. That seems rude to point out, so you just stay silent as he opens a mini-fridge next to him. "Champagne?"

"At nine in the morning?" you ask with a raised eyebrow. 

"Relax, if you want to be technical with it, it's a mimosa. That makes it classy," he defends, giving you that smile that always makes your stomach jump. "Besides, I thought you could use a drink before the flight. Help with your nerves and all." Once again his logic is sound, and you accept the drink he offers you without further complaint.

"How long of a flight is it?" you ask after a couple of minutes.

"It'll take up most of the day,” he replies, watching you closely to gauge your reaction. "We should get in around six, then we'll go to the hotel and not have to do anything until tomorrow."

"And what time tomorrow should I be ready?"

This one he has to think over. "I'd say seven, to be on the safe side," he decides. "The thing doesn't start until eight, but we should leave early in case there's traffic." He doesn't mention it, but there's also the implication that you might need to change to meet the standards of the event.

The car comes to a halt moments later, and a quick look out the window confirms you've come to an airport hangar. You down the rest of your drink in one gulp to avoid turning green.

He gestures for you to exit first, which you begrudgingly do. Now you're forced to confront the plane, which looks way too big considering it was only carrying two passengers. Seeing the flying metal death trap instantly makes you queasy and you stop dead in your tracks, closing your eyes and taking several deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. 

"Hey? You okay?" His voice is a reminder that you aren't alone, but more than that, you're struck by the sincerity lacing his words. When you force your eyes open, he's looking at you with genuine concern and even some worry. 

"I told you yesterday, I don't like flying," you grit out.

"You said you weren't fond of it. I think this goes a bit beyond 'not fond' of something," he points out. 

You huff out a breath of frustration at yourself. He was completely right of course. You'd tried to downplay your fear yesterday, and now that decision was coming back to bite you in the ass. "Fine. I am utterly terrified of flying," you admit. "Once we get to cruising altitude I should be mostly fine, but takeoff and landing…" You trail off as a shudder wreaks its way through your entire body as you remember your horrible fear from the very few times you've flown.

He's still looking worried for you, but seems to have made his mind up about something: you recognize the look on his face from when he's made a particularly difficult decision at work.

He comes up beside you and slips one of his arms around your waist, holding you to his side securely but not being restrictive about it. "Nothing's going to happen. I'll be right with you the whole time," he murmurs. Normally, you'd never allow this, seeing as he's destroying all sorts of boundaries, but at the moment, you couldn't be more grateful. Any support you can get while flying is welcome, and his quiet confidence, steadiness, and reassurances are offering you an unbelievable amount of comfort.

You allow him to lead you to the base of the stairs to board the flight. He's forced to release his hold on your waist since there's only room to board one at a time, but he stays close behind you as you climb the stairs and dart to the nearest available seat in the cabin.

The interior doesn't look at all like you're used to, closer resembling a hotel suite than a commercial flight. The seat you're in is wide and comfortable, and there are no seats next to you. Instead, there's one directly across from you. That's the seat Mr. Onceler takes, allowing for that sure, steady presence to still be available for you.

However, now that you're physically on board, your fear starts to settle back in. You have to grip your own hands tightly to stop them from shaking, and you can't stop your eyes from darting over to glance out the window every few seconds.

"Stop looking outside," he gently chastises you. "You're only going to freak yourself out worse."

"I know, but I literally cannot help it," you manage to get out through gritted teeth. The plane begins to move, and you let out a whimper as your knuckles turn white as you grip the armrests.

He's now looking around frantically as well. You have no idea what he's searching for. He only stops when he looks down, his eyes fixating on something. "It'll have to do," he mutters before he grabs his own tie and begins undoing it with quick fingers. "Lean towards me," he orders.

"What are you-"

"Just lean over here!" he says with such force you can't help but obey. The second you're close enough, he wraps the tie around your eyes, effectively blocking your vision. "There. Now you can't look out the window," he says smugly as he knots the fabric just below your ponytail. You'd respond with a thanks, but now you're shaking for a whole different reason. Being blindfolded by his fucking tie feels entirely too intimate, even if it's for an innocent reason. You're also smelling pine and bergamot, a scent that over the past few months you've come to associate with your boss. You've never smelled it so strongly, and it's never smelled so good before.

"Give me your hands," he says quietly. As if acting on their own accord, your hands unclench themselves and blindly search for his. He grasps your hands in each of his own and fuck…

Whenever you'd touched his hands before, he always had gloves on. Always. But in the time it took for him to blindfold you and take your hands, he'd removed his gloves, thereby removing another barrier between the two of you.

And as dangerous, as stupid as this was, you can't find the capacity to care about these walls coming down. No, if anything you're secretly celebrating, which is ridiculous.

The plane gives a horrible lurch just then, and you're guessing it's left the ground now. You jump, your hands twitching in his before he squeezes them tighter. "Breathe," he reminds you, and you can't help but let out a horribly embarrassing, breathy little moan at his words. His mouth must be right by your ear; you can feel his breath on your neck. The fact that you can't see is pushing your other senses into overdrive, and intentionally or not, he's taking full advantage of that fact. "Relax, I'm right here, nothing is going to happen to you," he continues to murmur into your ear. And the more he speaks, the more you want him to…

He reaches behind you and removes his tie, and you have to blink a few times to get used to having your sight returned to you. "We're at cruising," he informs you. "You alright?"

"Y-yeah," you manage to gulp out as you try and calm yourself down. You'd had a visceral reaction to what he'd done, and having it end so abruptly was a bit shocking to you. You were also desperately trying to sort out exactly what had happened.

The problem with sorting yourself out was that it required being honest. And if you were being honest, that meant you'd have to come to terms with the fact that you'd wanted him to kiss you. You wanted him to kiss you so fucking badly. You were upset he hadn't. And that was so wrong of you to feel.

You shouldn't be feeling anything but friendship with your boss. But you've started catching yourself occasionally wanting more before you chastise yourself harshly. You absolutely should not have a crush on your boss. But despite your best efforts, you think you might have developed a crush on your boss.

Said boss stands up just then, and you can't help but follow his movements. "I'm gonna go take a nap in the other room. Care to come with me?" he asks as he starts making his way to the back of the cabin.

He wasn't asking what you thought he was, right? You're definitely inventing innuendos he didn't mean just because your own mind is 100% in the gutter at the moment. But best to double-check, just in case. "Are there two separate beds?"

"Nope," he says casually before disappearing into the other room.

…Was he seriously propositioning you to sleep with him?!

Before you can even wrap your mind about what just happened, he pops his head out the door. "It's a king-sized bed. There'll be plenty of room, don't worry," he says before shutting the door for the second time.

You wish you were able to put up even a modicum of resistance. But in reality, the only thought going through your head is, what the hell. Can't possibly make the situation any worse!

Besides, you actually are tired. Packing had made it so that you stayed up much later than you were used to the previous night. Getting more sleep would be good for you.

At least that was the excuse you were going to use to justify following him into the back room only moments later.

Inside, there was that king-sized bed he'd talked about, topped with a thick black comforter. Mr. Onceler was sitting on one side of the bed, and he'd changed out of his green suit into a much more understated white T-shirt and gray sweatpants.

Goddammit. You acknowledge that he's always been good-looking, but then he had to go ahead and choose now to look normal and approachable instead of a billionaire entrepreneur. And you think this more normal version of him was even better looking than before.

He looks up when you enter the room. "Do you want to change into anything first?" he offers. "I don't know if you noticed, but your luggage was brought in here before we left. You could get into something more comfortable."

"This is fine," you insist. You usually go to sleep in a tank-top and shorts, but you were absolutely not getting into any size bed with him wearing a tank-top and shorts, especially not now when you have no self-control.

You climb into the opposite side of the bed as him, staying as close as you can to the edge of the bed. You've also ensured you're facing away from him as well. "Sleep well," you mumble before you allow yourself to drift off.

"You too," you hear before you fall into sweet nothing.

When you wake up, you're snuggled up to something very warm. You're too comfortable to move at the moment, but you suppose you could open your eyes and start attempting to come to full consciousness.

But when you open your eyes, you're staring into something white, which confuses you. You didn't remember anything white on the bed. Nothing except for…

Oh. Oh no.

As you come to be fully aware, you realize you're enveloped in what feels an awful lot like arms. You don't want to confirm anything, but you have to look up.

And sure enough, there's the sleeping face of Mr. Onceler right there. Even though you'd started on the very ends of the bed, you'd somehow both migrated to the middle and gotten tangled up in each other.

Before you figure out what the hell to do, he opens his own bleary eyes. "What time is it?" he asks sleepily before seemingly noticing you for the first time. He starts right at you, wide awake now, and quickly pulls his arms back as his face turns scarlet, but you can hardly blame for that. You're sure your own face is crimson by this point as well. 

"I need you to not say anything, and roll over," he requests, his voice strained and rather higher-pitched than normal.

"Why-?"

"Please, just do it," he asks again, now refusing to meet your eyes. You're still confused, but you'll do as he asks. You bring your leg up when your knee brushes against something hard and oblong-shaped.

Well. Um. That happened. And fucker ain't little.

You both freeze and slowly look at each other, both of you looking mortified. Suddenly your brain turns back on, and you jump out of bed, making a beeline for the door.

"Wait!" he calls just before your hand touches the knob. You pause, but refuse to look at him. "Agree to never speak of this again?" he pleads.

You finally turn to face him. "Agreed. This never happened," you say before slipping into the main cabin, leaning against the door and breathing heavily.

How in the ever loving fuck were you supposed to spend a whole weekend with him and act professional after that? Death take you now. It's the only solution you can find.

[twistsandtwizzles]

Fic: No Such Thing as Over You

Author's Note: 4,000 words of angst, pining, and poor decisions. Happy Valentine's Day?

Content warning for some language and sexual situations

She ends it, for real this time, on one of those strange, rudderless days over the holidays. She’s home after a whirlwind stretch of shows and vacations, now with time to think about all the things she’s been avoiding thinking about, and she may not know if it’s Monday or Thursday but she does know what she has to do.

