#BUT THE DEBT. THE SECONDHAND STRESS

[kuromi-hoemie]

005554 was a banger. it wasn't even for me, Levi if you're out there please help. they have your passwords and I got calls for a year from so many different places trying to chase down your debts.

going through my texts and reminiscing about my favorite security codes i was sent this year

[willowrunes]

Listen I work for a debt collection company and you wouldn't believe the amount of bullshit junk fees some of our clients charge these people. We have a few particular plumbing and HVAC services who I'm 99% sure are telling customers one thing and billing them a different amount. So when these customers don't pay, they get charged all kinds of stupid admin fees, late fees, and an additional 30% of the total after all of that because that's our commission. These clients don't want to lose a single cent and would rather make the debtors pay the fee they should be paying us for hiring our services. It's a fucking rip-off, I can't stand seeing it. If I could afford to leave this job, I would.

[dreamersworldduh]

The Boy Who Broke Chains

• CONNER KENT x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — Conner Kent, known as Superboy, is a powerful figure, capable of great destruction and widely feared. He is respected for his immense strength and serious demeanor, making him a strong ally. However, to you, he is much more than that. He is Project Kr, a clone of Superman from Cadmus who once helped you escape from captivity. You remember his fierce determination and how he fought for his own identity while freeing you. To the world, he's Superboy, but to you, he's the boy who brought hope and light.

WARNING! 18+MDNI! Swearing.

WORDS! 16.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE! Conner Kent is that guy, no one can tell me otherwise. The boy is fiooooneeeee, okay! This was a long one to write and it definitely trampled other fics I have planned, but I had get it out for the readers. Anyway, enjoy your reading! 😉 ✨

Acquiring the ability to control cosmic energy was never something you envisioned for your life, but desperate times can drive even the most ordinary person into extraordinary circumstances. For years, your family had been struggling under the suffocating weight of financial instability. Bills piled up like mountains, debts threatened to swallow your home, and your part-time job at the corner store barely scraped together enough to keep the lights on. Watching your parents age prematurely under the strain of endless stress made you feel helpless, as though you were merely a spectator to your family's slow unraveling.

But one evening, as you flipped through the faded pages of a secondhand newspaper, something caught your eye. It was a small, inconspicuous ad nestled between real estate listings and job postings. The bold letters read: "Volunteers Needed: Lucrative Opportunity. Life-Changing Rewards." Beneath it, the fine print offered no real details, just a phone number and one name: LexCorp.

You'd heard of LexCorp before—who hadn't? Depending on who you asked, it was either a beacon of technological progress or a shadowy conglomerate with too many secrets. Whispers about their projects varied from revolutionary to downright sinister. But desperation doesn't allow for hesitation. The promise of financial salvation was too tempting, so you dialed the number that same night.

A calm, professional voice on the other end of the line invited you for a preliminary interview. The process moved faster than you expected. Within days, you found yourself in a gleaming, sterile office building that loomed over the city like a monolith. You answered questions about your health, your resilience, and—strangely—your willingness to take risks. The interviewer never clarified what kind of risks, but when they slid the contract across the table, your focus locked on the reward: a sum so generous it could pay off all your family's debts and still leave enough for a comfortable life.

The contract was a labyrinth of legal jargon and densely packed paragraphs, punctuated by bold phrases like "irreversible effects," "assumption of risk," and "non-disclosure agreement." But the promise of freedom for your family outweighed any doubt, so you scrawled your signature across the dotted lines without looking back.

It wasn't until later that the grim reality set in. The "project" wasn't just experimental—it was dangerous. LexCorp had unearthed a crystalline artifact, a strange cube humming with energy not of this Earth. According to the scientists, it contained pure cosmic energy—an unstable force capable of reshaping matter, bending space, and altering the fabric of reality itself. They theorized that, in the right hands, it could create beings with abilities to rival even Superman.

You weren't alone in the program. A handful of other volunteers joined you, all desperate for their own reasons. The testing began almost immediately, a grueling process that pushed your body and mind to the brink. You were exposed to blinding flashes of the cube's energy, its chaotic currents coursing through containment fields barely strong enough to hold it. Each session felt like standing in the heart of a storm, your nerves stretched taut as the energy seared through your veins.

It didn't take long for the casualties to mount. One by one, the other volunteers fell. Some collapsed under the strain of the experiments, their bodies unable to adapt to the energy's raw intensity. Others met even darker fates as containment breaches unleashed bursts of uncontrollable power. The scientists treated each loss as a data point, scribbling notes on clipboards while their expressions remained disturbingly detached.

And then there was you. Somehow, inexplicably, you endured. Where others withered, you thrived. Your body didn't just survive the energy—it absorbed it, adapted to it, and transformed. You began to exhibit abilities that defied explanation: manipulating matter with a thought, generating bursts of pure energy, and sensing disturbances in the world around you as if you were tethered to something far greater than yourself.

At first, the scientists were ecstatic. You were their success story, their living proof that the experiment could work. But as your abilities grew, so did your unease. This power didn't feel natural—it felt like something alien, a force that didn't belong within a human shell. The memories of the other volunteers haunted you, their faces a constant reminder of the cost of your transformation.

The financial burden that had weighed so heavily on your family was gone, replaced by an entirely new weight—the realization that you were no longer just a person. You were a weapon, a product of ambition and desperation. Your life was no longer your own.

What began as a desperate attempt to help your family had turned you into something else entirely: a walking, breathing experiment. And while your body thrived on cosmic energy, your soul bore the scars of what you'd become.

The madness didn't end with your newfound powers. If anything, it spiraled into a nightmare beyond your darkest imaginings. LexCorp saw you not as a person, but as a priceless asset—an investment they intended to exploit to its fullest. To ensure you would remain under their absolute control, they delivered a cruel, calculated lie to your family: you had died in a tragic, catastrophic accident. There was no body, no closure, just grief. As far as your parents knew, you were gone—a victim of this cold, merciless world.

But you weren't dead. Far from it. LexCorp secretly transferred you to Cadmus, an infamous facility buried deep in classified government records, renowned for its cutting-edge but ethically dubious experiments in genetic manipulation and superhuman biology. The compound itself was a fortress, hidden in an unmarked location, surrounded by layers of security designed to ensure nothing—and no one—got out.

Your new "home" was a specialized containment cell, meticulously engineered to nullify your powers. The walls shimmered faintly with a metallic sheen, imbued with compounds and technology designed to absorb the cosmic energy flowing through your body. No matter how much strength you summoned, the cell rendered you powerless. It wasn't just a prison—it was a tomb for your autonomy.

The routines of captivity weren't physically harsh, but they were psychologically devastating. Each day was a dull monotony, a predictable loop that wore on your mind like sandpaper against stone. You were provided meals on a rigid schedule—nutrient-rich but devoid of flavor—and your quarters, while minimally comfortable, felt suffocating in their sterile, inhuman design. Time blurred into an endless expanse of sameness.

Occasionally, you had moments of interaction that broke the monotony. Conversations with the G-Gnomes, small, psychic creatures employed by Cadmus to probe your thoughts and monitor your mental state, offered a strange sort of companionship, though their eerie, insectoid features unnerved you. Then there was Kraig, a peculiar hybrid being who seemed almost amused by your predicament. He spoke in riddles, dropping cryptic hints about Cadmus's inner workings and the shadowy figures pulling the strings.

They also allowed you to practice your powers, but only under strict supervision. The training arena was a sterile, white void, filled with sensors that monitored your every move. You were tested to your limits—summoning bursts of energy, manipulating objects, even warping matter in controlled settings. But you weren't doing it for your benefit. Every session was another data point for Cadmus, another step in their quest to unlock and weaponize the full extent of your abilities.

The guards at Cadmus ensured compliance at all costs. They weren't your average enforcers. These were genetic hybrids, beings with enhanced strength, speed, and resilience, some of them augmented by alien DNA. Their presence was a constant reminder of the futility of resistance. Every hallway you walked, every glance from their cold, calculating eyes, made it clear that rebellion was not an option. Even if you managed to overpower them—which seemed impossible—the labyrinthine facility offered no clues about its location. No windows, no distinguishing features, nothing that hinted at where you might be in the world. For all you knew, you could have been on another planet.

The isolation began to chip away at your resolve. Days bled into weeks, the walls of your cell pressing closer with each passing moment. You began to lose track of time, your mind slipping into darker places. Dreams of escape faded, replaced by the oppressive reality of your imprisonment. And then, something unexpected happened.

On what seemed like an ordinary day, during one of your escorted walks to the training area, you encountered him. At first, you thought your eyes were deceiving you. Standing before you was a figure straight out of legend: Superman. The same chiseled jawline, the iconic red cape, the unmistakable "S" shield on his chest. Your heart froze in your chest. What was he doing here? Had he come to save you?

But Kraig, your enigmatic acquaintance, quickly corrected your assumption. This wasn't Superman. It was Project Kr—an imperfect clone crafted in Cadmus's relentless quest to control the power of Kryptonian DNA. Up close, you could see the cracks in the illusion: his slightly rougher features, the faint aura of instability in his demeanor. He was no savior, but another prisoner, bound by the same invisible chains that held you.

Meeting Project Kr changed everything. He wasn't just a clone; he was a person, struggling with his own identity, his own chains, his own quiet rebellion. In him, you saw a kindred spirit—a reflection of your own suffering and longing for freedom. For the first time, hope flickered in the darkness.

Finding someone to talk to was a relief, even if Project Kr wasn't exactly the warmest conversationalist. At first, your exchanges were brief—fleeting moments punctuated by short questions or observations. He wasn't particularly chatty, and his reserved nature made it difficult to know whether he even wanted to engage. Still, you persisted. Slowly, those terse exchanges began to grow into longer interactions. It might have started with a simple question—something about the sterile facility you both called a prison—but it gradually blossomed into hesitant conversations that carried the weight of mutual understanding.

Project Kr was captivated by your stories of the outside world. His eyes would narrow in quiet fascination as you described the mundane details of life beyond Cadmus. The way sunlight broke through trees in the morning, the scent of fresh rain on concrete, the chatter of strangers in a crowded marketplace—things you'd once taken for granted now felt like treasures as you recounted them. His questions were sharp and deliberate, as though each answer unraveled a world he had only dreamed of but never truly believed existed. You painted him pictures of blue skies and bustling cities, of quiet parks and chaotic streets. And every word seemed to stick, as if he was storing these glimpses of freedom deep within himself.

In return, you tried to nudge the conversation toward anything that might help you escape. You asked careful questions about the facility's layout, its security measures, and anything else that might give you a clue. But Project Kr's responses were vague, fragmented, and often unhelpful. It didn't take long to notice something was off about him. Sometimes, mid-conversation, his expression would cloud over, and he'd grow quiet, almost distant, as though listening to something you couldn't hear.

It was then you realized the truth: Kraig. The strange psychic hybrid who had been a begrudging presence in your life was manipulating Project Kr's mind. Subtly, perhaps even unconsciously, Kraig was twisting his thoughts and controlling his actions. The realization sent a chill down your spine. One day, in a rare moment of privacy, you managed to warn Project Kr. You kept your tone neutral and your words vague to avoid tipping off Kraig, but you urged him to be cautious, to question the voices in his mind. Project Kr didn't acknowledge your warning directly, but his thoughtful silence made you hope he'd understood.

Your chance at freedom came sooner than expected—and from a source you never could have predicted. One day, alarms erupted through the sterile corridors of Cadmus. The red lights painted the walls in flashes, and the normally unflappable guards scrambled like panicked ants. You had no idea what was happening. Then the sounds of muffled combat echoed through the facility, followed by explosions and shouts.

The chaos found its way to your cell when the door hissed open, and three figures appeared: Robin, Kid Flash, and Aqualad. Their presence was so unexpected that you thought it might be a trick or some elaborate test. But there they were, battered but determined, with Project Kr at their side. They wasted no time in freeing you. There was no room for questions or hesitation—only urgency. They needed to move, and you weren't about to argue.

The escape was a whirlwind of chaos. The five of you fought your way through the labyrinthine facility, dodging guards and tearing through security systems. The young heroes moved with reckless determination, their banter sharp despite the life-or-death stakes. You quickly found your place among them, using your powers to blast through obstacles and defend the group as the facility descended into absolute pandemonium.

Along the way, you liberated others—victims of Cadmus's cruel experiments. Some were like you, beings infused with strange powers, while others were creatures whose very existence seemed impossible. Together, you all made your way toward freedom, leaving destruction in your wake. Guards fell, alarms blared, and containment units shattered as the facility unraveled.

When you finally broke free, the night air hit your skin like a long-forgotten memory. You barely had a moment to savor the victory, though, before the Justice League arrived. The towering heroes descended like gods from the sky, their presence commanding. But instead of celebration, you were met with sharp disapproval. Batman's cold glare, Wonder Woman's disappointment, and Superman's shock all weighed heavy on the young heroes.

The League was unimpressed with the recklessness of Robin, Kid Flash, and Aqualad. But it was the sight of Project Kr that truly sent ripples through the group. Superman froze, staring at his clone with a mixture of disbelief, discomfort, and unspoken questions. The tension in the air was palpable as the League tried to make sense of what had happened and what Cadmus had been hiding.

You stood awkwardly amidst the chaos, unsure of where you belonged in this strange new reality. All you wanted was to go home, to finally see your family again and leave this nightmare behind. But it quickly became clear that wasn't going to happen—not yet. Batman's sharp, calculating gaze lingered on you, assessing your powers, your potential. You felt like a puzzle piece he was already trying to fit into a grander scheme.

It wasn't freedom you had walked into—it was the beginning of something much larger. The escape had torn open a new chapter in your life, one where you were no longer just a prisoner but a player in a game far beyond your understanding. And as the Justice League deliberated your fate, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the start of something far more complicated, far more dangerous, than you'd ever imagined.

Returning home should have been the end of your nightmare, but instead, it marked the beginning of a more complicated and harrowing chapter in your life. Batman, true to his word, arranged for your return to your family, but not without strings attached. Standing in the shadows of your old neighborhood, he issued a warning: he would be watching, checking in periodically to ensure you didn't lose control—or endanger anyone. His voice was steady, almost detached, but his presence left little room for argument. Exhausted, you didn't press for details. All you wanted was to go home.

The reunion with your parents was both heartwarming and devastating. When they opened the door, their faces were a storm of emotions—shock, disbelief, and overwhelming joy. The tears came quickly, followed by bone-crushing hugs, as they struggled to reconcile the son they thought they'd lost with the one standing before them now. But as relief gave way to reality, their joy turned to anger.

They didn't hold back, their voices rising as they scolded you for your recklessness. Volunteering for an experiment with LexCorp—of all places? What were you thinking? Didn't you know how dangerous they were? The words hit you like blows, but you understood the source of their anger. It was fear disguised as frustration, born from the agony they'd endured while believing you were dead. And though their scolding stung, it was underscored by a simple truth: they were just grateful to have you home.

For a brief time, it felt like life might return to normal. You tried to fall back into old routines, helping out around the house, making small talk at dinner, and even considering the possibility of returning to school. But nothing about you was normal anymore. The cosmic energy flowing through your veins wasn't something you could hide forever.

At first, the signs were subtle—a glowing fingertip here, a static hum in the air when you were nervous—but it quickly escalated. Your emotions became dangerous triggers. A flash of frustration could send a burst of energy surging from your hands, while excitement might cause objects to levitate or shatter. Despite your best efforts to suppress it, your powers were volatile and unpredictable. You knew you were losing control, and worse, your family was beginning to notice.

Then there was LexCorp. They weren't content to let you slip through their fingers. Just weeks after your return, strange cars began appearing near your house, their darkened windows reflecting nothing but menace. Agents loitered on the edges of your property, their suits sharp and their gazes sharper. They didn't bother hiding their intentions, occasionally knocking on the door with thinly veiled threats, demanding to know where you were. Their intimidation tactics grew bolder by the day, turning your home into a pressure cooker of fear and tension.

The breaking point came during an argument with your father. He had been on edge since your return, and his concern for your future boiled over when you mentioned wanting to go back to school. He insisted it wasn't safe—not for you, and not for anyone around you. But you were desperate for a shred of normalcy, and the argument escalated until it was loud enough to rattle the windows.

And then it happened. In a flash of frustration, you lost control. A surge of cosmic energy erupted from you, sending your father flying across the room. He hit the wall hard, slumping to the floor in stunned silence. Thankfully, he wasn't seriously hurt, but the look on his face—the mixture of fear and disbelief—broke something inside you. He wasn't looking at his son anymore. He was looking at a stranger, someone dangerous, someone he couldn't protect.

You knew then that you couldn't stay. As much as you loved your family, as much as they loved you, you were a threat to their safety. And LexCorp's shadow looming over them only made things worse. You couldn't protect them here—not from yourself, and not from the enemies you'd made.

Desperate and unsure of what else to do, you made a decision that felt surreal: you called Batman. The fact that you even had the means to summon the Dark Knight was a strange reminder of how far your life had strayed from normalcy. When he answered, his voice was as calm and precise as ever. After you explained the situation, he listened quietly before offering a solution.

Batman extended an invitation—or perhaps a directive. He offered you a place at The Cave, a secret base for young heroes and sidekicks under the mentorship of the Justice League. It wasn't just a sanctuary; it was a training ground. There, you could learn to control your powers, defend yourself, and face the enemies who would inevitably come for you. It wasn't a retreat—it was an enlistment into a dangerous new world.

The Cave was unlike anything you'd imagined. Hidden beneath layers of earth and stone, it buzzed with cutting-edge technology and the faint hum of activity. This wasn't just a hideout—it was a hub for covert operations. The young heroes who called it home were unlike anyone you'd ever met. Aqualad, Robin, Kid Flash, and others moved through the space with confidence, their actions precise and their camaraderie sharp-edged. They weren't just kids—they were warriors in training, bearing the weight of their mentors' legacies.

You felt out of place among them, like an outsider in a world where everyone else already knew their role. They were fast, skilled, and experienced, while you were still struggling to keep your powers in check. But this was your new home, your new reality. It wasn't what you wanted—far from it—but maybe it was what you needed. Here, under Batman's watchful eye and surrounded by others who understood the burden of extraordinary abilities, you had a chance to find stability.

