#home credit hotline

[everytechever]

Moira dela Torre stars in Home Credit’s The Great 0% Interest Festival campaign video

Sing along and unleash that holiday spirit and check out the most exciting campaign video of the season. 🥳🍾 #HCBiggestZeroFest #HomeCredit #MoiraDelaTorre #everytechever

Following the rollout of the biggest and grandest 0% interest sale nationwide, Home Credit Philippines (HCPH), the lifestyle partner of every Filipino, launched a new campaign video this holiday season for the brand’s The Great 0% Interest Festival, headlined by Home Credit’s brand ambassador, Moira dela Torre. Launched through Home Credit’s Facebook and YouTube pages, the new campaign video…

[amywritesthings]

dating on airplane mode. | part one.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 3.9k Summary: So you're dating your neighbor who also happens to be a sex hotline dom named Levi Ackerman. Stranger things have happened, right?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), slow burn, eventual smut, sex work, neighbors au, newly established relationship, dual pov, the direct sequel to Press Four For More Options Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics submitted for @levievent 's #levimonth24 / day 22: neighbors

part two. | masterlist

“I'm seeing someone.”

Tea goes flying — metaphorically and physically.

When he confessed a new (and very unexpected) development in his (borderline nonexistent) dating life, Levi hadn’t anticipated Hange Zoe turning directly towards Erwin Smith to unleash a devastating spit-take attack to the face.

It’s a direct hit.

Erwin heroically takes the brunt of the damage, so at least his furniture is spared.

(Levi didn’t need to spend the rest of the afternoon scrubbing down the already scrubbed-down living room.)

Hange’s shout is shrill, the realization hitting them like a full-throttle freight train.

“You’re what?”

“He said he’s seeing someone,” Erwin answers in monotone before Levi can even try. 

The tall blonde extends a hand to leisurely grab the napkin cradling the bottom of his tea saucer. In true Erwin fashion, he doesn’t even blink at Hange’s dramatics — or their consequences unto him.

He raises the napkin to blot the side of his face sprinkled with a mixture of freshly-brewed lavender tea and Hange’s saliva.

(Then again, Hange could abruptly bang pots and pans in the middle of the night and Erwin would merely call it a minor inconvenience to his sleep routine.)

“No, no, I heard what he said,” Hange recovers with a crack to their voice, “but I can’t tell if he’s messing with us.”

“I’m not,” Levi flatly states.

“Okay, but how do we know?”

“Hange—”

Except it’s Erwin intercepting once more. “Because he would never pretend to have a significant other when one of his closest friends happens to be you.”

Hange squints, pushing their glasses up the bridge of their nose.

“Why? ‘Cause I joked that I’d stalk him the next time he finally found a date? That was one time, Erwin.”

Erwin rolls his neck to the right, offering Hange a pair of thick, disbelieving eyebrows.

“Technically speaking, Zoe, you threatened to stalk either of us if you caught even a sniff that we could be in the midst of a romantic pursuit. Plus, we’re well aware of the disguise kit collecting dust in the trunk of Moblit’s car.”

An instant shit-eating grin passes across their lips.

“Ha. Fair.”

If Levi’s eyeballs could roll any further into the back of his skull, they’d get stuck.

“However,” Erwin adds, those bold blue eyes flickering back towards Levi, “it doesn’t explain why we were in the dark until now. At the very least, we should hope you would feel safe enough to confide in us about someone you are serious about dating.”

Yeah. 

Out of his two friends sitting across from him, Levi figured Erwin would be the most suspicious of the surprise announcement.

Now that it’s been a few days since That Fateful Night, he doesn’t feel as self-conscious to confess his new reality.

It was as good of a time as any to rip the proverbial band-aid off.

(Besides, it was only a matter of mistakes before his friends learned the truth for themselves.)

Hange, Erwin, Moblit — they’re his only remaining connections tying him to this city. The others from his gym days have all found offers in other towns, returned to their old homes—

Moved on.

Meeting Erwin Smith in boot camp changed the trajectory of his life, for better or worse. 

Levi had known the man longer than he knew anyone else — but only by a few days and some change, considering he was destined (Hange’s words, not his) to meet the hyper scientist and their subdued partner, Moblit, in the army as well.

Then, as if attached to the hip, all four of them agreed to work at Erwin’s gym.

When that fell through, Erwin found the Scout Services Hotline.

.

.

— —

.

.

    The announcement came to him one summer evening with a printed job description and a six pack of beer.

Levi assumed Erwin’s confession on taking a sex hotline job had been one weird, shitty joke.

Picturing stoic, pragmatic Erwin Smith telling people how to fuck themselves in their bedrooms late at night for the almighty dollar felt obscene. 

Hell, it was obscene.

Levi didn’t want to consider his oldest friend in such a compromising position, but there it was laid before him without shame or fear of judgment.

Becoming a part-time sex worker for Erwin was as noncommittal as taking up a fleeting niche interest — like exotic bird watching or crocheting sweaters for fucking cats.

“At the gym, we improved upon people’s lives,” Erwin had told him while sipping his beer, staring out to the city sightline from Levi’s balcony. “Who has the authority to say this job isn’t doing something similar to those who may be lonely?”

“You would make yapping on a damn sex hotline prophetic,” Levi scoffed in return. “Selling some shitty porn script a dozen times a night sounds like the closest you could get to Hell.”

“I disagree,” Erwin argued without heat. “When I interviewed, they stated every employee is given the ability to do as they please. To show their strengths and make it their own.”

“Bullshit.”

“It isn’t.” 

Erwin rested the beer bottle on the knee of his trousers. 

“Flexible work hours give me the ability to find another place the gym can call home. The pay would certainly cover any initial costs after several years.”

“Several years?”

Levi frowned, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“Erwin… c’mon. Just take a second to listen to yourself.”

“I’m only offering a chance for you to do the same. You may not be fond of people, Levi, but you’re loyal to a stubborn fault.”

Erwin gave him a sidelong glance.

“I know you won’t put in applications to go to any other gym.”

“Tch.”

A dismissive sound was all he could muster at the time.

He always hated how Erwin could open the cavity of his chest and put his damn bleeding heart on display.

“Who says I haven’t been window shopping to pass the damn unemployment time?”

“I wish you would,” Erwin replied with a heavy sigh. “Your skills are better when in use, not lying waste with the rest of us.”

“Hange and Moblit’re doing just fine.”

Hange, a self-proclaimed babbler, returned to Paradis University to make headway on some fascinating research projects side by side with Moblit. 

It was where they belonged, really.

“Fine, then lying waste with me.”

After a beat, Erwin slid his hand across the space between their chairs and held out a slip of paper.

"Look it over. Really sit down and think about what you did for our fighters and see where I’m coming from. You have a knack for leading. Of making people believe in themselves at their lowest."

He made it a point to stop. Stare.

Levi bit his tongue, meeting his friend's stern gaze.

"Conventional or not, you would still be helping people. Even if it’s a job for a month, at least you’ll be putting a hell of a lot of money in your pocket. It's better than waiting for my signal to move on.”

.

.

— —

.

.

    The bastard was always great at a rousing speech.

That night was the night Levi plugged in the damn website and read the job description.

By morning, he had submitted his application for a part-time hotline employee that included an .mp3 file auditioning his voice.

Erwin must have told his boss that he had a life-long friend possibly interested in the position, because by that night?

Levi Ackerman had a job.

A night turned into a month.

A month turned into six. 

Six to a year.

Suddenly denying begging, pleading people from their chased orgasms became as second nature as completing an Excel sheet.

Yet nothing else changed.

Levi still kept to himself.

Considering the friend group worked odd hours — Erwin with his own clientele, Moblit working towards his Masters, and Hange testing the scientific project of the week at the same university when unsupervised — it was easy to.

Wake up. Work out. Eat. Run errands. Clock in for work. Clock out. Eat. Sleep. 

Repeat.

Routine.

Hell, a lot of his life worked like a well-oiled machine until you showed up.

Now his world is slightly spinning off-axis, and he knows:

Without talking to his friends about his (uncharacteristically selfish and) impulsive decision, everything could very well go up in flames.

(Because when it comes to sticking matters of the heart and Levi Ackerman in one room, the former never walks out.)

After a pregnant pause in this three-way stand-off, Hange leans in, pressing both hands onto the tops of their thighs. 

“So when you say you’re seeing someone, you mean like… romantically?”

“As opposed to what?” Levi flatly asks.

“Well, seeing someone could mean anything, especially for you,” Hange reasons. Levi’s eyes narrow when Erwin gives that short huff of air through his nose like he’s stifling a laugh. “You could be seeing someone about finally fixing your dryer.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m just saying, romantically isn’t the first idea that comes to mind!”

“I have to agree with Zoe,” Erwin finally states, shifting his blue eyes to Levi’s. “You never mentioned that you had met someone in our group chat, and you haven’t made any changes in your schedule that suggest otherwise.”

Levi can’t help but scoff.

“Oh, so now you’re following Hange’s goddamn Google calendar?”

That fucking calendar.

The ‘we’re so busy but we can’t lose touch just because the gym went under’ calendar hastily made at two in the morning and sent with a declaration of war if no one accepted the invite.

All four of them did.

(Then again, Moblit didn’t have much of a choice.)

“I check on occasion,” is Erwin’s short rebuttal, before sitting up straighter. “But the former argument stands: you didn’t tell us that you were dabbling in the dating scene.”

