#we’re still financially Tight

[fruitless-vain]

The most appropriate response to what’s happened is very obviously to find a clearance steak for Jack and cook it for dinner with some to add to the dogs’ and cat’s meals. Buy a JUMBO bag of sunflower seeds to spoil the birds. Get myself a slurpee, a big box of freezies and Jack a case of beer. Then just sit in the house, play a good game, and occasionally go “AND ANOTHER THING” in a bitch fest circle

[bellaxgiornata]

A Favor from the Devil |Chapter Two|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Mom!Reader Word Count: 3.4k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; Domestic abuse, depictions/mentions of sexual assault, struggles with past trauma, canon-typical violence, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut (possibly more warnings to come)

a/n: Throwing the second chapter at y'all because I can and I feel like y'all needed some Matt. You get his POV in this chapter, too! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @kee-0-kee @dethspllz @a-half-empty-g1rl @senjoritanana @kezibear @sleepysleepymom @danzer8705 @scriptedmoon @flowher @wanda-maxamommy @guccicloudz

Making your way through the crowded streets of Hell’s Kitchen, you guided Evelyn back towards your apartment. Both of her small hands clung tight to yours as she walked in silence beside you. Every time someone stepped a little too near to the pair of you, you felt her draw herself in closer to your legs, her fingers squeezing tighter around yours. In your opposite hand you carried a grocery bag that held a single container of vanilla moose track ice cream for tonight–Evie’s favorite flavor. Unfortunately purchasing the ice cream meant you’d had less money to spend on groceries for next week, but you’d happily eat another cheap packet of ramen for dinner and skip lunches at work if the frozen treat could manage to put a smile on her face this evening.

Evie had been silent ever since you’d picked her up after work from her first day of preschool. She hadn’t said a single word, not even when you’d taken her to pick out the ice cream. All she’d done was stand in front of the row of freezers at the store and quietly point to the flavor she’d wanted. You’d tried asking her how her day had gone, what she’d done in class, or if she’d made any friends, but instead of a response you’d only seen her lips draw into a thin line.    

So you’d done what you usually did when Evelyn drew into herself and stopped talking–you talked about your day. Which in all honesty had been horrible because the job you’d managed to acquire was a tedious desk job in which you sat in the tiny confines of a cubicle staring at a computer screen for hours on end. Your boss wasn't great, either. He was always in a bad mood, often making rude comments to you if he wasn't finding a reason to criticize your work. Dealing with his attitude daily for a salary that you could barely survive on usually soured your mood the moment you stepped into the building, but at least your coworker, Amira, made the days bearable. You’d been there for barely two months, but she’d taken one look at you and seen your past written on your face. After that, you’d grown comfortable around her, slowly opening up about your personal life–but not quite all of it.

But of course, you didn’t tell Evie about the bleak and depressing parts of your days at work. You’d always done your best to make it sound like you enjoyed your time there. And even though you didn’t, you were still grateful that you'd found a way to somewhat financially support the two of you.

“Look at that!” you said, gesturing a hand towards your apartment building with the one not currently being crushed in both of Evie’s. “We’re home already!”

Evie remained silent, not expressing a single emotion as to whether she was excited to be back or not. Wordlessly she followed you through the building’s main doors and into the lobby. Once the doors had shut behind you, the sound of the city just a little quieter now that you were off the streets, she seemed to relax. No longer on the crowded sidewalk, Evie’s hands somewhat loosened their grip on yours as you led her over towards the elevators. 

You tried to think of a way that you could cheer her up tonight, hoping to pull her out of her nonverbal phase before it really took hold, but considering your limited funds, you didn’t have many options. The best you could think of was a movie night, though all you had to watch movies on was the cheap cell phone you'd purchased once you'd gotten Evie and yourself out of your previous situation. 

As you pushed the call button for the elevator and waited for it to appear, you did your best to fight back the tears welling in your eyes. If only you could afford to purchase more toys for her to play with. A television and a couch for the pair of you to cozy up on at night. Anything . But all you had was each other. 

The familiar weight of your guilt that permanently sat heavy like a stone in your stomach reared its head. Once more you felt like a shitty mother, failing to provide all the things you wished you could for your child. But yet you refused to break down–at least, not here in front of Evie. You'd wait for the opportunity later tonight when you were certain she was asleep. Right now your priority was cheering her up and turning her day around, not wallowing in your own feelings.

She was the priority, not you.

The elevator doors opened and you forced a smile onto your face, blinking hard a couple of times. You gently pulled Evie along with you, stepping onto the elevator before pushing the button for the sixth floor.

“How about we reheat last night’s pizza and watch a movie on my phone tonight, cricket?” you asked, glancing down at your daughter as the elevator doors closed. “We can cuddle in your sleeping bag and pretend we’re camping. And then we can eat ice cream out of the container for dessert,” you suggested, knowing full well that you didn’t have any bowls in the kitchen yet. “Doesn’t that sound fun?”

Evie’s attention shifted towards you, her expression remaining neutral and impossible to read. She didn’t respond and her continued silence caused the smile on your face to become strained as you fought to keep it there. Your eyes traveled to the numbers above the elevator doors, watching as they changed from a five to a six. At least you’d be back in your apartment soon.

“What’s mute?”

The sound of Evie’s quiet, small voice startled you. As the doors of the elevator slowly rolled open with a ding , you glanced down at your daughter beside you. She was staring up at you with that still hard to read expression on her face. 

“Mute?” you asked, stepping out of the elevator with her. “What do you mean, cricket? Where’d you hear that?”

“School,” she answered. 

A frown settled onto your lips. Had the children there been teasing her? Or worse–the teachers?

“It just means that you–” 

You’d been about to explain the meaning of the word until you’d noticed a man at the far end of the hallway. The unexpected sight of him caused you to instantly grow quiet even though he was just standing outside of the apartment directly across the hall from yours seemingly attempting to unlock his front door. 

Your pace slowed as you observed him, your brain immediately screaming threat at the sight of him. Beneath that tight blue dress shirt he wore you could see that he was broad and muscular, the material pulled taut in various places along his torso. With the way his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, they revealed his thick forearms which hinted at even thicker biceps. Even his thighs filled out the dark slacks he wore, suggesting a strength about him that you couldn’t deny.

He looked intimidating and dangerous. 

You then noticed the cane in his left hand and the dark glasses currently sitting on his nose despite the fact that he wasn’t outside. Watching how he used his hands as he attempted to guide his key into the lock, you quickly pieced things together. Blind, you assumed. He was blind. But his disability didn't matter; he still looked like he could throw a solid punch and that alone had you on edge in his presence. 

Your mouth went dry as you stepped ahead of Evie, somewhat placing your body in front of hers as you both continued down the hallway. Of course you knew this man was most likely going to ignore you both even if he somehow noticed you. He was probably just getting home from work, too. More than likely he just wanted to eat dinner and relax like everyone else in the city. And the likelihood of him being a violent individual seemed slim–because logically you knew that not every man was–but for some reason something about him had put you on alert.

As you neared closer, your heart pounding heavily as the hair prickled along the back of your neck, you caught the way his hands stopped what they were doing. Briefly your feet faltered when you saw his head turn just a fraction over his shoulder in your direction as if he'd somehow picked up on the fact that he wasn't alone in the hallway. 

In that moment, you didn't remotely care if you were being rude or not, you practically dragged Evie the rest of the way towards your door in silence. Already having pulled your apartment key out of your pocket before you'd reached it, you unlocked the door swiftly before ushering your daughter inside. In a panicked rush, you darted after her before shutting and locking the door behind you without a backwards glance at the man.

Standing in front of the door for a moment, you paused to release the breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding. Rude or not, you weren't going to offer him help or introduce yourself. Something about him had triggered your instincts to run and that had been reason enough to avoid him.

You felt a tug at your hand and you snapped out of your thoughts, your eyes dropping down towards your daughter. Evie was staring up at you with wide, worried eyes.

“You okay, mama?” she asked.

Nodding in response, you blew out a rough breath and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze in return. “Yeah, cricket,” you answered, still feeling a little on edge. “Yeah, I'm good.” Clearing your throat, you held up the bag with the ice cream in it and tried to smile back at her. “Maybe I should put this in the freezer before it melts on us after that long walk in the heat, huh?”

Evie gave you a single nod in response before she released your hand. 

Turning towards the kitchen, you made your way over to the fridge and opened the freezer. You frowned at the sole bag of dinosaur chicken nuggets sitting on a shelf by itself. They'd thankfully been on sale the other day–another of Evie’s favorites–but that was all you currently had in the freezer at the moment. 

“What movie do you want to watch tonight?” you asked Evie, placing the ice cream on a shelf.

“Little Mermaid,” she answered softly. 

It wasn't a stretch for you to understand why that movie was often her favorite choice lately. 

“Alright, cricket,” you said, closing the freezer door to open the door to the fridge next. “Why don't you get cozy in some pajamas and I'll start reheating the pizza in the oven? You and Barnabas can get settled in the sleeping bag and I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

You weren’t surprised when Evie didn't respond, but the soft padding of her feet through the apartment and to her bedroom behind you was answer enough. 

Launching himself up onto the platform of the fire escape, Matt began his usual ascent up the neighboring building beside his own apartment building. As he scaled his way upwards, heading towards the roof now that his night was over, Matt's mind was busy working over the information that he'd uncovered as Daredevil tonight. Information he hoped to find ways to use as Matt Murdock this week with Foggy and Karen.

But as he climbed his way up fire escape after fire escape, he couldn't help but feel the exhaustion from the night settling into his body. He'd been running himself ragged all week trying to juggle both halves of his life and tonight he was admittedly feeling the repercussions of it. He needed a good night's sleep, but judging by the sounds of the city, it was probably somewhere around two or three in the morning. If he was lucky, he'd manage to get three or four hours before dragging his tired and battered body back out of bed to get to work.

Finally reaching the topmost fire escape, Matt grabbed ahold of his usual footholds on the side of the building and began pulling himself the rest of the way onto the roof. He let out a soft groan when he lifted himself up and over the railing and onto the rooftop. Briefly collapsing onto his knees, he took a minute to catch his breath. It was hot out this evening and his suit wasn't making him any less warm.

After his short break, Matt forced himself back up and onto his feet before jogging across the top of the building towards his own. He was ready to peel off his sweaty suit and be home for the evening, already looking forward to stepping into his shower and washing off his long day. 

With practiced ease he flung himself between the gaps of both buildings and landed with a sharp jolt. He grit his teeth at the impact, taking a moment to recover before rising to his feet and striding over to the roof access door which led back to his place. But he managed to take all of two steps before his tired ears caught something he hadn't expected.

Crying. Soft, muffled sobs coming from just below where he stood.

Matt hesitated, his eyes narrowing behind his mask as he tried to figure out who would’ve been awake and crying at this hour. The only other people who lived on the sixth floor with him were the long since widowed Mrs. Henderson–who definitely didn't spend her evenings crying–and his new neighbors that had moved in just last night.

The strange and short encounter he'd had with you earlier this evening resurfaced in Matt's mind. He'd been coming home from the office and was busy thinking about what he was hoping to accomplish in the city this evening as Daredevil, barely paying attention to much else. But somehow the immediate and overpowering scent of absolute fear he'd been slammed with had managed to break through his distracted thoughts. He'd felt that overwhelming fear from both you and the young girl which he'd assumed was your daughter from the moment you'd left the elevator and noticed him.

The acrid scent of it had instantly given Matt pause. At first he'd wondered if you both had somehow recognized him as Daredevil. But he'd quickly realized that seemed a stupid and impossible thought the moment he'd had it. But why else would you both become so quiet and fearful of him when he was just unlocking his apartment door? The feeling of your combined emotions had deeply unsettled him. No one had ever reacted to him like that before, certainly not as Matthew Murdock, the friendly, blind lawyer.

Matt had considered trying to turn around and introduce himself to you both, hoping that maybe he would appear far less terrifying to you if he’d flashed a charming smile and given you his name, but you'd grabbed your daughter and darted inside your apartment so fast that Matt hadn't had the opportunity.

It had been…odd. You both had been odd. And admittedly your reaction to him had piqued his curiosity. 

Turning around on the rooftop, Matt casually strode away from the door that led to his apartment and over towards the side of the building near your fire escape instead. Curiosity had won out over a shower and sleep for now. He wanted to make sense of that unsettling experience he'd had with you in the hallway. He hadn't liked scaring you both, feeling like he was some sort of dangerous monster.