This was no ordinary life, but then again, you were no ordinary person anymore. You weren't just a kid trying to fix your family's problems. You were something more—a fledgling hero, a potential force for good. And as you stood in the Cave, surrounded by the hum of advanced technology and the determined faces of your new teammates, you realized this wasn't the end of your story. It was only the beginning.

Among the chaos, one thing brought you a measure of comfort: seeing Project Kr, now going by the name Conner. The sight of his familiar face, stoic as ever, made the adjustment a little easier. For Conner, the surprise was mutual. He hadn't expected to see you again, and though his expression didn't betray much, you could tell he was glad to have someone he recognized.

For you, it felt like a lifeline. You had barely interacted with the team members who had freed you—Kid Flash, Robin, and Aqualad—and they were already deep into their missions and camaraderie. While they were friendly enough, their bond made you feel like the odd one out. But Conner was different. He wasn't a polished hero or an experienced team player; he was just trying to figure things out, much like you. That small connection eased some of the tension.

Not long after settling in, you were introduced to two more members of the team: Artemis and M'gann. Artemis, with her sharp wit and cool confidence, made an immediate impression. She wasn't one to sugarcoat her words, and her tough exterior initially made her seem intimidating. But there was something about her—an edge of vulnerability beneath the bravado—that suggested she understood what it meant to fight for your place in a world that doubted you.

Then there was M'gann, or Miss Martian, who was the complete opposite. Her warmth and enthusiasm were like a burst of sunlight in the dim, serious atmosphere of the Cave. She greeted you with a beaming smile and an openness that immediately put you at ease. Her curiosity about you was genuine, and she made an effort to include you in conversations and activities, even when you felt like retreating into the background.

It didn't take long for you to realize how different each member of the team was. Robin was quick-witted and a little cocky but clearly brilliant; Kid Flash was an endless source of energy and humor; Aqualad carried himself with a calm, commanding presence that made him seem like the glue holding the group together. Conner, however, was still figuring out where he fit, much like you.

Through all of this, Conner remained a steady presence. While he wasn't one for long conversations, his quiet support was reassuring. Occasionally, the two of you would exchange a few words about Cadmus, your powers, or just the strange twists your lives had taken. Those moments of familiarity in an otherwise unfamiliar world kept you grounded.

Artemis and M'gann quickly became part of your routine as well. Artemis was the one who pushed you during training, challenging you to step up and prove yourself. M'gann, on the other hand, helped you feel like part of the team, her kindness and patience making the transition easier. Slowly but surely, you began to feel like you belonged—not just as someone seeking refuge, but as a true member of something bigger.

In your free time, you and Conner began spending more and more time together, falling into an easy, natural rhythm that neither of you had expected. At first, it was just casual conversations, catching up on everything that had happened since Cadmus. You talked about the weeks you'd been apart—how he'd adjusted to life at The Cave, how you'd wrestled with your powers and the lingering guilt of your escape. Those chats were brief but meaningful, moments of quiet connection amid the constant chaos of life as young heroes. But before long, they became something you both craved—moments of solace that grounded you in ways nothing else could.

It was impossible not to notice how much Conner had changed. He was still the strong, silent type, but there was a new layer to him now, a quiet confidence that made him seem more centered. Gone was the unsteady, uncertain figure you'd met in the depths of Cadmus. In his place was someone learning to take control of his life, to find his place in the world. That growth only deepened your respect for him, and soon, your conversations began to shift. What started as small talk about training sessions or team dynamics turned into late-night discussions about your fears, your hopes, and the strange, winding paths that had led you both to this point.

It felt effortless, natural, like you could say anything to Conner without fear of judgment. He listened in a way few others did—quietly, intently, as if every word you spoke carried weight. And when he opened up in return, you could feel the trust he was placing in you, each admission a window into the person he was becoming. The bond between you deepened with every conversation, and it didn't take long for you to realize that what you felt for Conner wasn't just friendship. It was something much more profound, something that scared and exhilarated you all at once.

You couldn't ignore it anymore. How could you, when every glance he gave you seemed to linger a little longer than it should, when every brush of his hand against yours sent a shiver down your spine? Those piercing ocean-blue eyes seemed to see straight through you, leaving you breathless and flustered in ways you hadn't experienced before. And then there was his physique—broad shoulders, a chiseled frame, and strength that felt almost mythical. You'd caught glimpses of him without a shirt during training, and those moments had a habit of staying with you, replaying in your mind at the most inconvenient times.

But it wasn't just his looks. It was everything about him—the way he could calm your nerves with a simple look, the way he listened to you ramble about the smallest details of your day, the way his presence made you feel safe in a way you hadn't felt since before Cadmus. Even his infamous temper, which should have been a warning sign, only drew you closer. You'd seen the fire in him, but you'd also seen the way he softened around you, the way your words could bring him back from the edge when no one else could.

And then there were the little things: waking up in the morning with thoughts of Conner already swirling in your mind, the sound of his voice echoing in your head long after he'd spoken, the way his rare but radiant smile could make your heart race. It wasn't just a crush—it was something deeper, something undeniable. You were falling for him, hard, and every moment you spent with him only solidified that truth.

Unbeknownst to you, Conner was wrestling with similar feelings. At first, he didn't understand what he was experiencing. Emotions were still a foreign concept to him, something he was learning to navigate, but the more time he spent with you, the clearer it became. The way his heart leapt when you smiled, the way your laughter could cut through the anger he so often struggled to contain, the way his pulse quickened every time you touched his arm—it all pointed to one undeniable fact: you weren't just a friend. You were someone who made him feel alive.

He began gravitating toward you without even realizing it. Whether it was during training sessions, missions, or quiet moments in The Cave, he found excuses to be near you. He volunteered to partner with you whenever possible and couldn't help but let his protective instincts take over whenever you were in danger, even though he knew you could handle yourself. It wasn't just habit—it was something deeper, something he couldn't deny no matter how hard he tried.

The rest of the team noticed almost immediately. The chemistry between the two of you was impossible to ignore, and it quickly became the subject of playful teasing. Kid Flash, ever the joker, took every opportunity to comment on the "will-they-won't-they drama," making exaggerated bets on how long it would take for one of you to confess. Robin smirked knowingly but kept his thoughts to himself, while Artemis alternated between amusement and light encouragement, often giving you both subtle nudges to just admit your feelings already.

But not everyone was thrilled. M'gann, who had her own complicated feelings for Conner, watched the growing connection with thinly veiled jealousy. She tried to hide it, putting on a brave face and pretending everything was fine, but her envy was apparent. It cast a shadow over the group dynamic, one that you and Conner both felt but didn't know how to address.

Despite the teasing, the jealousy, and the unspoken tension, nothing could stop what was building between you and Conner. Every shared glance, every accidental touch, every late-night conversation brought you closer to the inevitable. The feelings between you were too strong to ignore, and sooner or later, one of you would have to take the leap. Because this wasn't just a fleeting crush—it was something unstoppable, something that had already started to change both of you in ways you couldn't begin to explain.

The weight of your emotions kept both of you tethered in uncertainty. That is, until one quiet evening when the truth could no longer be contained.

It had been a long, grueling day at The Cave. Training sessions had pushed everyone to their limits, and the tension among the team was palpable. You needed a break from the relentless chaos, and as if reading your mind, Conner had suggested a walk along the beach near the cliffs. Without hesitation, you agreed. Wolf, his ever-loyal companion, bounded ahead, his paws leaving faint imprints in the sand as he explored the shoreline. Occasionally, he would stop and glance back, his amber eyes checking to make sure you were both keeping up.

The sun was beginning its slow descent, painting the sky in fiery hues of orange, pink, and gold. The ocean mirrored the colors, its surface shimmering like liquid light as waves crashed rhythmically against the shore. A gentle breeze carried the salty tang of the sea, tugging lightly at your clothes and hair. The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the only sounds the soft crunch of sand beneath your feet and the distant calls of seabirds.

It was a moment of rare peace, one that felt almost too perfect to be real. For once, there were no missions looming, no training drills to face, no external pressures demanding your attention—just the two of you and the endless horizon.

Conner was the first to break the silence. His voice, quiet and contemplative, barely rose above the sound of the waves. "You know," he began, his gaze fixed on the distant ocean, "a lot has changed since I left Cadmus." There was a hesitance in his tone, as if he were still trying to piece his thoughts together. "Back then, everything was simple. Not in a good way, just... empty. I followed orders. Did what I was told. I didn't think about anything beyond that."

You glanced at him but stayed silent, sensing that this was something he needed to say in his own time. His jaw tightened briefly, and he ran a hand through his hair, his expression flickering with uncertainty. "Since then, I've learned a lot—about myself, about the world, about what it means to... choose who you want to be." He hesitated, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "And about what I want."

The confession caught you off guard, your chest tightening as his words sank in. Conner glanced at you, his ocean-blue eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. "Sometimes, it's overwhelming," he admitted, his voice dropping lower. "I feel like I'm always trying to catch up, to figure out who I'm supposed to be, what I'm supposed to do. But when I'm with you..." He stopped walking, turning to face you fully.

The wind ruffled his dark hair, and the fading sunlight bathed him in a golden glow that made his chiseled features look almost unreal. For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression soft but intense, as if searching for the right words.

"When I'm with you," he continued, his voice steady now, "everything feels... clear. Like none of the confusion or doubt matters. Like I can just be."

Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. The air around you felt charged, the world shrinking until it was just the two of you. Before you could respond, Conner took a small step closer, the sand shifting beneath his boots.

"I don't know how else to say this, so I'm just going to say it," he said, his voice firmer now, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. "I love you."

The words hit you like a tidal wave, stealing the breath from your lungs. He stood there, raw and unguarded, every wall he'd ever built stripped away in this one, vulnerable moment. "I didn't realize it at first," he continued, his voice quieter now, as if the confession itself had drained some of his resolve. "But I do. I love you. And it's not just some fleeting feeling—it's real. It's... everything."

The world seemed to stop. The waves, the wind, even Wolf's distant barking faded into the background. All you could see, all you could hear, was Conner standing before you, his words hanging in the air like the last rays of sunlight on the horizon. He looked at you with a mixture of hope and fear, his hands hanging uncertainly at his sides, as though he didn't quite know what to do with them.

"I love you," he repeated, softer this time, as if reaffirming it to himself. "And I don't care if it's messy or complicated. I just... I had to tell you."

It was then that you realized your hands were trembling, your emotions a whirlwind of shock, joy, and disbelief. You had imagined this moment so many times, but nothing could have prepared you for the sheer weight of hearing those words spoken aloud. For the vulnerability in his voice, the raw emotion etched into his features.

"Conner..." you began, your voice catching in your throat. His name felt like a lifeline, grounding you in this moment that felt too big, too important, to fully comprehend. You stepped closer, your trembling hands finding their way to his. The warmth of his touch steadied you, his calloused fingers gently enclosing yours as if to anchor you both.

Looking into his eyes, you saw everything you needed to say reflected back at you—the trust, the connection, the undeniable truth of what you both felt. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the world in twilight, you realized that this wasn't just a moment of confession. It was the beginning of something new, something real, and something worth holding onto.

"I love you too," you whispered, and the smile that broke across Conner's face was brighter than the fading light of the setting sun.

The confession lingered between you like a fragile thread, heavy with emotion yet pulsing with potential. For a long moment, neither of you moved, the weight of Conner's words and the silent tension locking you both in place. His piercing blue eyes searched yours, as though trying to read your thoughts, his vulnerability exposed in a way you had never seen before. Then, as if something inside him shifted, Conner took a step closer—close enough for the warmth of his body to cut through the cool ocean breeze.

He didn't speak. He didn't need to. The intensity in his gaze said everything. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, his movements careful, giving you every opportunity to step back, to stop what was about to happen. But you didn't. Your feet stayed rooted in the sand, your heart hammering wildly in your chest as the world around you seemed to fall away. The rhythmic crash of the waves, the distant cries of seagulls, even the faint sound of Wolf panting nearby—all of it faded into nothing. There was only Conner, and the way he made the air between you feel electric.

And then his lips met yours.

The kiss was everything you hadn't realized you were waiting for. It was slow at first, tentative, like the beginning of a story you both wanted to savor. But it didn't stay that way for long. As the initial hesitation melted away, the kiss deepened, growing in intensity. There was a passion behind it, a rawness that spoke of everything the two of you had been holding back for so long. His lips were soft yet firm, his movements deliberate but hungry, as though he were pouring every unsaid word, every pent-up emotion, into this one perfect moment.

His hands, rough and calloused from endless training, moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing gently against your cheeks. The tenderness of the gesture contrasted with the fervor of the kiss, and it sent a shiver through you. It was as though he were afraid to let you go, afraid you might vanish if he didn't hold on tight enough. You leaned into his touch, your own hands instinctively finding their way to his shoulders, gripping him as if to anchor yourself in the surging tide of emotions threatening to sweep you away.

The kiss deepened further, and Conner pulled you closer, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. The feel of him—the strength, the warmth, the sheer presence—was overwhelming. His body pressed against yours, solid and steady, making you feel both consumed and protected all at once. You could feel the faint, steady thrum of his heartbeat against your chest, a grounding reminder that this moment was real, that he was real.

Your own hands slid up to the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kissed him back with everything you had. Each movement, each touch, felt charged, electric. It wasn't just passion; it was love—raw, unfiltered, and impossible to contain. The connection between you seemed to hum with a life of its own, as if the universe had been holding its breath for this exact moment.

Conner tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss further as his hands tightened around your waist, holding you close but still gentle, still careful. His touch sent warmth radiating through you, a heat that spread from where his hands rested to the very tips of your fingers. You felt as though you might burst from the sheer intensity of it all, yet you didn't want it to end.

And then, reluctantly, the two of you broke apart, gasping softly as you both remembered the need to breathe. Conner didn't move far. His forehead came to rest gently against yours, his breath warm and uneven as he tried to steady himself. His eyes remained closed for a moment, a soft smile curving his lips—a smile so rare, so full of affection, it made your chest ache.

When his eyes finally opened, they were filled with a tenderness that made your knees weak. He didn't speak right away, and neither did you. Words felt unnecessary in the face of everything that had just passed between you. Instead, he lifted a hand, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek, as if to confirm to himself that you were still there, still real.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," he finally admitted, his voice low and almost shy, a sharp contrast to the confident strength he usually carried. The vulnerability in his tone only made your heart swell further.

"So have I," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the soft crash of the waves. The words carried a weight of truth that made him smile again, his rare, breathtaking smile that seemed to light up the darkening horizon.

For a while, neither of you moved, content to stay locked in this moment. His arms remained around you, holding you close as the ocean breeze swirled around you both. Wolf's distant bark brought a faint laugh from Conner, the sound rumbling low in his chest as he finally pulled back, though his hands never left your waist.

Standing there, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, you felt as though the world had shifted. The tension that had lingered between you for weeks, the unspoken feelings that had hung in the air, were gone. In their place was something real, something steady.

And in that moment, as you gazed into Conner's eyes and saw nothing but affection and certainty reflected back at you, you knew one thing for sure: this was only the beginning.

From that day on, everything changed. The kiss on the beach didn't just mark the start of your relationship—it was the foundation for something transformative, something neither of you had fully realized you were missing until that moment. You and Conner became inseparable, building a bond that was as powerful as it was tender. Over the next five years, your lives intertwined as you grew together, navigating the complexities of both hero life and the challenges of adulthood.

The beginning of your relationship was an adjustment period, filled with both excitement and learning curves. Conner wasn't the most expressive person when it came to words, but his actions spoke volumes. He showed his love in the quiet, meaningful ways that only he could. Whether it was standing protectively closer to you during tense missions, slipping you a cup of coffee just the way you liked it after a grueling training session, or silently sitting by your side during long, quiet evenings, his devotion was clear.

Conner wasn't one for grand romantic gestures, but the little things made up for it. He remembered details about you that no one else did—your favorite music, the way you liked to unwind after a stressful day, the exact spot on your shoulder that was always sore after combat training. His love wasn't loud or flashy, but it was steady and undeniable.

Of course, it wasn't perfect. Adjusting to each other's quirks and differences wasn't always easy. Conner's occasional temper and your own stubborn streak led to clashes, sometimes over the smallest things—who forgot to clean up after training, or which of you deserved the last slice of pizza after a long mission. Other arguments ran deeper, rooted in the immense pressure both of you faced as heroes. Sometimes Conner would shut down emotionally, retreating into himself when he felt overwhelmed. Other times, you'd push yourself too hard, refusing to admit when you needed help. But no matter how heated or difficult things became, the two of you always found a way to reconcile, your love proving stronger than any disagreement.

Not everyone was thrilled about your relationship—M'gann, in particular. It was no secret that she had feelings for Conner, and the announcement of your relationship hit her hard. Though she wasn't openly hostile, the tension was undeniable. At first, her actions were subtle: lingering a little too long in conversations with Conner, finding excuses to partner with him during missions, or offering advice that felt far more personal than professional. Her glances toward you were sharp, her words clipped and frosty whenever you were around.

You tried not to let it bother you, but there were moments of doubt. M'gann was stunningly beautiful, effortlessly charismatic, and had a connection with Conner from the early days of his life outside Cadmus. Part of you couldn't help but wonder if she could offer him something you couldn't. But Conner's loyalty never wavered. He made it clear where his heart lay, whether by politely but firmly shutting down M'gann's attempts or simply moving closer to you during team gatherings, taking your hand in his and grounding you in the reassurance of his presence.

Over time, M'gann began to accept the reality of your relationship. Her attempts to win Conner over became less frequent, and while the tension between you two never completely disappeared, it faded into the background. Eventually, her focus shifted toward her own growth, and though your relationship with her would never be warm, it settled into a quiet indifference. She became a minor distraction compared to the love and connection you shared with Conner.

As the months passed, you and Conner faced countless challenges together, each one shaping the bond between you. Life as young heroes wasn't easy—the missions were grueling, the stakes high, and the sacrifices often painful. But through it all, you were each other's constant. You celebrated victories together, no matter how small, and offered comfort during moments of doubt and loss. Conner's quiet strength became your anchor, while your unwavering support helped him find his footing in a world that often felt too complicated and overwhelming.