“Wouldn’t really call it dabbling, Erwin,” Levi huffs, picking up his tea cup by clawing the rim of the ceramic. “Shit just kind of happened.”

“Uh-uh,” Hange interrupts. “We’re not playing coy right now, Levi. I want details: name, height—”

“Occupation,” Erwin agrees.

“Where they’re from.”

“If they have siblings.”

“Do they live near here?”

“If they’re allergic to cats.”

An involuntary grimace passes over Levi’s face.

“Ooh! We also need to know if they like tennis,” Hange adds excitedly. “Don’t trust someone who likes tennis, spectator or player. They’re always too put together with an underlying layer of batshit crazy.”

Erwin halts mid-sip of his tea. 

“...I like tennis.”

Hange’s thumb and middle finger sharply snap. “Exactly.”

Enough.

Levi hastily pushes his black fringe out of his eyes with his free hand. “I— No, Jesus, can we stop speculating about her?”

“Why?” Erwin challenges.

“Because I told you what you needed to know,” Levi challenges without tripping over his words. “And I’d prefer to keep the rest of myself.”

“Ah, her.”

When he turns his attention to Hange, there’s a wicked glimmer in their eye.

Well, fuck him.

Too much has already been said.

Hange whistles low. 

“So how recently was this fair maiden introduced into thy friend’s life?”

“Don’t start talking like a freak, Four Eyes,” he warns them while they suppress a cackle between pressed lips. “And — fuck, fine. If no one is going to let it go—”

“We aren’t.”'

Erwin interrupts, making it two against one.

With a set glare at his blonde friend, the smaller man sinks further into his chair and sighs with reluctant resolve. 

“I… met her a few days ago. It...”

Trailing off, he sets his tea cup down to rub at his temples with one hand.

This is going to bring on a headache. 

He really doesn’t need it on a work night.

“You’re both going to have an opinion on the how, and trust me, so do I.”

Hange’s face screws up in confusion, but he sees it out of the corner of his eye.

Erwin grows still. Contemplative.

Yeah, he knew this was going to go terribly.

“Huh?” Hange whips their ponytail back and forth to look between both men, smacking themself on the sides of their face. “Why wouldn’t we approve of how? Is it one of the old fighters?”

Levi scoffs, dropping to sit back in his chair. “I’d rather choke.”

“Then I’m not following. You don’t even talk to cashiers at the grocery store.”

“When did she call the hotline?” Erwin asks, cutting straight through the bush instead of beating around it.

His stare is almost indiscernible. Stern.

(Protective.)

The lightbulb clicks. Hange finally settles their attention on him. 

“Whoa — wait, she’s a…”

“Former client,” Levi confesses after Hange trails off. “Emphasis on the former part.”

The room grows silent.

Levi doesn’t have the capacity to see Hange’s true reaction, because he’s keeping eye contact with Erwin.

Their own telepathic argument bounces back and forth like that very proverbial tennis ball Hange had so teasingly laid down.

The ethics of it all;

The logistics of what it could mean for the future;

The gravity of this choice and knowing its weight is crushing him.

Erwin’s gaze softens a fraction.

Levi’s shoulders relax, if only a little.

“And how did that opportunity come to pass?” the taller blonde finally asks, but it isn’t as harsh as Levi anticipated. 

Hell, it’s curious.

Willing — to not judge; to hear him out.

“Accidentally stumbled into her at the bar down the street,” Levi confesses.

Stumbled is an understatement.

.

.

— —

.

.

    “So then — what does this mean?”

He doesn’t know.

God, he has no fucking clue.

Just like he had no fucking clue you’d be at this bar tonight; that you not only lived in the area, but in the same goddamn building just a few floors south.

You were meant to be a fluke thing.

A moment of weakness.

An anomaly he could solve like every other problem in his life, one he could reason to death and move on from once you realized that this hotline is a slippery slope to financial debt.

At the end of the day, it wasn’t meant to be real.

The calls, the laughter, the exchange of stories felt real, but that’s the selling point.

Imagining idealism.

He could send as many discounted invoices as he could to management to ease the cost of your calls, but there was only so much he could do from his position.

Still—

That being said, he wanted this.

For the first time in a long time, he wanted something.

Ever since Erwin’s gym went under and the staff were forced to find something else in the interim, Levi Ackerman turned off his emotions. His passion.

Money was tight. 

Bills were bills. 

But there are worse things to do than apply to a remote-working sex hotline with the promise of flexible hours, medical insurance, and the opportunity to get away from people for a while.

Maybe he hadn’t realized he was simply going through the motions of buying a morning tea at the coffee shop down the street. 

Maybe he hadn’t noticed that his drive to push himself to the brink of exhaustion at the gym all but disappeared.

Maybe he existed to simply exist.

Then you called.

Petra had pinged him to let him know that there was someone looking for a deep voice — not surprising — with a tendency to overtalk and overthink.

Easy.

Those types always cave the second you call them a pet name or sprinkle a little praise.

Yet you burst into his life like a damn firework to the face and he’s never recovered since.

Being nervous is a staple on these calls. He’s heard every justification in the book just as he’s witnessed people use the hotline like they’re robots.

You wanted to talk.

Petra doesn’t send people to him if they want to talk.

(Did she know, somehow, that he needed this?)

Conspiracies aside, the last two weeks became some of the best of his life.

Now you knew his face, and he knew yours.

And Christ, you were beautiful. 

Your voice was one thing — like a soothing balm to his insomnia — but your face nearly took him right the hell out.

Even in the mirror backsplash of the bar, he couldn’t stop staring. Didn’t want to, not when he finally saw what he wanted right in the palm of his hand.

So he was honest.

Honest about his life, his job, his black hole of an existence — maybe to scare you away so you’d choose better than a guy like him.

That he was the first to break the rules.

That he was sorry, because you weren’t looking for more baggage after a shit breakup with a shithead of a guy.

You didn’t care.

So he decided to rip a page out of his goddamn advice book:

Be selfish.

“Well, if you don’t get too wasted with your friends tonight—”

Autopilot.

Everything is on autopilot when he picks up that damn pen and starts to scribble on a napkin, allowing his nervous system to suckerpunch his logic right out the damn window.

“—and you end up going to the gym tomorrow—”

Bail.

Bail, bail, bail, before you make a damn fool of yourself, Levi Ackerman.

He doesn’t.

He straightens his spine, folds the napkin, and reaches for your hand. 

The heat of it almost makes his stomach clench.

If he were bolder, then maybe he’d steal you away from your friends. Keep asking questions to make you talk more. Watch as your eyes light up about your favorite things—

He can’t. Won’t.

You’re with your friends. He’s already taken enough time away from them for you.

“—give me a call.”

Maybe he’s chickenshit for running, but at least there’s a part of him brave enough to leave him his personal cell number in the palm of your hand.

Before you can say anything, he drops some money on the counter to pay for both drinks and a tip and leaves to walk home.

To contemplate.

(Assuming you likely won’t call. He wouldn’t blame you.)

The night air leaves a sobering sting on his cheeks as he steps outside.

It’s considerably quieter than the cramped space of the bar, but cabs bustle in the street.

His pocket vibrates not once but twice.

(So not a text.)

Fishing his phone out, Levi squints at the ‘Unknown Caller’ ID staring up at him.

He swipes right to accept said call, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello, Levi Ackerman speaking.”

“Hi, Levi. It’s formerly Scarlet.”

His heart falls out of his ass.

Whipping back around to the tinted windows of the bar, Levi can’t help but look for that now-familiar face.

You’re blocked by an endless sea of conversations and bodies, but he still searches.

“My schedule just opened up,” you tell him from the other side of the line, your voice airy like you hold a secret. “I know it’s a little late for some coffee, but — are you free for some tea now?”

Shit.

Maybe he should be giving the headset for the hotline over to you.

“Depends,” Levi exhales. “Any shop worth a damn is closed at this hour.”

“Shit, you’re right.”

He liked it when you cursed. 

Hell, he liked it when you weren’t afraid to be yourself around him the most.

“There’s a pop-up shop about six floors above yours,” Levi reasons with a shrug he assumes you can’t see; autopilot, “if you don’t mind walking a neighbor home.”

.

.

— —

.

.

    “You said that?”

Hange, now at the brink of teetering off of their chair, gawks.

Levi blinks twice, realizing he’s given more of the story than he wanted to.

That they know it’s serious — dead fucking serious for him, actually — and that you’re his neighbor.

Yeah, he didn’t believe it either until you said yes.

“What?” Levi asks. “Something wrong?”

“No, that was just fucking smooth, dude,” Hange whistles low, impressed. “Pop-a-button-and-open-a-window kinda smooth. Holy shit.” They thumb towards Erwin. “You teach him to talk like that!?”

“Self-taught, I’m afraid,” Erwin hums. “Can’t take the credit.”

Hange flops back into their chair unceremoniously. “Jeeeez.”

“Six floors down, then?”

There’s a rare tint of pride in Erwin’s tone, like there’s a joke somewhere in that question he isn’t saying. 

Levi immediately narrows his eyes.

“Yeah. She’s been my fuckin’ neighbor all this time, if you can believe that.”

He sure as hell can’t. The fact that you’re six floors away — have been — has kept him up at night.

He could run down there right now and show you off to his friends.