Tossing himself over the side of the building, he landed softly onto the fire escape below. He stayed low in a crouch, throwing his senses out into your apartment to make sure he hadn't been seen when he’d dropped down. If you'd reacted the way you had earlier to just Matt Murdock, he could only imagine the reaction Daredevil would receive standing on your fire escape in the middle of the night. 

A minute passed and when no one shrieked or otherwise alerted Matt to having been noticed, he slowly rose to his full height. As he stood there, he could still hear the quiet, muffled crying that he'd caught on the roof continuing from inside. Paying close attention to it, it sounded like the sound was coming from just outside of the door of the bedroom who’s window he was standing at. 

Head tilting curiously to the side, he began examining your apartment as best as he could from the outside. And what he found easily surprised him.

Nothing. There was hardly anything in your apartment at all. He didn’t hear the usual buzz of electronics that he often did–like televisions or computers or even toasters. Focusing even closer, it sounded like the air from the air conditioning unit blowing in your apartment was moving with hardly any interruptions. As if you didn’t even have furniture. And judging from the placement of the crying and the sound of what seemed like your daughter’s even breaths as she slept, both of you appeared to be quite low on the ground. Like you were both lying on the floor instead of on beds.

Matt’s head tilted further to the side, a frown pulling his lips downwards beneath his mask. How strange. Had the pair of you not finished fully moving in yet? Or…did you really not have any furniture? 

Something stirred in Matt’s chest as another one of your sobs hit his ears. There was something going on here, there had to be. People didn’t usually react that way to strangers without cause–he would know because he’d never experienced that level of fear from someone outside of his Daredevil suit before. And there was the fact that you were laying on the floor in front of your daughter’s bedroom instead of laying in the second bedroom that he knew was in the apartment. There was only one reason he could imagine a mother doing that–you were protecting your daughter.

But why? And from who?

Matt reached a gloved hand up and gently rested it onto the glass of the window carefully, trying to focus his senses even more closely inside. He found himself desperately wanting answers about his new neighbors, but just as he leaned forward and turned his head to listen better, he heard a rustling inside the room–distinctly that of a sleeping bag. Terrified of being caught, Matt pushed himself roughly away from the window before beginning to quickly pull himself back up onto the roof. 

“Mama?”

Your daughter had definitely woken, Matt realized. He could hear her pulse steadily increasing now that she was awake. There were only a few seconds that passed before he heard a frantic tossing of a blanket onto the floor before the bedroom door had flung open.

“What’s wrong, Evie? Are you okay? Did you have another bad dream?”

There was a faint shift of air that Matt caught–like your daughter shaking her head–before he heard the scared, small voice again.

“Someone’s here.”

Your body immediately went straight into fight or flight and Matt curiously noted the intensity of it.

“Where, cricket?”

“Outside.”

Matt winced, running a gloved hand over his mouth as he stood there on the roof. So your daughter had noticed something. He needed to be more careful. Hopefully she hadn't seen his very recognizable costume. 

“No one’s there, Evie,” came your reassuring voice, though Matt could hear that your body was still panicked. “You’re safe, I promise. Okay? We’re both safe here.”

Shaking his head, he pulled his senses away from your apartment. That was enough eavesdropping on your place for the night. He had a few ideas about what might’ve been going on with you both now, a sick feeling bubbling in his gut at all of the dark scenarios racing through his mind. He hoped he wasn’t right about any of them, but if he was, he’d now become personally determined to make sure you both remained safe here. Because even though he didn’t actually know either of you, you were a part of Hell's Kitchen–the city he loved deeply. His city. And that was more than enough reason for Matt to find himself suddenly caring about the both of you.

[munson-blurbs]

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 1: Firsts

Word Count: 883/Rating: G/Pairing: None/CW: brief mention of financial hardships/Tags: Eddie Munson, Wayne Munson, first concert

Divider credit to @silkholland

The first time Eddie Munson went to a concert–a real concert, not Hawkins Middle School’s annual talent show–was a night he would never forget.

Granted, it wasn’t the traditional concert experience. He didn’t see Black Sabbath’s members as they took to the stage, the lights illuminating Ozzy as he captivated the audience with only raw vocals and a microphone, the thousands of Bic-powered flames scattered throughout the cheering crowd when the band played “Iron Man.” But nothing about Eddie’s life was traditional thus far, and it was only right that this concert followed suit.

He’d first seen the advertisement in the record store one Saturday afternoon, three months’ worth of allowance in one hand and Van Halen’s self-titled album clutched in the other. The flier showed two pilots in their jumpsuits, standing in front of a fighter jet, with the following text in big, bolded letters:

BLACK SABBATH’S NEVER SAY DIE! TOUR TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12 @ 8 PM INDIANA CONVENTION CENTER TICKETS ON SALE NOW!

Eddie shoved the crumpled dollar bills at the cashier, waiting only to collect his change before bolting towards his uncle’s rusted Chevy.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie climbed into the passenger seat with a toothy grin. “Black Sabbath’s comin’ to Indianapolis! Can we go?”

Wayne glanced at his twelve-year-old nephew’s eager face, his heart lurching with the news he knew he had to deliver. “I’m sorry, kid. Money’s tight, and the plant still hasn’t given me back the hours they cut during the recession���” He trailed off with a shake of his head.

Never one to be deterred, Eddie pressed on. “What if I save my allowance every week? I won’t even buy lunch; I can just get chips from the vending–”

“You ain’t skipping lunch,” Wayne interjected sharply. “I bust my ass to keep you from going hungry, and I sure ain’t gonna let it happen over a concert. Is that clear?” He didn’t look away until Eddie nodded. “Besides, one ticket’ll cost more than you can save, let alone two.”

The boy slumped in his seat, record snug against his chest, but the argument faded from his lips. He knew Wayne was right; even tickets in the nosebleeds would be well out of his price range.

Eddie had mostly forgotten about the concert by September 12, his mind occupied with learning new songs on the acoustic guitar he’d thrifted. Despite constantly falling out of tune, it wasn’t a bad find.

Wayne was waiting for him in the trailer doorway when he got home from band practice, an unusual occurrence. He was normally sleeping when Eddie came home from school, trying to rest before a night shift.

“Is everything okay?” He didn’t remember having a doctor’s appointment, and the only other reason his uncle would be awake at this hour was… “Did someone die?”

Wayne shook his head and chuckled. “No one died. We’re just taking a little road trip.”

“To where?”

“You’ll see.”

After a long ride involving two separate McDonalds drive-thrus (Eddie was a growing boy, after all) and four separate bathroom breaks (in hindsight, the extra-large Pepsi wasn’t a great choice), they pulled into the convention center parking lot.

Wayne turned to his nephew. “Now, I don’t want you gettin’ too excited,” he started, but he was unable to mask the twinkle in his own eyes, “‘cause this ain’t exactly what you asked for. But you’re gonna follow my lead, and don’t say a word.”

“Are we seeing Black Sab–”

“What’d I say?” Wayne raised his bushy, graying brows. “Not a word.”

Eddie nodded silently, trailing behind his uncle as they walked into the venue. His eyes widened at the throngs of people waiting in the lobby. Everything was just so…big. 

“Now we wait,” Wayne whispered. Eddie didn’t bother asking what, exactly, they were waiting for. It only took a few minutes for the perfect moment to arise–the sound of fist striking jaw, security guards rushing to separate the two drunk men and leaving the entrance understaffed.

The older Munson gestured for Eddie to follow him, weaving through the sea of people until they reached the doors to the arena.

“Show’s sold out,” Wayne explained softly, “so we’re gonna stay out here, walk around, and try not to get caught.” He laughed when Eddie stared in disbelief that his straight-laced uncle was sneaking into a concert. “I used to have fun, y’know. I wasn’t always a hardass.”

Eddie smiled, the happiness thrumming in his belly growing to a stampede when he heard the crowd roar and the beginning notes of “Symptom of the Universe.” The music filled his bones and coursed through his veins, blanketing him in a warmth he’d never before experienced. He closed his eyes and pressed his ear to the wall, absorbing the vibrations from the deafening noise inside.

“I’m gonna be in there one day,” he murmured, “but not in the crowd. I’m gonna be on the stage.”

“Do I get backstage passes?” Wayne asked.

Eddie opened his eyes, not realizing that he’d spoken those thoughts aloud. Crimson colored his cheeks as he launched himself into his uncle’s arms. It had been awhile since they’d hugged like this, not since Eddie had developed the false sense of machismo that comes with entering junior high. His answer was soft but definite.

“At every show.”

--

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for choosing to spend time with my friends?

I (24f) and my boyfriend (24m) have been together for three years, and were friends for a long time before that. We don’t live together yet as neither of us make enough money to afford rent along with groceries utilities etc, and I’m about to do an unpaid internship so it’s just not ideal financially.

I am currently working full time and doing graduate school online. This means that we usually only have the evenings and weekends to spend together. He thinks we don’t spend enough time together which is totally valid. We usually just have the evenings and weekends to hang out. I have d&d at 4:00 on Saturdays and church with my family at 10:30am on Sundays, so I can get pretty busy. We usually spend the evenings together and we go to his house most of the time, as he is allergic to cats and my house has 2 of them. So after work, I come home and put my work stuff away and then drive over to his house.

He has mentioned before and just brought up how we don’t spend enough time together. And he’s right. The problem is, he doesn’t realize how many events or friend hangouts I turn down or reject so that I can spend my evenings with him. Not to mention, I don’t do my chores after work because they take away from that and he’ll complain that I’m coming over late and I’ll have to leave soon (I need to wake up early for work). So I basically spend every weekday evening except for one (when he has band practice) at his house. He gets to do all his chores during that time since we’re at his house. We usually spend Saturday mornings and afternoons together until 3:30 when I have to leave for d&d. I play d&d with a tight group of friends. We’re all super close and we only hang out once a week: Saturday for d&d.

Last Saturday I had to leave early from my house where my bf was spending the night because I had forgotten I had a memorial service to attend. I felt really shitty about it and he was upset which I understand, but overall our Saturdays & Sundays have been pretty consistent.

This Saturday my friends decided to meet earlier—1pm— to get ice cream together before our d&d game. I figured it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if I couldn’t hang out more on one Saturday. I texted my bf and told him if he wanted to we could get breakfast together and he could even come with me to get ice cream w my friends if he wants.

He got mad at me saying that we never spend enough time together and all he wants is to spend time with me and that I’m not spending enough time with him. I tried to explain to him that I basically put aside every other event or activity I’m interested in so that we can spend more time together but he’s like “we still don’t spend enough time together.” I don’t want to be that friend that disappears from the group when they’re in a relationship. I value my friends and my graduate school career and I don’t want to give up any of that. I already reject multiple offers from other people who want to hang out or invite me to things because I know my boyfriend will be upset. Now I’m debating on if I should even see my friends today.

I feel like I never have any time to myself anymore and that he’s not listening to me when I tell him how much I’m trying, but I also love my boyfriend and enjoy spending time with him. So, am I the asshole for saying yes to my friends inviting me somewhere before our usual hangout time?

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓

Let's get this one off the ground! I'm very excited for some Christmas angst!

You get the first Eddie POV sneak peak!

102 for 🐓:

---

It’s not all bad. He has to look at it that way. It’s not all bad. At least he’s able to be here, close to his son. At least things aren’t worse. 

He didn’t end up buying a new place down here, before he moved. He didn’t want to miss Christmas. So he rented. Has a six month, short-term lease on a two bedroom apartment. First floor, for Chris. He did manage to sell the house back in Los Angeles. So he’s not hurting financially. He starts his new job with the El Paso Fire Department in January. 

It’s all fine. He’s lucky. He’s near his son again.

Not that that’s all smooth sailing either. If anything, it’s been mostly choppy weather, with the occasional let up. Something that Eddie wishes wasn’t so discouraging for him. But he’ll admit it. He’s fucking discouraged. 

At first, Chris had been happy to see him. Which felt amazing. He smiled and hugged him and told him he missed him, and for a moment, it just felt like Eddie had been gone on a long trip and was now home. Like maybe time really did heal all wounds and Chris was ready to be a family again.

Then Eddie told him he wasn’t leaving. 

It hurts a little. Eddie really was honest and raw with him. Fair, he thought. 

“I’m not expecting things to be changed overnight, I’m not expecting anything to be fixed,” he’d told Chris. “But I can’t continue to be where you aren’t. You’re my son. Home is where you are.”

“So you moved to El Paso? And got an apartment?” Chris had replied, face tight. 

“I did. Yeah. At least now we’re close, and we can-”

“Why would you do that?” Chris had demanded. 