When life outside the team came calling, you tackled those challenges together too. From figuring out how to balance hero duties with the mundane struggles of daily life to simply learning what it meant to grow into yourselves, you became each other's greatest ally. On the days when it felt like the weight of the world was too much, Conner would pull you into his arms, his steady heartbeat reminding you that you weren't alone. And on the nights when his own doubts crept in, you were there to remind him of his worth, of the incredible man he had become.

Then five years passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. You went from two unsure teenagers navigating the chaos of the team to adults who had found not just strength in one another, but a deep and abiding love that had weathered every storm. There were still challenges, of course—every relationship has them—but the foundation you'd built together was unshakable.

The connection that began in the sterile halls of Cadmus had blossomed into something extraordinary. Conner wasn't just your boyfriend—he was your partner in every sense of the word. He was the person who stood by your side in battle, the one who held you close when the nightmares came, the one who believed in you even on the days when you struggled to believe in yourself.

And you weren't just his boyfriend—you were his rock, his constant in a world that had once seemed so alien and confusing. You gave him a sense of purpose, of belonging, that he'd never known before. Together, you had built a life filled with love, trust, and the unshakable certainty that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, you could face them as long as you had each other.

What began as a quiet connection had grown into a love that was steady, powerful, and enduring. Conner was your home, and you were his. And as you looked toward the future, you knew that whatever storms came your way, you would weather them together. Always.

You two had grown into your roles as senior members of the now-expanded Team, a transformation that felt both surreal and inevitable. What had started as a small, tight-knit group of young heroes had evolved into a sprawling organization with dozens of recruits, each bringing their own unique powers, personalities, and challenges. It was a far cry from the days when you and Conner were the rookies, scrambling to keep up with the veterans. Now, you stood among the most experienced, entrusted with leading the next generation of heroes and steering them through the chaos of their missions.

Stepping into leadership roles hadn't been easy at first. The weight of responsibility was daunting, especially when you remembered your own early missteps. But with time, you both found your footing, developing your own distinct styles as leaders. Conner's leadership was natural, almost effortless. His steady presence and unshakable sense of duty made him a rock for his squadron. He commanded respect without demanding it, his quiet authority inspiring trust and loyalty. Conner was the kind of leader who always showed up—whether it was to guide his team through a perilous mission or to quietly offer a word of encouragement to a struggling recruit.

Your leadership style was different but no less effective. Where Conner's strength lay in his consistency and calm, you excelled at connecting with your squad on a deeper level. You had a gift for understanding people, seeing their potential even when they couldn't. Your approach combined empathy with just the right amount of tough love, pushing your team to grow while making sure they always felt supported. You understood the importance of believing in someone, of showing them they could succeed even when the odds felt impossible. Your recruits respected you not just as a leader, but as someone who truly cared about their success.

Despite the demands of leadership, the dynamic between you and Conner remained as strong as ever. Though your duties often pulled you in different directions, you always found time to collaborate. Whether it was during strategy meetings, debriefing after missions, or those quiet moments when you both needed to vent about the latest recruit who thought they could "go solo," you leaned on each other. You balanced each other perfectly—Conner's pragmatic approach grounded you, while your empathetic perspective often helped him see angles he might have overlooked. Together, you made a formidable team, both in and out of the field.

The new normal was a far cry from the uncertain days of your early years with the Team. Back then, you'd felt like you were constantly running to catch up, to prove yourself. Now, you and Conner had become the ones others turned to for guidance. It was a strange realization at first, but also deeply rewarding. You weren't just fighting battles anymore—you were shaping the future, mentoring the next generation of heroes who would one day carry the mantle.

That didn't mean it was easy. The new recruits were a mixed bag, as new recruits always are. Some were eager but reckless, driven by the need to prove themselves in ways that often landed them in trouble. Others were more cautious, unsure of their abilities and hesitant to take risks. And then there were those who chafed under authority, testing the limits of your patience. Each recruit brought their own challenges, and managing them required different approaches.

Conner handled the rebellious ones with his usual no-nonsense attitude. He didn't tolerate excuses or slacking, but he was also fair, quick to recognize hard work and improvement. His squad knew where they stood with him, and while his methods were sometimes intimidating, they were undeniably effective. You, on the other hand, excelled at breaking through the walls recruits often put up, finding ways to reach even the most difficult personalities. You had a knack for making them feel seen and valued, which often helped smooth over the rough edges.

You and Conner frequently swapped strategies, often during late-night conversations in the Cave or on rare quiet evenings at home. These moments were a reminder of how well you worked together, your different styles complementing rather than clashing. You didn't always agree—Conner's straightforward, discipline-focused approach sometimes clashed with your more empathetic methods—but your shared goal of keeping the team safe and prepared always brought you back to the same page.

Conner had just wrapped up one of the most grueling missions he'd faced in weeks, tracking Clayface through the rancid, labyrinthine sewers beneath Gotham City. The mission had been long, messy, and exhausting. With Nightwing leading the operation, the team had managed to corner and neutralize Clayface, but not without a few close calls—and plenty of exposure to Gotham's less-than-pleasant underbelly. By the time they returned to the Cave, the stench of sewage clung stubbornly to Conner, his clothes ruined and his mood sour.

After a quick debrief in the command center, Conner wasted no time heading to the showers. The hot water was a welcome relief, scalding away the grime and the memory of slogging through filth. He scrubbed at his skin with almost aggressive determination, muttering under his breath about how the smell refused to go away. Finally, after what felt like forever, he emerged clean and refreshed, droplets of water still clinging to his short hair and glistening on his skin.

He made his way to your shared room in the Cave, his fatigue weighing heavy on him. The door creaked open, and as he stepped inside, the sight before him made every ounce of stress from the day begin to fade. You were lounging on the bed, wearing one of his black T-shirts, the oversized fabric swallowing your frame and hanging down to your thighs. It was comically large on you, but that only made it more endearing. You sat cross-legged, utterly engrossed in the book resting in your lap, your brow furrowed slightly as you turned the page.

At the sound of the door opening, you looked up, your expression softening instantly into a warm, affectionate smile. "Hey," you said, your voice light and soothing, as though you'd been waiting for him all day.

A small but genuine smile tugged at the corners of Conner's lips. "Hey," he replied, his voice still low and gravelly from exhaustion. Without a moment's hesitation, he crossed the room and climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He didn't bother with words, didn't ask for permission—he simply made his way to you, resting his head on your stomach as he settled himself between your legs. His damp hair pressed against the fabric of the T-shirt you wore, the coolness of it a stark contrast to the warmth of your skin beneath. His strong arms slid around your waist, pulling you close as though anchoring himself to you.

You didn't need to ask what he needed. Over the years, you'd come to understand Conner's unspoken language. He wasn't one to articulate his emotions easily, but his actions said more than words ever could. The way his body relaxed against yours, the way his breath slowed, and the way his grip on your waist tightened slightly—it all told you exactly what he was seeking: comfort, grounding, and the peace that only you could provide.

Your hand moved instinctively to his hair, your fingers threading gently through the damp strands. You stroked with slow, deliberate motions, your touch light but firm, knowing how much he loved this simple gesture. Conner let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, the tension visibly melting from his body. His arms flexed briefly around your waist, pulling you just a little closer, as though to ensure you wouldn't slip away.

"Tough mission?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper as your fingers continued their soothing rhythm.

Conner hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes half-lidded as he let himself relax fully against you. "Clayface. Sewers. You can probably imagine the rest," he muttered, his tone laced with weariness.

You chuckled lightly, the sound vibrating gently against his cheek where it rested on your stomach. "Yikes," you teased. "Bet that smelled like roses."

A faint smirk tugged at his lips, his dry humor peeking through despite his exhaustion. "Yeah, real refreshing," he murmured, his voice softer now. "Definitely one for the books."

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that came so naturally after years of being together. The sounds of the Cave—distant footsteps, the hum of machinery—faded into the background. You set your book aside, your attention fully on Conner now, your hand never ceasing its slow, comforting movements through his hair. His breathing grew steadier, his shoulders losing the last remnants of their tension as he melted into you completely.

The quiet intimacy of the moment wrapped around you like a warm cocoon. Conner's grip on you was secure but gentle, his presence grounding you just as much as you grounded him. You couldn't help but smile as you looked down at him, his face peaceful and relaxed in a way that made your heart ache with love. These were the moments you cherished most—the quiet, unspoken ones where words weren't necessary, where just being together was enough to make the world feel right.

As the minutes stretched on, you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his temple, your lips lingering against his skin. Conner responded with a barely audible hum of contentment, his arms tightening briefly around your waist before relaxing again.

"You want a massage?" you asked softly, your fingers threading gently through Conner's damp hair. His head rested heavily on your stomach, his body fully relaxed against yours, and the rhythmic motion of your hand seemed to ease away the tension he carried after his grueling mission. His eyes were half-closed, his breathing steady, and for a moment, it seemed like he might drift off completely.

He didn't reply right away, as if weighing the question or simply savoring the comfort of the moment. Then, slowly, a familiar smirk crept onto his lips—the kind that sent a shiver of anticipation through you every time you saw it. His ocean-blue eyes fluttered open, the corners crinkling with mischief as he tilted his head slightly to look up at you.

"Nah," he murmured, his voice low and edged with a playful undertone that made your heart skip a beat. "But I do have another idea."

You raised an eyebrow, feigning suspicion, though your pulse quickened at the teasing glint in his eyes. "Oh? And what idea might that be, Mr. Kent?" you teased, your fingers momentarily pausing in his hair as you waited for his response.

Conner shifted lazily, propping himself up on his elbows so that he could get a better look at you. His smirk widened as his gaze swept over you, taking in the sight of you curled up on the bed, still wearing his oversized black T-shirt that fell just above your thighs. The amusement in his expression was almost predatory, his eyes darkening slightly as they met yours.

He didn't answer right away, letting the silence stretch. His hand moved with deliberate slowness, brushing against your thigh in a way that sent a jolt of warmth through you. His fingertips lingered, tracing idle patterns on your skin, the touch both teasing and intimate.

"Well," he drawled at last, his voice dipping into that deep, gravelly tone that always made your stomach flutter. "I was thinking..." He trailed off, leaning in closer, his face just inches from yours now. The smirk softened into something more tender but no less dangerous as his hand slid up your leg, his palm coming to rest firmly on your hip. "Maybe we could do something a little... more fun."

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, a mix of nervous energy and anticipation. "More fun?" you echoed, your hands instinctively moving to his shoulders, your fingertips grazing the solid warmth of his muscles beneath his shirt. "And what exactly do you have in mind, Conner?"

His chuckle rumbled low in his chest, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. He leaned in even closer, his forehead nearly brushing yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Why don't I show you?" he murmured, the suggestion laced with affection as much as mischief.

Before you could respond, he moved with effortless strength, his arms tightening around you as he shifted your positions in one fluid motion. You let out a surprised gasp as he flipped you onto your back, pinning you gently beneath him. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and the warmth of his body enveloped you as he braced himself above you.

His smirk was back, but there was a tenderness in his gaze now, a softness that made your breath catch. His hand remained on your hip, his thumb brushing gently over the fabric of the shirt you wore—his shirt. "You've been taking care of me all night," he said softly, his voice quieter now, laced with gratitude and something deeper. "I think it's my turn to take care of you."

Your heart raced as his lips found yours, the kiss starting slow, almost reverent. His mouth moved against yours with a tenderness that sent warmth blooming through your chest, but it didn't take long for the kiss to deepen. The passion that simmered beneath his calm exterior broke through, his lips pressing against yours more firmly, his hand sliding from your hip to the small of your back to pull you even closer.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, still slightly damp from his shower, as you kissed him back with equal fervor. Every movement, every touch felt electric, the world narrowing to just the two of you. Conner's weight above you was grounding, his warmth seeping into you, his presence wrapping around you like a cocoon.

He broke the kiss just long enough to meet your gaze, his forehead resting against yours as his breath came uneven. His eyes, now darker with emotion, held a mixture of love and desire that made your heart swell. "You're all I need," he whispered, the words so soft you almost didn't hear them over the sound of your own pounding heartbeat.

You smiled, your hands sliding down to his shoulders as you pulled him back down for another kiss. "Then don't let me go," you murmured against his lips, your voice just as quiet but filled with all the affection you felt.

Conner didn't reply with words—he didn't need to. The way his arms wrapped around you, the way his lips moved against yours, the way he held you as though you were the most precious thing in the world—it all spoke louder than anything he could have said. And in that moment, with the warmth of him pressed against you and the world fading into the background, you knew there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

His rough, calloused fingers slid beneath the hem of the oversized black shirt you wore—his shirt, which hung on your frame like a dress. The fabric bunched slightly as his hands traveled upward, the contrast of his warm touch against your skin sending shivers down your spine.

His movements were unhurried, almost teasing, as though he wanted to savor every moment. His eyes stayed locked on yours, the intensity in his ocean-blue gaze making your breath hitch. When his fingers found the waistband of your underwear, he paused, his lips quirking into a playful smile as though silently asking for permission. The anticipation was electric, crackling in the air between you.

You nodded, barely able to contain the heat rising in your body. That was all the confirmation Conner needed. Slowly, he slid your underwear down, his fingers grazing your hips and thighs as he removed the final barrier between you. The sensation was maddeningly soft, yet charged with an undeniable intimacy that left you feeling completely exposed—and utterly desired.

As your underwear slipped away, Conner's hand trailed back up, his touch firm yet gentle as his fingers brushed against your dick. His palm enveloped you, his grip warm and steady, and the simple act sent a surge of pleasure coursing through you. His movements were slow at first, deliberate, as if he were mapping every inch of you, learning the way your body responded to his touch.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against the curve of your jaw before murmuring in a low, husky tone, "You're perfect, you know that?"

The words made your pulse race, your heart pounding in your chest. Conner's gaze softened, though the intensity never wavered, and his hand moved with practiced care, each touch sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. There was something deeply intimate about the moment—more than just the physical connection, it was the way he looked at you, as if you were the only person in the world who mattered.

The shirt you wore—his shirt—slipped further up as he moved, exposing more of you to him. His free hand slid around your waist, holding you in place, anchoring you to him as his movements became more deliberate. The warmth of his touch, the weight of his body pressing against yours, and the sheer love in his gaze all combined to create a moment that felt nothing short of breathtaking.

"Conner..." you breathed, your voice barely a whisper as you felt yourself surrender completely to him. He smiled at the sound of your voice, leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that was as passionate as it was tender.

His hand moved with deliberate slowness, sliding up and down your dick in a rhythm that was maddeningly precise, designed to make you unravel beneath his touch. The heat of his palm, the strength of his grip—firm but never rough—had your body responding instinctively, arching slightly into his hand as your breath hitched.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his deep voice dropping to a low, husky whisper that made your entire body tremble.

"You're so hard for me," he murmured, his words laced with a teasing edge that sent a flush of heat straight to your cheeks. His tone was rough, raw with desire, but there was also a playful affection in the way he spoke, like he loved seeing how easily you came undone in his hands.

"Look at you," he continued, his voice like velvet, each word dripping with intent. His grip tightened slightly as he stroked you, the added pressure drawing a quiet moan from your lips. "You're so perfect like this—so needy. You like when I touch you, don't you?"

Your heart raced, your breaths coming faster as his words hit you like a spark to kindling. Conner's hand never faltered, moving in a steady rhythm that left you teetering on the edge of control. He pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot just below your ear before continuing, his voice filled with a delicious mixture of command and tenderness.

"Every inch of you belongs to me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin with every word. "And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

His free hand slid around your back, pulling you closer to him, as though he couldn't stand even a fraction of space between you. The heat of his body pressed against yours was overwhelming, and the way his words filled your ear—dirty, possessive, and utterly irresistible—made it impossible to focus on anything else.

"You're mine," he growled softly, the roughness in his voice sending another shiver down your spine. "And I'll make you feel so good you won't be able to think about anyone but me."

Every touch, every word, every deliberate stroke of his hand was a symphony of pleasure, building higher and higher until you felt like you might explode from the sheer intensity of it. Conner's lips brushed against your neck now, his teeth grazing your skin lightly as he whispered one final promise, his hand moving just a little faster, driving you closer to the brink.

"Let go for me," he murmured, his voice a mixture of command and reassurance. "I want to feel you completely lose control—just for me."

And with that, the overwhelming combination of his touch, his words, and his presence pushed you over the edge, your body surrendering completely to the man who held you like you were his entire world.

The tension in your body built to an almost unbearable peak, every nerve alight as Conner's skilled hand continued its deliberate rhythm. His grip, his pace, the heat of his touch—it was all too much and not enough at the same time. Your breath quickened, a series of soft gasps and quiet moans escaping your lips as you felt yourself spiraling closer and closer to the edge.

Conner must have sensed it, because his lips found their way back to your ear, his voice a low, sultry murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. "That's it," he whispered, his tone both commanding and tender. "Don't hold back. Let me feel you."

His words were your undoing. The tension coiled deep inside you snapped all at once, and you cried out softly, your body arching instinctively into his hand as you reached your climax. A rush of heat surged through you, and you felt yourself release, your hot seed spilling over his hand in a wave of pure, unrelenting ecstasy.

Conner didn't stop, his hand slowing just enough to draw out every last pulse of pleasure, his touch grounding you even as your mind reeled. His other arm wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer as your body trembled against his.

"That's it," he murmured again, his lips brushing against your neck now, pressing soft kisses to your heated skin. "You're so beautiful when you let go like that."

You couldn't form words, your breath coming in uneven gasps as you tried to steady yourself. Conner's touch became gentler, soothing now, his thumb brushing lightly along your hip as his free hand reached for a nearby cloth to clean you up. His movements were tender, his eyes filled with a quiet affection that made your chest ache.

As he finished, Conner leaned back slightly, his gaze meeting yours. The corners of his lips turned upward in a small, knowing smile, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "You okay?" he asked softly, his voice steady and warm.