“It just hurts too much,” she tells him. “It hurts when we’re apart, because I miss you. Then it hurts when we’re together, because I know how little time we have before one of us has to leave again.”

It also hurts to have to hide, to sometimes feel like he’s keeping her a secret, but she doesn’t add that to the list. They’ve fought about it enough.

Mariah fiddles with a throw pillow. He waits silently on the other end of the video call as she gathers her thoughts. He hasn't pushed back, hasn’t used his unfailing logic to list all the reasons that she’s wrong, to lay out his case for why they should keep trying.

That maybe hurts most of all.

“It shouldn’t be this hard,” she says finally.

“I know.” He sighs. “I wish . . . I don’t know. I wish I could be there. Or you could be here.”

“That’s the thing, though, right? That’s not an option. And we can’t do two more years of this.”

Two more years of their hearts sinking as it becomes obvious that the FaceTime will go unanswered. Two more years of misconstrued messages and misplaced jealousy. Of telling themselves that it will all be easier when they finally see each other in person, only to have their reunion rescheduled. And rescheduled again.

“So we just, what?” he asks. “Go back in time? Be friends and pretend like this never happened? Because I don’t think I can do that.”

This is the part that she’s been dreading the most. “Neither can I. Which is why I think we . . . give each other some space. Don’t talk, for a while.”

His face tightens. “Right.” 

“Not forever,” she says hurriedly. “I don’t want that either. Just until . . .”

Here she trails off. Until what? Until she stops loving him? She can’t imagine how long that will take.

But she can see their new lives rolling out in front of them, leading them in different directions. Knows that fighting to hang onto each other is only going to hold them both back.

“Until it hurts less,” she finishes, her words unconvincing even to her own ears.

“Right,” he says again, voice terse. He’s no longer looking at the screen. “If that’s what you want.”

It’s the last thing she wants. But it’s the only way she can possibly see getting through this.

Neither of them speak for a long minute. He takes a deep breath. “Well, I guess that’s it, then.”

“Nathan -”

“Good luck with school. I’m proud of you.” He reaches toward his screen, about to hang up, but there is one last thing she needs to tell him.

“This was the best year of my life,” she says, wanting him to know that she doesn’t regret any of it. 

The look in his eyes would have broken her heart if she hadn’t already broken it herself. He smiles sadly. “Mine, too.”

Then he’s gone.

She buries her face in Nala’s fur and cries.

—

She starts school. It’s overwhelming, exhilarating, terrifying, boring . . . everything she had been hoping it would be. She loves the energy on campus, the experience of sitting in a lecture hall, even loves the way her first reading assignment makes her eyes cross.

Every time she gets the urge to text him, she writes it in her notes app instead. By the end of the first week of class, there are 47 messages there that she’ll never send.

I just had to run across campus to get to class now I understand why you use that dumb skateboard.

I feel old. Am I too old for this?

Psych prof is Raf with a Texas accent, maybe long lost twins?

I miss you

She reads them back all at once, then hits delete.

He doesn’t go to Nationals, and she’s both relieved and disappointed. Most of their friends are there; they gently inquire about how she is doing. She recognizes the tone. She wonders who he told about the breakup first, what he said. She refrains from asking any of them about him. She tells them she is doing fine. 

Because she is. She’s grateful she came, and that she has a job to do while she’s here. It’s fun to see the event from another perspective, to be a part of the action in a different way. It’s also a little bit strange how her competition days already feel like they were so long ago. The world just keeps moving on.

Meanwhile, Nathan goes to the White House. Her aunt, apparently behind on the family gossip, sends her the video, adding How cool for him!!! 

Mariah watches it standing in the mixed zone, feeling like the ground is falling out from under her feet. He cut his hair, is all she can think. He cut his hair and shook the President’s hand. And I had no idea.

She excuses herself, finds an empty stairwell where she can pull herself together. Reminds herself that not being a part of his life is what she said she needed. Returns with a smile on her face. 

She is doing fine.

A bunch of the alumni skaters go out on the final night of the competition. The last time she was out in San Jose was on tour in the spring, when she made out with Nathan in a corner booth while their friends laughed and danced, all of them stumbling back to their hotel giggly and tipsy, on top of the world.

Tonight she drinks too much, finds herself leaning over a toilet in the club bathroom like she’s 21 again, apologizing profusely as a friend holds back her hair.

“You gotta let yourself grieve, babe,” her friend says, rubbing her shoulder gently. “If you don’t let yourself feel it, it won’t get better.”

“He cut his hair,” Mariah replies sadly.

She always told him how much she liked it long.

—

In late March, her sister sets her up on a date with one of her boyfriend’s friends. Mariah protests, says it’s still too soon, but her sister convinces her to at least give it a shot. 

“It’s drinks, not a lifetime commitment. Plus he’s never worn a pair of skates in his life,” she says, applying Mariah’s eyeshadow. “It’ll be a good change of pace for you.”

His name is Tyler. He’s nice. Tall, blond, blue eyes. Texan, born and raised. They talk about her classes and his job. He laughs politely at her jokes (admittedly not her best work), walks her to her door, gives her a hug. Says he’ll call her. She’s doubtful he will. She breathes a sigh of relief once she’s inside.

She was right. She wasn’t ready. What she is, instead, is exhausted. She’s tired of pretending that she doesn’t miss Nathan, that she doesn’t want to talk to him everyday.

She has her phone to her ear before she can even really process what she is doing.

He answers on the second ring. “Mariah?”

She did not think about what she was actually going to say if he answered. Or how good it would feel to hear him say her name.

“Hello?” Nathan asks. She can hear people and music in the background. A normal college student out on a normal Friday night. She’s not sure why that makes her sad. “Mariah?”

She manages to find her voice. “Hi.”

“Hi.” The background noises recede a bit; she wonders if he’s moving out into a hallway. “What’s going on?” She tries to identify his tone. Confused? Wary? Hopeful? Maybe that last one is her wishful thinking.

“I, um. Sorry to bother you.” This was such a bad idea.

“Is everything okay?” 

“I went on a date,” she blurts, then winces.

“You called for the first time in months to tell me you went on a date?” He sounds pissed, and she can’t blame him. 

“I hated it.”

A beat of silence. “Okay? I don’t know what you want me -”

“I just miss you. All the time.”

She hears a door shut, the hum of the party going quiet. He exhales. “I miss you, too.”

“Well. Good.”

He gives a soft huff of laughter. The tension eases, a little.

“You’re at a party?” she asks, because it feels like the easiest topic to grab a hold of. 

“Yeah. I mean, kind of. Just some people hanging out.” 

It’s the kind of vague answer that would have driven her crazy several months ago - who is “some people”? Where are you? - but she knows she no longer has the right to ask for details. So she nods, even though he can’t see her, and reaches desperately for another topic. “How’s school? Do you still like your lab?”

“Mariah. Stop.” His voice is gentle but firm. “You can’t just call out of nowhere and pretend like everything is normal.”

“I know,” she says, chastened. “I’m sorry.”

“I was just starting to figure out how to do this, how to not have you in my life, and I finally stopped thinking about you for one second, and now you . . . It’s not fair. Because nothing with us has changed.” He pauses. “Has it?”

She desperately wants to say yes, things have changed. Fuck the distance, fuck school, it doesn’t matter. They can try again. They can make it work this time.

She’d be lying. And they both know it.

“No,” she says. “It hasn’t.”

The silence stretches between them, the conversation all but over but neither of them willing to sever their tentative reconnection. Both clinging to their phones like they're a lifeline.

He says, “I should go.”

“Okay,” she replies. Neither of them hangs up.

She hears a knock, the sound of a door opening, party noises flooding back into the room. A girl’s voice asks if everything’s okay. He says he’ll be done in a minute. The girl says something Mariah can’t quite catch, and he chuckles. The door closes again.

“You should go,” she says. It comes out sharper than she intends it too.

“Yeah.” He hesitates. She knows he’s debating how to acknowledge the voice. She wonders if he’ll downplay it. Or maybe try and make her jealous.

He simply settles for, “Bye, Mariah.” Which stings more than any explanation would have.

She texts her sister. Tells her to tell Tyler that she had a nice time.

—

She’s thrilled to be invited to perform in Japan that summer. She’s been going a little stir crazy, camped out in Dallas, traveling only for smaller domestic shows for most of the spring. So a couple of weeks in Japan, doing what she loves with a bunch of her friends, is exactly what she needs.

Tyler drives her to the airport. “I’ll miss you,” he says, lifting her suitcase out of the back of his truck. “Two weeks feels like a long time.”

She stands on her tiptoes, gives him a quick kiss. “I’ll be back before you know it.” 

She doesn’t look back at him as she rolls her bag inside. It’s only once she gets past security that it occurs to her that she probably should have. 

She’s jittery the whole flight. She can’t focus on a movie, or her magazines, or even her podcast, and eventually she gives up and just stares out the window. She’s never been a great flier, but her nerves are worse than usual. She tries to convince herself that this has absolutely nothing to do with Nathan headlining this show.

And the reason she spends far too long getting ready on the first day of rehearsal has nothing to do with the fact that they have not been in the same room together for nearly eight months.

Because if that was the reason, it’d be ridiculous. They’ve both moved on. She’s with Tyler. He’s with . . . well, she heard about a gymnast. And then a tennis player. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. She and Nathan are both professional adults. This will be fine. She’s fine.

He’s already on the ice when she gets to the arena, halfway through his runthrough. She slips silently into a seat at center ice, a few rows back, and watches.

The song is moody, one of his cool indie bands singing about missed chances. He arcs his way across the ice, his movements precise and achingly beautiful, blades as sure as ever. She is not surprised that his skating still takes her breath away. 

His program ends. He returns to himself, back from wherever it is that he goes when it’s just him and the ice and the music, and his eyes meet hers.

For a second, it feels like it’s just her and Nathan again. Her shoulders relax, the tightness in her chest eases, and she forgets that she has spent the last twenty-four hours sick with anxiety. 

Then he skates toward her, and she remembers. She meets him at the edge of the rink, clutching her equipment bag so she has something to do with her hands.