“Why would I want to be in the same city, let alone the same state, as you?” Eddie replied, feeling frustration rising in his chest. 

Christopher’s face had gone bright red. Like Eddie had said something to embarrass him. He hadn’t.

“I don’t want you to be in El Paso. I don’t want to spend time at your stupid, sad apartment. I don’t want to talk to you!” Chris had shouted in response. 

And he hadn’t, for a bit, after that. Complete silent treatment, just like back in May and June, during the worst of it. Eddie panicked. Spiralled. Felt that he made things worse, all the while ruining what had still been good in his life. But after a brief pity party, Eddie remembered why he came here. To do whatever it takes to make sure the gap between himself and Christopher doesn’t get wider. So whatever. Chris can be mad. He can be silent. But Eddie is here. 

So Eddie had kept seeing him anyway. Fought with his parents about, and came to the resolution that Eddie gets two evenings with him a week, minimum. More if Chris wants, which… Well, maybe he’ll start wanting. Hasn’t yet, but at least he’s no longer silent. Quiet and grumbly. But not silent.

Each dinner or forced quality time activity seems to be slowly making a difference. Like crack by crack Eddie is getting through to him. But he honestly doesn’t quite understand why he has to. They’d been doing so much better. Why is Eddie’s proximity such a problem? Maybe… Maybe Chris really doesn’t want him around. Maybe he was calling Eddie or answering Eddie’s calls out of obligation, but really, he was done. Maybe he’s happier the farther Eddie is from him. Maybe all Eddie is to his son is a source of pain.

So being near Chris again makes him happy. But… But it’s not an uncomplicated happiness. It’s tainted. Tainted with the knowledge he might just be being selfish. That he might not be the best thing for Christopher, after all. 

And that is a sort of agony. 

All this to say, Eddie spends five of seven days a week alone. And even the days he does see Chris, it’s not the full day. It’s a handful of hours at most. Sure, he manages to spend a lot of time visiting Abuela when he can. But other than that, he’s on his own. It’ll be better when he starts working, he thinks. He’ll have a team again. They won’t be the 118 - no one ever could be. But maybe they’ll at least care about him. Right now, other than Abuela - who  is aging and doesn’t need Eddie’s stress - no one here really gives a shit about him. His parents have made that much clear. 

As Christmas draws nearer and nearer, Eddie struggles with the loneliness. He knows, in his core, that he’s miserable. He doesn’t want to say it out loud. Can’t call Buck or Bobby or anyone to admit it. That he’s done the wrong thing for himself. Again. It’s too… It’s too shameful. He’s always filled with so much shame. 

And honestly, maybe he could call Bobby. Bobby who is patient and full of grace and understands that shame better than anyone. Maybe he could even find a way to call Father Brian. He certainly can’t talk to the priests at his family’s church. He knows that from a childhood of bullshit. But… He really can’t call Buck. Not about this. Eddie knows Buck took him leaving hard, even if he tried not to show it. And now he sort of hardly communicates with Eddie at all.

[echoalyssa]

For the Last Time | Dick Grayson

image generated by Midjourney AI

just an angsty smut piece for my fav bat boy

~~~

We had split weeks ago, but here he was, silhouetted against my front door. It had been ugly, and the wound still felt raw, but we still gravitated towards each other. Despite the terrible memories that lingered, we always ended up together. For better or for worse. 

“Hi.” My voice comes out whisper quiet and he hesitantly steps inside, nudging the door closed with his foot.

His dark hair falls in front of his eyes and he lifts a hand to push it back behind his ear. 

The air is thick with tension and the words that had gone unspoken. He follows me to the couch, making sure to leave ample space between the two of us. He’s looking at me so intensely that I can’t help but find the bookshelf fascinating.

There is so much to say yet nothing to say at the same time.

I draw my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs. I rest my head on my arms and just take a second to look at him. It’s been too long since he was last on this couch. Even being in his presence had a calming affect. 

“What did you want to talk about?” He asks, playing with his thumbs. He looks up at me quickly and then drops his head.

“You asked to come over.”

He nods and pulls at a loose thread on his shirt. “So then you should pick what we talk about.”

It’s stupid really, we both know what needs to be addressed but for fear of disturbing the calm we’re both tiptoeing around the topic.

I nod at him but still stay quiet.

“I’m sorry. I watched you disappear before my eyes and I was too absorbed in my own head to realize that you needed me. I should have never left you and I should have been someone you could depend on. I let you do everything for us financially and I still expected you to clean up the apartment. I’m sorry. That’s not a partnership and you deserved better.”

It’s everything that I have ever needed to hear from him, but was it too late? The damage had been done.

“Why couldn’t you see that before?” I ask him.

“I was selfish. I was jealous. I didn’t care to and that was wrong of me.”

I choose to stay quiet, knowing that he’s asking for my forgiveness, the problem is that we’d done this before. An apology followed by the exact same behaviors that got us here before. To tell him that I had forgiven him would be a lie and that wouldn’t benefit either of us.

The silence stretches between us and he stands up to stretch. He rolls his neck and the soft crack of the bones fills the air.

“I miss it.” He says softly, looking around the apartment that we had once shared. It had been his home too. More than that though, disguised under his words was that he missed all of it. He missed me.

He sits back down, closer this time. He sits in his usual spot, and he places his hand on my knee. His thumb traces the curve of it gently, as if I might vanish before his very eyes.

We sit in silence for a few minutes until that line of tension snaps and he’s pulling at me just as much as I’m reaching for him. In one swift motion I climb onto his lap, straddling his hips. It’s like we’ve both been allowed to breathe for the first time and neither of us can get enough of it. His arms wrap around me, and he pulls me in so close that there isn’t a millimeter of space between our bodies.

Dick tucks his head into the crook of my neck and lets out a shaky exhale. I’m holding him just as tight. Tears prick at the corner of my eyes, and I sniffle into his shoulder. His fingers drag up and down my back, kneading at the knots that had accumulated without him. He touches me like it might be the last time he ever gets to.

His fingers slip lower, playing with the hem of my shirt. “Is this alright?”

He’s giving me an out but that was the thing, even if I tried to take the out it was inevitable that I would end up right back where I started. Here. With him.

“Yes.”

“Look at me.” He says quietly, his fingers wrap around my jaw, and he angles my face so that I have to look at him. “I love you.”

I duck to avoid his eyes but I whisper it right back to him because that was the only part of this mess that I was certain about.

“Look at me.”

I pry myself out from the crook of his neck, eye contact had never been my strong suit. The second our eyes meet I can feel the impending tears come rushing back. His mouth meets mine and then it’s a mess of teeth and hands and clothing hitting the floor. 

“You’ve lost weight.” He doesn’t say it in a bad way, but he’s acknowledging that our break had been harder on me than he had thought. His voice is laced with concern. “I’m so sorry. You’re tiny.”

He wasn’t wrong, it hadn’t been intentional but whenever I was stressed my hunger pangs would disappear, resulting in my noticeable weight loss. Dick, knew just how much I valued having an athletic physique and the drastic difference had brought tears to his eyes.

“Stop that.”

He doesn’t need me to tell him twice, knowing full well that I won’t talk if I don’t want to, and flips me over. His fingers press me up over the back of the couch and he guides my hips back. He pauses briefly to step out of his shorts but then I feel him right where he belongs.

The physical size difference between us means that we line up perfectly. We moan in unison as he seats himself inside me. His hands press me into the position that he wants and then his right hand tangles in my hair. He yanks it slightly, causing my back to arch and groans, dropping his mouth to my shoulder.

“If you could see the way that you look right now…”

He’s rough with me, in a way that makes my legs weak. It’s weeks of tension that had been building up to this point and neither of us can deny it.

“Please.”

His knee knocks my own further apart and the grip in my hair tightens. We had been doing this long enough for him to know exactly what I need. The new angle has him hitting parts of me that only he can find. 

The force of his thrusts has me pinned to the couch. I sob, holding the couch as if that could keep me grounded. 

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” My orgasm is approaching rapidly and I open to my mouth to tell him that but it rips through me before I get the chance.

My back arches and my vision goes black, the force of it all renders me completely silent.

“Fuck.” He grits out but he never lets the pace slow. All I can do is hold onto him as he fucks me through it.

~~~

I can already tell that I’ll be sore the next day. Coming off two back-to-back orgasms the oversensitivity was bordering on uncomfortable, but I loved every moment of it.

He’s staring at me through lidded eyes, trained on me like I’m the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. His lips are parted slightly, and his hand is wrapped tightly around the headboard. The veins in his forearm stand out prominently. His other hand dips between us and I can feel my eyes blow wide as he rests two fingers on top of his shaft and peers up at me expectantly. ‘Take it.’ His eyes whisper to me. I was already struggling to take him into me, let alone the long thick fingers he has ready for me.

“You can do it.” He murmurs, and the deep rumble of his voice sends another wave of pleasure through me.

He drops his hand from the headboard, curling it around my hip to hold me in place. I’m drowsy with pleasure but I let my body press closer to his, pulling his fingers and his length into my body.

My head falls back immediately, my eyes rolling back into my head. It’s such an intense feeling that my head empties of any thought that isn’t just him.

He’s moaning underneath me, twitching slightly as if he’s fighting the urge to move inside me.

“Look at you.” He murmurs, curling the fingers that are inside me for emphasis.

I sob, and my nails dig into his chest. He’ll have marks tomorrow that he probably won’t be too pleased about.

“I’m so close baby. You look so good taking me like this.”

My nerves are on fire but I’m still dragging myself across him, watching the way that his face contorts with pleasure. His hips snap up, meeting me halfway every time. His thumb brushes against my clit, adding to the pleasure.

“I-I’m going…”

His body tenses under me and I feel him twitch inside me. I cry out his name, collapsing into his chest as the waves of pleasure roll through me. Dick shudders underneath me, finishing with a few small thrusts.

His fingers slip into my hair and he kneads at the back of my neck. Neither of us is concerned about cleaning up the mess we had created. We were just basking in the pleasure of each other.

“You really love me, don’t you?” He whispers while dragging his fingers through my hair soothingly.

Emotion gathers in my throat and all I can do is nuzzle into his hand and close my eyes. Even though we were together tonight, I still wasn’t sure that I would experience him this gentle with me again. I would enjoy this for as long as I was allowed to have it.

[wheatnoodle]

if gareth has to hear one more mention of stevie harrington, he’s gonna beat himself over the head with a wrench.

every day, no matter what, one of those freshmen eddie sent them to collect found a way to bring up the now graduated ex-cheer captain. aka, the biggest bitch to walk through hawkins high. the only good thing he can even remember about her is those skin tight jeans that gave a show every time she left a room.

other than that, she hung out with people like carol and tommy h (and even though carol and stevie were “best friends” and tommy was dating carol, everyone knew tommy wanted stevie), got hit on by guys like billy hargrove, and laughed at guys like him and his friends. she threw parties they were never invited to and asked dumb questions in class and was the first person that looked gareth in the eye and called him a freak.

so yeah. gareth didn’t like stevie. and neither did jeff. or grant, or eddie. she did enough when she was still in high school, she doesn’t get to take their freshmen too.

and so it’s post hellfire, the kiddies have long since packed their things and gone on their merry ways, leaving the other four sprawled in various spots in eddie’s living room, passing blunts between each other. how they got on the topic of revenge is beyond them.

“we could paintball her car,” jeff suggests from his place upside down in a recliner (not the recliner, never. that’s wayne’s). his bloodshot eyes are blank as he stares straight ahead under the coffee table.

“no, that leaves like…financial damage,” grant shakes his head, tilting it back against the couch to look at the ceiling.

“and legal damage,” eddie adds and points at finger at jeff. he’s laying on the floor in front of where gareth is sprawled on the couch face first. gareth’s got his feet up on grant’s lap and his cheek is squished against the couch cushion while he looks down at eddie.

a light seems to go off in his mind because gareth speaks for the first time since the kids left. “what about emotional damage? that what we’re lookin’ for?” he asks, his voice muffled slightly by his position.

“yeah. why, you got something?” jeff takes another drag from his blunt.

“think so. heard she’s been on like…a dry streak. can’t get dates and shit. so like, the opposite of how it was in school. could like…i dunno…” gareth doesn’t take his eyes of eddie and eddie refuses to break their gaze. “we could make her fall for eddie. like, fake woo her into spilling all her secrets. show the sheepies who she really is.”

eddie’s eyes go wide. the others are silent, though he can hear jeff sit upright in his chair. hazel searches brown for confirmation. he smirks. eddie can’t help but huff out a laugh in return.

you brilliant motherfucker.