You nodded, still catching your breath, and managed a faint smile in return. "More than okay," you murmured, your voice laced with both exhaustion and contentment.

Conner chuckled, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. "Good," he said simply, his tone filled with quiet pride. "Because I'm not done spoiling you yet."

Suddenly, Conner had you straddling his waist, your thighs resting firmly on either side of his hips as his hands roamed over your body with an intensity that made your pulse race. His calloused palms gripped your ass firmly, fingers digging in just enough to leave a lingering warmth against your skin. The strength of his touch sent a shiver through you, a perfect mix of control and affection that made you feel completely consumed by him.

He shifted beneath you slightly, his muscles flexing under your weight as he adjusted your position to pull you even closer. His lips curled into a teasing smirk as his hands tightened on your backside, the possessiveness in his gaze making your breath hitch. Without warning, he raised one hand and brought it down with a sharp, deliberate smack against your ass.

The sudden sting was quickly followed by a rush of heat that spread through your body, the sound of the slap echoing in the room. You gasped softly, the mixture of surprise and pleasure making your body instinctively arch toward him. Conner's smirk grew wider, his ocean-blue eyes darkening with desire as he watched your reaction closely.

"You like that?" he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with a teasing edge that sent a thrill through you. Before you could respond, his hand came down again, another firm smack that made your skin tingle and your heart race. The way his strong hand lingered afterward, kneading the spot he had just struck, sent shivers down your spine.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck as his other hand slid up your back, holding you steady. "You drive me crazy," he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with raw affection and desire. His breath was hot, his kisses deliberate as he nipped lightly at your neck before trailing his tongue along the sensitive area.

His hand on your ass delivered another firm smack, the impact sending a jolt of pleasure through you. "I could do this all night," he muttered, his tone both playful and commanding as his lips moved back to claim yours in a kiss that was as consuming as it was passionate. His grip on you remained firm, his hands alternating between soothing caresses and sharp, tantalizing slaps that kept your body tingling with anticipation.

Every movement, every touch, every deliberate action reminded you just how deeply Conner desired you, his actions a perfect blend of strength, passion, and unwavering affection.

Your body pressed firmly against Conner's, your fingers tangled in his short, dark hair as his lips claimed yours with a fiery intensity. The kiss was deep and unrelenting, filled with passion that made the rest of the world fade into insignificance. Conner's hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling you impossibly closer, as if the space between you was unacceptable.

A low moan escaped your lips, muffled against his, as the heat between you built to an overwhelming crescendo. You felt his lips curve into a small, satisfied smile against your mouth, his body reacting to every sound you made. Breaking the kiss for a brief moment, you tilted your head slightly to whisper in his ear, letting out another soft moan, the sound raw and unfiltered. His sharp intake of breath and the way his grip tightened on you told you exactly how much it affected him.

Just as Conner's lips trailed down to your jawline, leaving a path of slow, deliberate kisses, a loud knock echoed through the room, startling you both. The sound cut through the intimate atmosphere like a knife, and you felt Conner stiffen beneath you, his grip on your waist momentarily freezing.

A low growl of frustration rumbled in his chest as he turned his head toward the door, his expression shifting into one of pure annoyance. Without letting go of you or breaking the connection between your bodies, he raised his voice, his tone sharp and commanding.

"Go away," Conner barked, the edge in his voice leaving no room for argument.

You couldn't help but smile at the irritation lacing his words, finding his reaction both protective and endearing. His attention shifted back to you almost instantly, his hands moving back to your hips as he resumed where he left off, his lips brushing against your neck now.

"They better not knock again," he muttered against your skin, his voice low and full of barely restrained frustration. The way his breath warmed your neck sent shivers down your spine, and the momentary interruption quickly melted away as Conner's focus returned entirely to you.

The knock may have broken the rhythm for a moment, but the intensity between you two reignited almost immediately, pulling you both back into the heat of the moment as if nothing had happened.

Conner's body was taut beneath you, every muscle coiled with tension as the heat between you both continued to build. His breaths came heavier, his chest rising and falling beneath your hands, and you could feel the unmistakable hardness pressing against you. His arousal was evident, firm and insistent, a clear sign of just how much he wanted you.

The way his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, left no room for doubt. Conner's smirk turned devilish as he shifted slightly beneath you, making you acutely aware of the growing pressure. "You're killing me," he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire, his ocean-blue eyes locked onto yours with a gaze that felt like it could set you on fire.

As you shifted in his lap, the friction only made the tension between you more palpable. His arousal strained against the fabric of his pajamas, firm and ready to break free from its confines. The way his body reacted to every subtle movement of yours sent shivers of anticipation through you, and the intensity in his expression made it clear he wasn't planning on holding back much longer.

His hands slid up your thighs, his touch deliberate and teasing as his lips found their way to your neck once again. "You've got me ready to lose control," he whispered against your skin, his tone filled with equal parts affection and raw, unfiltered want. The promise in his voice was enough to make your heart race as you felt the full extent of his desire, firm and eager to join the moment.

Conner removed his hands from your body briefly, his gaze locked onto yours as he reached for the waistband of his pajamas. The tension in the air was almost palpable, each second feeling like an eternity as he slowly pushed both his pajamas and underwear down in one fluid motion. The fabric slid over his hips, revealing the taut, sculpted muscles of his lower body, every inch of his physique a testament to his raw strength.

And then, there it was—his dick sprang free, standing proudly, thick and fully erect. At nine inches, it was impossible to ignore, commanding attention with its sheer size and firmness. The sight alone sent a rush of heat through your body, making your breath catch in your throat. The way he exuded confidence, his body radiating a natural, effortless dominance, only added to the allure.

Conner's smirk widened slightly as he noticed your reaction, his piercing blue eyes gleaming with a mixture of affection and desire. He stepped closer, the tension in his movements now replaced with a sense of ease and purpose. His hands found their way to your hips, pulling you closer as his body pressed against yours, the heat of his skin intoxicating.

"You've got me all worked up," he murmured, his deep voice low and teasing as his fingers brushed lightly against your sides. The weight of his dick against you was undeniable, a reminder of the intensity simmering between you two.

The moment was electric, the anticipation thick in the air and before you knew it, Conner's hands gripped your hips firmly, his touch grounding and steady as he positioned himself beneath you. The heat of his body pressed against yours, and his ocean-blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Every movement he made was deliberate, filled with purpose, as if he wanted to savor every moment leading up to this.

His dick, thick and pulsing with anticipation, rested heavily against you. You could feel its heat, its weight, as he shifted slightly, aligning himself with your entrance. The sheer size of him made you gasp softly, your body trembling with a mix of excitement and nerves. Conner's hands slid back up to your sides, his thumbs brushing soothing circles into your skin as he leaned in closer.

"Relax," he murmured, his voice low and full of reassurance. His lips found the curve of your jaw, pressing gentle kisses there as he adjusted his position. His dick pressed lightly against your ass now, the sensation sending a spark of heat through your body. The deliberate way he moved, slow and measured, showed how much care he was taking—not just to avoid rushing, but to ensure you were ready for him.

His gaze flicked back to yours, his blue eyes softened with affection but still darkened with desire. "Tell me if it's too much," he said softly, his hands tightening slightly on your hips as he aligned himself perfectly with your hole. The pressure was subtle at first, a promise of what was to come, but it was enough to make your breath hitch and your heart race.

Every touch, every movement felt charged with emotion as Conner held you steady, his body and his presence radiating both strength and tenderness. This was more than just physical—it was intimate, personal, a moment that seemed to transcend words as he prepared to join with you completely.

Your hands gripped Conner's strong shoulders for balance as you slowly began to move, your body adjusting to the fullness of him. The first motion was tentative, deliberate, as you raised yourself just slightly before sliding back down, taking him deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, every inch of him stretching and filling you in a way that made your breath hitch and your heart race.

Conner's hands remained firm on your hips as he guided your movements with subtle pressure, his touch a blend of control and encouragement. His ocean-blue eyes stayed locked on yours, his gaze filled with both awe and desire as he watched you take him, inch by inch. The way his chest rose and fell with deep, uneven breaths told you he was holding back, letting you set the pace.

As you moved again, the motion became smoother, more confident. Slowly, you began to find a rhythm, rising up and sliding back down, feeling every ridge and curve of him as you did. The sensation sent waves of pleasure through your body, building steadily with each motion. Conner's low groan rumbled through the air, his fingers digging into your hips just enough to send a delicious shiver down your spine.

"You feel so good," Conner murmured, his voice rough and filled with raw emotion. His head tilted back slightly, exposing the strong line of his jaw, but his eyes never left you. His hands began to move with you, guiding your rhythm as you continued to ride him, the intensity between you growing with every passing moment.

The connection between you was electric, every touch, every motion building a tension that seemed to radiate through the room. Conner's quiet groans and whispered encouragements spurred you on, his voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace as you continued to move together in perfect harmony.

Soon Conner's fingers pressed into your skin just enough to ground you. You could feel the subtle shift in his energy, his need to guide you taking over as his hands began to set a rhythm, slowly increasing your pace.

"Let me take care of you," Conner murmured, his voice low and husky, filled with both affection and desire. His eyes met yours, their ocean-blue depths darkened with passion, and the look he gave you made your breath catch. His grip on your waist tightened slightly as he moved you, raising your body just enough before lowering you back down onto him, the deliberate motion making you take him deeper.

The change in pace was subtle at first, his guidance smooth and controlled, but you could feel his need building with each motion. His powerful hands worked in perfect synchronization with your body, lifting and guiding you to move faster, the rhythm between you becoming more intense. The sensation of him filling you completely, again and again, was almost overwhelming, pleasure radiating through you with every movement.

"You feel so damn good," Conner groaned, his voice roughened by the sheer intensity of the moment. His hands slid slightly up your waist, his thumbs brushing against your ribs as he continued to guide you, his strength making the faster pace feel effortless. The sound of your bodies moving together filled the room, accompanied by his soft groans and your quiet moans, the connection between you electric and all-consuming.

As he urged you to go faster, his own hips began to rise slightly to meet your movements, the added force sending jolts of pleasure through your body. His head tilted back slightly, his lips parting as he let out a deep, guttural moan that made your heart race. His hands never faltered, holding you steady and ensuring every movement brought you both closer to the edge.

"Just like that," Conner whispered, his voice dripping with both encouragement and need. The rhythm between you built steadily, the intensity growing with every second as his hands guided you faster, harder, deeper. The room seemed to blur around you, leaving only the feeling of him beneath you, his touch on your skin, and the overwhelming pleasure that consumed you both.

Before you could fully register the shift, Conner's strong hands moved with purpose, gripping your hips as he adjusted his angle. In one fluid motion, he leaned forward, gently pushing you onto your back while still buried deep inside you. The sheer strength and control of his movements sent a shiver through your body, the sudden change in position amplifying the intensity of your connection.

Your back pressed against the mattress as Conner hovered over you, his broad shoulders and sculpted frame casting a shadow over you. His hands slid to your thighs, gripping them firmly as he repositioned himself, adjusting his angle with precision. His piercing blue eyes met yours, the intensity in his gaze stealing your breath.

"Hold on to me," he murmured, his voice low and filled with both command and affection. The sound sent a jolt of heat straight through you, and without thinking, your hands found their way to his back, your fingers digging into his firm muscles.

Conner's hips began to move again, the deliberate thrusts sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. The new angle allowed him to go deeper, each motion hitting places that left you gasping. His pace was steady at first, a mix of controlled power and tenderness, as if he wanted to savor every moment of being this close to you. His gaze never wavered, watching your every reaction as if committing them to memory.

"Damn," he groaned, his voice rough with desire as his hands slid along your thighs, pulling you closer to him. His thrusts grew faster, his hips meeting yours with increasing urgency as he surrendered to the intensity building between you. The sound of your bodies moving together filled the room, accompanied by the deep, guttural groans that escaped his lips and the breathless moans spilling from yours.

His head dipped lower, his lips finding your neck as he pressed kisses to your heated skin. The combination of his movements and the sensation of his warm breath against your neck left you completely overwhelmed, your body arching beneath him in response. His hands slid up to your waist, holding you steady as his rhythm became more forceful, his need for you evident in every deliberate thrust.

Each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. The room felt electric, every nerve in your body alight as he drove deeper into you, his hips moving with an unrelenting pace. Your breath hitched, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders for stability, but nothing could ground you against the overwhelming sensations.

"Conner..." you moaned, his name spilling from your lips without thought, raw and filled with the intensity of everything he was making you feel. Your voice trembled, the sound echoing in the heated air between you. The way his name left your lips seemed to spark something in him, his movements becoming even more deliberate, each thrust hitting deeper, harder.

Hearing you call his name made Conner groan deeply, his breath warm and heavy as he leaned closer, his body pressing against yours. His blue eyes darkened with desire, locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. "Say it again," he growled softly, his voice low and filled with a mix of command and need.

"Conner," you gasped again, louder this time, the sound unfiltered as the heat between you built to an almost unbearable peak. His hands tightened on your waist, his grip firm as he pulled you closer, his thrusts coming faster now, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through you. Your body arched beneath him, completely at his mercy as his name tumbled from your lips over and over, a desperate chant that only seemed to spur him on.

"Just like that," he murmured, his voice thick and ragged as he pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "Let me hear you. I want to hear how good I make you feel."

His pace quickened even more, his hips moving with a raw, unrelenting passion that left you clinging to him, your nails digging into his shoulders. The sounds of his groans, the slap of skin against skin, and your own voice calling his name filled the room, a symphony of unrestrained desire as he drove you both closer to the edge. Conner's strength, his control, and the sheer depth of his connection to you left you completely undone, your moans of his name the only thing you could manage as he pushed you to heights you'd never imagined.

The pleasure built inside you, overwhelming and unstoppable, as Conner's relentless pace drove you closer and closer to the edge. Your body tensed, your breath hitching sharply as you felt the rising heat coil deep within you, ready to burst. Each thrust sent another jolt of pleasure through you, the intensity mounting until you couldn't hold back any longer.

With a sharp cry of his name, you surrendered completely, your body arching against him as you released. A stream of your hot seed spilled out, the sensation crashing over you like a tidal wave. The release was overwhelming, leaving your mind blank and your body trembling in his grasp. Your nails dug into Conner's shoulders, your moans spilling freely from your lips as the waves of pleasure rippled through you, one after another.

Conner groaned deeply, his breath ragged as he held you steady, his strong hands gripping your hips to keep you in place. His eyes flickered down to take in the sight of you completely undone beneath him, your chest heaving, your cheeks flushed, and your release marking the moment with undeniable evidence of the connection you shared.

"You're so damn handsome," he murmured, his voice low and full of awe as his pace slowed slightly, letting you ride out the final tremors of your climax. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he continued to move within you, savoring the closeness and the heat radiating between your bodies.

The moment felt infinite, your body still trembling from the force of your release as Conner's steady presence anchored you. His lips brushed against your cheek, his hands gently caressing your sides as he whispered, "We're not done yet." The promise in his voice sent another shiver through you, and despite the blissful exhaustion settling in, you couldn't help but crave more.

Suddenly, Conner's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers pressing into your skin as he buried himself deeper inside you. His thrusts became faster, harder, and more relentless, the sheer power behind them taking your breath away. It was as though he'd reached a breaking point, his self-control unraveling as he chased his own release with an intensity that left you completely at his mercy.

"God, you feel so good," Conner growled, his voice rough and strained, each word punctuated by the force of his movements. His head dipped down, his lips finding the crook of your neck as he kissed and nipped at your skin, his breath hot and uneven against you. The sounds he made—deep, guttural groans that seemed to come from deep within his chest—only added to the electricity crackling between you.

Your body rocked with every thrust, the sheer power of his movements sending waves of pleasure coursing through you all over again. His pace was unrelenting, his hips snapping forward as he lost himself completely in the moment, his need for you driving him into overdrive. The room was filled with the rhythmic sound of your bodies moving together, accompanied by his moans and your breathless gasps, the air thick with heat and passion.

Conner's grip on you became almost desperate as his pace quickened even more, his thrusts deep and hard, pushing both of you to the brink. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles coiled beneath your hands as he reached his limit. His breath came in ragged gasps, his groans growing louder and more primal with each thrust.

"Can't hold it anymore," Conner growled, his voice rough and raw as he thrust into you one final time, burying himself as deeply as he could. His body tensed, and with a low, guttural moan, he released, a hot surge of his seed spilling inside you. The heat of it sent a shiver through your body, the sensation overwhelming as you felt every pulse of his release.

Conner stayed buried inside you, his body trembling slightly as he let out a long, shuddering breath. His arms slid around you, pulling you close as he rested his forehead against yours, his ocean-blue eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and satisfaction.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice soft and filled with a quiet reverence as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. His hands moved to caress your sides, his touch soothing as you both basked in the afterglow, the intensity of the moment leaving you breathless and utterly content in each other's arms.

After a moment of stillness, Conner let out a deep, contented sigh and slowly pulled out of you, his movements gentle and careful. The absence of him left a mix of relief and longing, but his warm presence remained as he immediately shifted closer, wrapping his strong arms around you. The weight of his body against yours and the soothing rhythm of his breathing anchored you in the moment, bringing a quiet sense of comfort and safety.

He pulled the blanket over the both of you, tucking it snugly around your shoulders as you nestled into his chest. His fingers traced idle patterns along your back, a tender gesture that made your body relax further into his embrace. The steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, combined with the warmth of his skin, lulled you into a state of pure tranquility. Your eyes grew heavier, the exhaustion from the intensity of the moment pulling you closer to sleep.

Just as your breaths started to slow, the peaceful atmosphere was interrupted by a sudden, sharp knock at the door. The sound startled you awake, and you felt Conner stiffen beside you, his body instantly alert. His protective instincts kicked in immediately, and without a word, he reached for the blanket, pulling it up to cover you completely before sliding out of bed.

"Stay here," he murmured softly, his voice low and reassuring as he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. He grabbed his boxers from the floor, slipping them on with practiced ease before making his way to the door. His movements were fluid but purposeful, his broad shoulders and muscular frame silhouetted in the dim light as he approached.