“Hey,” he says. His hair has grown back out a bit, curling over his ears and the back of his neck. “Did you just get in?” His tone is cordial, a little cautious. She’s glad that he seems to be nervous too.

“Yesterday,” she replies. “I haven’t really slept, so today should be interesting.” 

He glances back to the ice, where the other cast members are starting to gather. “I should let you get ready, but uh . . . maybe we can catch up at lunch?”

“I’d like that,” she says honestly.

Something that looks like relief flashes across his face. “Great.” He begins to skate away, pauses. “It’s, um. It’s really good to see you.”

A few hours later, they grab their lunch from catering and bring it outside, perching on some benches near the arena entrance. They start with the easy stuff, a bit haltingly: school, family, what tv they’ve been binging. Shaking the rust off, uncovering their neglected friendship one layer at a time. Eventually the muscle memory takes over and they begin to fall back in their old rhythm. She’s telling a joke and he is laughing when tears spring to her eyes.

God, she’s missed him.

She looks down at her half-eaten salad, not wanting him to see that she’s upset, but of course he still knows her too well for that. He reaches out as if he’s going to touch her hand. Seems to think better of it.

“We should get going,” she says, avoiding his eyes. “I’ll see you inside.” She leaves him sitting on the bench. 

She looks back at him as she opens the arena door. He is watching her walk away.

—

Her skate lace breaks about twenty minutes before the start of the first show. She’s tearing apart the empty dressing room, feeling fairly ridiculous in the neon green dress she’s been given for their 80s-themed opening group number, and beginning to panic because she can’t find her replacement laces. Then - of course - Nathan appears with supplies, telling her to sit down, his fingers confidently tying her boot exactly the way she likes to wear it. 

Always prepared. She’s still surprised that he was never a Boy Scout. She watches him work, his face serious and focused, and tries to ignore the pounding of her heart. She is acutely aware that they are alone in this part of the building right now, the rest of the cast and crew already gathering near the tunnel.

He finishes with her lace and pauses. She thinks maybe he is going to say something but then, slowly and deliberately, he slides his hand up from her skate and runs it along the back of her leg. Her breath catches, the desire hitting her all at once. They lock eyes, his burning with the same intensity she feels, and as he begins to pull away, she grabs his wrist. 

His lips are on hers in a flash. Mariah digs her fingers into his hair as he rises to his feet, lifting her along with him. She kisses him urgently, desperately, the way she has wished she could kiss him everyday since the last time she saw him.

She gasps as he presses her back against the dressing room wall, his hips grinding against hers. Their hands are everywhere as they try to touch every bit of each other, working to make up for so much lost time. She wraps a leg around him, pulls him closer, knowing that they are both wearing their skates and guards and their balance is precarious, not caring in the slightest. 

His hand is roaming along her upper back, searching for something, and he finally growls, “WHAT is this costume?” 

“The side,” she breathes, lifting her arm so he can access the closure. She wriggles out of the strap as he unzips her, his mouth on her breast as soon as her dress falls away. She arches into him, her hands finding their way to his waistband, when the backstage lights flicker.

Five minutes to showtime.

They freeze, foreheads pressed together, breathing heavy. Then he disentangles himself, making sure she has her balance as he does so, takes a step back. She loops her arm back into her costume, concentrating on closing the zipper and clasp while he gets himself sorted. 

It was a mistake and it wasn’t. It can’t happen again but it will. It will shatter their barely mended hearts. She knows these things in her bones.

She pauses on her way out of the room, moves the rogue curl on his forehead back into place. She says, “We’ll talk after the show.”

He nods.

They don’t do much talking.

—

For ten days, it’s easy - too easy - to pretend. She can almost believe that they are back together for real, that they aren’t going to be returning home to completely separate lives 1,600 miles apart. 

It should worry her, she thinks, how simply things click back into place. How right it feels, being with him, despite every reason they broke up in the first place still being true. How quickly she loses sight of the big picture when they are together.

We’ll deal with it later, she tells herself every night as she lies next to him, him falling asleep instantly; her wide awake, mind spinning. 

It’s a losing strategy, but it’s the only one she’s got. 

She wakes the morning of their last show to her phone ringing - Tyler, again. She tries to ignore the stab of guilt in her stomach as she sends the call to voicemail, puts her phone back on the nightstand face down. Another thing she will deal with later. She looks over to see Nathan watching her, face inscrutable. She looks away.

“What are you going to tell him?” he asks.

She has been wrestling with the same question, but it rankles coming from him. “I’m not sure that’s your business.”

He scoffs. “C’mon.”

She grabs a t-shirt from the floor, one of Nathan’s, and slips it on as she gets out of bed. “I’m not talking about him with you,” she says. “It’s not - he’s not - he has nothing to do with what happens between you and me.”

“So what does, then? If he’s not a factor?”

She stares at him, exasperated. “How many times do we have to talk about why this won’t work?”

“But it IS working,” he says. “Right now, it’s working. Really, really well.” He slides on a pair of sweats, crosses the hotel room so he can take her hand. “I don’t want to give us up again.”

She sighs. “It always works, when we’re together. But, Nathan . . . we are almost never together.”

“I graduate in less than a year.”

“And then you’ll go back to Irvine, skate again. Or start grad school. You finishing Yale doesn’t suddenly solve our problems.”

“I could come to Texas.”

“We both know you’re not moving to Texas,” she says. “Be serious.”

“I could. I will, if that’s what it takes. They have schools there. And ice rinks. And you.”

She reaches up and kisses him softly. “I love you. You know that, right? It is not easy for me to say no to this.”

He drops her hand. “Then don’t say it.”

“Nathan . . .”

“I don’t understand why you don’t even want to try.” He steps away from her as he speaks, snatches a sweatshirt from his suitcase and pulls it over his head.

“We did try, remember? We tried so hard.” 

He shakes his head. “We gave up too soon. We’ll do better this time. I’ll do better this time.” His voice breaks, and she starts to move toward him. He takes another step back. “Just tell me we can try.”

She wishes that she could give him what he is asking for. “Maybe we shouldn’t make any decisions right now. Maybe we wait until we’re home. And then we can see how we feel.” We’ll deal with it later. 

His shoulders sag. “Fine.”

“We have one more day here together. Let’s just enjoy it. Okay?” She gives him her best attempt at a smile before heading into the bathroom.

When she comes out two minutes later, he’s gone.

—

She breaks up with Tyler as soon as she gets home. She knows she was using him, knows she will probably always feel guilty about it. He does not seem surprised, but because he is unfailingly nice, wishes her well. Tells her he hopes she finds what she is looking for. She doesn’t tell him that she thinks she already has, and that she lost it.

Nathan goes back to Connecticut, starts his senior year. Gets accepted to almost every med school he applies to. Of course.

They don’t vanish from each other’s lives again, both agreeing that of all their bad decisions, that was the worst one. They slowly re-learn how to be just friends. They are successful, for the most part. Completely successful, if they don’t count their lapse in judgment at a friend’s 30th birthday party in the fall. Which she doesn’t, since there were extenuating circumstances (namely tequila).

They both date other people, though never seriously, and never for long.

Two of their friends get married the summer after Nathan graduates. She gets a text from the bride a couple of weeks before the wedding: FYI, Nathan didn’t RSVP for a plus one. 

Mariah texts backs, JUST FRIENDS.

She gets an eye roll emoji in response.

The wedding is gorgeous, because of course it is. She cries through the entire ceremony, and also all of the speeches.

After dinner, their teammates conspicuously vanish from their table all at once, leaving her and Nathan alone. She glances at him. “They think they’re subtle.”

He smiles. “They really do.”

She raises her wine glass. “Congratulations on graduating.”

“Thank you.” He raises his beer in response. “Only took me six years.”

“Well, you did win an Olympic gold medal in the middle there, so you know. You should only be a little bit ashamed.”

He laughs. The dance floor is filling up behind them, and he stands, reaches out a hand. “Shall we?”

She takes his hand, follows him out to join their friends.

When a slow song starts, he draws her close. She wraps her arm around him, nestles her head against his shoulder. 

He says, “I love you.”

He says it simply. Not asking for anything, not making some sort of grand romantic gesture. Stating it like it’s just a fact. 

“I love you too,” she replies.

And maybe it really is that simple. It doesn’t matter whether they are friends or lovers or strangers or some weird thing in between. Despite her best efforts, she can’t stop loving him.

It is a terrifying thought and also a comforting one. 

He kisses her forehead, and she closes her eyes. Feels the rise and fall of his chest as they sway to the music. Allows this, for the next three minutes, to be enough.

[mccarthawrites]

Surprise Visitor

Relationship: Peggy Carter & Howard Stark

Rating: General Audiences

Summary: Howard’s mother, Edith comes to the penthouse looking for Howard, but finds Peggy instead, assuming her to be his girlfriend.

Words: 1,054

Marvel Masterlist

Edith stepped off the elevator, looking around the familiar apartment.

“Howard?” She called out, walking towards the drawing room. The sight of a pretty brunette sitting on one of the sofas, reading the paper and drinking tea took her by surprise. She must be Howard’s girlfriend. Edith knocked on the french doors, hoping she wasn’t interrupting anything. Peggy looked up, confused. Setting the paper and her teacup down she went to open the doors.

“Hello, can I help you?” Peggy asked.

“You’re not American.” Edith commented.

“No. I’m not.” Peggy replied.

“I’m sorry. Is my son here?” Edith asked.

“Your son?” Peggy questioned, before realizing. Of course it was Howard’s mother. He was a striking image of her. “I’m afraid Howard isn’t here, would you like me to call him for you?” Peggy asked, welcoming the older woman into the drawing room.

“I would appreciate that very much, thank you. Howard and I meet every Thursday for lunch when he’s in New York.” Edith explained.

“That sounds very nice.” Peggy picked up the receiver of the telephone, calling Howard’s other penthouse.

“Howard Stark’s residence.” Edwin picked up.

“Hello, Mr. Jarvis. Can I speak to Howard please?” Peggy asked.

“I’m afraid Mr. Stark is still asleep. Had a late night.”