He could leave you home-cooked meals if you’re running behind at your office job.

He could do a lot of things, but—

“Is she requesting you to end your time at Scout Services?” Erwin asks, interrupting his trailing thoughts.

Levi’s stormy eyes meet a contemplative, oceanic stare.

“...no.”

A beat passes.

Despite his trepidation, he explains himself.

“She’s not asking me to quit it. Says she gets it, a job’s a job, but I don’t know how true that’ll be in the long run.”

“And you believe her?”

He knows Erwin’s skepticism isn’t unfounded, but it sets a fire in his belly.

Questioning you, the newfound gravity keeping him grounded on planet earth.

(You're just a stranger to him, too, at the end of the day, but you don't feel like one. Not really.)

“I can’t expect anyone to stay neutral about what the fuck it is we do, Erwin," he reasons diplomatically. "I can say everything on my mind and put it on paper, but I’m sure the doubt will still creep in. Everything’s too new to tell. It won’t be easy, but it…”

He sighs, running his hand once more through his straight-and-narrow black hair. 

“I just need you two dumbasses to keep me in check. I can’t—”

Hange frowns, and he hates the sympathetic tone they take when they say his name. 

“Levi—”

“Four Eyes,” Levi interrupts stronger yet weaker in resolve, effectively shutting down their protest, “I can’t fuck this up. So don’t let me.”

The air grows thick, like winding vines corrupting the foundation of a tree.

Levi glances between the two of them, nostrils flaring with unspoken difficulty.

Erwin is the first to nod. Wordlessly, but he does.

Hange sighs with conclusion not a second after and nods, too.

“Am I at least allowed to ask one thing?” they chirp, holding out one slender finger to the sky. “Just one teeny, tiny thing — yes or no.”

A part of him really wants to say no.

A part of him really wants to say this conversation is over before he gives them anymore concrete information about you as he navigates these uncharted waters of being a not-so-normal boyfriend to a very-normal-ass person.

He fights.

Fails.

“...fine,” he grumbles. “The fuck’s the question?”

Hange perks up, all too smug.

“Did the pop-up shop six floors up line work?”

The memory blossoms in the back of his skull.

His body warms as if trapped under an electric blanket, heat setting cranked a little too high. 

Instinctively his eyes flicker to the front door of his apartment.

Like you’ll burst in at any moment with your work bags and stress and the hope that he’ll have the same soothing balm you’ve gifted him, hands at the ready to fix your problems for you.

He hasn’t wanted much.

He’s never wanted much, but—

Shit, if he doesn’t want to be good to you.

“...something like that.”

.

Author's Note:

AHHHH HI EVERYONE! WE'RE AT IT AGAIN WITH MODERN!LEVI SHENANIGANS! How are we feeling to be back?

I seriously cannot believe we're here. I've never done a sequel before, but the demand was overwhelming and I couldn't help but agree: we could do with learning what happens after the final call.

And we will, in this seven (maybe more?) part series. I had to actually break up part one because it got way too large of a chapter, so I promise we'll be picking up right where we left off in P4 -- like, quite literally That Fateful Night in part two.

[hoe4sports]

Nobody likes the angry girl

A note from the author: I saw a video that hit home. It was a tiktok about being told that “nobody likes the angry girl”. I was the angry girl as a child, and by now you probably know that this is a fic based off of my life. I am not enabling this kind of behaviour, but I’m trying to show you how it can feel to struggle with trauma. Traumas need constant work, love and attention.

If you are struggling with the same thing; you are not a monster. You will get there. It’s not your fault. I love you.

Credits: This is based off a tiktok that I saw, you can find it here. Courtesy of @young.Riley on TikTok.

Warning: Trauma, anger, anxiety

Summary: Your childhood has caused more damage than Alexia could ever believe.

⚠️If you feel easily triggered or overwhelmed, read with caution and take breaks. If you need to, please seek a mental health hotline.

—

“Nobody likes the angry girl”. That was a sentence that would be thrown after you as if it was a knife. Your mother would use it when you did something she didn’t like. Speaking up for yourself, telling her how you felt, wanting her love or being upset. She would describe you as angry if you weren’t a pleasure or the quiet girl.

Alexia however, she is patient with the angry girl. She understands the angry girl because she took her time to understand her. She asked the questions and listened to the stories. She knew what caused you to become the angry girl. How your mother’s words cut through your back causing scars in your heart. Alexia knew that the angry girl carried her heart outside her sleeve. She loved the angry girl with every cell in her body.

The Spanish heat was flowing in through the kitchen windows. You breathed in the air filling your lungs all the way up. Your body felt sweaty after working in the garden for a while. It was mid day, and you had gotten the week off. It was a nice change, your workplace had decided to work on their employees wellbeing giving all of your colleagues a week off. You see, that was the recipe for a perfect week. Only, whenever you got too much time off: your mind and unconsciousness would deep dive into your childhood making your mood miserable and leaving your emotions on edge.

You decided that the best thing to do was to head into the shower, so you approached the bedroom where you pulled out a pair of black athletic bike shorts and a blue athletic long sleeve. Just as you were about to close the door to the wall in closet, you noticed that alexia had left clothes in the floor. Not just on the floor, but right next to the laundry basket. The mishap itched you the wrong way. “Of course”, you mumbled to yourself, “of course she would leave me to pick it up when she knows that I hate when she does that.” You reached for the clothes before chucking it into the basket. It made you feel annoyed. Like your blood was boiling. But you pushed it down. You didn’t want to have a meltdown, not when Alexia had a stressful week.

When you entered the bathroom, you quickly started the water making the shower heat up before getting undressed. That was when you noticed the toothpaste on the mirror. Your face dropped when you saw it. Jesus, you thought, you just cleaned it yesterday. It made it feel like Alexia didn’t appreciate your hard work of trying to keep the house in shape. You grabbed a rag after spraying the mirror, washing the full length of the mirror. You couldn’t just was the one spot with toothpaste, because then it would cause streaks. And you hated streaks. When you turned around to feel the temperature of the running water with your hand, you stepped into cold water with your socks. It made you feel furious. “Oh my god” you mumbled to yourself. You took a deep breath with your eyes closed. Then, your hands reached for a dry towel to wipe up the water that Alexia had left for you to step on.

But, your hand didn’t find anything. You turned your head to see that there were no towels. You took a quick deep breath feeling as if you were about to explode. The robe that was hanging on its hook came to use when you wrapped yourself in it heading into the linen closet to restock towels. Alexia knew that there were fresh towels in the closet. They were neatly folded, white cream towels made out of bamboo. You grabbed the bunch that were sitting on the shelf before stomping your way into the bathroom. The towels got placed in its shelf before you wiped up Alexia’s mess from earlier this morning.

You see, the thing about being the angry girl is that it becomes your identity. You are never smart, talented, beautiful or a joy; because in your mother’s eyes, all you are is the angry girl. When she gave you silent treatment as a 5 year old and you cried for days begging her to speak to you. The first thing she said when you sat there, tears filling your eyes was that nobody likes the angry girl. It hurt like a gunshot. And whenever she used it, it felt like you got shot again. And again. And again. And again. Even though you don’t talk to your mother anymore, you are still the angry girl in her eyes. You will never be anything more.

After your shower, you sat down on the toilet while drying off. Your hand instantly reached for your phone which lead you to watch TikTok. It was childishly enough the only thing that would give your brain a pause. Some days, you had to take yourself on a timeout to watch TikTok with your headphones underneath your blanket it your dark bedroom. Maybe it was the feeling of overwhelming that hit you and maybe that was why this became the solution? Or perhaps it was because whenever you said anything about your feelings, your mother would tell you to go to your bedroom?

You kept watching TikTok before you reached for the toilet paper. And, lo and behold, there was no toilet paper. You could’ve sworn that your eye twitched for a second. But you reached out to the cabinet underneath the sink and popped the new roll on the holder before getting rid of the empty roll.

After feeling the anger building up inside you like a tidal wave, you decided to try to have something to eat. Perhaps, you thought, just perhaps you are hangry and it will all pass once you’ve had some food. Then you remembered that you had leftovers from Lasagna in the refrigerator. You peered into the kitchen and opened the big fridge door before feeling your heart sink. No lasanga. Alexia had brought it with her to practice. It made you frown because you knew damn well that Alexia had all kinds of food in the Barca cafeteria that she would eat from. Even fresh lasagna.

In a need to calm yourself down, you decided to go for a drive to the grocery store. You put on some makeup and do your hair all nice before grabbing your purse and heading out. You press the keyless start button in your car and there is a flashing sign. You are out of gas. Alexia borrowed your car yesterday. You feel your blood boiling. You hop out of your car before smacking the door as hard as you can. Then you stomp your way upstairs to the bedroom to hide from the world and your own problems. You stay hidden in the bedroom for hours. Hiding underneath your weighted blanket hoping that you will fall asleep. That’s one of the angry girl strategies, sleeping. She will close her eyes and keep them shut for hours to avoid confrontation.

But, the attempt to calm down is quickly paused. Your eyes peer open when you hear Alexia’s familiar footsteps in the hallway. “Hola, amor!” She calls out. You can tell that she’s in a good mood. The kind of mood that makes you feel sick to your bones when the angry girl is out. You tuck the blanket around your head so only your face sticks out. “..Amor? Are you sick, no?” Alexia asks softly when she opens up the door to the bedroom. You huff out in response hoping to keep the angry girl away. Alexia sits down next to you on the bed. She gives you the most loving look. It makes the angry girl scared. God, you think. You are so unloveable. Your eyes starts to look like glass, but Alexia dosent seem to catch it. “I’ll go make you some tea. Blueberry?” she askes before placing a kiss on your forehead. You nod in response.