Conner placed a hand on the doorknob, pausing for a brief moment to glance back at you. His expression softened when he saw you peeking out from beneath the covers, and he gave you a small, reassuring smile before turning his attention back to the door.

Conner cracked the door open just enough to see who was on the other side, his body positioned to block the view of the room. When he saw M'gann standing there, her expression bright and hopeful, he let out a quiet sigh, his irritation easing into polite patience.

"Conner," M'gann said, her tone light and cheerful as she leaned slightly into the doorway. "We're all about to sit down for dinner. I thought maybe you'd want to join us?"

Conner glanced back toward the bed for a brief moment, his protective instincts kicking in as he ensured you were still tucked away and comfortable. Then, turning back to M'gann, he gave her a polite but firm smile. "Thanks, M'gann, but I'm going to pass tonight," he said, his voice calm and even. "I've already got plans."

M'gann's expression faltered slightly, the smile on her face tightening for a brief moment, but she quickly recovered. "Oh... okay," she said, trying to keep her tone casual. "Maybe next time?"

"Yeah, maybe," Conner replied, his tone kind but noncommittal as he gently closed the door. He stood there for a moment, letting out a small sigh before turning back toward you, his expression softening the instant his gaze landed on you.

Sliding back under the covers, Conner wrapped his arms around you once more, pulling you close against his chest. "Sorry about that," he muttered, his voice low and soothing as he pressed a kiss to your temple. "Now, where were we?"

You smiled sleepily, your head resting against his chest as you let the warmth of his embrace pull you back into the peaceful haze of sleep. "Right here," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Conner chuckled lightly, his grip on you tightening just enough to remind you that you were safe and loved. "Exactly," he said, his tone filled with quiet affection. "Just us. Always." And with that, the world faded away again, leaving only the sound of his heartbeat and the warmth of his arms as you drifted back into sleep.

[castielsprostate]

I'm nosy af. I want to see Misha's bank statements and tax returns. I genuinely wonder (like, all the time) what decent rich people (not asshole rich people.. i know what they spend their money on) actually spend their money on. I've never had money. I spend everything i get on food and rent. I go into debt buying shampoo and deodorant. my laptop is 12 years old (and i had to get a loan to buy that and pay it off over five years.) My phone is newer (2016) but was a secondhand gift. I don't own a car. I don't have any pets. I've never in my life been on vacation. I have no insurance, I'll never be able to afford a house and I will almost certainly die tens of thousands of dollars in debt. (I looked into funeral expenses recently and thought FUCK i can't even afford to die!) I wonder what it feels like to.. not live like this? Misha was poor as a kid. I wonder if you get used to wealth if you've been dirt poor? Like i wonder if Dolly Parton is used to being rich now, decades after growing up in a shack with no electricity or running water. I can't even imagine ever getting used to not worrying about having enough food. If I was ever that rich (don't have to worry about food or rent money) I think i'd feel like the wealthiest person in the world. I legit can't even imagine it though. It would take me 20 years to earn $250,000, but Misha can do it in a weekend. Crazy world. (This is not a criticism of him. I love him. I bet he spends a lot of that money doing good things. I'd love to see his receipts, tho.)

oh anon i feel you!!!!! i grew up with literally eating 50p macaroni every day for WEEKS. in the winter we didn't have connected heating because we just couldn't pay for it so we had a diesel generator (this was in 2006). it got better, we got heating (sort of lmao) and we could afford wayyy more when my mum got a job. the little bits of money i got, i never got used to it, it always felt like this is the last im getting i need to save this and not spend that but it didn't go away but the feeling stayed. the feeling of "you're gonna lose this next month" doesn't go away. and we're talking an amount of 1k a month here lmao sjsjsjs i could NEVER imagine having to not worry about rent or food or getting clothes i need or new shampoo. right now i'm worrying about the 15€ i need for some things i genuinely need, but literally dont have the money for. the world would seem so much brighter if I wouldn't even have to look at my bank account and just put the card down yknow?

i dont think anyone that grew up poor, even misha or dolly tbh, every get used to having money :/ and as you said, he makes that in a weekend now (though he also donates a lot of money and uses it for good, a lot is going into investments, his kids' funds etc) but i still think he has that underlying worry gnawing at him that this is it and he's gonna have to do xyz and sell yzx and take up zyx job. it's a never ending pool of anxiety and stress that never ebs and it probably hits him right before going to bed

but then again, i'm just tumblr user castielsprostate what do i know

[creations-by-chaosfay]

I had intended to toss the entire tax return onto the current goal, but split it with the other one. I couldn't toss the entire rest of it onto the current one, just most of it, because we need to get our backdoor completely replaced.

The ice storm from last month resulted in a tree using the roof as a resting place when it's limbs broke off. Their weight caused the walls to shift just enough that the poorly fitted door no longer closed right. We though we had repaired it, but a week later, the door is no longer closing. Thankfully, this roof isn't directly part of the house. That section was a cement patio space that had walls and a flat roof erected over it behind what was the garage. It's not a fully enclosed patio/deck. It has two very small windows, a few outlets, and a storage room attached to it.

The previous homeowner was a landlord who did things poorly and illegally. No permits, no licenses, no professional help. The backdoor frame isn't a real door frame. It's some wood boards with guessing and lots of cutting. There's evidence of the door being raised and lowered repeatedly...and cut to fit the "door frame." We have professional help, and he's checking out Habitat For Humanity's supply yard for doors and door frames, as well as a place called Bring where I found those antique sewing machines. Bring is where people bring items leftover from construction and remodeling, like windows, doors, appliances, tools, parts, tubs, sinks, jars, and random furniture. Both these places have massive discounted prices because everything is secondhand. Bring's philosophy is Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, Rethink, and it shows. That's why we go there before we go any other hardware stores.

Yes, I'm frustrated, and have a special depth of loathing for landlords, especially the sort who do this weekend warrior nonsense. It's why we need to get the plumbing replaced; they connected the house illegally to the city sewage line. There had been a septic tank in use, but they decided rather than hiring a professional to connect the house to the city, they would do it themselves or pay someone who doesn't know what they're doing. We were quoted $12k USD last year because the current plumbing needs to be dug up (it's buried about six to eight inches deep and needs to be four FEET deep), proper plumbing installed, a proper connection to the bathroom, and then it needs to be properly buried. We don't have $12k, and if we were to do monthly payments, they require 50% upfront first.

All the more reason we're paying off our debts now. We'll then be able to save money for this very necessary work. Once the current goals are reached, $1283 for the water heater, just under $5k for the debt transfer, we'll be able to save nearly $300/month, plus whatever I make from my quilts. Our savings were blown last year due to my husband's medical emergency and corresponding bills. With your help, and some good luck, we'll have these two goals met and be better able to save money for a very necessary plumbing job.

If you wish to help and make a massive difference in our life, and lower my stress by leagues (stress and anxiety lower my already low seizure threshold, resulting in more seizures), consider either purchasing my listed work or hiring me for a quilt commission. I have flat prices on my commission page, and lower than what the more accurate shop listing price would be. Rag quilts are now an option, and they're less expensive than their counterpart of equal size. A rag quilt baby size is $450 whereas the traditionally pieced quilt of that same size is $650. A queen size rag quilt is $1450 whereas a traditionally pieced queen size quilt is $3800.

I'm having giveaways for every goal too, as a way to celebrate reaching it by a certain date. If we reach that goal before the deadline I set, I giveaway a quilt of some kind. The first one was a baby size rag quilt for the funds to cover our insurance deductible, the second a table runner and four placemats for Jasper's (RIP) final vet bill and it's collecting interest, the next is a miniquilt for the water heater, and the last will be something big because the goal is nearly $5k, so perhaps a twin size rag quilt ($1100 value). I will absolutely have a giveaway for the new plumbing, and it's gonna be a doozy. I'm thinking a prize of a traditionally pieced queen size quilt (starting price of $3800) for the winner. If I get the Cutie Breeze quilting frame (second item on my Throne list), I'll be able to make more quilts faster, and list them in my shop for significantly lower prices because they'll be machine quilted by me. At least, after I get a lot of practice with free motion quilting using a standard sewing machine like a longarm machine.

This has turned into a bit of a ramble, but I wanted to make each of you aware of what's going on regarding all this. Right now, the priority is home repairs and meeting goals. My husband's income is covering monthly bills, home repairs, food, and fuel. All the money I earn from shop sales, commissions, and receive from donations are going towards paying off debts, and later it'll be applied to new plumbing with a $10k goal. Once we meet that goal, I'll call around to other plumbing companies, and get quotes/bids from them. Whatever has the highest ratings and better price will be who we hire.

Now, I'm gonna see about breakfast.

[ruinreigns]

@fragmcntdstars ( paige ) asked : “ your smile is gone; i’ve noticed it bad. ”

                 lips roll and she sucks at her teeth , arms resting on the table in front of her . she'd agreed to lunch , not an interrogation . it wasn't paige's fault that nothing in her head made any sort of sense , but she's not ready to try to put it into words . there's a voice in the back of her head , giggling , urging her to do something she knows she'd regret so instead , she shoves a fry into her mouth and places her jaw firmly on her fist , eyes focused on the tray of food in front of her .

                 things had been quiet for so long . she'd thought she'd left all of this bullshit behind her , but clearly that had been a broken hope . she should have known that hell would come crawling back to make up for a twisted betrayal . there's no escaping it when hell itself reaches its claws out to drag you in . there's only delaying it ... and eventually the reaper comes to claim its debts . that's what's happening isn't it ? everything that's been laying dormant is crawling back to the surface , reminding her that she's let her guard down , that she'd made a joke of herself , believing that she'd escaped .

                 a heavy breath before she pulled her gaze to look just past paige , eyes focused on a stray hair to keep from looking her in the eye . she's not sure what the other would see . ❝ i don't know what you're talking about . it's just stress . so you know how long it's been since i've had a title on my waist ? and now i'm playing secondhand barbie to bianca ? pretty sure you'd be frowning too , don't you think ? ❞

[visionarycios]

Frugal Living Hacks: Saving Money Without Sacrificing Quality

In a world where expenses seem to rise faster than incomes, mastering the art of frugal living can significantly impact your financial well-being. Contrary to popular belief, frugality isn’t about deprivation; it’s about making smart choices to maximize value and minimize waste. This guide explores various strategies and hacks for saving money without compromising on quality, helping you achieve financial stability and freedom.

Understanding Frugal Living

Frugal living involves conscious spending and prioritizing value over frivolous expenses. It’s about:

Making deliberate choices: Opting for quality and durability over trends and instant gratification.

Maximizing resources: Using what you have efficiently and reducing waste.

Building financial resilience: Saving and investing for long-term goals.

By adopting frugal living principles, you not only save money but also contribute to a more sustainable lifestyle.

Why Embrace Frugal Living?

Before diving into the practical tips, let’s explore why frugal living is beneficial:

Financial Security: It allows you to build an emergency fund and prepare for unexpected expenses.

Debt Reduction: By cutting unnecessary expenses, you can allocate more funds towards paying off debt.

Achieving Goals: Whether it’s buying a home, traveling, or investing, frugal living helps you reach your financial milestones sooner.

Practical Frugal Living Hacks

Now, let’s delve into actionable tips and strategies to incorporate frugal living into your daily routine:

1. Create a Budget and Stick to It

It starts with understanding your income and expenses. Create a budget that outlines your monthly income sources and fixed expenses. Track variable expenses like groceries, dining out, and entertainment. Allocate a portion of your income towards savings and financial goals.

2. Prioritize Needs Over Wants

Distinguish between essential needs and discretionary wants. Focus on fulfilling needs first, such as housing, utilities, and groceries. Limit spending on wants like dining out, entertainment, and shopping. This approach ensures that your essential expenses are covered before indulging in non-essential purchases.

3. Embrace Minimalism

Saving Money and reducing clutter go hand in hand. Adopt a minimalist lifestyle by decluttering your home and focusing on quality over quantity. Invest in versatile, long-lasting items rather than buying cheap, disposable products. Minimalism not only saves money but also promotes a clutter-free, stress-free environment.

4. Cook Meals at Home

Eating out can be expensive and often less healthy than homemade meals. It is by planning and preparing meals at home. Use budget-friendly ingredients, plan meals for the week, and pack lunches for work or school. Cooking at home not only saves money but also allows you to control portion sizes and ingredients.

5. Use Coupons and Discounts

Take advantage of coupons, loyalty programs, and promotional offers to save on groceries, household items, and entertainment. It on everyday purchases can add up over time. Look for online coupon codes, sign up for store newsletters, and compare prices before making a purchase.

6. Negotiate Bills and Expenses

Don’t hesitate to negotiate bills and expenses such as cable, internet, and insurance. Many providers offer discounts or promotional rates for new customers. It is by calling your service providers to inquire about available discounts or negotiating a better deal. Loyalty does not always result in the best rates, so be proactive in seeking savings opportunities.

7. DIY Projects and Repairs

Learn basic DIY skills for home maintenance and repairs. Saving Money by fixing minor issues yourself, such as leaky faucets or simple car maintenance. DIY projects can also include crafting gifts or household items rather than buying them. Embracing a hands-on approach not only saves money but also builds valuable skills.

8. Buy Secondhand and Shop Smart

Explore thrift stores, consignment shops, and online marketplaces for quality secondhand items. From clothing and furniture to electronics and books, buying secondhand can save significant amounts of money. Saving Money and reducing waste by giving items a new lease on life. Before making a purchase, consider the item’s condition, quality, and long-term value.

9. Cancel Unused Subscriptions and Memberships

Review your monthly subscriptions and memberships regularly. Saving Money by canceling unused or unnecessary subscriptions. Consider alternatives like free apps or services that offer similar benefits. Subscriptions can add up quickly, so prioritize those that bring the most value to your life.

10. Plan Shopping Trips and Avoid Impulse Purchases

Create a shopping list before heading to the store or shopping online. Stick to your list and avoid impulse purchases. Saving Money and staying focused on essential items. Compare prices, look for sales or discounts, and consider bulk purchasing for items you regularly use. Planning reduces the temptation to overspend.

11. Practice Energy Efficiency

Reduce energy consumption to lower utility bills. Saving Money by turning off lights and appliances when not in use, using energy-efficient appliances, and improving home insulation. Consider investing in programmable thermostats and LED light bulbs to further reduce energy costs. Small changes in energy usage can lead to significant savings over time.

12. Explore Free or Low-Cost Entertainment Options

Enjoy entertainment without breaking the bank. Saving Money by attending community events, visiting local parks or museums on free admission days, or borrowing books and movies from the library. Many cities offer free concerts, festivals, and cultural events throughout the year. Embrace opportunities for affordable entertainment that align with your interests.

13. Use Cash Back and Rewards Programs

Take advantage of cashback and rewards programs offered by credit cards and retailers. Saving Money by earning cash back on everyday purchases or accumulating points for discounts or freebies. Compare rewards programs to find the best options for your spending habits and financial goals.

14. Invest in Quality for Long-Term Savings

While it may seem counterintuitive, investing in quality items can save money in the long run. Saving Money by purchasing durable goods that require less frequent replacement or repair. Quality products often come with longer warranties and better performance, reducing lifetime costs compared to cheaper alternatives.

15. Review and Adjust Regularly

Monitor your progress and adjust your budget and spending habits as needed. Saving Money by identifying areas where you can cut back further or reallocate funds towards savings or debt repayment. Stay committed to your financial goals and celebrate milestones along the way.

Visionary CIOs are adept at leveraging technology to streamline operations and drive cost efficiencies, crucially impacting ‘Saving Money’ initiatives across organizations. By championing innovative solutions like automation, cloud optimization, and predictive analytics, they not only reduce overheads but also foster a culture of fiscal responsibility. Embracing agile methodologies and strategic IT investments, these leaders empower teams to identify and eliminate wasteful spending while enhancing overall productivity. In today’s competitive landscape, the role of a visionary CIO extends beyond traditional IT management to catalyze financial savings and sustainable growth, positioning the organization for long-term success

Conclusion

Frugal living is a mindset that empowers you to make intentional choices about how you spend and save money. By incorporating these frugal living hacks into your lifestyle, you can achieve financial stability, reduce stress, and pursue your long-term goals with confidence. Remember, Saving Money isn’t about sacrifice; it’s about making smart, sustainable decisions that enhance your quality of life while safeguarding your financial future.

Embrace the journey towards frugal living today and discover the countless rewards it brings. Start implementing these strategies and watch as your savings grow, your debt diminishes, and your financial freedom expands. Saving Money is just the beginning of a more fulfilling and financially secure future.

[stumped-on-bennington]

vent post below cut

my fiance just found out that i failed both my collage courses that i took for the spring semester and now hes giving me the silent treatment.

im tired of acting like i like school. im tired of doing things i dont want to do because it gives a secondhand sense of achievement to others. im tired of doing things i dont want to and ignoring the things i do want to do just because its easier to cause myself mental strain and deprive myself of joy then it is to have to deal with the anger and disappointment of others.

i just want to be happy and do what i want to do. all my life ive had to mold my skills and hobbies around others so that they would accept the, and if i didnt or the result was something they didnt like, then they would just brush me off as a waist of time.

i have never in my life had someone look at something that i did for myself and say "that is amazing! its so cool that you do that, im proud of you!" its always "that was a waist of time", "why dont you do something more productive", "thats cool, but you should do this for me instead".

i feel so tired and over worked. im constantly stressed and depressed, but i cant say anything about it because then im 'just a whinner and actually just lazy." im so sick of pretending that i dont have anything wrong with me mentally. i dont have this big long traumatic backstory about my family, or about SA or anything like that, and thats why my mental struggles and depression get swept under the rug. they say " you didnt go through anything, so you cant be depressed or have anything wrong with you" and thats why im always just marked as "lazy" and im tired of it.

i hate everything that i have done in the past 3 years. i have pushed myself harder than ever to please others, to build this ideal person that they want me to be. ive put myself in sever debt, pushed out some of my favorite hobbies, have stuffed my ideals and identity deep down to make others more comfortable. I can't even enjoy my favorit bands or animes without my fiancé coming in and being like "ugh, my ex liked that. i dont want you watching that because she liked it." or "youre not allowed to listen to this fall out boy album, becuase my ex really liked fall out boy and this was her favorit album, so i dont even want to see it mentioned on anything ever"

i just feel so hopeless and like i cant do anything right. i feel like im too far deep into everything and i hate all of it. i just want to disappear.