“I’m sure. His mother is here looking for him. They had a lunch date.”

“Of course. I’ll wake him up right away.” After a few moments of silence, someone picked up the receiver on the other end.

“Hello?” Howard sounded hungover and exhausted.

“Good morning, Howard. Your mother is here. Waiting for you to take her out to lunch.” Peggy told him.

“Oh shit. It’s Thursday already?” Howard asked.

“Would you like me to tell her you’ll have to reschedule?” Peggy asked.

“No! Just- I need an hour and I’ll be there. Keep her entertained.”

“Howard.”

“Please. Offer her some tea. Ask her about some embarrassing stories about me. I don’t care. I just need an hour.” He told her. Peggy sighed, looking at Edith who was looking around the drawing room, having noticed the changes.

“Fine, but you owe me.”

“I already owe you my life, what more do you want?” Howard teased. “Thank you, Peg.”

“You’re lucky this is my one day off. You better be here in an hour.” Peggy hung up the phone.

“Did he forget about me?” Edith asked.

“No. He’s had his hands full.”

“With the way our government dragged him through the mud, I imagine he’s been trying to save his reputation. After all my Howie has done for this country.” Edith scoffed. The use of the nickname made Peggy smile. She’s never known anyone to call him “Howie”.

“Would you like some tea? I could turn the kettle back on.” Peggy offered.

“That would be lovely, thank you.” Edith smiled. Peggy quickly slipped into the kitchen to turn the kettle on. She was glad Angie wasn’t home because how was she going to tell Edith that two women were living in her son’s penthouse? She returned to the drawing room.

“Howard said he’ll be here in an hour.” Peggy explained, sitting down. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Stark. I’m Peggy.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peggy, but please call me Edith. How long have you known Howard?” Edith asked.

“We met in the war.”

“You were a nurse?” Edith asked.

“Not exactly, but I suppose I learned some medical aid while I was there.”

“Do you mind if I asked why you decided to leave home and come her to the big city?” Edith asked.

“That’s a long story, I’m afraid. One I cannot cover in an hour.”

“Love?”

“Something like that.”

“I understand. How long have you been here?”

“I moved to New York after the war.”

“Do you like the city?”

“America is much different than where I’m from, but I don’t think I’d ever go back. This is my home now.”

“I’m glad. Has Howard taken you to see the Statue of Liberty, yet? You can see the whole world from her crown.”

“I have been. It’s quite a view.” Peggy smiled.

Howard walked into the penthouse finding Edith in the middle of a story.

“The poor boy cried for three days afterwards.” Edith laughed. Peggy smiled, looking at Howard.

“I think it’s been a bit longer than an hour.” Peggy checked her watch.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. Hi, mom. What are you doing here?” He asked, greeting his mother with a kiss on the cheek.

“I was looking for you, but I found lovely Peggy instead. I like her.”

“I’m flattered, Edith.” Peggy replied.

“I don’t live here anymore.” Howard explained.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Howard. I don’t mind if you’re living together out of wedlock.” Edith explained.

“Excuse me?” Peggy asked.

“It’s 1946. There are lots of young people like yourselves living together.” Edith explained. “It doesn’t bother me. Especially if you’re in love enough to move continents.”

“Mom, Peggy and I are not-”

“I am not Howard’s girlfriend. He really does not live here.”

“Yes. Peggy is the person who helped clear my name.” Howard explained. “We’re just friends.”

“How foolish of me.” Edith laughed. “I’m sorry, Peggy. I just assumed-”

“That’s quite alright. I suppose there are worse men I could be mistaken for dating.” Peggy replied.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Howard looked at Peggy. “Thank you for keeping my mother company.”

“It was a pleasure. I learned a lot about you. Like how you cried when you were told you couldn’t marry the angel statue in Central Park.”

“Call me a romantic. Are you ready to go, mom?” Howard asked.

“Yes. Why don’t you join us, Peggy?” Edith asked.

“Thank you, but perhaps a rain check. It’s my day off and I was planning a day to myself.” Peggy replied.

“And I ruined that. I am so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I very much enjoyed talking to you. We will have to get lunch together sometime.” Peggy smiled.

“Sounds good. Come, Howard. Let’s leave her be to relax.” Edith grabbed her son’s arm.

“Alright. Thanks again, Peg.”

“You are welcome.” Peggy watched them board the elevator before going back to lounging. She didn’t know what she expected Howard’s mother to be, but she was pleasantly surprised.

[gwydionmisha]

Personal: Everything is so hard right now.

Amoung the other things that broke last week was my bedroom phone which I need to work so I don't have to lever myself out of bed half asleep and wobble into my office area to answer the endless stream of medical and bureaucratic call people insist on constantly making while I'm asleep. I can afford a new one. The emergency back up is the phone that made it a tough twenty years, but now doesn't send the medical autodialers the digit 1 so they will stop calling me over and over. I swapped it in anyway as the crappy office handset I got used a few years back doesn't ring loud enough to be head over my bed room air filter.

This means I need to remember to carry the office phone in so I can answer that one when the first one rings. except that one has to be connected to the call the EMTs device on my desk. And all the handling has broken the plastic piece on the end of the cord so it randomly falls out. Also if i don't remember to move the panic box onto my office chair the phone won't reach and the box will fall panic box side down calling the paramedics. Sigh.

I forgot to carry the phone in twice which is how I discovered the intermittent fault on the old phone that cuts my voice out to the person I was talking to. If my car hadn't been broken I could have gotten a cheap used one at a second hand store, but that' out too.

I absolutely hate the new arm exercises. I am doing them anyway because I need an arm that will work post surgery. It's twice a day and I am being a grown up about it. i can absolutely see why these exercises. They are even noticeably working a little already. They still wear me the fuck out and I hurt and hurt and hurt. (It's not bad pain wise doing them, no worse than anything I have to do, but I stiffen up later and my general pain level will rise). I have to stay up for Thursday morning torture appointment regardless of how wiped I am because I'm getting bad shakes every time I'm not allowed enough sleep and then startled awake and I need to not have my entire neurological/muscular system freaking the fuck out and not obeying orders if I am going to my torture appointment.

There was no cleaner Tuesday, but at least the asshole agency called in advance so I could reschedule. I theoretically have four more covered visits between now and the 31st. They have skipped the last six, which is now over a month with no help. I am scheduling twice a week at the expense of sleep on both days in the hopes they will come once. Sigh.

I did successfully complete some Tuesday phone bureaucracy. Unfortunately, a place I discovered I needed to call after a call that ended at 4:37 actually closed at 4:30 despite the website saying 5PM, because of course. This meant I needed to stay up until they opened next morning, despite being exhausted from getting constantly awakened by phone calls. No, I can't unplug while I'm asleep because most of these are medical and include things like we need to reschedule your appointment til next month and they now take a day or two to reply if you call them back which means they are even more overbooked and they will return the call when I'm asleep, starting the cycle over again. It is faster to let them wake me up and get it over with.

I was exhausted and I really struggled to stay up an extra two hours past when I wanted to sleep. The call was frustrating and only one degree away from pointless. Sigh.

Six phone calls in the six hours maximum I had to sleep in, carefully placed to prevent relaxation or REM sleep. One was a long boring "assessment." Every single agency I have to deal with as a disabled person insists on waking me up to answer long, boring, intrusive surveys/assessments at least once a year, sometimes twice. Asshole Agency insists on four for some reason. I had just started drifting off from that when the asshole agency robot called me. So that's three Asshole agency calls in less than 24 hours, but no cleaners in a month. Just saying.

I was getting ready to go pick up Goth Millennial for errands and Squirrel told me there was no gas. Me: ?!? I put half a tank in Saturday night! It's my fault really. This was about two and a half weeks of gas for me because I don't drive much. His car is more fuel efficient, so I was thinking surely this would be enough for Sunday night to Wednesday night.

Bwahahahaha! No. Not even close. I should have been only putting in a gallon at a time, which meant trying to scrape together enough to buy a gallon with what I had on me as it was on empty and I had to go straight to the closest gas station. At least it didn't cut into the car repair money. I guess.

He is doing a favor lending my his car. It is his car and he needs it. I know what his executive function is like and he forgot I had Wednesday errands, so had planned to put more in on his way to work. It is 100 percent not any sort of rudeness on his part. There is a reason I'm mostly responsible for things that require executive function in the apartment.

Next time I'll remember. A gallon at a time covers everything I'm apt to do and leaves him plenty.

Errands were like this to. Lots of effort and frustrating results.

I would like to thank everyone trying to help with the car fix fund. I will find out likely late afternoon Friday if I will be able to pay any of my bills this month.

[kkbarksdale]

St. Thomas Diary Pre-Travels

Thursday, April 27th, 2023- Day before travels

Such a hectic day. I started the day by going to 6:30am Burn Boot Camp to get my last workout in. I had my manicure appointment at 9:30am. When I got to the appointment, my nail tech accidentally double booked her appointments. She ended up asking the other lady to reschedule, because she knew this was for my wedding. I had chosen an ombre pink and white design. My nail tech stated that it was more of a pink white design and it would be no problem. Once she started putting the translucent coats on, we knew we would have to change the design. My old nail was turning the design more yellow/nude from the old nail underneath. I quickly had to make a decision to change the design I wanted which I felt very unprepared for. I ended up getting a white, pearly chrome design, which I was satisified with. I spent the remainder of the day cleaning the house and packing before my lash appointment scheduled for 9pm that night. Keep in mind, we had a 6am flight the next morning. My lash tech, god love her, was travelling back from Vegas and offered to do my lashes as soon as she landed so that they would be fresh for my wedding. Well, I did not even consider that her flight might be delayed or cancelled. Her flight did end up getting delayed by an hour, so I don’t think we started the lash fill in until almost 10pm. I feel like I owe her my life for this because I was on week 4 lashes and desperately needed a fill in for my wedding. Lesson learned from this one- just book the lash appointment in advance. It was not worth the anxiety of “Oh my god I have no lashes for my beach wedding”. I don’t think I went to bed until midnight, and never finished packing before our 3 am wake up call. 