Why is the world against me today, you think. Keeping your head calm when the storm is flaring up isn’t easy, the angry girl inside you is peeking out from the heavy blackout curtains she normally is forced to hide behind. You see, the angry girl looks big and scary. She’s hiding behind curtains as she takes up the whole room. But, the angry girl isn’t a big girl. She’s small. She’s little. She looks big because of the shadows from the lights, but she is small. She is so small. She’s easy to hurt. And she’s sensitive.

The angry girl comes out with a bang. Alexia drops the cup in the kitchen causing you to practically jump out of bed. It scares you shameless, and the angry girl feels put on the spot. You stomp into the kitchen, your face strained and your body tight. You look at the cup on the ground. Or, what was left of it. You instantly recognise it. That is what causes the angry girl to jump out. “ALEXIA!! Seriously?? My moomin mug? From my grandmother?? Seriously?? You are so clumsy, so irresponsible! God, you are so fucking annoying! Why do you ruin everything!” The angry girl yells out feeling heat rush to your cheeks. Alexia looks caught off guard before her looks softens. “You are right mi vida, i shouldn’t have dropped it. Lo siento mucho princesa” she speaks softly. Her body slowly moves towards you. When she dosent get angry back, the little girl feels scared. For some reason, that causes the angry girl to feel threatened. “Don’t fucking touch me, Alexia! Don’t you dare to fucking touch me!” The angry girl yells before turning around and sprinting to the bedroom. Your hand quickly turns the lock before your throw yourself on the bed, face looking into the wall as tears of anger swells in your eyes. You can hear Alexia outside of the door. “Leave me alone!! God, will you ever fucking learn? I should just move out!!” The angry girl screams before pulling the blanket over your head. You lay completely still with your eyes squeezed shut causing you to fall asleep within minutes.

The angry girl haunts your head monthly. It used to be weekly, and in periods; even daily. You don’t purposely let the angry girl out, but sometimes she claws her way out of the deepest darkest rooms where you normally keep her. The angry girl is a result of trauma, event though you sometimes let yourself believe that she is who you are. A part of your personality. A part of you. The angry girl hurt you for years. But you, Alexia and your psychiatrist worked together to get you where you are today.

The thing about the angry girl is that she isn’t really big. She’s a little girl. When the little girl comes out to play, she gets scared. She hides in the bedroom in fear that someone might yell at her. Or disown her. Or not talk to her. To hide is how so stays protected. Her talent is hide and seek. She tiptoes into the bathroom at night, terrified to wake someone up. She sneaks snacks when nobody is watching and god forbid someone catches her: she always ask if she’s allowed food. As a young little girl, she craved love, she craved to be seen and she craved to feel wanted. But she wasn’t allowed to feel those feelings. She was starved of the feelings. She creeps along the shadows of the hallway avoiding showing herself until she is trapped in a corner. That’s when the little girl becomes the angry girl. When she is trapped, and there is nowhere to hide and it feels like the world is about to end. But because Alexia is there, the world doesn’t end.

-

An hour later, you wake up by someone softly playing your hair. You can hear the low buzz of the bedroom tv. The slow beats of Alexia’s heart. The warmth of her lap. The embarrassment and the sadness fills your body. Tears make your eyes glass-like. You move your hand slightly. “Feeling better amore?” Alexia hums at you, not stopping her comforting movements. “I’m so sorr-“ you speak before your voice breaks and your body fills with regret and embarrassment. You feel so angry with yourself. Why are you like this? Why can’t you just communicate instead of letting everything blow up? You don’t know how to stop it, and you are terrified that it will drive Alexia away. “You don’t deserve this..” you mumble moving your hand to alexia’s knee.

“Mi amor, it’s not your fault that you were treated badly as a kid so don’t be sorry for breaking something that you didn’t break. You will get there with time and patience, and I’ll be with you every step of the way. Te amo mucho and that is never gonna change. Vale?”

Alexia looks down on you smile long softly before kissing your head.

«Vale, te amo, Ale. Te amo mucho”

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Summary: It's finally time for your coffee date with Eddie, leading the two of you to fall even harder for each other.

Warnings: brief mention of drug dealing, Reader's grandma has dementia, character death

WC: 6.5k

Chapter 9/20

Divider credit to @saradika

The lime green numbers of the microwave clock reads 11:57, which means that Eddie will be here any minute. You drag your palms on the thighs of your boot-cut jeans, triple-checking that your perspiration hasn’t left a visible stain on the light-wash fabric.

“Okay, her lunch is in the fridge. And the number of the coffee shop is on the counter,” you tell Jess, pointing to the scrap of notebook paper in front of her. “If you need something, just call, and I’ll come home.”

Jess waves away your concern with a kind smile. She’d been pleading with you to get out there and date for ages now, and she was just glad you’d finally taken her advice. Though, you note wryly, she would not be happy if she knew who that date was.

“We’ll be fine,” she reassures you, bracing a hand on your shoulder. “If anything, we’ll need to check on you. Who is this mystery date, anyway?” 

“Just a guy,” you say, trying to remain light and casual while simultaneously fighting down the barrage of nerves in your stomach.

Jess takes a step back, wrinkling her nose and crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh, God, it’s not one of those creeps from a dating hotline, is it? Because I’ve never heard of one of those that didn’t end up on 48 Hours.”

“No, no, don’t worry,” you shake your head, spotting a piece of lint on your cable knit sweater and plucking it off carefully. You flick it off of your finger, silently berating yourself when you remember that you’ll have to vacuum it later. “It’s a guy from around here.”

Your friend wipes imaginary sweat from her brow as the buzzer rings. You race to the intercom to let him in before he can say anything, but your reflexes are too slow.

“Hey, it’s me.” The sound of his voice has your body pulsing, an eager grin tugging at your lips despite your intentions to keep calm. His slight rasp has you craving the sting of tobacco just to flatten your nerves.

You clear your throat before speaking. “Okay, I’ll be right down.” Grabbing your jacket from where you’ve haphazardly thrown it over the back of the couch, you’ve almost made it to the door, when—

“No. No.” You cringe at the way Jess’s words bite into your excitement. “Please tell me that your date is not Eddie Munson.” You can only offer her a sheepish grin, and she rolls her eyes. “Seriously?!”

You huff out a sigh, both impatient to go on the date and flustered at being caught. “Look, he’s changed. A lot.”

“Oh, you mean he stopped calling you a bitch and making shitty comments about your grandma?” Jess snorts. “How chivalrous.”

There’s no time to explain everything that’s happened, so you simply say, “I’ll be back in two hours,” before closing the door behind you, making sure that it latches before you start down the hallway. 

Eddie is waiting in the tiny lobby. He’s leaned up against the double doors, tapping one Reebok-clad foot and examining his fingernails anxiously. A memory crashes over you; one where his nails are painted jet black, though there hasn’t been any polish on them in some time. 

He smiles as soon as he spots you, standing up straighter and walking to meet you before you can get to the door. “Hey,” he says softly, letting his hand brush yours as he kisses your cheek. 

“Hey, yourself.” You want to kiss him back, but not on his cheek. Your lips yearn to crash against his once more; this time, anchored in belonging rather than lust. Instead, you manage a compliment. “You clean up nice.”

It’s the truth. His gray jeans are free of any holes, sometimes intentional but often the result of overwearing. The sleeves of his red sweater are pushed up slightly, exposing the litany of tattoos on his arms, and it occurs to you that you want to know each of their origins. 

“Can’t lie, Harris helped pick out my clothes today,” he admits. “He caught me trying to figure out what to wear and we finally agreed on this.” He sweeps a hand down his side to emphasize his point. 

“Was the ponytail his idea, too?” His curls are pulled back and rest at the nape of his neck. 

Eddie shakes his head with a laugh as his cheeks tinge pink. “Nah, that was all me.” He pauses, gaze briefly landing on your mouth before his eyes are drawn back to yours. “You’re…you’re beautiful.”

You try to shrug off the compliment, still caught off-guard by his kindness. You wonder when—or if—that unease will dissipate. “I think you’re just used to seeing me with Play-Doh stuck to my shirt,” you tease, but he doesn’t break his trance. 

“You’re always beautiful.” The sincerity of his statement clings to a silence that should be awkward, but is somehow comforting. After a few seconds, he clears his throat, lifting the fog of budding romance that clouds the lobby. “Let’s go get some coffee, yeah?”

Eddie takes your hand in his when you nod, leading you to his car and opening the passenger door for you. He sweeps his hand in the direction of the seat, and you giggle.

“Such a gentleman.”

He doesn’t divulge that Wayne reminded him to open doors for you when he’d come over to the apartment for dinner last night, or that the older man had slipped him a crumpled ten dollar bill and whispered, “get her something to eat, too,” punctuating his statement with a wink.

His left leg bounces as he starts the engine and he grates his teeth over his lower lip. He doesn’t even realize that he’s doing either of these things until you timidly rest a hand on his right knee and ask, “You okay?”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, gliding the gear shift from ‘park’ to ‘reverse’ as he backs out of his spot. “Just, uh, been a long time since I’ve gone on a date.” And never with someone so goddamn perfect, he wants to add, but he’s stopped by the fear of coming on too strong.