[paypant]

12 Proven Garage Sale Tips To Make Big Money

Hosting a garage sale is not as easy as you think. There are lots of things to put in place and consider. A garage sale isn't all about selling your unwanted or used items in your garage. If you randomly start selling in front of your garage or yard, you may not make as many sales as you should. If you want to make big money from your garage sales, here are twelve proven tips to help you.

12 Proven Garage Sale Tips To Make Big Money

1. Inform Your Neighbours Beforehand Do not wake up one random morning and decide to host a garage sale. It'll take your neighbors by surprise, and most of them may not be prepared to patronize you. Most people have a budget that they stick to strictly. Before making a spending decision, they make a plan so as not to run into debt. So if you host a surprise garage sale, your neighbors may not have it in their budget to buy from you. In addition, informing your friends, colleagues, and neighbors of your garage sales plan can help spread the word around and get you more sales. 2. Put Some Thoughts Into The Date You Choose To make big money from a garage sale, you need to pick a date that is convenient for everyone. For example, if you decide to sell on a Monday, your neighbors who are workers may not be able to check your stall, which can lead to low sales. Selling during business days is a bad decision. Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays are convenient days to host a garage sale. Public holidays are also a good time to host a garage sale. To further boost your sales, consider hosting during the first weekend of the month - this is when most people get their salary and have yet to make plans for it. 3. Plan Out The Items You Want To Sell

Before the day of your garage sale, organize and plan out every item you want to sell. Place them in boxes and have them ready to be brought out on D-Day. If you plan out items on the D-Day, you'll end up stressed and disorganized. So, organize your sales items into categories such as clothes, appliances, books, jewelry, and tools. It is also important to make a list of all the things you want to sell. Doing this enables you to keep account of things you sold, and the things that are left unsold. 4. Decide On A Price For Each Item When organizing the items you want to sell, decide on a price. Do not overprice your items as it could be a turn-off to potential customers. Remember that the items being sold are secondhand, so decide on a convincing price. In addition, do not let your emotions get in the way of your pricing. Just because an item is precious to you doesn't mean it should have a high price. Buyers will not see it the way you do. Be rational! Once you decide on a price, make a price tag and place it on each item - this is important for the following reasons. - Most people who are curious about your garage sales may come to take a look. However, they may be too shy to ask you questions about the price since they think it's out of their budget. But if you place a price tag, they may be tempted to make a purchase. - Putting a price tag prevents you from answering numerous questions about the price of an item. - It's easy to get confused about what price you decided for an item. But a price tag makes it easy for you to remember. Do not spend money to get expensive tags. Simply write the price on a sticker, and use masking tape to prevent it from falling off. 5. Make An Attractive Display The way you display your sales items has a good impact on your sales. If your items are disorganized, it could be a turn-off to most people. You do not have to set up fancy displays or banners. All you have to do is make your items look organized and attractive. Here are a few ways to make an attractive display: - Similar-priced items should be kept together. - Place exciting items in visible areas to attract customers. - Place jewelry, eyewear, and small items close to the cashout area. To make it more visible, hang the jewelry in groups. - Group similar things together. 6. Advertise Your Garage Sale The key to making massive sales is to advertise. If you randomly pull up a garage sales sign in front of your yard, you'll make little to no sales. You can go house to house to inform your neighbors or make simple posters that specify the date of your garage sales and your address. Handing out flyers in public spaces can also boost your sales. However, you have to make advertisement weeks in advance to give people time to prepare. Another way to market is by posting about your garage sale on social media. If you have a good number of followers on Facebook, make a post. Facebook ads are cheap and targeted. So if you pay for an ad, it's likely to show up to people who live around you. Another Interesting Article: What To Do With Garage Sale Leftovers: 5 Smart Options That’ll Make You More Money 7. Make Preparations For Everything

If this is your first time hosting a garage sale, then you have to be prepared in all areas. There are lots of minor things you may have overlooked that would pose a big problem on D-DAY. Here are a few things to make preparations for: a. Make plans for digital payments: Although cash is the norm during garage sales, you may encounter a customer who wants to make digital payments. So have an account that is ready to receive payment. You can download apps like Venmo or PayPal. b. Keep Change In Hand: Since most people will make payments in cash, there will be situations where they'll need the balance of their payment. So make plans for changes so as not to lose a sale. C. Repair Broken Items: People are most likely to buy an item at a high price if it is in good condition. D. Check Out For Competition: Before deciding on a date, check if others are hosting a garage sale the day you plan to host yours. If two garage sales are happening at the same time, it could affect your sales. 8. Be Prepared For Negotiations Customers will bargain prices of items with you - this is inevitable. So before a sales day, decide on the lowest price you can accept for an item. For example, if the lowest you can accept for an item is $5, price the item at $7 or $8. So that when a customer negotiates on the item, they'll end up pricing it at what you originally intended to sell it. Note: To avoid driving away due to your high-priced item, set a poster to let them know that they can negotiate prices. If you don't want to go through the process of negotiation, set a reasonable price and make it known to customers that the price is fixed. 9. Offer Bundle Discounts Everyone loves a good discount. If you want to attract sales and make money, set up a big sign that says "Discounts Available On All Bulk Purchases". Set a rule on bulk purchases. For example, if a customer buys more than three items, you can offer them a 10% discount. If they buy more than five items, offer a 15% discount, and so on. In order to reap the benefits, most customers are willing to make more purchases. If you put up a brand new item for sale, do not expect customers to see the worth of the item through your lens. So put up a discount to convince them.

10. Organize Group Sales A scanty garage sale stall can be a turn-off to potential customers. If you want your stall bustling with activities, organize a group sale. Meet up with your neighbors and ask if they're interested in hosting a group garage sale. If they reply positively to your request, begin to make plans with them. To avoid problems, you can decide to sell something different from theirs. For example, if you intend to sell off your appliances and tools, you can inform them beforehand so that they can focus on selling items that are different from yours. 11. Make Freebies Available and Sell Snacks To draw even more customers, you can put up a sign that says "Freebies Available" near your garage stall - this can lure anyone into checking out what you have to sell. If a customer makes a purchase, give them a freebie. It doesn't have to be expensive. It could be a cute piece of jewelry that you don't mind giving out for free or a candy. Also, make drinks or snacks available to customers. People are most likely to buy from a place that offers entertainment or small rewards. Another Interesting Article: 10 Best Internet Freebies: Free Stuff You Don’t Want To Miss out On! 12. Check for Permit Requirements Research and know the law of the state you reside in. Most states require that a resident get a permit before hosting a garage sale. While other states have certain rules that must be followed before holding a garage sale. Most laws allow residents to hold a garage sale twice, thrice, or four times a year. So know what you're getting into in order to avoid paying fines. Garage sales permits are not expensive. They're often less than $10. Most state permits are free, all you have to do is register online to let them know you're hosting a garage sale. Here's more information on garage sales permits.

Bottom Line

You are guaranteed to have successful garage sales with the above tips. So remember, do not get worked up during the process of planning your garage sale. It's supposed to be a fun event, so have fun and be happy.

Frequently Asked Questions On Garage Sales

What Is The Best Selling Item At A Garage Sale? Some of the best-selling items in a garage sale include antiques, clothing, jewelry, toys, tools, vintage dishes, furniture, and books. What Is The Most Popular Day For Garage Sales? The most popular and suitable days to host a garage sale are Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. What Time Do Most Garage Sales Start? You can start your garage sale at any time you want. But it is often recommendable to start as early as 7:00 AM. Read the full article

[ruchiii]

The Art of Frugal Living: 10 Creative Ways to Cut Costs In a world of fluctuating expenses and financial uncertainty, learning how to cut costs effectively is a valuable skill. Whether you're striving to reach your savings goals, pay off debt, or simply create a more stable financial future, embracing frugal living can make a significant difference. Here are ten creative ways to reduce your expenses and take control of your financial well-being. Set Clear Financial Goals: Begin by establishing specific financial objectives. Whether it's saving for a vacation, building an emergency fund, or reducing credit card debt, having clear goals will keep you motivated and focused. Create a Budget: Budgeting is a fundamental tool for managing your finances. Apps like Axio provide easy-to-use solutions for personal finance management. They help you track your income and expenses, making it easier to identify areas where you can cut costs. Meal Planning: Dining out frequently can drain your budget. Plan your meals, cook at home, and avoid impulsive restaurant visits. You'll not only save money but also eat healthier. DIY Repairs: For minor home repairs or car maintenance, consider DIY solutions before hiring professionals. There are numerous online tutorials and resources to guide you. Bundle Services: Explore bundle options for your internet, cable, and phone services. Companies often offer discounts for bundling, helping you save on monthly bills. Refinance Loans: Refinancing loans, such as your mortgage or student loans, can lower interest rates, reducing your long-term expenses. It's a smart way to cut costs while keeping your financial future in mind. Use Public Transportation: If possible, rely on public transportation instead of owning a car. It can significantly reduce expenses associated with vehicle maintenance, insurance, and fuel. Buy Secondhand: Consider purchasing secondhand items, from clothing and furniture to electronics. Thrift stores and online marketplaces are great sources for quality used goods at a fraction of the cost of new ones. Cancel Unused Subscriptions: Review your monthly subscriptions, including streaming services, gym memberships, or magazine subscriptions. Cancel those you rarely use. Comparison Shop: Before making a purchase, take the time to compare prices online or in-store. Look for discounts, coupons, or cashback offers to ensure you're getting the best deal. By implementing these strategies, you can effectively cut costs without sacrificing your quality of life. Personal finance management apps like Axio can be particularly helpful, as they streamline the budgeting process and provide insights into your spending patterns. As you track your progress, you'll likely find that these small adjustments add up to significant savings over time. Remember, frugal living isn't about deprivation; it's about making mindful choices that align with your financial goals. Cutting costs can lead to increased financial security, reduced stress, and a brighter financial future. So, start your journey towards a more frugal lifestyle today and watch your savings grow.

[laughoutside]

The Art of Frugal Living: A Path to Financial Freedom

In a world where consumerism often reigns supreme, the concept of frugal living may seem like an antiquated notion. However, it's a lifestyle that not only withstands the test of time but also offers a path to financial freedom and personal fulfillment. In this blog, we'll explore the art of frugal living and how it can transform your life for the better.

What is Frugal Living?

Frugal living is a deliberate and mindful approach to managing your finances. It involves making conscious choices to prioritize savings and essential needs while minimizing unnecessary expenses. It's not about deprivation but about making every dollar count.

The Benefits of Frugal Living

Financial Freedom: One of the most significant advantages of frugal living is the financial freedom it affords. By reducing wasteful spending and embracing a minimalist mindset, you can allocate more of your income towards savings, investments, or debt repayment. Over time, this can lead to increased financial stability and independence.

Less Stress: Living within your means and having a financial cushion can significantly reduce stress and anxiety. You'll worry less about unexpected expenses and financial emergencies, allowing you to focus on what truly matters in life.

Environmental Impact: Frugal living often goes hand in hand with sustainability. When you consume less and repurpose more, you reduce your carbon footprint and contribute to a more eco-friendly lifestyle.

Improved Health: Cooking at home and avoiding processed foods can lead to a healthier diet. Additionally, frugal living encourages physical activity like walking or biking instead of relying on expensive gym memberships or transportation options.

Practical Tips for Frugal Living

Budgeting: Create a detailed budget to track your income and expenses. This will help you identify areas where you can cut back and allocate more funds to savings.

Prioritize Needs Over Wants: Distinguish between essential expenses (needs) and discretionary spending (wants). Focus on covering your needs first and then consider your wants if your budget allows.

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle: Embrace a minimalist lifestyle by decluttering and simplifying your possessions. Sell or donate items you no longer need, and opt for reusable or secondhand products when possible.

Cook at Home: Dining out can be expensive. Learning to cook and prepare meals at home not only saves money but also allows you to eat healthier.

Embrace DIY: Explore do-it-yourself projects for home repairs, gardening, and crafting. These activities can be both cost-effective and personally fulfilling.

In Conclusion

Frugal living is a conscious choice that empowers individuals to take control of their finances and live a more intentional life. By adopting the art of frugal living, you can achieve financial freedom, reduce stress, and contribute to a more sustainable future—all while enjoying a simpler, more fulfilling life. Remember, it's not about sacrifice; it's about making smarter choices that align with your values and long-term goals.

[emerald-chaos]

Touchdown

*gif not mine, credit goes to the owner*

I just want to take a moment to say thank you for the love on my last fic! It made my lil ole heart swell to see that peopled enjoyed it enough to leave a like or reblog.

This is just something special I had in my arsenal that I wrote for a friend a few months ago. I touched it up a bit and added a few things here and there. It all started when we were talking about how much we loved when Chris' accent got heavier after he'd been drinking, and well, I couldn't help myself lol. I hope you enjoy the fluff! xoxo

I apologize for any grammatical errors, I tried to proof-read but am also a little exhausted lol.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2844

Warnings: I don't think there's anyway? Mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol, cursing, and illusions to sexy times, but that's about it.

You hadn’t noticed how furiously your knee was bouncing up and down until the person sitting next to you on the subway got up to move seats once the train squealed to a stop. You sighed and ran your hands down the front of your thighs. Normally being a little late didn’t bother you as much, but tonight you were meeting him.

You flipped your wrist over to check your watch. 8:30pm. In all honesty, it had probably been only thirty seconds later than when you checked it the last time. Another deep sigh escaped from your lips as you started to become hyper aware of the train remaining still at the current stop. What could possibly be taking so long? You knew he wouldn’t care if you were running late, but the time the two of you had together already felt so minuscule. You wanted to capitalize on every second you could.

The train began moving again and you slumped back into your seat, feeling only a small amount of relief. It was becoming painfully apparent that you needed to try and relax. You could feel the sweat building up on your body, the sting on your palms from where your fingernails were pressing in with a vengeance moments ago, and you could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Your hand dug around in your purse for a few moments before finding the small case you were looking for. Opening it, you slipped your headphones into your ears and let your head rest on the window behind you as music intertwined with your thoughts.

Once upon a time, you made fun of people who decided to go to grad school. What kind of a clown would spend thousands of MORE dollars and go BACK to school?? Not to mention the stress of the assignments, the due dates - it was not for you...or so you thought.

Now here you are, a regular booboo the fool.

NYU’s graduate program for design and merchandising wasn’t necessarily part of your 5-year plan, but when the opportunity landed in front of you it was difficult to pass up. NYU was a school you had only dreamt of attending back in high school. When you were a senior in high school you were able to tour the campus and fell in love immediately. Hours upon hours were spent researching grants, scholarships, and all sorts of ways to try to make it happen. However, the dream ended as most teenage dreams do - crushed. There was no way you or your parents could afford the loans that it would surely wrack up to attend the out of state university, and there was no way you could ask your parents take on that kind of debt just so you could go to college. UMass was the way to go - close to home and familiar. Not to mention you were able to obtain several scholarships and grants that helped bring down the cost tremendously. Little did you know, boring ole UMass would bring you one of the most important things in your life.

Applying for graduate school wasn’t an easy decision and one you couldn’t really take all the credit for. A smile crept across your face as you reminisced on the night you nervously brought up the idea to your long-term boyfriend.

“I think you should do it,”

“I know, right?” you scoffed, “it’s insane, why would I do something so stup...wait, what? You do?”

“Of course I do. This is something you love and that you’re passionate about. Do you know how many hours of my life were spent listening to you ramble about NYU?” he questioned with a grin.

“It will open up so many doors for you. We can make things work,” a chuckle escaped from those beautiful lips as he saw your dumbfounded expression. He wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you close, “What? Did you expect me to forbid it? Cmon, baby, what kind of guy do you take me for?”

You didn’t have a lot of wins in your life, but you did have Chris.

When you got accepted, he took off a week from work to drive you 3 and a half hours south to help get you settled and moved into your temporary new home. The two of you ate a disgusting amount of pizza, moved a ridiculous amount of heavy furniture in the middle of a summer heat wave, and enjoyed each other’s company before the long-distance thing would set in. Chris spent that week encouraging you every step of the way, talking you off the ledge when you were convinced you had made the wrong decision, and made sure to help you christen every possible surface of your new place in the most deliciously sinful way.

You bit your lip slightly at the thought and a warm feeling spread across your face. Chris was one of the most incredible people you had met in this world. Kind, caring, funny, intelligent, passionate, and god was he sexy. The connection the two of you had was scary at first, but now you just couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The robotic voice came over the loud-speaker in the subway car and you were rudely ripped back to reality as it pulled into your stop. You hurriedly scooped up your bag and jogged off the train.

It had been a promise between the two of you when you moved that there would be equal effort when it came to visiting and keeping in contact while having good, open communication. Long distance was hard but the two of you were determined to make it work. FaceTime calls, hours upon hours of texting, and even as far as writing the occasional letter back and forth (because your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic and you loved it so much). This weekend was your turn to come home to visit, and of course your last class had to go longer than anticipated. Fuckin’ Tiffany and her stupid ass questions.

The muscles of your calves burned as you kept up your hurried pace, weaving through the crowds of people gathered on sidewalks outside of various clubs and restaurants. It was a weekend night and the Patriots were playing, which meant the city was more alive than usual. New York was it's own beast, but it was a different type of hustle and bustle. Nights like these made your heart ache for home - the thick Massachusetts accents, the rowdy voices of bar patrons arguing about the game, the hugs shared between family members as they parted after dinner, and the faint smell of nicotine and alcohol that hung in the air.

As the neon sign that hung in the pub window came in to view you felt your heart dip down into your stomach. Last weekend’s visit had to be cancelled due to some stuff coming up with Chris’ work and a surprise assignment for you, so you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in 2 weeks. With a deep breath you swung open the door and scanned the crowd for him. He told you that he would be there promptly at 7:15pm for pregame shenanigans with his friends - which actually translated to how many pitchers of beer could they suck down before kick off.