Friday, April 28th, 2023- Travel Day

Boy, this is also a tough day. We had a 3 am wake up call, for our 4:15 am exit of the house to get to the airport. I still was running around finishing up packing. I was so busy the day before, that I never finished putting all of my stuff together in my bags. Our angel on earth neighbor, Susan, offered to drive us to the airport. She showed up right on time, excited, to take us at 4:15am. This was quite the experience. She is not super tech savvy so I doubt she will ever see this, but that woman is a terrible driver. Cody and I were quite scared for our lives that morning. However, we did make it safely (barely) to the airport. With a lack of time on our hands, we needed to check a bag with American and unlike the usual Richmond airport experience, the line was super long. American Airline’s flights were all booked that morning. The lady running the line asked us to check our bags with the kiosk which ended up putting us even more behind. Our bag was 56 pounds so Cody and I scrambled to get it down, and I’ll be damned the few items we took out put us perfectly at 50. We then rushed over to TSA to find another long line. It didn’t take too long to get through but Cody and his bag got pulled. Apparently our foot long sub we carried for lunch was “too big and wet” for the TSA scanners (lol). We eventually made it over to our gate and had a small sigh of relief. 

Off to our connecting flight in Miami! Our connecting flight only gave us barely an hour layover and little did we know that our gate was all the way across the airport. Cody and I unfortunately took our time getting to the gate, and almost missed boarding by a minute and a half. However, we made it. The Miami flight was so hot too and we were waiting on the tarmac to take off for forever. However, Cody and I knew that all the hard parts were over and we were finally about to enjoy our vacation!

We finally landed in St. Thomas around 2pm. The airport was poppin’! They had a DJ, dancers, and free rum shots! We were giddy with excitement and relieved that our traveling was finally over. Cody and I split up so I was handling the rental car and he was handling our 3 bags. The rental car process was a pain. The original estimate for the car was $1,800 for our entire stay, but they “required” that I insure the vehicle which put the total at 2,500. Additionally there was a 600+ insurance deposit. The woman working the counter was not explaining this to me very well, so I understood it that I was potentially pay $5,500 for the rental car. Shocked and stressed, I wanted to quickly get the rental car done with as I had no back up plan in place. I was very upset about the rental car, the stress of the travel day, and disoriented from being in a new destination. Little did I know, Cody was feeling overwhelmed too. 

We went out to grab our rental car, which was a lovely green Jeep by the way. While we were putting our bags in the car, a few other tourists were turning their rental in. They offered us their wine that they could not chug before heading into the airport. We chatted with them for a moment and headed off to explore St. Thomas. Driving on the left side of the road was an adjustment but not too difficult. It was rather hectic in the airport and downtown area due to the last day of the Carnival festival. Cody and I were stressed from flying and opted to stop in at a brewery while we waited for our AirBnb check in. I wanted to change into my flip flops and asked Cody where he packed them. He stated they were in the back seat in our carry on bags. When I opened the door to the backseat, there were no bags to be found.... Immediate panic overtook us both and we raced back through the busy downtown area to get to the airport as fast as possible. My wedding dress, all clothes, our rings, and pretty much everything so important to us were in those bags. I was sobbing, Cody was pleading and we were 30 min away from where we think we left the bags in the rental car parking lot. When we pulled up to the parking lot, low and behold they were still there. We were so relieved and Cody was so upset with himself the rest of the day. In Cody’s defense, the tourists that stopped to talk to us really distracted us from getting the rest of our bags.

Another thing I failed to mention yet about our first encounters at St. Thomas, is that the island is very run down and ghetto. I tried not to focus on this during our trip because we ultimately decided that we just had a culture shock and that the island is just poor, not crime filled. It made our race back to the airport to retrieve our lost bags even more nerve wracking. However, as it always rings true, everything worked out. 

Cody and I could finally vacation/honey moon and enjoy our time together! That night we just settled into our Airbnb, grocery shopped and tried to relax. We took a dip in our pool and chatted with our AirBnb neighbors. 

[atlanticcanada]

Airport chaos caused havoc over holidays

With Boxing Day bringing nothing but blue skies, passengers waiting to fly out of Moncton International Airport were breathing a sigh of relief on Monday.

“I think if we had of flown out Thursday or Friday, we would have been stuck in the airport for sure,” said Joshua Spike, who was flying back to Ottawa that afternoon.

"It was nice to have a white Christmas, but it was a lot of snow,” added Callie Spike. “But, today it's nice and clear... we're still delayed, but it's only by 30 minutes, so we're hopeful to get off the ground here soon.”

Their experience was much different than many other Maritimers looking to fly around the holidays.

With Christmas always being a busy time at airports, ferocious winter storms across Canada caused travel headaches with delays, cancellations, and for one Cape Breton family, a complete change in holiday plans.

"My family will never fly WestJet again -- they don't understand what we lost,” said Robynne King, who was with a group of 12 planning to go to Orlando, Florida. “I know we lost a trip, but we lost more than a trip. We lost those chances at those memories of a group of 12.”

She says their dream Disney World vacation had to be completely cancelled after the airline overbooked their flight on Dec. 23rd.

"From what we understand, they knew this Orlando flight was going to be put on a smaller plane. The plane sat on the tarmac -- this is what I was told -- for three days prior and it was the plane they were going to use because the bigger plane that we originally booked was in Toronto,” she said.

The large group was told that they no longer had seats available and wouldn’t be able to fly out together.

"They did try to reschedule us, but there was no reasonable solution,” said King. “It was ‘two people get on this flight and four people get on this flight and then there’s layovers and you’re not going to get there until the 28th if you’re lucky.’”

As of Monday, King says they still don’t even have their luggage back and have had no communication with the airline, adding that she really wants some answers, including why her group was chosen to lose their seats.

Although airlines can’t control weather-related changes, experts say that passengers do have rights and it isn’t as simple as just cancelling someone’s flight and moving on.

"We don't expect the airline to pay for passengers’ meals or hotels if it's due to weather that the flight is cancelled. What the airline is required to do is rebook the passenger or buy them a ticket on another airline,” said Air Passengers Rights President, Gabor Lukacs. “That is the law with specific parameters, and if the airline disobeys that law, there has to be consequences, otherwise the law is not worth the paper it's written on."

For King’s specific situation, he adds, "if the flight is oversold, the airline owes you compensation of $2,400 Canadian dollars in cash right at the airport, or within 48 hours after that."

Lukacs says right now the federal government has a backlog of over 30,000 passenger complaints.

“The bottom line is we need to simplify the whole regime to make it very simply and straight forward, which it is not, and we need much bigger, much firmer, much more aggressive enforcement,” he said.

As for King, their Christmas wasn’t completely ruined.

“People knew our story, and being in the small community that we live, everybody was reaching out. When my family arrived home, to our surprise, the community gave my kids Christmas,” said King.

“We’ve tried to turn this situation into as many positives as we can. We went on with what we would normal do. We woke up, Santa came, we had our delicious supper together and now we are visiting family in and around Cape Breton,” she added.

But her kids, along with the rest of the group, are still upset about the lost vacation and the memories that could have been.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/RJgCNm3

[hitmewithabusposts]

Would you be able to write a request for chris pontius where he gets drunk and carried away with the jackass guys meaning he forgets he has a date planned and stands you up? But try to make it a happy ending if you can, some good old angst to fluff please :) thank you!!!

Yes I’ve been wanting to write some more Chris 🙌

Stress me out

Pontius x reader- angst/fluff

I never thought the day would come when Chris would actually make me upset. Sure, him and I bicker like a married couple, and I’ll act annoyed with him when he pulls one too many pranks, but he’s always been too sweet and too much of a good boyfriend to do something to hurt me, and that’s what I was feeling right now.

We’ve been together for a little over 6 months, and had dinner planned tonight at a restaurant by my apartment for 7:30. However it was 8 now, and no call, no text. “Can I actually just get the bill?” I asked the waiter so I could pay for my drink. I sent him a text while I waited for the check that said: if you happen to think about me, don’t bother coming to dinner.

When I left I couldn’t help to worry, what if something happened to him at work? I know they were filming but he’s never been late to a date even on film days, or if he was gonna run over he’d call and invite me out to set. If something happened surely Johnny or one of the other guys would give me a call, right?

I called Knox when I got in my apartment, an equal mix of worried, extremely pissed off and upset. He picked up and I heard loud music in the back and he slurred his speech saying, “heyyy what’s up y/n? Why aren’t you partying with us?” “Is Chris with you?” I asked, knowing he was drunk. “Yeah party boy is, wanna talk to your lover?” “Yes, hand him the phone please” I said, feeling only angry now that I knew he was at least okay.

“Hiii babyyy, do you wanna come meet me at this bar me and the guys are at I-“ I cut him off saying “you seriously forgot, and are out getting drunk with your friends. I actually thought you weren’t an asshole. Thanks” and I hung up, turning my phone off and sighing.

I took a shower and tried to relax, and was still mad, but was feeling more sad now. I turned on some bad reality tv to watch, immediately changing the channel when Jackass came on. I settled on something else when I heard knocks on my door.

“Just let me talk to her” I heard muffled through the door from no other than Chris. I looked through the peephole and saw him standing there swatting Ryan’s hands away who was trying to pull him away. “Give her some time man, I think you pissed her off” he said, but stopped when you opened the door. “I got him Ryan, thank you” I said smiling at him, as Chris took that as his opportunity to slip into my apartment.

I closed the door and smelled the beer on him, but he stood in the entryway like a lost puppy. “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t forget. I mean I did but really I didn’t. We filmed all thru the night last night and I thought today was Thursday not Friday, so when the guys asked if I wanted to go out I thought you’d be at dinner with your friends and-“ he kept talking explaining himself as I realized he was sincere, and it was just a big misunderstanding. “Shhh, I’m sorry” I told him, going up to him and wrapping my arms around his neck.

I could feel the tension melt off both of us when he wrapped his arms around my waist, carrying me over to my couch. “I know you’ve been busy filming, I’ve just seen the way some of your friends are with girls they’re with and I got worried maybe they influenced you and you just stood me up. Which confused me because you’ve been nothing but absolutely perfect baby” I told him, kissing his lips quickly and nuzzling my head on his shoulder.