You graze your thumb over the gray denim and smile at him. “Well, you’re doing great so far.”

“Yeah?” Eddie grins at your reassurance, the soft dimples at the corners of his mouth deepening. 

“Yeah.”

He turns on the radio with a slight snap of his wrist, shifting the skull ring that wraps around his middle finger. A metal song comes on that you don’t recognize, drumbeats thumping through the old speakers. Eddie winces, nudging the volume down so he can hear himself speak over the impending guitar solo. “You can change it to something you like better.”

“Nah, this is fine,” you shake your head. “Kinda warming up to heavier music since someone gave me a Guns ‘N Roses tape.”

Eddie’s eyebrows brush the edge of his tousled bangs in surprise. “You really listen to it?”

“All the time,” you confirm truthfully. It’s quickly become one of your favorites; each time you play it, you’re reminded of Harris dressed as a miniature Axl Rose, drawing a picture of you and Eddie holding hands. Not to mention the way that Eddie adoringly gazed at you while you calmed his son down, quickly throwing together an art project and saving the day.

“How’s Grandma?” he asks now, pressing on the brake as he approaches a stop sign.

“Same as always. Her aid had to take her to the hospital the other day because she fell, and she’s been losing more language.” You try to play it off like it doesn’t bother you, but your heart pangs as you speak. When she was initially diagnosed, you’d known that she’d forget who people were, but you hadn’t realized that she would eventually forget how to talk. “Good news is, she hasn’t lost her appetite for Oreos. I have to keep the package you brought over hidden away so she doesn’t eat them all.”

Eddie laughs at this. “Told you; there’s nothing Oreos can’t fix.” He pulls into the cafe parking lot and snags the first available spot he sees. “I really am sorry that you have to see that, though. It can’t be easy.”

You keep your eyes trained on the dashboard, knowing that you’ll tear up if you catch a glance of his sympathetic expression. “‘S just par for the course with dementia, I guess.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything else–he isn’t sure what to say–as he kills the engine. He clicks off his seatbelt to scramble to your door, but it gets snagged in the crook of his elbow, yanking him back.

“Jesus, shit,” he grumbles, untangling himself from the trap he’d inadvertently created. “Don’t move; I’m not done being a gentleman.”

You put your hands up in surrender, watching as he walks to your side and opens the door. “Wow, that was such a surprising gesture,” you mock him, letting out a breathless scoff when he flips you the bird. “Giving me the middle finger kinda negates the whole ‘gentleman’ thing, dontcha think?”

Eddie pretends to consider this, crossing his arms over his chest while shifting his weight to one leg, bringing his hand to his freshly-shaved chin. “Mm, nope.” He helps you out of the seat, still not letting go of your hand once you’re standing next to his car. He holds it tighter, so you can feel every etch of the lifelines across his palm.

The mouth-watering scent of warm pastries and freshly brewed coffee swirls throughout the cafe, wafting to your nose as soon as you open the door. Or, more precisely, as soon as Eddie opens the door for you. You assume he’ll slip his fingers back through yours after you’re both inside, but he hesitates before letting his palm hover on the small of your back. You can barely feel the pads of his fingertips through your thick sweater, but as soon as you give him a smile, he allows himself to hold you a bit closer.

A chipper, twenty-something barista whose name tag reads Stephanie greets you as you approach the counter. “Hi! What can I get you folks?” 

Eddie nudges you to place your order, which you give with a polite smile. “Just a coffee with room for milk,” you tell her. 

You turn to Eddie so he can give his order, but he says softly, “Get something to eat, too.” He points to the display of baked goods before you, and you peer into the case. The prices are listed next to each item, and you furrow your brow at the $2 brownie. 

“Oh, s’okay,” you murmur, trying to play it off. The last thing you need is for Eddie to think you’re pitying him, which, okay, maybe you are. He just doesn’t have to know that. “You can get something, though.”

He shakes his head with a grin. “I’m not falling for that trick, Sweetheart.” It’s odd to hear the nickname without the prefix Ms. in front of it, or without a sneer in his voice. It’s kind, comforting, dare you even venture…a term of endearment? “You tell me you don’t want anything, and then you end up eating half of what I pick. Nope, you’re getting your own.”

“Fine, fine,” you roll your eyes playfully, eventually settling on a blueberry muffin. Eddie’s coffee order is the same as yours, but he gets a chocolate chunk cookie with his. He digs into his back pocket for his wallet, worn and frayed around the edges, and pulls out a ten-dollar bill, leaving a remaining dollar in the colorful jar marked ‘Tips’.

You grab the plated pastries and Eddie shuffles behind with the coffee mugs, gently placing them on the counter next to the silver thermoses and baskets of sugar packets. You pour a bit of milk into yours, watching in amusement as Eddie dumps some of the coffee into the trashcan, filling the mug with half & half and tearing open three Domino packets. 

“You want some coffee with that sugar bomb?” you gently tease, and he flicks your shoulder with a dramatic pout on his lips. 

“I’d rather this than whatever bitter concoction you’re drinking,” he retorts, taking an exaggerated sip from his mug and punctuating it with an aaaahhh. 

You roll your eyes. “You really should be grateful that I like bitter things. If I didn’t, then I wouldn’t like you.” Your response earns you another flick to the shoulder before Eddie brings the drinks to a table tucked away in the corner. 

You set the cookie in front of him and the muffin at your spot across from him, pulling a crumb from the side and popping it in your mouth. The sweetness of the pastry with the slightly sour berry is heaven on your tongue. 

“‘S good?” Eddie asks, smiling brightly when you nod your head. “Wanna try a bite of mine?” He breaks off a piece, and a smattering of crumbs fall to the table. You expect him to place the piece in your hand; instead, he leans over and brings it to your lips. His fingertips brush against them, parting them ever-so-slightly. An electric buzz hums down your spine, and you wonder if he feels it, too. 

You’re careful not to let your tongue graze his fingers as you take the chocolate-flecked dessert into your mouth. Eddie, however, is in no rush. He lingers, slowly moving the rough pads of his fingers across your soft lips. In doing so, he wipes away rogue remnants of the cookie he just fed you, though you strongly doubt that that was his intention. 

“Here, try mine.” You pinch off a piece of the muffin, a bit bigger than the piece you took for yourself, and bring it to him. His lips close around the very tips of your thumb and forefinger where you’re holding the bite of muffin. You feel the brief flicker of his tongue, gone before you can even process it, taking the muffin piece with it. 

“Not bad,” Eddie says with a grin. “I don’t usually like fruit in my dessert, but I’d make an exception for that. Could definitely use some more chocolate, though.” As if to illustrate his sentiment, he takes a comically large bite of his cookie. 

“One of these days, I’ll get you to eat a vegetable.” You mean it as a joke, a ribbing towards his poor eating habits, but it implies that you’ll stick around. That you care about him. You’re unclear about how he interpreted your statement, so you quickly change the subject before he can think about it. “I do have a question for you. Completely unrelated to the lack of nutrients in your diet.”

Eddie ignores the teasing jab and takes another bite of cookie. “Shoot.”

“The, uh, lock-picking kit,” you start, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your nerves calm. “Do you just keep them laying around?” You hate the idea of him using it to commit break-ins. If that was the truth, would he even admit it to you?

But Eddie just laughs, sipping his barely-coffee with a knowing smirk. “When Harris was about two, Wayne was watching him. He left for a second to grab the mail and the little stinker locked him out.”

“Out of the trailer?!” you ask incredulously, jaw dropping in shock.

“Out of the trailer,” Eddie confirms, shaking his head as though he still can’t believe it himself. “So, yeah. Ever since that happened, I’ve kept a lock-picking kit in my car.” He takes a deep breath, looking into your eyes with a gaze that makes your heart skip a beat. He drums his fingertips on the table as he says, “Tell me about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Eddie accentuates his request with a quick poke of your hand before returning his grip to the mug handle. “Like, how did you end up being the one schlepping out to Hawkins to take care of Grandma?”

You shrug and bring the hot cup to your lips, letting the steam tickle your nose before you drink. “She and I were always really close, and teaching is a job that’s everywhere. It was just easier for me to pick up and move, I guess.”

Eddie pauses, nodding as he considers his next question. He rubs his palm back and forth on the side of his mug; there’s an air of nervousness around him. “Tell me about her. Grandma, I mean. Like, how she was before she got sick.”

“Where do I start?” It’s strange, you think, the way memories work. Sometimes it seems like the more Grandma forgets, the more you remember. You’ll just be lesson planning, or hurriedly making photocopies at work, or heating up leftovers in the microwave, and a memory will crash over you. Suddenly, you’re plucked from reality and transported to Benny’s Diner where you and she used to split a giant stack of pancakes. Or to the shoe store where she’d buy you a new pair of sneakers every August before the start of the new school year. “She just loved taking care of people. Cooking for them or cheering them up. She wasn’t the type of person to tell you to stop crying when you’d get upset, y’know? She’d sit there with you, rub your back, and let you get all the tears out.” You muster a wistful smile in a paltry attempt to hide the shame blooming in your chest. “It’s all so fucked, the way I talk about her like she’s gone when she’s still here.”