“Aw, come ON! That is such a bullshit call!”

You heard him before you saw him. Of course. A grin spread across your lips as you shook your head. The thought of leaving to avoid secondhand embarrassment crossed your mind briefly before you picked up your feet and made your way through the crowd toward the sound. A room full of people from New England and you would still recognize that voice anywhere.

Everyone else seemed to fade away as you saw the outline of the tall, dark haired man standing at the bar. The slight freckles that spattered the back of his neck, the Brady jersey that he spent WAY too much money customizing, and the signature backward ball cap were ingrained in your subconscious memory. Not to mention if you didn’t recognize his outline or his voice, you would definitely recognize that ass anywhere.

You loved how passionate he got about sports and the way his Boston accent seemed to get thicker with each beer he consumed. Growing up in the area, you wouldn't think the accent would send a tingle down your spine the way it does, but it was different - it was Chris. Not to mention the sparkle in his eye when he would watch his favorite team or the way he would get in to arguments whenever someone tried to say something negative about them. You loved your big, handsome, over-sized toddler man so damn much.

A light tap on his shoulder made him whip around, his slightly opened mouth from his interrupted conversation curved upwards into a wicked grin as he made the connection of who was finally standing in front of him.

“Hey there, handsome. I don’t see a ring on your finger. You single?” You grinned, feeling your entire body fill with warmth as Chris leaned back and grabbed his chest as he erupted in laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah, unfortunately for you I am taken” he responded as he snaked his arms around your waist, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he pulled you into his figure.

“That is too bad,” you tsk'd, running a finger down his toned bicep, “she’s one lucky girl.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he grinned. He leaned down to meet your lips in a kiss. You sighed into it, allowing your body to mold itself so perfectly into his. The taste of beer on his lips and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating - it was home. You immediately allowed him entrance as you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip. Your body felt small in his strong grip and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. Normally, this type of bold, public display of affection would make you cringe away but at this point you were lost in Chris that you had absolutely no shame. Each time the two of you embraced had always felt like the first. Your heart still fluttered and your knees still got weak, like you were a 16 year old being kissed for the first time.

In the middle of your reunion moment, however, something happened in the game that made the entire bar erupt in boo’s and curses. Chris lifted his lips from yours to look over his shoulder and inspect what he had missed. You laughed and shook your head as you pushed him back towards his friends and took a seat in the bar stool he had been standing behind initially. His large hands found a natural place on your shoulders. While his eyes remained glued on the TV he began applying a moderate amount of pressure to your neck and shoulders. You didn’t realize how much your body craved that touch, his touch, until you immediately melted back into him.

The bartender slid a beer in front of you with a wink and you mouthed your thanks. You felt a twinge in your heart as you looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. This was a typical weekend night for the two of you whenever you were living together. Football, drinks, pub food, and friends. If it wasn’t this pub it was your living room, just a couple blocks away. You didn’t even mind that it was your first night back and you weren’t alone, spending it immediately wrapped up in your satin sheets. The atmosphere, the people - it was so warm and familiar that you really wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Plus, being wrapped up together in the sheets was sure to follow.

“I missed you,” hummed a pair of lips as they placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. A shiver shot down your spine at the sensation of his warm breath fanning over your neck. You reached up a hand and connected it to the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too,” you replied, turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

His arms changed position as he wrapped them in front of your shoulders and crossed them, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed his forearms as you nursed your beer and placed your focus onto the game for the first time tonight.

The laughter seemed to escape from your chest naturally and effortlessly the entire night, as it always had a habit of doing when Chris was around. The camaraderie between him and his buddies during a game was something you’d grown to enjoy over the years. Chris’ competitive nature and the way his jaw clenched when something wasn’t going the way he wanted was always kinda...hot. All of his friends were huge assholes, but in the best way. It was always entertaining to hear them jab at each other and do what they could to rile someone up. They were the life of every party you had ever attended and they had a way of making a boring night a lot more interesting.

Thankfully (for the integrity of the bar) the Pats won the game with a surprise touchdown in the last 30 seconds of the game. Chris, being the guy he is, bought a final round for his friends and a nearby group they had been going back and forth with all night. You couldn’t help but laugh as he drunkenly leaned across the counter and slurred his order to the bartender.

“I need a round for m’friends and for these assholes over here who thought Tom Brady was anything but a winner!” the group started yelling in protest and he simply waved them off and started sliding beers down the bar.

The group eventually moved to a bigger round top so everyone could shoot the shit and banter about the outcome of the game. You were tucked into Chris’ side, hands intertwined as he was passionately discussing the importance of Brady’s legacy with a stranger who made the mistake of stopping to talk to him. Your eyes followed the motion of your thumb as it traced small circles onto the back of his. Your other hand under your chin, holding up the weight of your head as your exhaustion started to catch up with you. Chris, although slightly drunk, picked up on your body language and raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Alright, fellas,” he said as he stood up from his seat, pulling you up with him, “the lady and I are gonna call it a night. See you boys next weekend”.

“Chris, we don’t have to go,” you began to protest as he tucked his jacket around your shoulders.

“Mm, ‘course we do,” he replied with a soft smile, “you’re so tired, baby. I can see it in those beautiful eyes”.

You could feel your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at his attempt at laying it on thick. After what felt like a proper 10 minute goodbye session, the group said their final goodbyes, hugs included, and you walked out of the pub hand in hand.

The walk home was filled with the sounds of cars passing by and conversation of what each other had missed in the week prior. Small talk typically felt like such a chore, but with Chris every conversation came naturally. Even when he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, he would listen intently and ask all the questions as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world.

The lock on the apartment door clicked as you pushed it open and entered. You smiled as you stopped into the middle of the living room, taking in the home you missed so dearly. A soft tapping of toenails against the hardwood made your heart soar as you met the eyes of your sweet pup, Dodger. A squeal left your lips as you squatted down to give love to the sweet boy. Chris always made fun of you when you came home, saying that you always seemed to miss Dodger more than you did him and I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that statement.

Once again lost in your own world, you didn’t even notice Chris leaned up against the wall watching you with a smile.

“Oh my god,” you gushed, standing up, “do you like...like me or something?”

Chris grinned as he crossed the room and caught your belt loop with his finger, pulling you into him slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice had dropped down an octave, “you could say that”.

“Mm,” your tongue swiped across your lower lip and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “care to show me how much?”

The look in his eyes made your core burn. The tension building between you two became too much to handle as you crashed your lips into his. The kisses were messy and you could feel the sense of urgency between you two. His beard scratched against the column of your throat with a delicious burn as he left wet kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck. Chris’ hands found their way back into the ass pockets of your jeans as he started walking you back towards the direction of the bedroom.

Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and you felt very sorry for your neighbors. It had been a long time, but Chris always had a way of welcoming you home.

[ddarker-dreams]

I would tell Xiao I have slept with several better lovers than him to hurt his feelings❤️ It’s what he deserves, the tiny bastard

this is giving me secondhand stress... xiao is going to be demanding a list of names and addresses. it will not be a pretty scene for anyone involved. an absolute bloodbath is going to be left in his wake. his feelings are gonna be hurt big time, more so by the idea another person got to touch you before he did. he'll try and disregard your comment as another case of you being petty. man is trying to cope big time.

that might end up being one of the few instances he'll put a gag in your mouth. if you keep pressing the issue, pointing out that you've had way better experiences in the past, he's gonna get real irritated. probably snaps at you a few times in a way you've never seen before. it's even worse if you're doing it at a time his karmic debt is weighing down on him, he's too inundated with pain to think clearly.

the good news is the gag doesn't last too long. xiao enjoys the sound of your voice too much. well, when you're not taunting him that is.

[sin-tentional]

⸻LEE SOOHYUK. THIRTY-TWO. CISGENDER MAN. HE/HIM. HETEROSEXUAL & SCORPIO.

looks like  PAX SONG MIN  blew in TWENTY- FIVE DAYS AGO and never left. they’ve proven themselves to be CALM & EARNEST, but being COWARDLY & TREACHEROUS is their downfall. it’s only fitting that MOZART’S, LACRIMOSA ( REQUIEM, K. 626 III. ) is playing when they leave their home in GARGOYLE GARDEN APARTMENTS. rumor has it that they ARE A SECRET HALF BROTHER TO HAN JAE SONG, wonder if that’s why the MUSIC SHOP OWNER moved out of their place in BOSTON, MASSACHUSETES.

                                                                   { full bio here // the muse doc }

i: aesthetics

the lilt and lull of sharp strings of a new composition ; spinning bike wheels rolling with the fog as the only means of transport ; shattered coffee mugs from spoiled milk and rotten demeanors hastily cleaned and picked up after ; record players drowning goosebumps to be tucked away in antique boxes ; the comfort of an empty auditorium lacking appreciation and adoration ; a dark billowing cloak hunched over a piano bench

ii: a playlist

❝ Requiem, K 262: Lacrimosa ❞ Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

❝ Concerto in G minor RV 156 ( Arr. for Piano) ❞ Antoni Vivaldi

❝ Nocturne No. 2 In E Flat, Op.9 No.2 ❞ Frédéric Chopin

❝ Moonlight Sonata ( First Movement ) ❞ Ludwig van Beethoven

❝ Trois Gnossiennes: I. Lent ❞ Erik Satie

❝ Carnival of the Animals, R. 125: XIII The Swan ❞ Camille Saint-Saëns

❝ Swan Lake, Op 20, Act 2: Scene ❞ Pyotr Illyich Tchaikovsky

❝ Gymopédie No. 1 ❞ Erik Satie

❝ Clair de Lune, L 32 ❞ Claude Debussy

❝ Fantasie-impromptu in C Minor, Op Posth. 66  ❞ Frédéric Chopin

❝ Fantasia in D Minor, K.397 ❞ Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

iii: a study

⸻ NAME: pax min

⸻ AGE: thirty-two

⸻ GENDER: cisgender man

⸻ PRONOUNS: he/ him

⸻ SEXUALITY: heterosexual

⸻ RELATIONSHIP: pinning ( engaged ) over a beauty

⸻ FACECLAIM: lee soo hyuk

⸻ HEIGHT: 6'0"

⸻ HAIR COLOR: black

⸻ EYE COLOR: brown

⸻ MARKINGS: sullen eyes from a lack of sleep, trimmed fingernails, and perfect posture.

⸻ TATTOOS: none

⸻ PIERCINGS: none

⸻ DECORUM: turtle necks and slacks–– which are far too professional for a record store owner

⸻ SCENT: bitter coffee, a hint of antique must and musk masked by blue spruce cologne

⸻ POSITIVE TRAITS:  benevolent, calm, & earnest

⸻ NEUTRAL TRAITS: absentminded, frugal, & private

⸻ NEGATIVE TRAITS: cowardly, envious, & treacherous

⸻ ZODIAC: scorpio

⸻ ALIGNMENT:  true neutral

⸻ MTBI: intj

⸻ ENNEGRAM: 2, 8, 4

⸻ TEMPERAMENT: melancholic

⸻ ELEMENT: water

⸻ PRIMARY VICE: pride

⸻ PRIMARY VIRTUE: chastity

⸻ TROPE: defrosting ice king, control freak, the problem with fighting death, jerk with a heart of gold, no social skills

⸻ INSPIRATION: mr. clean, squilliam  fancy pants, victor van dort & ichabod crane with trace amounts of mr darcy

⸻ GOALS: pay off his family’s debts.

⸻ FEARS: ornithophobia ( birds, especially ducks )

⸻ OCCUPATION: technically, a retired orchestra flutist- Music Shop Owner, English Street Music Company, where he sells instruments for mostly band students in the area, he also provides music tutoring / lessons in his home for piano, and plays in Jazz Bars every Wednesday night.

⸻ RESIDENCE: GARGOYLE GARDEN APARTMENTS

⸻ HOBBIES:  playing the flute, & piano– he’s new at the violin, and despite how birds make him feel– bird watching because you’ve gotta keep your eye on your mortal enemies, ( mostly for the long walks it involves ) he won’t admit it but he’s also fond of slow dancing–– but he’s very picky when it comes to partners, he also likes to collect watches.

⸻ HABITS: he picks at his fingernails when he’s nervous, cleans ( especially dusts ) when he’s upset and therefore sniffles in high times of stress, as well as talks over people when he’s heated. he will also point out in any moment that smoking kills, and will sour around secondhand smoke

iv: a biography

his ambitions were mostly misunderstood when he was younger. he wanted to spread the joy and love of music through orchestral compositions and his own niche favorite jazz woodwinds. the year he learned to play the recorder was the worst year for his father’s patience.

he had the support of the woman whom he thought birthed him, which overshadowed his father’s wishes for his son to become a doctor. though it was a debate among the household growing up, neither parent could deny pax’s talent. and despite how much his father argued, his mother would influence the boy to follow his heart.

if you ask pax song what his most treasured gift is, it would be the gold plated flute gifted to him by his mother. it was a graduation present intended to be used for traveling the world but he’s never truly taken it out of its case. other than for a quick polish, the pipe hardly sees the light of day. he feels unworthy, mostly.

his days as an orchestra flutist are a thing in the past. after a recent passing in the family, he’s returned home- close enough to be within driving distance of his adoptive parents’ house. and though, he does struggle to keep business afloat, he does intend, one day to buy a home where his parents could stay with him.

despite learning at an early age that he was a part of an illegal adoption, he’s considered himself lucky- being a part of the family he’s grown up with, despite his father’s pressures and their constant bickering, they are his real family.

he’d heard rumors of a half brother and a sister, of which he was fully determined to meet, though finding said individuals grew too hard and strenuous on his patience. he’s mostly given up that feat.

v: connection ideas

General Ideas:

Musician friends

Music mentees

Met in the Music Shop

Family - he’s likely got a lot of adoptive family along with his real siblings

Neighbors

Klutzes in Common

A big Ex from years ago

He played at your bar mitzvah, wedding, birthday, etc.

Where you can find him:

Thrift stores

Park benches

Coffee shops /internet cafes

Jazz bars

Opera houses

Busking in the park

vi: tags

;; PAX MIN.

;; PAX MIN: MUSINGS.

;; PAX MIN: CONNECTIONS.

;; PAX MIN: STARTERS.

;; PAX MIN: THREADS.

;; PAX & ⸻

[miekasa]

💉 in the case of erwintholomew, our most esteemed blonde dad

before the pandemic, they barely interacted. erwin was levi’s friend after all. although the rest of the gang had bonded with oc, erwin was less visible. he was polite of course, charming even! in uni days (erwin works in corporate now, so his major is business/econ/accounting whatever yall want!), every single history and literature professor fell in love with erwin. as did the barista at the school cafe, the friday night guard, the park street sweepers, and every member of the tai chi ladies club who practiced during weekends at the park where he made his morning run. he always greeted them and yelled “great form, keep it up, ladies!” when he passed by.

of course he tried to turn up the charm on oc (old habit). but. but. oc was just. unaffected. she treated him no differently from the others in his friend group. no swooning or giggling or bashful smiles. she didn’t even blush when he tried his smoulder while offering her some of his enhanced fruit smoothie (enhanced with spinach and kale). she laughed and declined, opting instead for a berry smoothie that she loaded with full-fat yogurt and honey. he was aghast. and levi said oc was a doctor? (levi might have been laughing silently in the background. hange was full-on cackling while moblit was trying to shush them.) he didn’t dwell on it much, it’s not like they saw each other a lot. but then the pandemic struck. being confined to one living complex meant he was lucky to see his friends still. they were at levi’s, watching a movie, when it happens.

oc walks through the door and hange yells “hiiiiii!” she waves at them tiredly. and starts stripping. at the door. in front of everyone. erwin’s blood pressure spikes. his face goes red. he’s staring with his mouth half open, thick brows knitted together. levi snaps his fingers to shake him out of it. moblit is tapping his shoulder more forcefully by the minute while hange has begun asking oc about her day. they’re talking amiably as if oc wasn’t by the door, in her underwear, spraying her things down with alcohol. she catches erwin’s staring and laughs out loud. by this time, moblit has hidden behind the couch and levi has buried his head in his hands from secondhand embarrassment. oc asks him if he’s never seen people in bikinis. “it not as if a bra and undies covers anything less!”. (erwin will later be relieved that she understood him and did not pin him for a creep). hange says erwin just doesn’t function like a regular human. he’s more of an intergalactic species with elements of dad-ness to him.

hange: he’s kind of like a DILF but also a dad!

moblit audibly groans in embarrassment. oc giggles and walks to the bathroom to shower like nothing happened. levi and hange both give erwin a slap, and that pulls him out of it.

levi: you’re redder than a hot cheeto, your elderly highness

erwin: what’s a DILF?

a few headcanons of their relationship:

he still gets flustered seeing oc strip down after work. he fainted once when hange began talking about oc’s bra and the little birds embroidered on her underwear (on her butt). oc sighs and just tells levi to elevate erwin’s legs and let him smell something pungent. moblit has a picture of him passed out. it’s printed and framed on hange’s shelf.

he almost popped a blood vessel when oc once asked him what was the difference between debit and debt and dividends.

oc: i’m a science nerd, erwin, i don’t know jack shit about business jargon!

erwin: these are accounting terms! they’re totally different!

oc: to-ma-to, to-mah-to?

erwin just really has to ask. really. because he’s erwin. “

erwin: do you ever think of a different line of work? i mean, it is a very scary virus and a pandemic

oc: erwin, i went through a decade of academia for this. still going through it. and i need to pay rent and put food on the table!

levi is rolling his eyes in the background because this little shit said that with her whole chest while she was literally living off peanut butter.

erwin is also stressed with oc’s eating habits with particular attention to nutrients and calorie count. he tried giving oc an organic diet plan, but oc sat him down and debunked every single thing about trendy diets. she also bugs him stop dieting. “diets are not foolproof! erwin, you are 250 lbs of healthy muscle! one burrito won’t hurt!”

they once had a romcom movie night. it was cheesy and fun and perfect for unwinding. until the sex scene happens.

oc: why do men just stick it in? where is the foreplay?

hange: mhmm the male gaze has ruined men, amazing how men ruin themselves

erwin, turning red: do people really talk about detailed sex so casually? i mean we’re in public?

levi: yes, erwin, grow up

moblit, whispering: it wasn’t even detailed, erwin, please

he does go to oc when he pulls a muscle or strains something. she tut-tuts while wrapping up a joint or icing and stretching his sore muscles and tells him to take it easy on the workouts. he’s also started sending fitness health articles to oc, and oc patiently confirms or debunks each one with sound medical and scientific basis.

he lets oc use his gym. she works out in a sports bra and cycling shorts because she says it means less laundry for her. oc usually just runs (speedwalks actually, and jesus, erwin is itching to turn up the speed) on his treadmill for 20 minutes. then she cycles for another 20 minutes and calls it a day. he tried to take on the role of her trainer and gave her a workout regimen. oc makes it to five sit-ups, ten burpees, and a single 1-minute plank before she falls flat, gasping like a fish out of water, and gives up. she’s flat out on his gym floor, but she tells erwin she appreciates him. erwin had to give her a piggy-back ride back to her apartment though.

levi:you died after five sit ups?

oc: shut uP, LEVI

whenever she uses his gym, she leaves him food. a slice of cake, donburi from the japanese place, a salad bowl, fajitas, some mochi, a parfait. not once has her gift of food been a part of his diet plan, but he eats them heartily. he hides when he eats the desserts, even if he’s roomie-free. he just feels like he’s cheating too much.

he never quite gets used to oc. she’s nice and wonderful, but she still manages to surprise him. a lot. to others, it may seem like oc enjoys pulling his leg (to hange’s endless delight), but in reality, she’s just trying to help him navigate and acclimatize to the ever-changing modern society and social norms. levi notices, of course, and it only makes him fall so much harder 😌

it’s fun to clown erwin within reason, really vibing with the modern au erwin on here 😌 but yeah, this is how i picture their interactions and dynamics 😭

THIS IS PERFECT OMFG BYE!! I love, love, love the idea of just... slightly socially aloof, but very professionally proficient Erwin trying to make friends with Levi's.... well not his s/o but his very obvious crush at least LMAOOO. I love it, I really, truly do anon, you continue to deliver 😌😌

OC: Erwin, I went through a decade of academia for this. Still going through it. And I need to pay rent and put food on the table!