“I’m not like them, and I’m just gonna start telling Jeff or Preston or someone responsible when our dates are” he joked, making me laugh. “Wanna reschedule for tomororw night? You can come back to the bar with me tonight and hang with me and the guys?” He asked me, kissing my head. I nodded, “yeah call Ryan to come back and get us, let me go get dressed.”

He nodded as I stood up, “I love you” he told me, still making me blush whenever he said it. “I love you, even if you do stress me out sometimes”

[fizzydrink698]

instinct 01 | chan

series masterlist

pairing: bang chan/reader

word count: 4.5k

genre: romance, a/b/o, slow-burn, college au, and they were roommates

warnings: one (1) intense hug, ogling chan’s gluteus maximus, subversion of gender roles, some world-building, a shit load of pheromones i guess?

summary:

But sometimes, rarely, in little moments like this, you feel the tension.

The unspoken, simple reminder that you are an alpha, and Chan is not.

Sunday - 5 Days Until Rut

AlOmPro: Free (155.8MB)

Contains: in-app purchases

4.7 Stars, based on 212k ratings

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You are halfway through an overpriced pesto-chicken panini when you feel your phone buzz in your back pocket. Mouth still stuffed with food, you wipe your hands on your courtesy paper napkin before fishing your phone out and checking it.

AlOmPro: 1 New Notification.

You swallow, unlocking your phone to read the notification. You already have an inkling of what exactly the app was going to tell you.

Yep.

AlOmPro: Your next rut is expected to commence in 4-5 days. Your previous history suggests that you will begin your pre-rut phase within the next 24 hours. Preparations at this time are advised.

You sigh.

Motherfucker, this was absolutely going to mess with your assignments. You still had a shit-ton of reading to do for class, and an essay on early twentieth-century military propaganda due in at the end of the month.

Panini momentarily abandoned, you open up your messages and shoot a quick warning to your housemates.

You: Hey guys, a quick head’s up. I’m starting my pre-rut tomorrow, we may have to reschedule Pizza Night this weekend.

When you had first moved into the house, you had been prepared for some awkwardness. After all, you were the only alpha in a house full of omegas. It was an outdated notion, but you were worried about being expected to take the lead, to sort out bills and groceries and dictate chores – when you were painfully aware that your alpha status had not translated at all to any kind of leadership qualities or sense of responsibility.

Thankfully, the others had picked up on this long before you moved in.

Sungie: screw you, i’ve been waiting for my pepperoni fix for weeks

You: Don’t blame me, blame my hot thirsty pheromones

Lix: no worries, good luck!

Lix: …wait does good luck work in this scenario?

You: I dunno, good luck is a pretty universal sentiment. Yeah, I’d say it works.

Lix: then good luck! :D

Chan: do you need anything?

You stare down at your phone at Chan’s question, and get halfway through typing out a response of ‘a good dicking, apparently?’ before you decide that was a little much this early in the day.

So, you delete that and type out a more appropriate reply.

You: Nothing springs to mind, really. I’ve still got a few days anyway, I’ll stock up on food sometime this week. But thank you for asking!

You switch over to your school e-mail, copy-and-pasting the official application for a rut-related exemption from classes and assignments on Thursday, Friday and the following Monday.

It is just your luck that your rut would mostly fall over a weekend. You can’t even get a few good sick days out of it.

You pout, sending the e-mail with just a few simple taps.

And that was it. You sit and eat the rest of your panini, and wander over to the campus library, and all thoughts of your upcoming rut fade from your mind entirely.

Keep Reading

[thedaredevilsgirl]

Dear Teacher - Part 2

warnings: teacher and student relationship (The reader is between 19 and 25 years old and please don't get involved with your teachers) angst,fluff, smut (fingering, unprotected sex -Please use a condom- dirty talk)

Word count: 3342 (surely the most I have ever written)

N/A: Hey, many people were asking, so I brought you part two of dear teacher, I hope you like it.I am creating a taglist, message me if you want to be added 💖💖

Part 1

When Tom woke up on Saturday morning he was disappointed to realize that you were no longer there, for a moment he thought that maybe it had all been a dream or just his imagination playing with him, but something inside him knew that no, that the incident had really happened.

"Incident" was how Tom was referring to the whole of Friday night. It had been a bad idea, he knew, meeting you at that bar, inviting you to sit with him, kissing you, taking you to his apartment, and everything that happened after that. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help it.

MONDAY:

 Tom was nervous. It was the first time he had seen her since Friday and he still didn't know how to handle it.

You walked into the auditorium that morning and it seemed that fate loved to play with you as the two of your gazes met almost instantly, he swallows dryly and you blush before quickly looking away and running to your seat at the back of the room.

 "Good morning everyone" He says starting his class, everyone in the room answers him quickly.

 "Good morning Mr. Holland" Cindy, one of your students, says cheerfully "Looks like you had a great weekend" she points to a small purple spot on your neck, all the students start laughing as soon as she notices it. You sink into your chair, wanting to hide, mortified with embarrassment, remembering very well that you made that mark on Tom who was blushing in front of everyone's eyes.

"Anyway" he huffs loudly taking the students' attention back to class "I've corrected your Brontë sisters' papers, I'm happy to say that we got very good grades, but only one got a top grade, I'll give it back to you Wednesday" he says before continuing his lesson. 

•─────✧─────•─────✧─────•

The class passes slowly, like torture for both of them, they just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. They needed to talk about what they had done, but they were more than happy not to do that today.

"That's all for today, remember to turn in your next paper on Monday and get ready for the debate next month, see you all on Wednesday" he says to everyone as his class ends. Slowly the room starts to empty, but you can't get out as a hand grabs your wrist making you turn to see who it was.

"Y/N" Mike, the boy who had missed your date on Friday was standing there holding your hand "I just wanted to apologize again for not coming on Friday, I didn't mean to ruin your weekend kitten" he apologizes.

"It's okay, really, you didn't ruin my weekend" you answer politely.

"If you want" he says getting closer to you "We can reschedule, I promise I won't cancel this time" he gives you a conquering smile.

Tom settles back in his chair, moving his hands nervously across his lap. He didn't want to hear your conversation, but as soon as he heard no names being called he started to pay attention, he had no right to be jealous, you weren't his girl, but he hoped you wouldn't accept it, you deserved much better than that boy in front of you.

"Mike, I'm sorry, but I can't accept it" You say, trying to be polite and pulling away from him a little.

"Just a date kitten" Tom rolls his eyes from where he was sitting, did he not understand what no was?

"We better just be friends" you dismiss yourself before leaving the room.

"Girls" the idiot says before leaving the room.

TUESDAY:

Thomas only saw you once that day, talking to your friends in the hallways.

He felt your gaze on him, which made his heart beat faster, and when he returned your gaze you looked away, blushing at having been caught in the act.

As he lay in his bed that night, the memories came back, he was beginning to hate it. Avoidance and being avoided, the two of them should talk about what happened instead of pretending not to and acting like children.

WEDNESDAY:

You were pacing back and forth in the hallway, debating with yourself, trying to decide whether or not to go into that office.

This morning, as Tom walked around the room handing out corrected papers to his students, he left his paper on your desk whispering a congratulations before moving on to the next student. You saw the top grade written on the first page and a little yellow post-it note placed there saying "Meet me in my office at 18:00, please".

It was still 17:50, you could still get away from there and that conversation, but you didn't want to, as nervous as you were you knew what you needed to do. You knock on the door and open it just as you hear a "come in" coming from inside.

"You came" he says getting up from his chair and gives you a shy smile.

"You asked..."

"I didn't think you would actually come."

"I think we really should talk Mr. Holland" you says nervously looking down at her own feet so she doesn't have to face him.

"Mister Holland?" He asks "I thought i asked to call me Tom"

"I can't do that"

"I understand" His voice, there was something different in it, hurt perhaps.

A silence fills the room for a few minutes before he begins to speak.

"I'm sorry about Friday."

"Why are you apologizing?" You asks without understanding.

"I just...thought you..." He sighs walking over to stand in front of your desk, only a few steps away from you.

"I don't regret what we did" You speak as soon as you realize where your speech was going.

"No?" He finally looks directly at you.

"No, my God, I loved every part of that night" a small smile appears on his lips which fades soon after as you continue to speak "But that doesn't mean it wasn't wrong, we shouldn't have let it get to that point".

"I know it wasn't, I know...it was so wrong"

For some reason it was painful to be in that room without being able to touch him again.

"I really wish I wasn't your teacher" he walks towards you "To have met you at another time, maybe then I could have had you to myself, take you out without fear of anyone seeing us, hold your hand, kiss you" His hand caresses your face and you close your eyes leaning in to feel his touch more "I wanted so much Y/N, I wanted to make you my girl...I really like you"

"Thomas, I like you too..." You sigh, your heart aching with every word spoken "But sometimes liking isn't enough for two people to stay together."

"I know, and that's the part that hurts the most" He forehead rests against yours, both of you with your eyes closed, in-between sloshed breaths that were already mingling, Tom felt a tear run down his cheek, your mouths so close "Y/N..."

"Thomas..."

"Tom man, we are late, your brothers will kill us if we are late again" Someone says opening the door suddenly just as you and he are about to kiss. The two of you quickly walk away panting for breath trying to recover from the moment, Tom quickly wipes the tear from his face. A tall blond man that you had seen other times in the halls together with Tom looks at you not understanding anything.

"Am I interrupting something?" the blond man asks suspiciously.

"No" the two of you answer quickly.

"Harrison, this is my student, Y/N" Tom introduces the two of you, perhaps as a way to change the subject "Y/N, this is Harrison Osterfield, professor in the physics department and my best friend".

"It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Y/N" He extends his hand to greet her " I have heard Tom compliment you several times, always saying that you are the best student in your class".

"My pleasure Mr. Osterfield" you shake his hand "I think he is just exaggerating a lot, anyway, I better go, I don't want to get in the way anymore, bye" you take your things and leave the room leaving the two men alone there.