 “No.” Eddie’s voice is soft yet adamant. “I don’t think it’s fucked at all. Because, I dunno, it’s like she’s not here, in a way. Physically, yeah; but almost like…” He stops himself to avoid speaking out of turn and making a fool of himself.

“Like she’s a shell of who she used to be,” you finish for him, and relief floods his body when you understand the point he’s trying to make.

He nods. “Exactly.” He smooths his ponytail reflexively. “I think you’re a lot like her. How she was, anyway. The way you’re always looking out for people, like…let’s say…a bitter wannabe rockstar and his adorable yet mischievous son?”

“That’s the best compliment I’ve gotten in a long time.” It’s all you want, really–to spread joy and kindness to others, filling in gaps that have remained empty for so long that they seemingly go unnoticed. “Maybe ever, actually.”

Good, Eddie wants to say. He wants to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, each one kinder than the last, until you’re utterly flustered. Instead, he abruptly changes the subject and asks, “What made you wanna be a teacher?”

This is a much easier question for you to answer. “I just love seeing kids learn,” you beam. “Being able to do things they couldn’t do before; things they never thought they’d be able to do.”

He returns your smile easily; something about hearing you speak about your profession with such gratification has him buzzing.“Speaking of which,” he says, sneaking a mouthful of cookie between words, “I took Harris to the supermarket yesterday. And when we passed by the seafood section, he points to a sign, sounds out cuh-ahh-d, and goes, ‘that says cod!’”

“That’s incredible! Look at our little reader go!” You could jump out of your seat with excitement, held back only by the desire to not go overboard in your display of enthusiasm.

Eddie nods in agreement. “I was so proud, I damn near bought all of the candy in the store.” He cocks his head, amusement tugging the corners of his lips upwards. “Any idea where he learned how to read like that?”

“Not a clue.” You try to force a deadpan expression to reinforce the sarcasm in your remark, but your happiness betrays you in the form of a giggle. You clap a hand over your mouth, but he reaches out to pull it down, keeping your fingers clasped with his.

He strokes his thumb over your knuckles, watching the digit sweep back and forth for a moment. “You really are pretty, y’know.” The admission feels like a weight has been both removed from and added to his shoulders. Now you know how he feels, but now you know how he feels.

You, meanwhile, are far less fixated on his vulnerability and focus instead on his phrasing. The opportunity has presented itself so perfectly, and you have to seize it.

“Like a princess?” Your eyes gleam with playfulness.

“Wha–oh, Christ.” Eddie’s features shift from confusion to embarrassment over the span of a second. “What did that kid tell you?”

“Not a lot,” you say nonchalantly, taking an innocent swig of coffee. It’s cooled down considerably, but you’ve never been one to let a drop of caffeine go to waste. “Just that you think I’m ‘pretty like a princess.’”

Eddie uses his free hand to rub his eyes, swiping his thumb and forefinger across the lids. “What a little snitch.”

“It’s true, then?” You perch your chin in your hand, batting your eyelashes and reveling in his awkwardness. His cheeks flush red and a nervous chuckle splices the silence between you.

“To be fair,” he finally counters, trying to gather his thoughts before they scatter again, “I was asked if I thought you were pretty like a princess. I didn’t, like, come up with that on my own.”

You purse your lips into a pout, feigning disappointment. “So you don’t think I’m pretty like a princess?”

“N-No, you are!” He takes a deep breath and composes himself as he notices you trying to hold in your laughter. “All right, which would you prefer? We talking trading your fins for legs or losing your glass slipper at a ball?”

“Neither,” you chide, scratching at the base of your neck absentmindedly. “More like…bookworm who rescues people in need no matter what the personal cost and captures the heart of the town outcast.” You hope that he doesn’t take offense to that last part, as true as it might be.

“So…Belle?” Eddie chuckles when you raise your eyebrows at him. “What? I have a little ankle biter, I know Disney movies.”

“Harris would never bite your ankles,” you scoff, grinning at the mere thought of the littlest Munson gnawing at the bottom of his dad’s legs mid-tantrum. “He’d just lock you out of the house until he gets what he wants.”

Eddie lifts his half-drank cup of coffee. “I’ll drink to that,” he agrees, and you gently knock your mug into his. The porcelain rims make a slight clink as they touch, echoes muffled by the chipped edges.

“So,” you start, allowing yourself to swim in his deep brown eyes for a beautiful moment before you pivot the conversation. “Why did you move to Chicago? Why not, like, LA or New York?”

He shrugs, wiping the residue of a coffee mustache from his upper lip. “Guess I wanted to stay kinda close to home. In case something happened to Wayne, or the music thing didn’t work out, or,” he smiles wryly, “if I knocked up a groupie and needed help raising a newborn.” 

You press your lips together to stifle a giggle of your own, careful not to smudge whatever’s left of the lipstick you meticulously applied earlier. “So you moved back after Harris was born?”

“Yeah, when he was about…” Eddie silently does the math in his head, “a month old? Six weeks, maybe? When I realized that the whole ‘parenting’ thing is a hell of a lot harder than I thought. Especially doing it alone.” He drops his voice to a whisper as though he’s about to divulge a great secret. “Did you know that babies wake up, like, every half hour?”

“You don’t say?” Sarcasm is thickly woven into your tone. “Tell me more, Dr. Spock.”

Eddie snatches the muffin from your plate and takes an unprompted bite in retaliation. He chews like a cow on cud, slow and deliberate, relishing in his baked good thievery. You watch, unblinking, as a smirk crosses his face. “All right, smartass,” he snorts once he finally swallows, “not all of us specialize in taking care of kids.” He breaks off a hunk of his cookie and leaves it on your plate, a delicious peace offering that you gladly accept. “Anyway, Wayne let us stay with him until I found a place. Took a while to build up some funds, but I finally managed.”

“Where were you working?”

His face blanches at your question, and he finds himself inclined to bunch the paper napkin into a ball and shove it in his mouth to avoid answering. “Wh-What?”

“You said you had to build up some funds,” you explain, as though it were a convoluted construct. “Were you at the music store back then?”

“Oh, um. No.” Quicksand. Volcano eruption. A piano falling from the sky like in a classic Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote showdown. Eddie would’ve taken any of these options over giving you an answer. “I went back to my old high school gig of, uh, dealing.” His cheeks are beet red, the heat radiating from them is the only distraction from the shame curdling in his lungs. 

He keeps his eyes on the floor; to his surprise, your feet remain planted on the ground. You’re not leaving. “Oh.” Your voice draws him back to reality. “But you don’t…”

“Nope.” Eddie shakes his head. “I’m totally done with that scene. It’s just minimum wage, on-the-books bullshit for me now. I even pay taxes.” He laughs when you roll your eyes. “Although…the manager is transferring to another store soon.”

You slam your hands on the table in excitement, eyes alight with joy at this new opportunity for him. “Eddie, you have to apply!” Your eagerness fades when you notice the frown on his face. Shit, did he think you were telling him what to do? “I’m sorry if–”

“Nah, you’re good.” He bites his thumbnail without thinking, withdrawing it from between his front teeth when he sees you watching him. “‘S not like I haven’t considered it. Just feels like…if I do that, I’m officially giving up on the whole rockstar dream. Like I’m closing that chapter of my life.”

This time, you’re the one who holds onto him. His palm is pressed flat on the Formica table, and you bring your fingers underneath it to scoop his hand into yours. You give it a quick squeeze, watching a delicate smile develop across his lips. “Is that necessarily a bad thing, though? You’re not giving up on anything; you’re just shifting your priorities to make sure that Harris is always number one.” He nods halfheartedly, but you continue. “And you can always get back into music, find another band, or…maybe even make up with the Corroded Coffin guys?”

Eddie sighs, taking a strand of hair that’s fallen from its rubber band enclosure and tucking it behind his right ear. “Yeah. Maybe.” He doesn’t quite believe it; not after the terrible things he said to Jeff. Not after Gareth said he doesn’t look up to him anymore. A Corroded Coffin reunion seems about as likely as Wayne becoming a Radio City Rockette. He clears his throat and shifts his gaze back to you. “This is, uh, not first date conversation.”

You laugh at this, nodding in agreement. “No, it most certainly isn’t.” You use your free hand to take a final swig of coffee, now on the cooler side of lukewarm. “But I don’t think you and I have done anything conventionally, so it seems to be par for the course.”

Eddie shifts in his seat to lean in closer. He’s heard your response, but he’s not accepting it. Just because things began backwards didn’t mean they had to continue that way. “Tell me about you,” he says. “What do you like to do for fun? Like, hobbies and stuff.”

Your mind goes blank, as though you’ve never enjoyed any activity in your life. “Hmm,” you ponder, trying to remember a moment that wasn’t spent lesson planning or breaking up big arguments between small humans or taking care of an elderly woman who couldn’t stand you half the time. “I really love to cook,” you finally manage, thinking of the hours when you and Grandma stood in her kitchen, preparing meals or snacks or baked goods to munch on.

“No shit!” Eddie blurts out, eyes widening. “I really love to eat.”

“I’ll have to cook for you sometime,” you tell him. Surprisingly, you’re not shy when you say it. The image of you standing before the stove, stirring a pot on a burner or taking a tray of roasted vegetables from the oven while Eddie and Harris set the kitchen table, warms you from the inside out. You express your love by making meals for others, just like Grandma does. Did. “Your favorite food is olives, right?”