[k9iriz]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 (𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐚’𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞)

𝘳𝘩𝘦𝘢 𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘹 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘺𝘱𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘴 ; 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘵𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘪𝘣 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦 ; 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳

𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 1/5

𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦

ever thought you had a reminder of your past? like a constant itching feeling you had something watching you every night?

you moving away from texas to flordia was the best thing, but it was a pain in the chest due to you being a single mom of a 10 year old.

it was hard to get him a perfect tutor. or anybody to babysit him when you did go to work for long nights.

after freshly moving in, you just had divorced your longtime high school sweetheart girlfriend, soonly mentally slapping yourself for being this financially stuck, but felt bad because your son was being neglected.

“im coming!” you yelled as you ram at the door, before being stopped in your tracks while opening it, a tall black haired woman stood at your door with your flyer, blinking in and out of your intrusive thoughts.

“my god…” you thought quietly to yourself.

“uh? i saw your poster down at the library for tutor and babysitter position? im actually a college student who’s looking for a side job.” the woman explained.

smiling happy that someone seen it right away, you stepped aside letting her in. “oh yes! come in!” you greeted, as the two walked into the dining room, sitting down at the table.

you couldn’t keep your eyes off of hee nonetheless, she looked like a mature young woman who knew what she was doing.

“um, yes! so what do you do on your free time?” i asked, looking up at the woman, taking in her features.

“study. i do like these tutoring classes for my classmates since im valedictorian, but my dorm fees have been stacking up. so i need a side job, which is what made me look at your poster, oh im demi by the way. call me rhea.” the woman smiled.

nice name…

“well, you don’t seem like a bad person. but are you good with kids?” y/n asked, grabbing her cellphone before looking at her records.

“very. i got siblings so i have to take care of them. it’s natural.” rhea nodded, smiling widely, showing her piercings that rested inside of her mouth.

“my private area has a heartbeat…” you thought, biting the inside of your mouth.

“he’s a 10 year old in the 3rd grade, he needs help in his math. he struggles a lot and without me here to help him, he’s not gonna pass. so you came just in time.” y/n explained, before taking a big breath of relief that she didn’t have to wait that long for a tutor to come by.

“i could help him out, im a math genius. i have a perfect semester grade in math.” rhea nodded.

“perfect! when can you start?” y/n smiled, before sitting up, everything checking out good.

“whenever you need me to ma’am.” rhea smiled at her efforts into getting a job.

“how about tonight?”

[ 𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟔𝐭𝐡, 𝐁𝐀𝐘 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐀, 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐀 ]

“alright bub. rhea is downstairs making you dinner. ill be home in the morning, okay?” y/n soothes her son before he smiled, running to hug her tight.

“okay! me and rhea are gonna have so much fun! we’re gonna watch the new mario movie!” y/s/n smiled, before rhea came up from behind me, leaning against the doorframe.

“im gonna miss him, he’s gonna go with his grandparents for a vacation.” y/n sighed, as rhea stood next to her.

“you still need someone to watch the house for you? or until his grandparents get em?” rhea looked at me up and down.

sometimes i get nervous when she does that. even though she’s been working here for almost a month, it’s not a day that does by where i get nervous by her.

her grandmother moved next door that she knew of so to kill the road and gas money usage, she stayed there with him and helped from time to time.

“yeah, i should be back by 12 since they need me for three hours and not the whole entire night.” y/n nodded before rhea and y/s/n ran downstairs, watching a movie.

she felt like she picked the right person to take care of her son and he sure did feel safe around her, felt like his second mom.

late that night….

y/n sped walked to her porch before opening the door, locking it before meeting darkness, but a light beamed in the kitchen.

“hey! he’s gone?” y/n whispered as rhea chuckled, smiling as she put the top over the pot, leaning against the counter.

“yeah. they got him a hour ago. sit down i made something to eat.” rhea suggested as y/n took the chance, soonly sitting down along with her.

“thank you. im so fucking beat from that shift and it was for only three hours.” y/n breathed out, before sitting her work bag besides her, feeling someone occupy the space.

“i can tell. that’s how my classes are. but, i meant to ask, are you married of some sort? this house is big enough for a married couple and a couple of kids.” rhea asked, feeling embarrassed for even asking, just laughing.

“it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed. divorced. married to my wife for three years and we had a son. we haven’t talked since then. she doesn’t wanna talk to us. i guess.” y/n frowned, sighing afterwards.

rhea got mad on the inside. who would want to divorce a woman like her? she was nice, beautiful, caring…even attracted to her.

and rhea found that out? she was already ready to make her move.

y/n poured some wine in her cup before sitting back next to her, moving closer.

they were a little tipsy, you can say.

“well…i wouldn’t want to be her. id be happy to take her place.” rhea jokingly requested as y/n laughed along, but rhea wasn’t joking, least to her.

“i would let you but, you’re way too young for me.” y/n felt herself getting tipsy, before getting up to walk to the living room, but soonly being stopped by rhea.

“since when did age stop you from fucking who you wanna fuck? hm?” rhea towered y/n, as her hands sat above her head. she was practically very tipsy.

y/n couldn’t take the heat of it all, she was practically just…falling into it & she loved every second of it.

“hm?” rhea muttered before softly kissing her lips, something you’ve been missing for awhile now.

“r-rhea…” y/n muttered before she softly began to kiss along her face to her ear, before she began sucking her earlobe, making y/n moan lightly.

everything felt so right and so damn good in that moment that she didn’t wanna stop.

everything flew out the window in that instant.

“give me one night. let me just…make you forget about her. just watch.” rhea whispered along her neck before picking her up, making y/n gasp.

“okay…but h-how?” y/n asked brainlessly before she threw her on the bed, slapping her thigh in a demanding order.

“take your panties off and let me show you.” rhea grabbed her leg before trailing kisses on the inside of her legs, making y/n’s whole body shutter.

“shh.” she lastly spoke.

im back? :)

for those asking, im working on “unwanted temptation” and my request box is closed! but dm me if you want to request a rhea imagine!

part two is a sex scene so don’t worry, lol but this is a new series i wanted to start bc i watched “the boy next door” and was hella inspired.

kai signing out! <3 lmk how i did!

[builtaworldwithyourlove]

Free Falling

Chapter One

1.6k / (eventual) husband!joel x f!reader /minors dni

‘I felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel’

Summary: you take the leap to leave your stagnant relationship, and end up falling into the arms of a man who will give you the life you always dreamed of. 

Content: loveless relationship, TW: domestic violence, emotional abuse, age gap (reader is mid-late 20s, Joel is late 30s-mid 40s), angst, allusions of cheating, sad sad sad but Joel will save the day, slow burn, smut, fluff, oc(reader’s boyfriend and friends/family), mention of reader grieving loss of her dad, swearing, smoking, alcohol consumption, no outbreak!au

 🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

The front door slammed. The alarm clock showed 4:47am. James was meant to leave for work at 5:30 am, but he had clearly made a point of leaving early and waking you up in the process.

You swallowed, forcing the lump in your throat back down as you regained awareness and the ringing in your ears reminded you of the reason for the spite behind  your boyfriend’s exit. The hole in the wall and the dull aching in your wrist served as an ugly reminder, just as much as the echoes of James’ yells.

Your mum hated James, and if your dad was still here, James would have been given the boot, whether it was down to you or not. However, you had settled. You were soft spoken, kind, caring, beautiful. Any guy would be lucky to have you and deep down you knew this, but again, you were too kind to ever say no. 

James had moved in with you after you bought your home with the inheritance from your dad. His name was on no legal document, and he had no financial input to the running of your home, yet you let him encroach, and you felt more of a guest than he did. Things were really good at the start, he treated you okay and you got on well most of the time, then came the messages from girls on Instagram and the late nights smelling of alcohol and perfume. You slowly detatched yourself from him, mentally learned to not feel any sort of way. You weren’t interested in anyone else, but you just didn’t love him anymore. He sure as hell didn’t love you anymore. 

 🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

Last night was the final straw:

You had got home from work, beaming with pride for the new promotion and set of responsibilities that came with it. The inheritance money from your dad help set you up in your home, but you worked damn hard to keep up with the cost of running the place. Mortgage payments and bill payments came out of your own pocket. 

‘James?’ You shouted, half defeated. You hung your bag up on the back of the barstools in the kitchen, and preheated the oven for dinner.

Your phone rang. 

‘Hi, I’m not about for dinner. Don’t worry about me’ James slurred down the phone.

‘Okay, be safe. See you when you’re home. Love you.’ You may as well have spoken to a brick wall, as James hung up and the line went down.

Your eyes stung, but you shook it off and continued with your dinner and ran a bath and got into bed. You had a huge day of meetings tomorrow and were determined to make a good impression on your new team.

James eventually stumbled in, waking you up as usual and treating the house as a rage room.

You held your eyes tight, and your palms sweated as your body froze. Remember the feeling when you were seven and thought you heard a ghost, or a monster under the bed?

He bounded up the stairs and shouted your name. He grabbed your wrists and woke you up. 

‘Where’s my dinner?’ He slurred.

‘You told me you weren’t about.’ You meekly defended yourself.

‘Fucking useless’ he hissed. 

You sobbed. ‘We’re done.’ You had finally snapped. You couldn’t even give an argument or any other words. Just that.

James punched the wall, inches away from the television opposite the bed, then proceeded to stumble backwards and pass out on the bed.

You set his alarm an hour earlier, out of spite, knowing he’d hate being woken up and would probably not be able to go back to sleep. As you unlocked his phone:

1 new message from Lottie:

See you in the office tomorrow, thanks for the drink!💋

You chuckled dryly, and got back to sleep. You felt a weight had lifted and you could finally live life on your own terms and be your own person.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

You had finished getting ready for work, and decided to call your mum on the way to the office.

‘Hey Mumma,’ you whispered softly.

‘Baby, are you okay? James texted me asking if I could get his stuff ready for his mum to collect,’ your mum sounded concerned but also slightly hopeful.

‘I ended it. It was too much, he broke my wall, he hurt me. I owed it to you, Daddy and myself to do better,’ your voice cracked, but you reminded yourself of how much you deserved this life you worked so hard to finally be able to live. 

‘I’ll kill him. Motherfucker.’ Your mum scoffed.

‘I’m fine Mum. I got my promotion, I wanted to throw a celebration at mine this weekend to tell you. Why don’t you and the girlies come round for drinks and we’ll debrief.’

‘I’m so proud of you, plum’ your mum sniffled, and you wanted to reach out and cuddle her, ‘ I hope you’re dressed to the nines for the meeting today.’

‘I dug out the Speedy and she is back in business’ you laughed. 

‘That’s my girl.’

James hated your designer hand bags. He thought it was pretentious and he hated the way people looked at him after the conversation stuck at the fact you had bought everything for yourself. His money went on boys nights.

 🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

You made it through the day. Everyone in the office loved you, and you were so hardworking and intelligent. Admittedly though, you cried over a glass of rosé with your ultimate hypeman and bestfriend Lottie at lunchtime. If anyone was going to give your praise, it was her and your mum. Your little sisters were too young to give you adult  praise, but they had their own ways of expressing their pride, as well as 12 year old girls can. 

You stopped off at your Uncle and Auntie’s florist as you did every Friday, for your fresh bouquet of weekend flowers. Rufus was your dad’s best friend, and his wife Clara was like a second Mum to you, hence the Auntie and Uncle title, as they earned it.

They had your sunflowers wrapped in brown paper, with a polaroid of your dad tucked in the fold. Every week they would surprise you with a new picture of your dad, which you hung as a trophy on the inside of your wine glass cabinet. Your dad loved his wine, and you knew he’d be best remembered when people were getting their tipple.

You choked up, like you always do when you see your dad, and Clara held you tight. Rufus came up behind you and swept your soft curls off your shoulder and cuddled you both in his arms. 

‘I love you both so much’ you sniffled, wiping your tears, ‘I wanted to tell you both i broke up with James. I wish Daddy was here so we could pop a bottle.’

Clara cackled, and Rufus waited to see if you were going to cry anymore or if it was safe territory to joke along.

‘I’m gonna need a number of someone to fix my wall and change my locks though,’ you shuffled a stone across the florist floor, looking down out of fear of being interrogated.

Rufus rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette, you took a drag and Clara gave you a number of an old friend.

‘Your mum would kill both of us,’ Rufus pointed at you, as you held onto the cigarette and blew the smoke in his face with a wink.

‘Mum’d let me off, I’ve been through a whirlwind.’ No one could tell you no. As much as people could take advantage of your softness, you knew how to wrap people around you little finger. ‘I’m having drinks at mine tomorrow, come. Mum and the twins will be there, so will a couple of the girls. I’d love you there.’