"Wait a moment" He say to Harrison before coming after you.

He holds your wrist and makes you look at him, honestly he almost didn't care anymore that the two of you were standing in the middle of the empty university hallway.

"Y/N please" he says.

"Please what?" you say hurt "Do you want me to stay here? To fight for a passion that is doomed to fail? Something that could end my life at this university or end your career?

"Don't talk like that, we can make it work" he says hurt.

"I wish I was brave enough to try, I swear I do" you let go of his hand "But I'm not, it was just one night stand sex and as much as I like you I know that the sooner we get over it and move on the better, for both of us" you turn and walk away, leaving Tom standing there alone in the hallway with his hurt.

THURSDAY:

Your heart was still hurting. Last night you collapsed on your knees as soon as you got to your dorm room and let the tears finally fall, you were lucky you didn't have a roommate so you could cry all day long without having to answer questions about why you were so bad. And you cried until your eyes hurt, screamed against your pillow until your throat burned, let the sadness leave your body until you finally gave in to tiredness and went to sleep.

Tom was no better off than you, he spent the whole dinner with your family quiet while everyone else at the table talked, he wished so much that he wasn't in love with you, he wished it really had only been one-night stands, maybe then he wouldn't feel like he could die at any moment if he didn't have you by his side.

In different places, but sharing the same pain.

FRIDAY:

Tom looked across the room at you, his eyes red and his expression sad, it looked like you had been crying all night, and you really had, he wanted to go over there and hug you and tell you that everything would be okay, but he couldn't.

If they had thought Monday's class had been torture, this was something worse. Tom gave his class trying to avoid looking in your direction, while you couldn't pay attention to anything that was being said, you just wanted to go back to your room and cry some more. It was the last class of the day so you ran to your room as soon as it was over.

•─────✧─────•─────✧─────•

Tom was tapping his pen frantically on his desk, he should have been correcting his students' work but his mind was elsewhere and his head hurt like it was going to explode at any moment.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?" Harrison asks, he was with Tom in his office and was starting to get irritated with his best friend.

"What?" Tom asks waking up from his thoughts.

"Tom you've been acting weird all fucking week, you spent the entire Wednesday dinner quiet a thing you don't often do."

"I don't know what you are talking about" he pretends to be paying attention to the papers in front of him.

"Does it have anything to do with that girl who was here?" he asks curious, Tom doesn't answer which only confirms Harrison's thoughts "Oh my god, it has everything to do with her doesn't it?".

"I really don't want to talk about it"

"You like her, that's why you're all emotional, because you can't be with her" Harrison speaks and Tom wonders when did his best friend get so good at unraveling his feelings.

"I had sex with her on Friday" Tom admits at once, his friend had already figured out pretty much everything so there was no reason to keep secrets anymore.

"WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME THAT?" he practically shouts.

"Can you keep it down please, you're acting like a teenager, we passed that stage a long time ago and I don't want the whole campus to find out."

"I'm not the one acting like a teenager, you are, getting all angry and quiet over something that can easily be resolved" Harrison rolls his eyes as he states the obvious.

"She doesn't want me Harrison, she likes me, but she doesn't want me, she's scared and I can't judge her because I am too, this could destroy my teaching career and end her reputation here"

"Tom, isn't she one of the students graduating this year?" Harrison asked even though he already knew the answer.

"Yeah"

"Dude, she's graduating in less than 5 months and you're telling me that the two of you can't keep this relationship a secret for 5 months?"

"I..." Tom hadn't stopped to think about it.

"I'm sure you two can make it work."

"What if she's not willing to try?"

"You should at least try, Holland, go out there and fight for your girl" He encourages his friend.

"I think you are right, I will do it".

"Of course I'm right" He smiles smugly "Anyway, I don't want to have to put up with your sadness any longer" He says laughing.

•─────✧─────•─────✧─────•

It was almost midnight when you hear someone knocking on your dormitory door, you get out of bed and go to open the door.

"Thomas what are you doing here?" You ask as you see him standing outside, he walks into your dorm still without giving any explanation, you close the door and turn to see him "What kind of idiotic idea is this to come to my dorm, someone could see you here, how would we explain this?" You ask in an agitated manner.

Tom doesn't answer at first, he just looks at you, the baggy sweatshirt too big for your body, the hair tied back with a few strands falling in front of your face and the glasses on the end of your nose, and he can't resist. He walks toward you and kisses you, holding your face between his hands, his hands against your chest as you respond to his kiss, his heart beating hard in his chest and the sense of relief that he is kissing you again after what seems like the longest week of his life.

"I'm sorry" he says pulling away "I didn't come to do this, I just wanted to talk and..."

"It's okay" he fixes his glasses on his face.

"Y/N, I really like you, this is so stupid, I just... I want to try this, it's only five months until you graduate, we can make it...

"Tom" you try to interrupt him but he keeps talking non-stop.

"...to do this, I'm sure it wouldn't be easy at first and it's not the kind of relationship that's ideal or the relationship that someone like you deserves..."

"Tom" calls him again.

"But I'm willing to try, for you, for us, I want to try..." You kiss him again making him stop talking.

"I'm willing to try Tom" you say between kisses and he smiles "For us"

"I didn't think you would accept, I was already preparing myself for a no" you both laugh.

He sits down on your bed and pulls you to sit on his lap with each leg on one side of your body, he takes the glasses off your face and places them on your desk before kissing you.

"Damn, I missed that" he sighs between the kiss.

"It's literally only been a week" you say smiling.

"Really? It's felt like forever" he kisses you more intensely this time, his hands gripping your hips tightly making you move over his lap, the kisses slide down your face to your neck, you throw your head back.

"Tom" you say his name as a plea, his hands slide up your thigh squeezing you firmly.

"What do you want princess?" He asks with his head in the curve of your neck before leaving a small bite in that region.

"You, Thomas, I need you" you slowly roll over in his lap feeling his already hard length under you "please".

He smiles smugly at your response. Your sweatshirt is removed leaving you in just your panties and Tom lays you down on your bed placing his body on top of yours .

"This has been the most torturous week of my life" he removes the rest of his clothes and throws them on the floor "I couldn't get you out of my mind" he leaves a kiss on her neck exactly where he had "I thought about how I wanted to feel you again" the kisses descend to the top of her breasts and one of his hands grab her thigh wrapping her leg around his waist while the other goes down to her intimacy pulling her panties apart just enough for two fingers to touch them "That pussy is so wet, all this for me honey? "

"Yes, all for you Tom" he smiles at her answer before penetrating her with his fingers causing a quiet moan to come from her lips.

"Good girl."

"Your girl" you sigh ecstatic with pleasure.

"Fuck" Tom kisses you again, your words making him even harder than he already was "Say that again " he thrusts his fingers inside you reaching that wonderful spot inside you.

"I.Am.Your.Girl."

"My girl."

He had barely started and you were already so close, but he doesn't let you get there, teases you to the edge before stopping and doing it all over again.

"Please stop teasing me, I'm so close" you beg.

"No princess, I want you to cum around my dick" He says pulling his fingers out of you and removing your panties before turning you both over on the bed making you stand on top, he sits against the headboard as you rest your hands on his shoulders "now ride me like the good girl I know you are".

You sit on his member feeling him fill you completely, you both moan the moment you are finally together, standing still for a moment to get used to his size. Moving slowly until you finally get into a rhythm.

"So so good" he moans, his hand gripping her throat the way he remembered he had made her go crazy last time "So beautiful riding my dick" his other hand leaves a slap on her ass making her moan his name out loud as she throws her head, back rolling over in his lap .

"Tom I'm so close" you say as he gives you a push with his hips making his cock hit your G-spot, his hand making circular motions against your clit this time.

"Come to me then baby" he says and with a few more movements you are enjoying his wrist making you come next, your head falls on his shoulder and he spreads kisses down your neck as you recover from your recent orgasm.

•─────✧─────•─────✧─────•

You were wearing your shirt now, your head lying on his chest as he stroked your hair.

"You'll still be here when I wake up, right?

"Well this is my dorm so I can't leave" you say as a joke.

"I'm serious Y/N" he says laughing.

"Yeah, I'm not going anywhere" you smile fondly returning to lie on his chest closing your eyes almost falling asleep with his affection.

"Good, I don't want you to leave, I want you forever" he kisses the top of your head before falling asleep with you in his arms, no goodbyes this time.

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter Five}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta’s time for mourning was up.

As she pulled into Elain’s driveway, reality set in. It would be her first day back at the restaurant since the accident, since her life was thrown completely upside down.

She wasn’t ready

But, she had no choice.

Elain was already smiling when she opened the door, reaching out to take Nyx. “Hi, my baby! Aunt Lainy and Seph are so excited to spend the day with you, yes we are.”

“I’m glad, because Aunt Nesta isn’t so excited to not be spending the day with him,” she said, sighing.

Elain gave her sister a wistful look. “I get that. How about Cass, how did he feel going back to work last night?”

Nesta snorted. “Don’t know. He never came back. They started inventory around two this morning after last call, according to the short text I woke up to. He says he’ll be there for most of the day.”

Elain lifted a brow. “Wow.”

Nesta blinked. “He’s a bartender, what do you expect?”

“No,” Elain chuckled. “I meant: wow, looks like you two are actually communicating. I’m shocked.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “We’ve been living together for three days. If we weren’t communicating, what exactly would we be doing instead?”

Elain carried Nyx into the living room, sitting him down in the playpen she’d set up in the corner. “I mean, honestly, Az and I just figured you were pretending each other didn’t exist.”

For all intents and purposes, they had been, but they had made sure to talk about important things. Like whether Nyx had been fed, when he needed to go down for his nap and what the schedule for the next day would look like.

To be totally honest, she hadn’t even realized Cassian had her number until she’d woken up to a text from one she didn’t have saved in her phone.

“We’re…adjusting,” she finally said, watching as Nyx crawled over to the pile of toys in the corner of the playpen. “I gave him a bath last night, and he said he would handle the next one, since he had to go to work. But… Gods, Elain, giving a one-year-old a bath is exhausting. I looked like I’d just left the pool, not to mention the entire bathroom was soaked.”