Levi is rolling his eyes in the background because this little shit said that with her whole chest while she was literally living off peanut butter.

HELP LEVI IN THE BACKGROUND BECAUSE HE WOULD 😭😭 LITERALLY LIVING OFF OF PEANUT BUTTER BYEEE the amount of unconscious lies Levi could expose oc for... I get the feeling he's /this/ close to strapping her to the dining room chair and spoon feeding her himself

Levi: you’re redder than a hot cheeto, your elderly highness

Erwin: what’s a DILF?

HELP THIS IS MY FAVORITE EXCHANGE LMAOO. Levi clowning Erwin, Erwin being too confused too even respond to Levi's jab; he's still processing being called a DILF, and I just know that Levi isn't gonna be the one to explain it, but god forbid Hange does lmfaooo

OC makes it to five sit-ups, ten burpees, and a single 1-minute plank before she falls flat, gasping like a fish out of water, and gives up. she’s flat out on his gym floor, but she tells erwin she appreciates him. erwin had to give her a piggy-back ride back to her apartment though.

Levi: you died after five sit ups?

OC: shut uP, LEVI

Okay first of all, relatable, bye... something about the atmosphere of any gym, even if it were privately owned by a blonde businessman, makes it impossible for me to actually work out 😭😭 The fact that Erwin piggy-backed her back to her apartment is so cute please, I know they never quite get used to each other, but the friendship they have going on right now is so damn cute in an unconventional way, I adore it. Definitely an unexpected pair of friends and they don't... /quite/ work, but they also do. Incredible

Also not Levi coming for her, listen, not all of us are built like you, also you know damn well she's been living off of peanut butter sandwiches, OF COURSE she was gonna die after a few sit ups 🙄🙄 if you wanna help her improve, then start cheffing it up smh

[fascination-street-writing]

Stealing Past the Windows | Platonic Leone Abbacchio x Reader

You want him to see the anguish that he has caused for you and your mother. You hope it is enough to keep him awake at night.

Content Warnings: Prostitution & Dubious Consent

You wish you were a mortician so that maybe – just maybe – you could be used to death. You long for the ability to shut away your grief, to turn it off as if it is nothing more than a lightbulb that hangs above your head – to flip the switch.

Your mother leads you towards the parking lot behind the cathedral. You have only just fastened the seatbelt over your lap when you notice him: the mortician standing next to a dumpster, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His necktie is loose and his hair a disarray. He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales a cloud of smoke. Perhaps morticians were not as used to death as you thought.

Something taps against the windshield. Pattering, uneven beats, not unlike the pianist’s scant repertoire from the procession. You wish that your mother would have hired someone better, someone who was not the sostituo commissario coordinatore’s daughter.

“It’s raining,” your mother remarks, her voice no louder than a whisper. Rain – of course it rains today of all days. She sighs and grips the steering wheel. If her hands were not covered by her black gloves, you might see that her knuckles are white. “They never said it would rain. How are we supposed to bury him in this?”

You realize that, perhaps instead of death, you long to become better acquainted with unpredictability: the death of your father, rain during a funeral, a lousy pianist . . . And Leone Abbacchio’s sunset-colored eyes meeting your gaze from across the parking lot. You bring your hand to your mouth and bite down on your curled pointer-finger to keep from calling out to him – what are you doing here? Permanent suspension and a slanderous newspaper article were not enough to satiate the part of you that yearns for his retribution.

Your mother follows the hearse, but you do not dare to look away, even as the car turns onto the street. You want him to see the anguish that he has caused for you and your mother. You hope it is enough to keep him awake at night.

If, even after everything, a mortician and death are no more than steely work associates, then surely a distance exists between a prostitute and sexual intimacy. You never let the men take you from the front: your fleeting decency is preserved by the sorrow that suffocates you each time you are forced to solicit yourself to pay off your mother’s debts. You tell yourself that it is better this way – better than starving on the streets or lying dead in a dumpster, a proper unmarked grave.

Adaptability has helped you to cope with unpredictability. Now, you pray for blindness. Blindness so that you no longer face the men who leer and lead you into alleyways and dingy hotel rooms; blindness to forget that home is nothing more than a moth-ridden mattress, vacant memories, and a box fan; blindness, so the sounds of mice scurrying in the rafters become your mother teetering on loose floorboards as she stands over the kitchen table and prepares dinner.

Blindness so that you might forget the callousness of solitude.

A gust of air reaches for you. You tug your skirt over your thighs, a feeble attempt to ward of the chilling temperature.  The waiting comes with confliction, for in the moments when you are alone, you are glad to be untouched. And yet, trepidation reminds you that a prostitute who does not meet her nightly quota is expendable. Your mother learned that – her final anecdote to you was a bullet.

Two women stand across the street. The glow of a cigar illuminates the space between them. An emaciated feline stalks down the sidewalk; she carries a kitten in her mouth.  Footsteps – a man approaches you, his hands buried in the pockets of his striped dress slacks. He leans into the wall, only inches from you. He smells of tobacco smoke – you never cared for tobacco smoke. You blame it on your father’s influence.

You name your price, and he grabs your wrist. “I just want you to suck me off,” he sneers before pulling you into the alley. The air there is heavy: already, you have forgotten how to breathe.  “You only get paid if you swallow. Got it, puttana?”

You nod. The pavement bites the skin of your knees. Your palms grow clammy. A knot forms in your belly. It never gets easier. The reflective surface of his belt’s silver buckle is an unwanted mirror. Sunken eyes stare back as you fumble with the latch. You no longer recognize yourself – it is a stranger’s gaze that watches your movements. You are a woman drowning, yet desperate for a glass of water.

Fingers pry at your arms. For a moment, you are airborne as he lifts you from the ground and pins you to the wall. His breath curdles in your ear – the rasp of his tone and the overwhelming scent of charred leather confirms that he is indeed a smoker and not a victim of secondhand exposure: “I’ve changed my mind. Ti sto fottendo.”

You shiver, but not because you are cold, even though the night air assaults your bare legs, which have been freed of your tight mini-skirt; pink polyester gathers at your ankles, tethering you. His teeth graze the crook between your shoulder and neck. His body cages you. The breeze wafts through your hair, gentle tresses clinging to his skin. In another life, he might have been a lover. But a lover does not pay you for sex.

Your fear turns to ash and dies on your tongue. Every gasp for air is an inhalation of his scent – stale cigarettes. It laces through your throat and burns you alive.

You wait until you are sure that he is gone before you pull your skirt up. Your core throbs. Your legs tremble. Your backend meets the ground as your knees fail you. The money lies just beyond your reach, but you cannot bear to touch it. The mere thought of even looking at it sends a jolt of nausea through you.

It can stay there a little longer – it is not pride that compels you to leave the money be: it is dignity.

You do not notice that you are crying until you feel the familiar sting in your eyes.  An anguished scream tears itself from your mouth as you slap the ground and kick into the rusted trashcan beside you. It topples over – you wish to be buried alive in food scraps and disposed condoms because it is not better this way.

A tawny colored beer bottle shatters at your feet: a mosaic of glass shards. In each broken piece laid out before you, you see your reflections – in every groove, ripple, and adhesive spotting that has been left behind by a missing label. One shard is your father’s funeral and a smoking mortician, and another shard is the eternally frozen face of your dead mother, and another shard is the first man whom you sold your virtue to.

And yet, one shard is a series of train tickets, from Napoli to the lavender fields of Aix-en-Provence, and another shard is a glass of Bordeaux Red that you share with a lover on a balcony overlooking the plaza of Place Richelme, and another shard is a newborn babe nestled in the white laces of her bassinet, the glow of the setting evening sun stealing past the window of the nursery and painting the walls with a glorious apricot light. And among them all, shards of men whose touches and faces blend together, shards of hands that wring your neck. Perversion, starvation, and seclusion. Mice in the rafters, a battered mattress, and a box fan.

What good is a pretty future if you must suffer for it first? You realize, as your fingers float over the glass shards, that you have been on this journey to Aix-en-Provence – to somewhere better than Napoli – your entire life: that you are sitting on a train, still, though once you thought it moving. You are forever rooted in place.

Your scuffed stiletto grinds the glass into the concrete. Happiness demands too much from you. You stomp each shard until they split and become a million more pieces – so small that they no longer speak to you.

The final shard is a pair of sunset-colored eyes and silver hair. You freeze, your foot suspended above the piece of glass. You meet his gaze from across the alley. You want to bite your finger – it is a nervous habit that you had promised to quit after the funeral, after your mother had found you bandaging your bleeding hand with toilet paper in the bathroom at the burial site; she had never forgiven you for staining your dress.

You cannot look away from him, even as he drops the paper brown grocery bag snagged around his wrist in favor of ushering you into his arms and onto your feet – your head on his chest, held in place by a single hand that coaxes through your hair. You do not bother to push him away, because it feels good to be held; though every fiber of your being tells you to loathe this man, you find that you cannot. Hatred costs too much energy, causes too much stress; you do not need either. When he pulls away to inspect your face, you do the same to him. His mouth moves, but you do not hear the words that fall from his lilac-painted lips. The dark rings beneath his eyes are rival to yours. You wonder how much sleep he has lost, for every night spent thinking of you.

Steam from the coffee mug wafts into the air in a delicate spiral. At this hour, the café is nearly empty. A man with lavender-blonde hair types into his laptop computer; he lifts his beverage to his lips without tearing his gaze from the screen. Aside from him and an older woman, who is clipping coupons from a newspaper, you and Leone Abbacchio are the only other customers. It is a sharp contrast to the usual bustle during the day; without the business men fighting for their morning espresso shots or the mothers stopping for a pastry after sending their children off to school for the day, it feels like a graveyard.

The soft hum of the kitchen radio echoes through to the dining room. The coupon-clipping woman taps her foot to an offbeat cadence. You tug Leone’s jacket by the lapels, securing it tautly to your skin. He had insisted that you wear it, because of the cold. Truthfully, you know that it is for modesty’s sake. Regardless of the reason, you are grateful. He clasps his own porcelain mug but does not drink. Perhaps it is still too hot, you wonder.

“I don’t know if I should thank you or not,” you finally say. Macchiato pools on your tongue. It has been far too long since you have had coffee that was not made from instant crystals; you savor it. “I wouldn’t be in this situation if not for you, after all. But, the caffè is a nice gesture.”

His teeth graze his bottom lip. “I’m sorry,” he says with hesitation. “I’m sorry for what happened. For what I did.”

“You’re wasting your time, saying you’re sorry, because there aren’t enough apologizes that could even begin to make things right. An apology won’t bring my father back. An apology won’t bring my mother back.”

He shudders and sighs. “I know . . . I know that.”

An uncomfortable silence hovers over your heads. At last, Leone drinks his coffee; it is a much-needed distraction from the conversation that has haunted him until this moment. His greatest fear has been to face the family of the man he had indirectly killed. It was a mistake to have gone to the funeral – he knows that; he was never sure what to expect that day. The sight of your mother following the hearse in her station wagon while you stared him down, until finally you disappeared, had shaken him – he fell to the bottle that very night.

Leone’s cellphone vibrates atop the table. The green screen casts a reflection upon the window beside you. Flashing digital numbers tell you that is is 23:13 – you only have forty-seven minutes to give the money to your procurer. You instinctively pat your pocket. The money is not there. Upon the realization that you have forgotten it back in the alley, where it is no doubt buried under the fallen trash of your breakdown, you down the rest of your drink. “Thank you for the coffee,” you say to Leone. “I should get going – I need to get back to work.”

His brow furrows. “You’re not going back there,” he says to you, a strange inflection in his tone – worry or anger, you cannot tell the difference.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do.” His bark is beguiling, and it commands you to stay seated. For every moment that he stalls, the knot in your belly constricts tighter and tighter, until it feels as though your intestines might burst. When he speaks, a gust of air rushes through you: “Let me . . . Let me try to make things right. Let me start by getting you out of there.”

You tense at his words. “You speak as if you think it’s easy to get ‘out of there,’” you sneer. “As if you think you could actually help me.”

“I’ll pay off your mother’s debt,” he insists with a sudden burst of confidence.

It is your turn to stiffen. “How do you know about that?” It is then that you take in his appearance in earnest – his clothing looks expensive, even though he is clad in only a sweater and jeans. You doubt that his makeup came from a drug store. If exorbitance had a scent, it would be that of his cologne: woodsy and sweet. He could never have afforded these things on a poliziotto’s salary. “You work with them, don’t you?”

“No.” The waitress leans over the table to top off Leone’s mug. He offers her a nod and she pledges a smile. She scurries back to the counter in a flurry of floral-pattern skirts. The way he avoids answering your first question tells you enough: you understand that it is far too complicated to be uttered aloud in a public space. “I just know the right people.”

“I don’t want your help,” you tell him, albeit too quickly. Dignity compelled you from taking the money in the alleyway. But it is not dignity that holds you from accepting money from a former dirty cop: it is ego laced in hubris. And it is his bribery, shrouded in penitence, that beckons for your clemency. “I don’t need your help.”

“Stop this.” His words scorn you. “Don’t let yourself get killed because of your pride. I know what happens to women like you. You’re not a human being to them: you’re nothing more than a money-maker. Damn it, I’ve seen girls younger than you that – “ he cuts himself off. “Getting killed over the grudge you hold against me – it’s not worth it.”

“I can’t accept help from the man who ruined my life. It means you’ll expect me to forgive you.”

“I’m not looking for forgiveness. I just want to prove to you that I am sorry.” When you bring your pointer-finger to your mouth and bite down on your knuckle, he can see you in the station wagon again. Although, instead of a mourner’s garb, you wear a scanty skirt and a cropped blouse. “What about your father?”

You pull your finger away; a thread of saliva connects from your skin to your quivering lip. “Don’t you dare mention him,” you hiss. “Don’t act like you knew him: he was nothing more than a coworker to you.”

“It’s not for forgiveness. Let me help you because he would never want to see you like this.” You can practically hear the twitching of his jaw. A tear falls, and then another. And another. He wipes the back of his hand over his dampened cheeks. “He loved you – so much. More than I think he ever loved your mother, if you’d heard the way he spoke about you . . . One of the last things he ever said to me was how he couldn’t wait to see the type of person you’d become. Un dottore o un insegnante: it didn’t matter to him, so long as you were happy.” He looks away, as if he is ashamed to face you, though rightfully so. “I did know him. I knew the man who would have given anything for his famiglia – for you.”

Your heart aches – for your father or Leone or even yourself, you are not sure. While it pains you to admit it, the man sitting before you has uttered the truth. Your father would want you to accept Leone’s help. It might be your only chance for a fresh start – to usher the still train along. Suddenly, the lavender fields feel so close that all you need do is reach out to feel the purple tendrils within your grasp. Paradise is not too far.

You sigh, shakily, before you give him your answer: “Okay.”

You thought your response would satiate him – instead, the tears he sheds fall faster. He brings a hand to his forehead to pinch his temples between his thumb and ring-finger, to shield his face: a man torn apart by his own chagrin. His other hand is outstretched before him, fingers formed into a taut fist. You are sure that his nails will puncture his skin if he squeezes any tighter. The music from the kitchen stops. The woman places down her scissors and her newspaper. The man with lavender-blonde hair closes his laptop. The ticking of the wall-clock is the only sound that reverberates through the café. It is only minutes until the new day.

Leone Abbacchio is man frozen in his past. Despite the turmoil, despite the grief and accrued traumas, you do not hate him: though unable to move on, he is driven by audacity. You once thought him cowardly, but a craven would never have reached out to you: a craven would rob you of your second chance at life. You respect the weeping man seated across the table, so much so that you clasp your own hand over his fist as a gesture of solidarity. His breath catches in his throat as his quaking body stills. You have nothing to say to him – but no words could convey the thoughts that weave through your mind. His wrist rotates beneath your touch. Palm to palm, his fingers reach for yours and entwine.

Forgiveness is a virtue you cannot afford. You will not forgive him – not now – but you will heal: together.

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