‘Don’t need to ask us twice, plum’ Rufus kissed your head, and Clara kissed your cheek as she held your head tightly.

Your heart was full, and for once there was no dread or fear.

 🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

You got to your front door, and crossing the threshold, inhaled a deep breath. The smell of your perfume lingered, and there was no sign of James. All his stuff was gone, and his car wasn’t there. His set of keys was on the side, with a note that said ‘thank you for everything, I’m sorry I couldn’t be the man for you.’

It was bittersweet, as you used to love him, but this was a chapter that needed to end. He didn’t want kids, or marriage or the picket fence. This was convenient and you had too much love in your heart, which needed reciprocating.

You twiddled the card in your fingers, with a number and the name Mr Joel Miller written on it.

You sat in your lounge, legs tucked up on the sofa beneath you, and you boldy texted.

‘Hey Joel. My auntie Clara gave me your number. Are you okay to do some work on my place tomorrow, I know it’s Saturday but I have evening plans and need it fixed or my mum will flip her shit. I’ll pay double and provide coffee🤸🏻’

Joel smirked upon reading the text, and somehow, his heart skipped a beat.

‘Hey darling, how could I forget about Clara’s girl. I’m so sorry to hear about your dad. I’ll be there tomorrow. Thanks for asking😘.’

Your bit your lip, you vaguely remembered Joel from family parties, and he was a good friend of your family’s, but you had never really said a word to him, always too occupied with not winding James up.

You left the message as read, and decided to have an evening of housework to get the house somewhat presentable for Joel.

You snuggled up in bed after showering and doing your fake tan Friday routine. Leo, your British Blue kitten, pounced upon your satin sheets and eventually settled for the night with you.

You dozed off, with nothing but hope and positivity in your mind.

Next Chapter

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

[frozenjokes]

GoodTimesWithScar Is An Obnoxious And Quite Frankly, Baffling Customer.

[1/6] Next / Ao3 Link

It was a slow day at the Town Centre market, but that wasn’t particularly unusual for Impulse, especially since his stand tended to be more out of the way. He and Skizz had been so excited to rent the little thing out all those years ago, when the prospect of growth and wealth was still a reachable fantasy.

“Everyone starts somewhere, and hey, maybe we’re starting a tad late, but we’ve got our little forge and a roof over our heads, so I’d say we’re doing pretty well for ourselves!” Skizz had said, eyeing the other, more favorable booth locations hungrily. “Yeah, we’ll get there.”

“Sure, if we get really good at this really fast,” Impulse huffed, giving Skizz’s shoulder a healthy shove. “Remind me why I let you talk me into a trade profession so late in life? Most of these people have been doing this since they were kids.”

“Of course!” Skizz never got tired of reminding him, responding with the same energy as he had the first time Impulse voiced his doubts, “It’s because you’re miserable! Well, were miserable, because your new life starts today!”

“I thought it started when I quit my old job? Or when you first showed me how to work the forge? Or when I got started on the paperwork for this stand? Or-”

“Many new beginnings! Exciting, isn’t it?” Skizz sighed contentedly, resting his hands behind his head, “Oh yeah, this is gonna be great.”

And it’s not that it wasn’t great, even all these years later. It was fine . It was more than fine! Impulse loved working in the forge with Skizz, even if Skizz wasn’t particularly talented at the trade and Impulse didn’t have enough experience to feel competent at the job. He enjoyed feeling challenged as well as some of the creative freedom he had now, especially opposed to the monotony of the ocean where he fished the same seas for hours in the overbearing sun. Even still, sometimes he missed the security of the repetition. Impulse had a good idea of how much he’d catch, how much he’d make at the end of the day, and if money got tight, he could just put in more hours! Maybe that’s why he had gotten so depressed in the first place; nothing to look forward to but the same seas every hour of every day, doing the same mindless work.

Now, money was always tight. Always. Impulse had never had the luxury of a life without financial burdens, and typically, he wasn’t too bent out of shape about it. He hadn’t ever known anything else, and under normal circumstances, his social class didn’t cause too much earth-shattering stress.

But Skizz was sick. He always seemed to be sick lately, the instances where he was in perfect health getting to be few and far between. Skizz was sick, and medicine was too expensive.

It was a slow day at the Town Centre market, and Impulse found himself staring enviously at the other stalls, stewing in his own stress. He wasn’t as witty or charismatic as the typical shopkeep, his attempts at open charm usually falling flat and making him feel far worse. Was he more of a failure if he didn’t try at all? Skizz made it look so easy, drawing people in with a bright smile and friendly demeanor, as well as that odd half-suit he insisted made him look cool and strong . If you asked Impulse, he’d say it was silly to tear the sleeves off a suit and arguably unprofessional, but whatever Skizz was doing, it seemed to work, so Impulse didn’t tease him too much. Maybe he should be wearing a silly outfit to work. Maybe it would draw more people in. Skizz would probably get a kick out of that, but Impulse wasn’t sure if he was comfortable enough in his own body to make anything like that work. Impulse drummed his nails against the counter, wishing Skizz was here now.

“Hello there! Are you open?”

Impulse startled out of his daze, jumping to his feet, “Yes, yes we’re open,” he deflated, silently cursing his own awkwardness before sliding back onto his stool. He’d scare off potential customers by spacing out like that, even more so by jumping up whenever someone approached. However, the man didn’t seem to mind, leaning eagerly over the counter to get a better look at the various swords for sale. He was dressed nicer than Impulse was used to seeing in this part of town, with bright, clever eyes, typical of a young man with little life experience. No wonder he was here instead of another stall; he surely had enough coin to afford a higher quality weapon.

Shit, Impulse should be talking, shouldn’t he. Be friendly and all that.

“Are you well?” he tried, putting on his best customer service smile. Skizz always said he had a good smile for this type of thing. Nice face. Relaxed, if not a little strained. Disarming, like a sad, single dad. Impulse wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that last comparison, but Skizz was adamant it was a good thing. ‘Good for business! Ha!’

“Oh, never better!” the man said, leaning further over the counter, “You’ve got some nice stuff here! Very nice, very nice.” He sounded exceedingly fake.

Impulse quirked an eyebrow. “Right, well if you’ve got your eye on anything in particular, I can bring it up for you to hold and see how it feels. If it’s easier, you can come on back instead for a better look. I’d rather you not break the table.”

The man laughed, leaning forward on his hands before jumping back to his feet, “Not the table! Yes, yes, I’d love to get a closer look. See, I’ve just arrived here a couple days ago and I’m looking for a new beginning,” he kept talking as Impulse gestured for him to come back, “Now, this isn’t to say I don’t know my way around a sword, I do, but I’ve gotten bored with life back home, and I’m looking for a place with a little more action, you know?” He poked at one of the blades, jumping a little when he discovered it was sharp.

Impulse chuckled, “Usually people that ‘know their way around a sword’ know that end’s pointy.”

“Well a good swordsman doublechecks! Can I pick this one up?”

“Go for it.” Impulse watched with great amusement as the man attempted to lift his chosen weapon with one hand, an almost affronted look crossing his face when he discovered it was heavy. He glanced back, not unlike a cat caught in the act of doing something it shouldn’t, before doubling down, apparently deciding he could salvage his pride. Impulse had to stop himself from laughing when the man managed to pull the sword from the display, his arm shaking with the effort of holding it one-handed.

“Usually, you’d use both hands. I’m sure you’ve seen lots of show fights, but those guys are actors as well as swordsmen. You’re going to want something lighter if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“I- Well of course! Back home the swords are lighter, that’s all, I just got a bit confused.”

“Uh huh. What’s your name, stranger? Where’re you from?”

“My name? Why, I’m Scar! Scar Goodtimes! I don’t have many scars to show for the name, but with any luck, that’ll change real soon! And you?” Scar held out his hand, struggled for a moment with the sword, then put it hurriedly back on the display before reoffering his hand. Impulse shook it. Clearly this guy was an idiot, but if he had money to offer, who cared?

“You can call me Impulse. So you’re an entertainer then?”

“Not quite! The name is confusing, I know, but unrelated to any profession. Though, I wish it was! I love traveling and I especially love meeting new folks such as yourself!”

“Really? What do you do then?”

“Oh, you know. I’ve got myself a little boat to live in and I’ll occasionally take up cargo shipping for some extra cash, boat people around, the like. Though, I’m looking for something a little different now, and I’m planning to settle here for a while.”

“Interesting,” Impulse mused, eyeing Scar’s nice clothes. That money didn’t come from freelance work, not unless you had a nice reputation, and this kid couldn’t even hold a sword. Scar’s eyes narrowed just slightly, something appraising, with an intelligence that felt unnervingly unlike the person he’d just met. Did he know Impulse didn’t believe him? Impulse suddenly felt vulnerable, like the other man could see right through him. He backed up, just a step, but a step that didn’t go unnoticed. Scar cocked his head, almost innocently. Impulse tried not to frown. What was he looking for? A list of every crime Impulse had committed in the past year shot to the forefront of his mind. Not massive stuff mind you, but enough to make him sweat. Impulse hoped with all his will he didn’t have any counterfeit coins lying around. Was Scar here to scout him out? Catch him in the act?

“Are you a cop?” Impulse blurted, immediately mortified with himself. Scar blinked rapidly before doubling over in a massive laughing fit. Impulse put his hands over his face. “I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry. Unless you are a cop, in which case, cool, great, I love the law.” Scar only laughed harder, Impulse feeling incredibly awkward as he waited for the other man to compose himself. Scar wheezed as he straightened up, eyes shining.

“I am deeply offended, hurt even, you have- I can’t believe it! Cop. I am not a cop!” Scar yelled in mock outrage, although his giggling dampened the effect. Impulse shrunk away as he spotted a couple wandering eyes drawn to the noise.

“aHah yes! Cops! We love cops. And the law. Yes,” Impulse struggled to save face, but Scar either didn’t hear or didn’t care.

“Impulse!” he bellowed, “I’ll say, that is probably the second or third worst thing anyone has ever called me. Why, I should just march right on out of here and back to my boat! Lick my wounds and cry about it! Cop. I can’t believe that.” Impulse shrunk back into his stand, hoping no one would see him. At this point, Scar leaving would probably be best for business, (and not getting arrested) but the man didn’t look like he actually planned on going anywhere.

“Do I even want to ask?” Impulse tried, and Scar lit up.

“Doctor! The worst by far!” Scar threw up his hands, though the facade of his frustration was dampened a little by the smile across his face. ‘Goodtimes’ seemed to suit Scar; he was certainly a performer.

“Doctor. Really.” Impulse didn’t bother to hide his skepticism, crossing his arms, “Wouldn’t be my first guess.”

“Well you don’t have to sound so surprised!” Scar huffed, tutting to himself then continuing in a tangentially related rant. Impulse rubbed the bridge of his nose. No winning with this guy then. Scar was an animated storyteller, waving his arms in sweeping gestures and forcing Impulse to scramble just to keep him from knocking all his wares off the shelves. It was hard to tell if Scar was just clueless, or if he enjoyed watching Impulse fumble around.

“Alright, alright, out with you,” Impulse had to reach to grab Scar’s arms, shoving them to his sides and away from his displays before pushing him out from behind the counter. Scar was not to be discouraged, continuing with the sort of confidence only people who got kicked out of stands often could have.

“-and you wouldn’t believe this lady, I’d say all nice-like ‘sorry, I can’t help you with your dumbass kid,’ and she starts going on and on about how I’ll never be a real doctor and I’m like LADY that’s the GOAL-”

“So you worked in medicine before this? Seems like a good gig, must’ve paid well,” Impulse cut in, struggling between amusement and the desire to preserve any sort of professionalism he had for any potential customers passing by.

To Impulse’s great relief, Scar brought the volume down, resting his elbows on the counter with his head in his hands, “Guess you could say that.” That calculating look returned to Scar’s eyes, searching. For what, Impulse wasn’t quite sure. He turned around, if not to avoid Scar’s eye, then to right some of the smaller displays Scar had knocked askew.

“I’m getting the impression you weren’t too fond of the work.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Well for someone who enjoys the sound of his own voice so much, you don’t seem all too eager to talk about it. What, are you squeamish?” Impulse risked the tease, turning around to see Scar’s amused expression turn to mock-offense.

“Say what you want about my ego, but I am not squeamish.”

“No?”