Eddie rolls his eyes playfully, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting back in his seat. He opens his legs slightly as he bites the inside of his lower lip to hide his smile. “I hate you sometimes, y’know that?”

“Yeah, I hate you, too.”

As soon as you and Eddie step out of the little cafe hand in hand, the bitter slap of winter is all-consuming. Snow flurries flutter to the ground, melting as soon as they touch the faded green grass. The coldness of the flakes stings the tip of your nose, and you wiggle it to try to ward off the impending numbness.

Eddie breaks the connection to dig out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from one pocket and his lighter from the other. He flicks the switch a few times before it finally catches as he shields the flame from the harsh winds. As soon as it does, he tucks the lighter away and immediately re-laces his left fingers with your right, taking a long drag and offering it out to you with a grin.

“Since you’re just a social smoker and don’t keep any on you,” he says with a twinkle in his eyes. You wonder how he could possibly know this until memories of that fateful night at the Hideout come roaring back to you. You and Eddie standing outside, making painfully awkward small talk while you figured out how to initiate a sexual encounter.

You inhale, letting the tobacco mingle with the taste of coffee and muffin already saturating your tongue, and pass the cigarette back to him. It’s a slow walk to his car; the two of you take your time as you breathe in smoke and each other’s closeness. Eddie lets you kill out the cigarette, eyes never leaving your body as you stub it into a nearby ashtray.

“I have a little confession to make,” he begins, quickly amending his statement when he catches the horrified expression on your face. “No, nothing bad; I swear!” He laughs lightly when you exhale, pressing your hand to your heart in relief. “Okay, the reason I took you out for coffee is because, well, I figured if things went well, I’d know your coffee order and could bring it to you at work or something? Like when I drop Harris off in the morning.”

The early December chill dissipates at his offer. Just the thought of Eddie memorizing your coffee order, handing you the styrofoam cup with a chaste kiss to your cheek so that none of your students or co-workers can catch you, fills you with a buzzing warmth. “I’d really like that.”

“Good,” Eddie nods, stopping at his parked car. You spot Harris’s carseat in the back, reminding you of the night Eddie drove you to his place after his show. The way he tried to hide the existence of his son from you, as though it would deter you from pursuing anything further. You can’t help but wonder how many women had turned him down after learning that he’s a dad. It has to be a decent amount, a pattern that developed, for him to become so jaded and guarded over it.

His calloused thumb ghosts over your cheek, though you can hardly feel it after being exposed to the stinging air. His gaze meets yours and he holds it, chocolate orbs fueling the fire within you.

“Feels weird asking to kiss you after we’ve already…” he trails off with a chuckle, tone laced with ambivalence. The last time he’d pressed his lips to yours, he didn’t want to stop, which scared the living shit out of him. And that was under the pretense of casual sex, not intended to go any farther than a one-night stand. But now? Now he was about to kiss you after a date, after telling you that you look pretty, after admitting that planned to get you coffee in the mornings.

If he kisses you now, there’s no going back.He’s sealing the deal, opening himself up to heartbreak, the potential to be crushed when the relationship comes to a screeching halt.

But, he reminds himself silently, it also means someone to watch movies with. Someone to buy flowers–or coffee–for. Someone to hold, to touch. Someone to share stories with, from the mundane tasks of the day to big, exciting news. Someone who I could love, who could love me and my boy.

“Eddie?” Your voice breaks into his mind, overrun with racing thoughts about the good, the bad, and the ugly of falling in–

You bring your lips to his, effectively silencing his inner monologue. His right hand stays on your face as his left grips your waist to return the kiss, deepening it with a gentle prod of his tongue. It’s wanting, but not hungry, like he’s savoring every last bite of a long-time craving. He wants this, he wants you, forever. He swears he’d never let you go if he didn’t have an oversugared, overtired four-year-old to attend to.

“You are…” he murmurs, nudging his nose with yours, but he has no idea how to end the sentence. Perfect? Mine? The one for me? “...the best.” It feels like a cop-out, but he doesn’t want to come on too strong. The irony is not lost on him that he had no problem spewing insults at you, but hesitates when it comes to affection.

“The best coffee date?” you tease, resting your hands on his chest. The sweater’s scratchy wool itches your palms, and you can’t imagine he’ll make it ten steps through the door before changing into one of his signature band tees.

“Yes. No. Yes.” He kisses your nose, an electric spark flying between you. “But also just…the best.” His fingers clasp around the door handle as he begrudgingly opens your door, not wanting the date to end. “Shall I take you home?”

No, you think, biting back your protest. No, take me to your place. Kiss me more, kiss me deeper, kiss me where the curve of my hips meets the plush of my thighs. Let me help you with your sweater; you’ll be so much more comfortable without it, Eddie.

“Okay,” you manage, sliding into your seat. He closes the door once you’re inside, jogging around to his side with a breathy chuckle.

“Gotta keep warm,” he says, turning the key in the ignition. The car rumbles to life, and as soon as he’s out of his parking spot, he takes your hand once again. Your intertwined fingers rest atop the gearshift for the entire drive to your building.

He turns off the car and faces you. “Let me walk you in.” Five simple words that ordinarily would preface sex; Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever uttered them in that order without at least the anticipation of getting laid. But there’s none of that now. He just wants to spend as much time with you as he can, before the spell is broken and he turns back into a pumpkin. Could the prince turn back into the Beast? he wonders wryly.

You cock your brow. “You sure about that? What if Grandma’s gotten herself into more trouble?”

“I’m willing to take that risk.” And he is. He’d risk everything, and for the first time in a long while, he’s not running from that feeling.

Luckily, there’s no crisis when you and Eddie arrive on your doorstep. You trade a few more giggle-laced kisses before you finally part.

The stars align on Monday morning, with Harris actually cooperating and getting ready with enough time for Eddie to stop off at the cafe to get your coffee. Okay, letting him have a Pop-Tart for breakfast instead of cereal definitely helped the situation, but it was a special occasion! And it’s not like he could tell Harris that he needed to pick up coffee for Ms. Sweetheart; the kid would be hiring caterers for a wedding if he knew. 

Eddie had wanted to call you on Sunday, maybe see if you wanted to go to the playground with him and Harris and get some ice cream afterwards, but he’d ultimately decided against it. Give it some time; don’t be too eager. 

It occurs to him that bringing you coffee is something that a boyfriend would do, and he hasn’t actually asked you to be his girlfriend yet. Do adults do that? Or is it just kinda implied? Shit, maybe I can take her out again this weekend and ask, just to be sure.

He gives Harris a hug and a kiss goodbye, careful not to spill any of the hot beverage as he crouches down to his height. Jitters course through his veins as he approaches your classroom, but he knows that the joy on your face–either from his kind gesture or the prospect of caffeine–will make it all worth it.

When he gets there, he only sees Will. He can’t stick around long; he doubts his boss will accept trying to impress my maybe-girlfriend as a valid excuse for tardiness.

“Hey, Byers,” Eddie calls out with a wave, pointing to the cup. “I’m just gonna leave this on her desk, if that’s cool.” He spots a black Sharpie and is about to use it to write Date night on Friday? when he catches Will’s expression. It’s a combination of confusion and sadness, with his brows pinching together as he walks over to Eddie. 

Will shoves his hands in his pants pockets. “Um, she’s not coming in today. Probably not for the rest of the week.”

“Is she okay?” Worry mars Eddie’s confidence, and the sense of dread only worsens when Will quietly ushers him to the corner of the room away from the kids. “Is she sick or something?” he adds once the students are out of earshot. Will looks up at Eddie, though the height gap has decreased considerably since he was a freshman and Eddie was working through his third senior year. His eyes are shiny with tears, and he blinks them back and clears his throat. “Eddie…” he says softly, “her grandma died last night.”

--

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[bitchesgetriches]

Hi! I’m still bank shopping (unfortunately) and it seems every bank sends a credit card. And I would get in a lot of trouble if it was found out that I’m getting a bank account. And the chances of me being able to sneak the card are pretty much nonexistent.

And the internet isn’t being helpful…I’ve been emailing banks to see if there’s an option to opt out, but no luck.

Maybe I should get a PayPal account for now…

Hi honey. It sounds like you might be in an abusive home situation, which has us really worried. Trying to gain some financial independence in such a situation is absolutely the right move, but we want to make sure you're pursuing everything safely.

So the first thing we advise is to get some help and resources from experts in the area of financial and domestic abuse. We

When Money is the Weapon: Understanding Intimate Partner Financial Abuse 

Now, a few options to help right away:

Get a post office box (PO Box) where mail can be sent instead of your home. Or, ask a friend if you can temporarily use their address for mail.

You might be confusing a credit card with a debit card. They're slightly different, and a debit card is just a way to access your money, not establish credit. If you can visit a bank in person, you might be able to have them issue your debt card and account details to you directly, rather than sending anything through the mail.

PayPal and Venmo are both good options for getting and storing money without a huge paper trail. But you'll still need to be careful if your concern is hiding your moves from the people you live with.

Good luck, honey. Please be safe and reach out for help from seasoned professionals, not just us nosey internet aunties (National Domestic Violence Hotline: https://www.thehotline.org/). Here's more information on opening a bank account:

How the Hell Does One Open a Bank Account? Asking for a Friend.