Elain chuckled and shook her head. “Seph loves baths, but we’re still having them in the sink right now. She’s not quite ready for the bathtub yet.”

The baby in question was asleep in a bouncer, resting on the floor by the couch.

Nesta glanced at her watch, whatever reply she had falling from her lips. “Shit, I have to go, I’ll be late.”

“Go,” Elain said, wrapping her sister up in a hug. “The day will fly by and you’ll be home with Nyx before you know it.”

Nesta nodded, even though her core was filled with dread.

Nonetheless, she was across town in fifteen minutes, hurrying into the café just before nine. She tossed her purse behind her desk after she unlocked the door to her office and looked around, only to find everything exactly where she had left it.

With a sigh, she pulled a bottle of water out of her mini-fridge, only to find it completely warm. They must have unplugged it when they were cleaning. It wouldn’t be the first time.

She didn’t have time to think on it too much, though, because there was a knock on her office door, her manager’s voice calling her name through the wood.

Her first day back had officially begun.

*

Cassian was exhausted.

For the past couple hours, he felt like he was lost somewhere in a dream. Now, as he continued to stare at the shelves of liquor in the back room, he debated curling up in the corner and falling asleep.

He’d messed up so many drink orders the night before, worrying about whether Nyx was okay or if Nesta had forgotten to do anything for him. He knew Nesta was perfectly capable of taking care of Nyx, had been doing so since Rhys and Feyre had died. But he still worried about him constantly.

He yawned as he shoved a box of tequila up onto the top shelf, turning to see how much was left.

Only to find the store room empty of boxes. He let over a relieved sigh, pulling out his phone.

10:37

He knew the opener would be in at eleven, a shift that was usually his, but as the manager, he preferred to ensure inventory was done correctly, and with such a big shipment, thanks to his unexpected time off, he told them he would work the night before.

His feet damn near shuffling across the floor, he made his way into the office and sat down at the desk, to wait for Kallias. He didn’t see a reason to lock the place up when Kal would be here five minutes later to start setting up.

He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he heard a knocking on the office door and sat up quickly, his feet falling from where he’d propped them on top of the desk.

Cassian found Kallias standing in the doorway, a small smirk on his lips. “Baby keeping you up at night already?”

He yawned, dragging a hand down his face. “No. Well, sometimes, but not this time. Didn’t finish inventory until about fifteen minutes ago.”

Kallias whistled. “Damn. You should’ve called. I would’ve come help.” Cassian shrugged. “No use having both of us exhausted.”

Kallias just shook his head. “If you say so. Go home, Cass. Get some sleep. I’ve got everything under control.”

Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. He stood, clapped Kallias on the shoulder, and walked out to the parking lot. After hopping into his truck, Cassian dozed off.

And six hours later, he woke up, his head against his steering wall, his neck hurting like hell, and his chin glistening with his slobber.

It wasn’t an attractive sight.

After a curse, he looked at the clock on the dash, and swore again.

It was just after five.

The truck was in gear and he was speeding home seconds later. When he rounded the corner, Nesta’s car was already in the driveway.

He parked beside her, hopping out and hurrying to the back door. When he threw it open, he found her standing at the stove, stirring something in a pan. It smelled delicious.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, collapsing in the nearest chair at the kitchen table, his head dropped into his hands in exhaustion. Even after his impromptu nap in the truck, he still felt like he needed another eight hours sleep. “Inventory took way longer than usual and then I passed out in the truck.” He shook his head, letting his obvious exhaustion explain the rest to her.

“It’s fine.”

He looked up and glanced at her stiff back. She hadn’t turned back to look at him, was completely focused on whatever she cooked on the stove.

Her tone said it absolutely was not fine.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I’d been awake for over twenty-six hours.”

“Elain had to reschedule a shoot with a client tonight. She was expecting you to come pick up Nyx after you got off and got some sleep.”

He cringed. Nesta had texted him around ten, while he was still focused on inventory, asking him to get Nyx from Elain before three. He didn’t ask why, had honestly forgotten she’d even texted him.

“I’ll call her later, I’ll apologize,” he sighed.

Nesta turned abruptly and tossed the towel she was using to hold the warm handle on the counter. She was pissed, he’d seen that look in her eyes more than once. “I get that you worked and you were tired, but you have to be more responsible, Cassian.”

“I said I was fucking sorry,” he said, standing. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep in my truck, but I did. I’m fucking sorry.”

She rolled her eyes, but turned back to the stove.

Cassian scoffed, and was nearly ready to bite her head off, but then Nyx’s soft cries came from the living room.

“He fell asleep in the pack and play,” Nesta said, continuing to stir what she had on the stove.

Cassian took that as his dismissal. He hurried into the living room and picked up Nyx, who was standing up in his pack and play, gripping the edge. When he saw Cassian, his hands shot straight in the air.

“Hey buddy,” he said, quietly, as he lifted Nyx out of his pack and play. Nyx instantly relaxed in his arms, laying his head on Cassian’s shoulder.

“He’s probably hungry,” Nesta said, as the boys made their way back into the kitchen.

“I’m aware,” Cassian snapped.

Nesta’s shoulders tensed.

Cassian said nothing more as he opened the fridge and took out some leftover mashed potatoes, Nyx’s favorite.

“He should have some kind of protein with that,” Nesta said, her back still to them.

Cassian spun around, exasperated. “Shit, anything else you’d like to add?”

She said nothing, pretending he didn’t even speak. Cassian didn’t say anything else, but he fixed him a bottle, and set Nyx in his high chair. As Cassian shook it, Nyx held out his hands, reaching for it. He gave it to him, turning to the microwave to heat up the potatoes.

He heard plates being set down at the table and found Nesta setting two plates full of stir fry on the table.

He hesitated, but moved Nyx’s high chair closer to the table. He took the already empty bottle from him and got a small spoonful of potatoes for him. He quietly said, “You didn’t need to cook for me,” as he fed Nyx.

“I made too much,” she replied, simply, sitting across from him. She didn’t meet his eyes as she took a bite.

He watched as her eyelashes fluttered in satisfaction.

As Nyx grabbed his bowl from the end of his high chair and stuck his face into it, Cassian looked down at his own plate, at the steak, broccoli, peppers, peeled carrots, and snap peas that sat before him.

It smelled delicious.

He hesitantly took a bite as Nyx clapped his hands and began to babble.

“Afraid I may poison you?” Nesta asked.

Cassian blinked, meeting her eyes. They remained like that for a moment, staring at one another, then Cassian took another bite. “It’s good. Thanks.”

“I made too much,” she repeated. “Cut Nyx up some of the steak. It’s tender enough for him to eat, just make sure the pieces are tiny. The broccoli, too. He likes broccoli.”

Cassian did as he was told without a word. He set the food in front of Nyx, who instantly had his chubby little hands on them.

“Don’t think I’ll be cooking every night,” Nesta said, in the middle of their otherwise silent meal.

“I wouldn’t think of it,” Cassian said, then cleared his throat. “I can cook sometimes, too. I’m not bad in the kitchen.” A look crossed Nesta’s face that said she didn’t quite believe that statement.

“I make a mean breakfast,” he said, after chewing through another bite. “I’ll show you. We’ll do breakfast for dinner one night.”

Nesta nodded, but Cassian couldn’t tell if that was confirmation or just agreeing to shut him up. After a minute, she set down her fork and cleared her throat. “Speaking of breakfast, I’d prefer to not share the table with any friends you may bring home.”

Cassian’s brows lowered, not fully understanding. And then what she was saying clicked and he was coughing around the bite of food he’d been swallowing. He drank from the glass of water he’d grabbed, and cleared his throat, ensuring he could breathe. “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

“If I live here, it is my concern,” she said, going right back to eating, as if she hadn’t just brought up an extremely unexpected topic. “I don’t want Nyx to see a revolving door of women leaving either, he doesn’t need to get the wrong idea.”

Cassian could only stare at her, though when Nyx heard his name, he paused his eating to look up at her. He finally said, “He’s one, first of all, so he has no idea what that would even mean, and secondly, I can have whoever the hell I want here, and they can stay for breakfast. I live here, too.”

“Would you care to see an endless string of men coming out of my bedroom every morning?” Nesta asked, her tone light, but her eyes full of hellfire.

Cassian’s chewing slowed. No, he wouldn’t care to see that, but he’d never admit it. He wasn’t even one to bring women home...well, at least not often, but apparently she thought of him as some unhinged casanova.

“As long as you ask me to join, I don’t care who you bring home,” Cassian said.

Now it was Nesta’s turn to choke on the bite of steak she just took. Her cheeks turned a bright shade of red as her eyes watered. After catching her breath and taking a long drink of water, she said, “That’s inappropriate.”

Nyx giggled, his lips covered in mashed potatoes, as if Nesta had just said the most hilarious thing in the world.

He took one last bite of his food before standing and carrying his plate over to the sink. “You don’t bring up my sex life and I won’t bring up yours. Deal?”

“Fine,” she said, picking up her plate as well and dropping it next to his on the counter. “You take care of the dishes, I’ll give Nyx his bath.”

“Fine.” That seemed to be their word to end conversations, as most of them ended with one of them snapping the word at the other, and it being repeated right back to them.

He wanted to fling more insults at her, wanted to snap that he wasn’t the man-whore she apparently thought he was. He never had been, despite the obscene amount of those stupid condoms she’d seen in his glove box all those years ago. But he knew she wouldn’t believe him.

He heard her unclipping Nyx’s high chair and then she was carrying him upstairs. Cassian was already wrist deep in soapy water when he heard the bathtub running from upstairs.

It was then that he realized he had originally told Nesta that he would give Nyx a bath tonight.

He didn’t pick him up from Elain’s.

He didn’t give him a bath like he said he would.

Maybe Nesta was right.

Maybe he was just setting himself up for failure.

As he scrubbed at the dishes, Cassian felt that sense of failure wash over him and sent a thought to Rhysand, wherever he was, hoping that his oldest friend wasn’t as disappointed in him as he was.