“No! And that’s gotten me into trouble before, let me tell ya. I didn’t realize blood and gore and things bothered people at all for the longest time, I mean, I grew up around that shit, and my dad certainly wasn’t concerned! Now he’s a doctor, a real stiff kinda man, kinda sucks the life out of everything.”

“So not a ‘Goodtime…s’”

Scar brightened, laughing, “Yeah! Exactly! Anyway, so I was with this girl, right? Lovely person, really, she was great, but oh boy you would not believe how pale she got when I was explaining about this crazy livestock accident- I’ll spare you the details, but I did not spare her anything, and whew, I’ve never had anyone grab my hands so tight. She said- well- she said my name, she said I was a freak! I was like thirteen! I am a changed man, Impulse, changed I tell you. I didn’t see her for a whole month after that, and the whole time I thought she was the freak! Y’know I told my dad, I told him, and you know what he said?”

“Hey, are you going to buy something?”

“Women. That’s what he said. Women. He didn’t even look at me! I look down at my own tits like okay, this doesn’t answer any of my questions, but hey! Me and her are still friends now, at least, before I left. I’ll visit for sure, for sure.”

“Scar.”

“Yes, Impulse!”

“You are lovely. You are.”

“Yes!”

“But if you’re not going to buy anything, I’m going to need to free up the stand for other customers. I’ve got to put food on the table tonight.”

“Oh yes, yes, a personality this big takes up a lot of space! I understand!” Scar rummaged around in his pockets, then flicked two silver coins onto the counter, “For your time then, yeah?"

“You don’t have t-”

“Goodbye!” Scar trailed the ‘e’ as he swiveled around, skipping in the opposite direction. Impulse couldn’t help but gape after him, any previous words lost on his lips. He looked at the time and cringed, unsure if it was good or bad that so much had passed. At least he wasn’t bored. Well then. He’d have quite the story for Skizz after packing up for the night, that was for sure. Maybe that alone made the loss of time worth it. Impulse resituated on his stool, looking out over the market.

Maybe he’d see Scar again sometime soon.

[blue2jay]

Standing Firm for the Future

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

“Standing Firm for the Future”

- Summary

At a family gathering, your parents question Leon’s ability to provide, comparing him unfavorably to your sister’s husband. Leon calmly asserts his plans for your future, revealing he’s been saving for your wedding and a secure life together. Your grandmother gushes over Leon’s thoughtfulness, taking jabs at Melissa’s husband for needing financial help for their wedding, while your grandfather proudly approves of Leon’s character and responsibility. By the end of the evening, Leon’s unwavering support and quiet confidence leave no room for doubt, making it clear that your future together is secure and full of love.

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

The living room was filled with murmurs of conversation, the low hum of your family’s voices buzzing in the background. You sat beside Leon, his arm resting protectively along the back of your chair, as your mother launched into yet another passive-aggressive critique, this time directed at him.

“Leon, I just don’t see how you two can expect to plan a future when your work is so… unpredictable,” she said with a tight smile. “A stable job, reliable income—those are what make a marriage work. You know, like Melissa and David. They have everything planned out so perfectly.”

Melissa, perched smugly on the arm of a chair, chimed in, “David was so thoughtful during our engagement. He even made sure we budgeted carefully and still had enough to ask for a little help from our parents. Nothing wrong with being smart with your money.”

You felt your stomach drop at the pointed remarks, your chest tightening with frustration. You opened your mouth to defend Leon, but before you could speak, he gently placed his hand over yours, silently asking you to let him handle it.

Leon leaned forward slightly, his calm blue gaze meeting your mother’s head-on. “With all due respect, ma’am, you don’t need to worry about us,” he said, his voice steady but confident. “I’ve been planning for our future for a long time, and I’m proud to say we’re more than fine.”

Your mother arched a brow, unimpressed. “Planning, you say?”

Leon’s lips quirked into the faintest smile. “Yes. I’ve been putting aside money for a wedding that Y/N deserves—one that’ll be perfect for the both of us. I’ve also been saving for a home, and I’m making sure we’ll be comfortable and secure, no matter where life takes us.”

You blinked in surprise, your heart swelling as you turned to look at him. “You’ve been saving for…?”

Leon glanced at you, his expression softening. “Of course I have. You think I wouldn’t plan for us?”

Your grandmother, who had been listening intently, let out a delighted laugh and clapped her hands together. “Leon, you are a gem! You hear that, Y/N? He’s already thinking of the wedding—how romantic!”

Your mother frowned slightly, her grip on control clearly slipping. “Well, that’s all very… ambitious. It’s just—these things aren’t cheap. Sometimes you need help from family.”

At that, your grandmother’s smile turned razor-sharp. “Oh, help, you say? Isn’t that what Melissa’s husband asked for when they needed money for their wedding? If I recall correctly, you practically bankrolled the whole thing.”

Melissa’s face turned red, and she sputtered, “That’s not the same thing, Grandma!”

Your grandmother shrugged, feigning innocence. “Well, I don’t see Leon asking anyone for a dime. In fact, it sounds like he’s more than capable of handling things on his own.”

Your grandfather, who had been silently observing the conversation, finally spoke up, his deep voice cutting through the tension. “Leon’s a good man,” he said simply, his tone firm. “Takes responsibility. Makes a plan. That’s the kind of man you want looking out for you, Y/N.”

Leon nodded respectfully to your grandfather. “Thank you, sir. I don’t take that responsibility lightly.”

Your mother opened her mouth to argue, but your grandmother cut her off with a sharp smile. “Y/N, dear, you’ve chosen well. Leon’s already ten steps ahead, and I have no doubt the two of you will build a beautiful life together.”

Leon turned to you then, taking your hand in his, his voice dropping to a warm murmur meant just for you. “We’ll be just fine, Y/N. I promise you that.”

You smiled, tears pricking at your eyes as you squeezed his hand. “I know, Leon.”

Melissa sat in awkward silence, her earlier smugness completely gone, while your grandmother gave Leon a proud pat on the arm. “Now, let’s talk about this wedding of yours. I expect an invite, front row, of course!”

Leon chuckled softly, his fingers lacing through yours. “Front row’s all yours, ma’am.”

As the evening continued, your mother and sister’s doubts were drowned out by your grandparents’ enthusiastic praise and Leon’s quiet confidence. For the first time in a long time, you felt secure and seen—because with Leon by your side, you knew your future was in the best possible hands.

[dilf-rights-activist]

Another Life: part 2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gender neutral reader, Platonic Hobie Brown & reader

Summary: A sad Miguel O’Hara returns to run his company with slumped shoulders and a cloud over his head. In a somewhat lame attempt to lift his spirits, his assistant, Lyla, runs to a local cafe to get the office some drinks, where she meets a kind barista with a stained apron and tired eyes. Or, the one where you drag your exhausted corpse to your second job to meet Lyla, only to find out her boss had recently been dumped. After work, you settle into the floor of your cozy apartment with your eccentric roommate: one Hobie Brown.

Word count: 3.7k

Content: eventual sugar daddy AU, coffee shop au, no use of (y/n), the slowest of burns (we’re not even gathering fire wood yet), sfw, Hobie being cool, descriptions of financial hardship, swearing, aged up Hobie

AO3 part 1 part 3 part 4

Miguel’s office chair creaked dangerously when he leaned back and breathed out a large sigh. The conference call had been done for ten minutes now, and he was still feeling a little drowsy from his early morning. He looked out his office window just in time to see Jessica scrub a hand over her face, eyes droopy and tired looking. He watched as she stood up and stretched her lower back to release the tension that’s been building there. She sighed and rested a delicate hand on her round belly, rubbing soothing circles before sitting back down again. Miguel has been urging her to take her maternity leave early, but she refuses him every time, stating that he could never survive without her. This wasn’t entirely true but still. Miguel frowned to himself before straightening up at the knock at his door.

“Miguel?” came a high-pitched voice on the other side of the wood.

“Yes?”

The door opened slowly to reveal a young, freckled face smiling brightly at him. “Hey, Miguel! I have the reports you wanted.”

Miguel smiled at his assistant and held out his hand to receive them. “Thanks, Lyla.”

“You got it.” Lyla was a student at Columbia that works part time as Miguel’s assistant. Her cheerful demeanor easily lifted those around her. If he was being honest, he thinks Lyla goofed off a little too much, but she was the best assistant he’s had in a decade. She was quick as a whip, and helped him with everything from managing his allergies to figuring out the best energy source for his nano tech. Plus, Lyla was the only one who could handle him when he was sleep deprived and hangry (which was all the time).

The brunette fell silent as he looked down at the reports in his hands, not really paying enough attention to process any of the words he read.

“Hey, Miguel?”

He startled and looked up at Lyla, she was still here? He must have really been out of it.

“Yeah?”

Lyla’s big brown eyes peered at him pensively before sighing through her nose “You doing okay, boss?” Her glossy pink lips were pulled into a small frown. “You look…tired. Like, way more than usual.”

Miguel huffed softly and blew a stray strand of hair out of his face. “Alright, One: I am tired. And Two:” He looked at her sternly, pointing a strong finger to emphasize his point. “I am fine.” He said a little too quickly. Lyla rolled her eyes and groaned dramatically.

“C’mon, Miguel! You can tell me!” She walked up to his heavy desk and placed both hands atop its smooth surface. “What? Did the Mets lose a game?”

“The season is over-“

“A pigeon poop on your Porsche?”

“No-“

“Did Tony call you ‘Dark Garfield’ again?”

“No!”

“You get dumped?”

Miguel’s jaw shut promptly and he pursed his lips into a tight sneer. He looked at his grinning assistant, who had clearly said that as a joke. She blinked a couple times at his silence, slowly picking up her hands from his desk as she straightened a little.

“Oh shit. Really?” She said softly, almost feeling bad for bringing it up so casually. “I’m…sorry to hear that.”

The large man let out a soft laugh and waved his hand in the air. “It’s fine, Lyla. Really, it is.” he sighed, was he trying to convince Lyla or himself?

The girl looked at her sneakers and shuffled awkwardly for a second, “Is there anything I can do for you? Cancel your appointments? Get you coffee?”

Miguel visibly perked up at that. “Yeah, that would be great, actually. There’s actually a specific place I’d like you to go to…”

---

A heavy sigh left your lips as you bent forward and leaned onto the counter in front of you, limbs going unpleasantly numb from overuse. You stayed there for a couple moments, contemplating just how you let your life get to this particularly pathetic point. Peter was right, the morning rush had been bad. Exhausted students and working class New Yorkers alike came in by the truck load, shooting order after order at you and your boss with little sympathy.

You glanced down at Peter, who was currently squatting behind the counter and wolfing down a croissant like his life depended on it.

“Slow down or you’re gonna choke, stupid.”

The brunette looked at you like a man possessed. “Shut up! I haven’t eaten anything today!”

You laughed softly and flexed your fingers, wincing as they cracked and popped. “Christ, I’m tired. And it’s only,” you glanced at your watch and held back a groan. “8 am.”

Peter looked at you and wiped the crumbs off of his frowning face. “You sleep any last night?”

“Only the usual four hours.” you grimaced and put your head down again. “Some dude came in last minute to drink last night.”

“Damn.” Peter sighed from his place on the floor. “I wish I could help somehow. I’d do anything for you, y’know.”

You smiled and peeked at him through your arms. You met Peter during your second year of college. He remembered you frequenting his cafe as a freshman to fuel up on caffeine and use his Wi-Fi. He always welcomed you with ease (and not just because you were a good tipper). Eventually, he offered you a job, and you’ve been working with him ever since. You opened your mouth to say something before the bell at the door chimed through the cafe, signifying that someone walked in.

“Customers!” Peter almost shrieked, tucking more into himself on the floor. “Don’t let them see me! I’m not here!”

So much for doing anything for you!

You shot him a look before straightening up to see a girl with a large white coat and fluffy brown hair peer up at the chalkboard menu above you.

“Hey, welcome in.” you smiled and lightly kicked Peter’s side behind the counter. The quiet “Ow!” wasn’t heard by the girl in front of you as her large eyes darted from her phone to the menu at an alarming rate.

“Hi!”

After exchanging pleasantries you nodded as she relayed her lengthy order, talking at 100 words a minute.

Her hazel eyes blinked behind her heart shaped lenses. “Sorry for the large order! These are for my office.”

“It’s no problem!” You lied through your teeth. “What’s your name?”

“Lyla.”

“Lieee-Luh.” you repeated slowly you wrote her name on the empty cups before you, making sure to draw little hearts on her’s. “Got it! I’ll have these out in a little bit.” Lyla gave you a million watt smile and nodded eagerly, making his way to the end of the bar where her drinks were to be deposited. You went through the motions of drink making with ease, humming lightly to yourself to keep you focused. You looked at Peter, who has yet to move from his position on the floor. You flipped him off quickly and capped Lyla’s drinks, ignoring the over dramatic look of hurt the musician shot you.

“Thank you so much,” Lyla looked at you from across the bar and smiled.

“It’s really no problem, it’s literally my job.”

“Yeah, but still…” she chuckled to herself. “I think this’ll really help.”

That caught your attention and you looked up from the carmel drizzle you were working on. “Yeah? With what?”

A small crease appeared between Lyla’s worried brows as she smiled sadly. “My boss got dumped yesterday.” You pulled a face, Yikes, you thought, not a good season for the lovers. Your mind immediately drifted to the heart broken man that came into the restaurant last night. His entire demeanor was depressed with loneliness, even his hair seemed to droop slightly in sadness. You didn’t know the man very well, but you could tell that he was a person who would go out of his way to help someone, someone that wouldn’t hesitate to do the right thing. You hoped he was okay.

“Oh…” you started lamely, because how the fuck were you supposed to respond? “That sucks.” Lyla’s head snapped up at your abrupt reply. You blinked, realizing that you must have been more tired than you thought because what the fuck? You can’t talk to customers like that! You pressed your lips together and quickly thought of an apology. “I’m-”

“It does suck, right?” She smiled lopsidedly and let out a laugh. You breathed out a sigh, relieved that she wasn’t going to write Aunt May a strongly worded letter or trash the cafe on Yelp. You finished the rest of the drinks with ease, handing Lyla her order in two cup holders.

“Thanks a bunch!” She took his order with a grin and began to turn towards the exit.

“Ah, wait one second!” You said before sidestepping a still squatting Peter (who had somehow gotten another croissant) to quickly shove a few pastries into two paper bags. You stood there in thought for a second before grabbing a sharpie from the cash register, scribbling something on one of them.

“Thank you for being patient with me.” you said, handing Lyla the baked goods. “One of those is for you, good luck at the office!”

If you thought the girl’s smile was blinding before it really had nothing on her expression now. “Really?”

“For sure.”

Lyla’s heart shrouded eyes blinked at you for a moment, as if studying you. Her pink lips spread into a grin before turning to you fully. “What’s your name?”

You smiled back at her and gave her your name as you dusted your hands on your apron. “The other one is for your boss, tell them to take it easy, okay?”

---

Miguel stared at the city’s activity below him from his office window. People milled about on the sidewalk below, interacting with one another throughout their day. The large man took a bite out of his scone thoughtfully, admiring the subtle vanilla flavor. Lyla came in with his coffee order not too long ago, bringing a small pastry bag as a surprise. He said that a nice barista gave it to him, ordering her to tell him to “take it easy”. Miguel accepted the treats gratefully, promising Lyla that he was fine (really, he was).

Probably.

He popped the last of the scone in his mouth and moved to toss the bag in the trash before something caught his eye. Looking at the pastry bag more carefully, he could see that the barista left him a small note.

Everything’s gonna be okay. If it’s not okay, that’s okay too.

Miguel dusted his crummy mouth as he stared at the piece of paper, chuckling softly to himself. The barista also drew him a cute little bunny giving him a thumbs up in encouragement.

The brunette’s thick brows knitted as he carefully tore his little note away from the rest of the bag. Miguel placed the note in one of his desk drawers after making sure that there were no remaining crumbs sticking to it and threw the rest away (he hated ants).

“Looks like I’ve got someone looking out for me.”

---

You tapped your pencil against the page in front of you in annoyance and took a large sip of your tea. You started doing your homework over an hour ago and barely made any progress due to its difficulty. You huffed, recalling just how little you paid attention in class due to always falling asleep.

You stared at the equations in front of you, and they glared back just as intensely. You looked up from your staring contest to glance at your roommate, Hobie, who was humming quietly to himself as he created the setlist for his next show. You met Hobie when you first moved to the city for school. He was born in Camden Town, London, and was literally the coolest person you have ever met. He came to New York to work on his music and study fashion. His time was split between that, antagonizing fascists, being a part-time runway model, and working at the bar with you. You saw him sneaking shots for both himself and some of his regulars, but never told a soul. You knew Hobie hated working there, hated being a cog in the system, but he had bills to pay (you both did). The two of you shared a cozy space nestled in the center of New York City’s ChinaTown, right below the smog covered stars, and right above Timmy Chan’s Hong Kong Style Dim Sum (a favorite lunch time spot you frequented together).

“Hey, Hobie. Could you help me a little?”

He looked up from his notes, pen cap stuck in between his lips and grinned.

”Yeah, sure. What is it?”

You smiled gratefully, picking up the page and walking over to him. You crossed your legs and sat on the floor at his side as his eyes skimmed the page, nodding as he read along.

“You daft?” Hobie elbowed your side gently. “Integral calculus? This is bright and breezy.”

You looked up at his big brown eyes and pouted. “I’ve been falling asleep in class.” you said with a huff. Hobie’s pierced brows creased with concern at this, shuffling slightly to wrap an arm around you.

“Again?”

“Again.” you sighed. You looked to the ground, idly picking at the fraying carpet you two sat on. You knew Hobie worried about you and how hard you’ve been pushing yourself. He could see how the stress from work and school were affecting your health and it was beginning to concern him.

“Y’right?”

You looked up at him wryly, bringing a hand up to flick his shoulder lightly.

“I’m alright.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Hobie squinted at you before turning back to the page in his hands, deciding to drop the subject for now. “Whatever. You’d tell me otherwise, yeah?”

You leaned on his shoulder and nuzzled his bicep playfully, yawning obnoxiously before saying, “Of course.”

He gazed upon your drooping form, pursing his lips. “You said you only hit the sack for, what? Four hours?”

“Just about, yeah.”

Hobie huffed and straightened out the piece of paper in his hands. “Right, some dick walked in right before closing and demanded to be served.”

“He wasn’t a dick he was just…” you adjusted yourself on his shoulder. “Sad.”

“A sad dick?”

“No!” you smacked him lightly and you could feel yourself shake with the rumble of Hobie’s chest as he chuckled warmly. You thought about the man that came into your life the other night, it amazed you how someone so large managed to look so small.

“He just got dumped.”

“Bliiiiimey.” He pulled a face.

“That’s what I said!”

“Oh, really?”

“Well, not that exactly!” You huffed out a sigh. “He looked like a kicked puppy. Which is hilarious, because the man is like a building with feet.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! His arms are like tree trunks! I think he could kill me with a flick of his wrist.” You shook Hobie’s lean arm lightly to illustrate your point. “He just looked so...hurt. And he just, like, accepted it, y’know? Like he’s been hurt like this before.” you blinked and lowered your eyes, hugging Hobie’s arm a little tighter. “I hope he’s okay.”

Dark eyes shifted from the paper and onto the top of your head, Hobie huffed out a small laugh. “Aw, you fancy him.”

You pulled back from your friend’s arm sharply and gaped up at him. “I do not!” Fancy him? You only just met the guy and knew nothing about him. Fancy him!

Hobie threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter. “You do!”

“I don’t, I just-“ you huffed out a breath and paused to collect your thoughts. “I dunno, there was just something…about him, y’know? He seemed like someone who had a lot to offer the world, to offer someone. He looked like he had given up. Seeing him crushed like that just doesn’t sit right with me.”

He side eyed you skeptically and let out a sigh through his nose. You were always pushing yourself so hard, always putting others first (often at a detriment to yourself). Between the two (sometimes three) jobs and school, he had no idea how you were functioning. Hobie grimaced, thinking about the multiple occasions where you were so overwhelmed you sat on the floor eating (his) instant noodles while crying, too stressed to even tell him what was wrong. Other times, he’d go days without seeing you as you’d lock yourself in your apartment to focus on schoolwork, scaring him half to death with your lack of response. He physically kicked in the door of your room only to find you half dead and twitchy in your hyper-focused state. He never wanted to see you like that again.

“Yeah, well” he shrugged and you whined as the movement jostled you on his bicep. “Just don’t bugger off with your fit bev and leave me with your rent.” You laughed softly and pressed your cheek into his arm, smiling against it.

“I could never, Hobie.”

You assumed he accepted your response, as he nodded and turned his attention back to your math homework.”Right, the integral of 2xd is x squared, yeah? You plug that in here at the top and subtract the bottom.”

You breathed deeply and closed your eyes, already feeling yourself start to doze off again. You knew you should be paying attention, but you were too content with snuggling up to Hobie’s arm for some (not so) well deserved sleep.

“Thirteen squared is 169, minus ten squared is…Oi. Oi, you listenin’? Do your homework!” he jostled you gently.

“Yeah...of course…” you mumbled quietly.

Hobie looked down at you with a frown, already knowing that any attempt he made at waking you would be in vain. He sighed as he picked up his pen from its abandoned spot on the floor, deciding to finish your homework for you.

“Hopefully I can mimic your rubbish handwriting.” he sighed.

“Y’can’t do math homework in pen,” you mumbled.

“I don’t believe in conformity.” He sniffed before twirling the pen in his fingers. He tenaciously began to scribble perfect arithmetic on your page, stopping only to smile when you let out a sleepy “thanks” against his arm.

“Anytime, love.”

---

The long days turned into longer weeks as time went by. Miguel went through the motions of his position of CEO with relative ease, meticulously leading his company to further success.

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

Large shoulders sagged as Miguel sighed into the palms of his hands before peeking through his fingers to blearily peer at the clock in his desktop monitor.

8:43 pm

Jesus Christ, was it already that late? The brunette looked up through his office windows to find that yes, it really was that late, as the building’s lights had shut off and everyone had long gone home. Miguel has since changed into more comfortable clothing to ease him into his work night. The soft material of his oversized gray hoodie combined with the relaxed fit of his favorite pair of loose joggers were the perfect combination for his frequent occasional over night stays in the office. The man let out a yawn as he stretched his arms high above his head before rising from his chair, ready to call it a day. Grabbing his coat and phone, Miguel left the building, letting the automatic doors lock behind him with a soft click.

The brunette inhaled the Autumn air with a light hum before beginning his commute back to his apartment, occasionally picking up litter as he went because why not. He listened to the sounds of the bustling city; the distant sirens, the blaring music from strangers’ headphones as they walked past, the clinking of ceramic in cozy cafes.

Oh. Miguel slowed his stride to a stop in front of a small coffee shop lit warmly within, the same shop he sent Lyla on a coffee run to. Turning fully to face the entrance, the brunette spotted the same nice looking man he saw the first time he laid eyes on the shop. Miguel checked his watch to glance at the time before walking through the wooden door that led to the sweet smelling cafe.

Notes: I deadass spent over an hour learning about the English Cockney accent and have two (2) tabs open with English to Cockney translators. If anyone has any suggestions on how I can make Hobie sound more in character PLEASE let me know. Part of me wants to really lean into the rhyming slang, but I’m afraid no one will be able to understand him (but that’s, like, part of his character right?), he’s in his early twenties here.

The answer to the equation Hobie was solving is 69 lol

[icouldntfindquiet]

if you were their new management what would you do? If you had full control over their next comeback (when everyone's feeling better ❤️‍🩹) what would your plan be?

My answer is long. 🙈

You best be sure we’re getting a statement!! It’ll go something like this:

A long, overdue statement.

First of all, we’d like to thank the fans for your continued support. We know communication has been poor and we sincerely apologize for all the frustration, inconvenience, and financial burden these cancellations have caused. We’ll try our best to minimize them and to inform you as soon as possible, but please keep in mind that we’re human and the risk of falling ill is always there. We prioritize the health and safety of the band and crew to ensure that we can keep playing for you for a long time.

As you already know, we have some new faces in the band. Johnny Bond and Bob Hall have decided to part ways with the band in 2021. Bondy was in the band for 7 years and Bob for 11 years. They’ve been a huge part of the band and we are sad to see them go. However, they’re both still making music so please support them and give their music a listen.

You’re all probably wondering what’s next. We’ve since made a new album we’d like you all to hear and we have some live dates planned. Please stay tuned for more news.

This is all planning/prep before the next single is actually released. Ideally the next single will have a proper music video made. I’ll try to have the band in it but if not possible, I’ll hire actors or use new clips and not old ones. 😆 I also want to schedule an in-person interview with Steve Lamacq (I think he’s back). I’d like for them to talk about the album and for Van to walk through each song. I’ll probably release this interview a week after the album is out to give people time to listen to it. And ofc, Steve Lamacq will have the special privilege of being one of the first to hear the album. 🙂 I’ll also schedule a radio interview with Jack Saunders so Van can promote the new album and tour dates. This will be released after the new single is out.

Fast-forward to Nov/Dec. I suck at teasing new singles but I’m also done with the teasing! 😂 I’ll probably have them post a mysterious date on Monday and on Friday of the same week, we’ll just drop the next single, music video and all with no warning. 😆 After you’ve had the weekend to digest it, I’ll release that interview with Jack Saunders on Monday. We’ll start promoting the tours that’ll happen before the stadium dates and get tickets selling for that. We’ll announce the dates all at once (no slow dripping dates 😆) and support acts will be announced ASAP so fans can listen to their music beforehand. A photographer/videographer will be hired to follow them on tour and to provide content. I’ll have the entirety of one of the stadium shows filmed and available to watch for free.

When 3-4 weeks has passed, we’ll release the second single. I forgot to mention we’ll have a proper music video for that too and it’s the same thing where a date will be posted on Monday and the single will be out on Friday. The Monday after that, we’ll announce the album release date which is preferably before the tour starts but I realize the timeline might be tight. 😬 I want all shows here on out to have new songs played. The setlist will be reworked to include Showtime, the two new singles, and 2-5 more songs from the album.

All while that is happening, I’m going to hire an artist to re-design their merch. We’ll announce more tour dates and hopefully do some TV/radio appearances as well. And hopefully the band will agree to a photo shoot. 😁 Communication will be improved. And going back to Bondy and Bob’s departure, I’d personally like to thank them for what they’ve done for the band, even if it’s just sending them a quick message. I’ll keep it simple and be transparent about it with the band of course!

Thanks for the ask! This was fun to write out. If you were their new manager, what would your plan be?

[ff6webcomic]

Hello everyone! How are you all doing? ^_^ I came to give you an important update about Final Fantasy VI Webcomic!

You guys may have noticed that we got an unplanned full month break in March, and we didn’t get any new pages for two weeks during June. The gap between chapters 7 and 8 has been longer than chapters 6 and 7 as well. There’s a reason for all of that and I’d like to explain it to you!

FFVI Webcomic came back with full force in May 2020 after some extensive hiatuses. One of the biggest reasons for that strong return was the COVID pandemic. Everyone had to stay at home and a lot of people were short on jobs. With that, there was plenty of time to entirely dedicate myself to the comic. With a steady schedule, more and more patron supporters came along and the comic could continue successfully. Our Patreon has grown a lot over these last three years! However, as the time passed and life returned to normal, new goals and new expectations were beginning to show up in my life once again.

As these three years passed, new opportunities were emerging and I’ve been finding less and less time to work on the comic. Even with a tight agenda, I was always doing my best to have FFVI Webcomic have constant updates because this comic and its readers are really important to me. However, I need to be aware that FFVI Webcomic is a VERY big and VERY ambitious project. We’re talking about 10 years of project and at least 10 more years to be concluded, if we’re lucky lol xD And, as much as I love this comic, I can’t sacrifice other aspects of my life to be able to fulfill the comic’s goal.

So with all of that explained, it is with great sadness that I’m announcing that FFVI Webcomic will now be updated with one page per month instead of the usual one page per week. 

I know, I know… This was not an easy choice to make and my heart even feels heavy as I’m writing this…This was not a sudden choice either, I’ve been considering the idea for a while and had to make an ultimate decision.

I’m IMMENSELY grateful for all the support, comments and positive feedback that you guys give to this comic! If I could use all that hearty energy to fuel my livelihood I would be rich and wouldn’t have any more financial worries xD FFVI Webcomic is my dream project and if I could make it full time, I would, but we live in a capitalist system and that means you gotta make money to pay up your bills.

Does that mean that FFVI Webcomic will continue with one page per month until it reaches its end? Well, not necessarily. Is that same old thing: The more support the comic receives, the more pages are possible to make. We can still increase the release of new pages but, as its current state, making one page per week as it used to be is unfeasible.

Rest assured that FFVI Webcomic will continue, regardless of how small or big the financial support is! You guys have no idea how many scenes like the Phantom Train, Battle for Narshe, Floating Continent, “Searching for friends”, etc are already done in my head! And as long as Square Enix doesn’t give us a FFVI remake, I’ll be making this comic lol 😂 There’s still plans for that physical book as well! And I’m even considering turning FFVI Webcomic into a collaborative project in the future, instead of being a one person team 👀

With that, I thank you all for your understanding and continuous support throughout these years! This is not the end of FFVI Webcomic. It’s just a different path that this project is taking!

[meteor752]

This is Halloween

We’re just a few days away from the new life series, and judging by the status of a server I’m on and Trafficblr as a whole, none of us are quite ready

But I do what I gotta do, and the spoopy season is upon us, so here we are

I said I would be making Halloween costumes for the kids a few days ago, and I’ve slaves away all night and day preparing this presentation

No but fr, I had fun. Hope you like em

Liana as Mumbo Jumbo

We’re starting out strong boys. Liana considers Mumbo her biggest financial rival, so their relationship is very, well, rivalesk. At least on her end. Mumbo’s still confused. She probably spent the entire Halloween night imitating him the best she could in a half mocking manner, and both her dads found it hilarious

Wes as a cat burglar

Because what is Halloween without someone in a tight latex cat suit? Wes was 100% forced into this, and as much as he’s a little uncomfortable, he also finds it kinda fun. Jassy def tried to make him wear heels as well, but his balance is shit. He also managed to talk his way out of the tail, since he already has one.

Gertrude as a mobster

Well, she is a king, might as well expand on the brand. Absolutely slaying too, I need to put her in more suits. She probably spent the entire Halloween night sitting mysteriously in some corner, “smoking” her fake cigar.

Johnny as an angel

Cute ironic costume. This was actually suggested by someone in my dm’s, so I thank thee for the idea. The little wings were probably hand crafted from chicken feathers that my lad spent months on, and he’s very proud of them. He’s using the wreath crown to hide his horns as well, they ruin the angelic look. The lyre was borrowed from Novo as well, and he absolutely does not know how to play.

Jassy as a ghost

Can you just put a sheet on your head and call it a day? Yes. But is that any fun? Fuck no. Chains will be rattling all night, and she’ll be throwing them around left and right. The white makeup is probably crappy af too and will start to come off after like, half an hour, but she still looks pretty fucking cool. Will try to scare as many people as she can.

Jekiv as the real monster

A lot of Cleo designs incorporate the classic stitches across the skin, and Jekiv does have that as well on some places where his skin has just come off. But dressing as “Frankenstein’s monster” would be too easy. No, let’s go for the true villain of that story, Viktor Frankenstein himself. It’s a bit fitting too tho, since Jek is a necromancer. He’s just a lot nicer to his creations, amongst other things

Novo as little red riding hood

His gf is a wolf, and the reasoning for his costume ends there. Very disappointed that Gert didn’t want to go in a couples costume, but oh well. The red hood is strangely comforting to him as well, what with his mom and all. He’s girlbossing

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Oh man, this is your least requested? This is my favorite!

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️ ⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

OH HELL YEAH! THANKS!

306 or 1k for TWATYTK, whatever I hit first <3

---

He brings the process, as easily laid out as he can get it, to Eddie. 

“So we’d need an egg donor and likely an unrelated surrogate,” he explains. 

“Unrelated?” Eddie asks. 

“Mhm, so it’s not their baby,” Buck explains. “Not, like, a hundred percent necessary. Like, if it was someone volunteering to do both. But for a paid surrogate? No.”

“Got it,” Eddie nods. 

“So, egg donor. Then select a surrogate. Then get a notarized contract before any, uh, embryo transfer can happen.” 

Eddie nods again. “And then a baby?”

“And then a baby, if all goes well,” Buck confirms. “We’d just have to file a parentage order, for whichever one one of us isn’t the donor.”

“Well, okay. That’s pretty simple, then.” Eddie looks hopeful. 

“Yeah, theoretically,” Buck nods.

“But?” Eddie asks. 

“It’s all pretty expensive,” Buck says. “Even outside the medical coverage.”

“Like, more expensive than we can afford?” Eddie asks.

Buck sighs. “Potentially.”

☆☆☆

They don’t rush this next piece. Determining whether or not they can actually afford this route of expanding their family. Which is frustrating, because once they understand the process, Eddie finds he really does want it. 

They reach out to a few different organizations to request pricing information. It all sort of suspects what they confirm. It’s just a little bit out of reach. Especially with Chris being only a handful of years away from potentially choosing to go to college. And Eddie thinks he will. 

They meet with a financial advisor. Come up with a savings plan. But it’s going to be a while, if they do it this way. This isn’t something they’ll accomplish soon. 

Eddie can’t help but feel discouraged. He’d got that feeling he was being pointed in a certain direction. But maybe he was wrong. The disappointment bums him out for weeks, but he tries to suppress it. 

And then, just as easy as the news about the medical coverage, one of their other problems is solved. 

In April, Pepa has Eddie, Adriana, and their respective units over for a family dinner. And, in a very Pepa fashion, she is of course pressing Eddie for information about when they’re going to have another kid. The minute Eddie had mentioned it to her, back in February, it’s pretty much all she wants to discuss with him. Classic. Eddie appreciates her enthusiasm, he really does. However, it does rub a little salt in the wound. He can see that in the tightness of Buck’s expression, too. 

“Well, we aren’t sure,” Eddie says. “We’ve run into some snags with the cost that we’re working on.”

“Cost?” Pepa asks. 

“I thought benefits covered a decent chunk,” Ravi - who is of course always included now - chimes in. 

“Uh, they do,” Buck nods. “But there’s still a surrogate contract and paying for donor eggs.”

“Ew,” Christopher wrinkles his nose.

“Don’t say ew,” Pepa scolds. “You were an egg once, mijo.” 

This only has the effect of making Christopher look even more disgusted.

Adriana swallows her bite of chicken and shrugs. 

“Well, I can give you eggs,” she says casually. Like it’s not a wild and potentially life changing thing to say. 

Everyone turns to look at her with gaping mouths and wide eyes. 

“What?” She asks. “Why do you look so confused? You should have asked me, Eddie.”

“Adriana, that’s a big decision,” Eddie says. 

“Not really,” she says. “I’m not using them at the moment, and they kind of have an expiration date.”

“A-are you sure?” Buck asks. Eddie can hear the hope and gratitude in his voice. 

“Yeah,” Ravi adds. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” She insists, like she’s annoyed they need to question it. “Eddie, you and Buck did so much for me when I arrived in Los Angeles. And you know, Eddie, when we were kids. This is a way for me to say thank you.”

“Adri, there was never anything owing from any of that,” Eddie says. “You’re my sister.”

“And you’re my brother,” she says. “Let me help you.”

Eddie looks at Buck. Buck looks so… So much like he’s very excited but doesn’t want to say anything. No pressure on either Eddie or Adriana. But Eddie can almost read his mind. Maybe, because if he steps aside from his worries for his sister, he sees exactly what Buck is excited about. A child genetically related to both of them. That just became significantly easier to afford.

“Adriana, it would be your biological child,” Pepa interjects. “That’s not a small consideration.”

“I understand that,” Adriana replies. “I’ll get to be their aunt, won’t I? And it’s not like I’m carrying them. No offense, Eddie. I am not getting pregnant for you.”

This distinction actually makes Eddie feel a hell of a lot better. She has a clear boundary. Something she’s comfy with, something she isn’t. If this was all motivated by guilt or a sense of owing, she may not. But maybe… Maybe she just really wants to help. 

“If you’re really comfortable with it,” Eddie says, emotion sitting tight in his throat. “Then we’d be extremely grateful.”

Buck beams. “Thank you, Adriana. Seriously.”

Adriana winks at him. “Let’s make a baby, Buck.”

Buck turns red. Eddie sighs. 

“Or don’t say that,” Ravi says. 

“Adriana,” Pepa sounds long-suffering.

“Wait,” Chris says. “So the baby will be my brother and my cousin? That’s weird.”

🗲🗲🗲

It’s really Adriana’s incredible offer of this gift to them that sets things into motion. Buck gets really emotional about it actually. Has a good, teary conversation with Eddie at, like, one in the morning one evening about the incredible role sisters have played in his life. Maddie. Adriana. Even Hen, really. He doesn’t know Sophia too well but he bets she’s great, too. 

Nothing happens overnight, of course. It’s still an uncertain process. They still need a surrogate, and Buck’s research shows that the pre-screening and hormone treatment process for Adriana to donate eggs is extensive and potentially lengthy. Like, maybe six-months.