If you found this helpful, consider joining our Patreon

[astroismypassion]

Astrology observations 🍏🍏🍏

Credit goes to my blog @astroismypassion

🍏Libra Chiron is very prone to jealousy. They might even hurt someone, because of being jealous. Start a physical fight or bad mouth a person who the perceive is a treat to their partnership or is bonding too much with their romantic partner.

🍏 They also don’t give second chances if cheating occurs. They are not tolerant or not just forgive and forget this mistake, so they are unlikely to stay married. They just divorce or move on like you never exsisted.

🍏 Sagittarius Sun is very you’re dead to me when they end a connection. They just completely move on. They don’t go back to their ex unless placed in a Water house (4th, 8th, 12th) or due to other influences in the other chart.

🍏 Some placement I’ve seen in real life really do manifest differently. I’ve seen Taurus Sun women who really don’t have stereotypically financially stable partner, instead they are the one who is the most financially stable and main provider for their partner. And Taurus Sun man don’t usually attract wealthy partner, but their partner is physically attractive and has some sort of influence. Also, Pisces Moon men seem to be women haters, Pisces moon woman is usually very confused as to what they want out of partnership. Scorpio Moon man: serial dater energy, Scorpio Moon woman: highlyy independent, might realize they work better when NOT in a partnership.

🍏 Pisces Saturn in Juno Persona chart can point to infidelity in a marriage (either on your side or your partner’s).

🍏 Don’t underestimate or forget that 3rd house sign and placements also indicate your ORIGIN, not just 4th house. I might find you relatives have those sign in their Sun, Moon, Rising or as house position. For example: you have Jupiter in the 3rd, you have a Sagittarius Sun father and Sun in the 9th house sister. You have Aquarius over the 3rd house and your father is Aquarius Rising. Because we feel understood, like our mind, thoughts, ideas are welcomed the most by signs, planets in the 3rd house. That’s why family understands you better than other people you encounter in your life.

🍏 Pisces Moon men and Moon in the 12th house: fan of phone sex, might call like a hotline or something and mutual masturbation

🍏 Also, Pisces Moon likely didn’t go to the kindergarten. Grandparents took care of them or they stayed at home with their mum.

🍏 Capricorn North Node and North Node in the 10th house just gift you if you like something they have. They are using a lip gloss and you really like it, they would just give it to you or offer it. They are incredibly generous and know how to take care of people.

🍏 Pisces Mars loooves playing sports on sand. For example volleyball on sand ground, badminton or simply throwing frisbee.

🍏 Mercury in the 2nd house buy a lot of items online. They also take their friend’s recommendation very very seriously. They also buy a lot of face masks. Other face products and creams as well, but they literally stock on face masks.

🍏 Neptune in the 2nd house could masturbate A LOT. They might find it addictive and do it on a daily basis or many times per day.

🍏 Astrologically speaking, I wouldn’t recommend highly dating your Chiron sign. So a person that has Sun sign the same as your Chiron sign. You really relate at first, but as time goes on you (Chiron person) starts to get hurt more and more by the Sun person. And you just realize how different you are. Chiron person might have a deep rooted wound connected with them or because of them for the rest of their life. One real life famous example is Amber Heard (Gemini Chiron) and Johnny Depp (Gemini Sun).

🍏 I noticed one of the shortcomings of Aquarius Moon or Moon in the 11th house man in a relationship is that he likes that his girl is able to hang “with the boys” and gets along well with his friends. But it’s like a double-edged sword, your boys could very easily steal your girl from you by keeping her close to them.

🍏Cancer Sun men are really inquisitive and have a curious mind. They ask a lot of questions due to sidereal Gemini Sun. They are usually more detached with affection as well, much more expressive through acts of service and words of affirmation. However, I've seen Cancer Sun women shy away more from asking questions and they often answer questions only when directly spoken too. They are much more private about their curious nature (can result to getting background info about you from friends or/and social media). Also partner of female Cancer Sun is usually the one asking more questions than her, because Cancer Sun women love to be taken care of by their partner in this way as well.

🍏 Capricorn North Nodes people are often considered “older first-time parents”. They might have their first child when they are already very mature and accomplished everything they want in their career. One famous example of real life Capricorn North Node is actress Cameron Diaz.

🍏 Midheaven in Eros Persona chart indicates your sexual reputation, whether you are seen as a player, someone who often changes sexual partners, monogamous etc.

🍏 I’ve seen quite a lot of long-term couples with Virgo Sun-Scorpio Sun, Virgo Sun-Aquarius Sun, Cancer Sun-Gemini Sun, Aquarius Sun-Leo Sun. Apart from Aquarius-Leo, these are some unexpectedly pairings that might seem like they don’t have much in common initially, but end up super connected and committed to each other.

🍏 Now, couples that I often see that are unexpected couples, but doesn’t really work that great after years (especially if there’s lack of effort as well) were Sagittarius Sun-Cancer Sun, Aries Sun-Virgo Sun, Aquarius Sun-Cancer Sun, Taurus Sun-Leo Sun. Of course there are exceptions, especially if you take in considerations Moon, Rising and other very important placements. But I’ve seen a pattern with these pairings being attracted to each other often.

🍏Capricorn North Node person (often even paired with being at an Aquarius degree) usually achieves something others badly want to achieve really young. Like actor Adrien Brody, who starred in Roman Polanski's movie The Pianist (2002). He won the Academy Award for Best Actor when he was only 29. He won the award before turning 30, he was the only actor to have received the award under 30. Often this is paired with Moon at 22 (Capricorn) degree, which is the so called "kill or to be killed" degree, the person sweeps away their competitors in the field. Another example of a native who shares Capricorn North Node and Moon at 22 (Capricorn degree) is actress Cameron Diaz. She has had one of the longest careers as well and is still the highest paid actress over age of 40 in Hollywood. Often Capricorn North Node people become more and more private and reserved with age due to being exposed to public life in younger years. Which also happens to North Node in the 10th house natives.

🍏Gemini and Virgo Sun and Moon people love ASMR, but not all things. They like sounds of items while cooking or other random sounds of certain objects. Oh also they dislike the concept of "mukbang", not really keen on crunching and chewing sounds.

🍏Cancer Sun or Sun at a Cancer degree (4, 16, 28) men often have more "feminine" first or middle name. Such as for example James Corden who has Sun at 28 (Cancer) degree has Kimberley as a middle name.

🍏People with Pluto at 4 degrees have really a lot of life lessons connected with family and family issues mostly. Their main topics in life that they learn are connected with family members, raising children, how they define family, creating a sense of security, safety for themselves.

Credit goes to my blog @astroismypassion

[girlactionfigure]

🚨 G7 WARNED OF IMMINENT IRANIAN ATTACK ON ISRAEL WITHIN 24 HOURS 🚨

‼️The G7 countries have informed that Iran could mount a full-scale attack on Israel within 24 hours.

‼️General Michael Kurilla, Commander of U.S. Central Command, is expected to arrive in Israel on Monday to review plans and coordinate forces in the Middle East.

‼️U.S. President Joe Biden will convene his national security team in the situation room on Monday at 2:15 PM ET (9:15 PM Israel time) to discuss developments in the region.

‼️In a special report by Army Radio, Efi Triger noted that the IDF has recently deployed several units from the Home Front Command and the Jordan Lions Battalion to reinforce the defense of the Seam Line communities in the Sharon area. This action follows an urgent warning after recent targeted killings, indicating plans to carry out infiltration attacks on these communities, orchestrated by Iran and Hamas.

The Shin Bet received intelligence that terrorists from the Tulkarm area intended to infiltrate settlements in the Sharon Seam Line area. Consequently, soldiers have been stationed within these settlements to provide an immediate response to any incidents, given the proximity to Palestinian territories.

These units are tasked with serving as the last line of defense within the settlements, should all other security measures fail, learning from the events of October 7th. It became evident on the night between Friday and Saturday that there were genuine threats, as a terrorist cell from Tulkarm, eliminated on Saturday morning, was planning an infiltration attack in Israel.

Security officials told Army Radio that Iran and Hamas are attempting to divert Israeli attention to Judea and Samaria to provoke an intifada, hoping this will prevent an Israeli attack in Lebanon. Judea and Samaria risk becoming the main theater of war once again.

🔅EMERGENCY PREP - THE BASICS

via ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting the World to Israel in Realtime

Things are scary, “well what am I supposed to do?”

Basic preparation IN ISRAEL:

.. Drinking water.  Buy some bottled water, 9 liters per adult (less for children).

.. Washing / flushing water.  Have a few buckets or fill a bunch of used water bottles, to wash or flush with - fill buckets when emergency starts, BUT not if you have small children who can drown in an open bucket.

.. Medicine.  If you take chronic medicine (every day), get the 3 month supply from your Kupah.

.. Money.  Have cash on hand in case ATM’s and credit cards aren’t working.

.. Food.  Canned, dry, etc, supplies on hand for a week per person.  Baby food? Formula? Special nutrition? Pet food?

.. Light.  Flash lights, candles. 

.. Communications.  Have a power-bank or two for your cell phone.  And maybe a radio (buy at hardware stores).

.. Shelter.  Make sure it is ready.

More here -> Supplies and Equipment for Emergencies.  https://www.oref.org.il/12490-15903-en/pakar.aspx

❗️EMERGENCY PLANNING

Links work in Israel.

.. Preparing your home for an emergency.  https://www.oref.org.il/12490-15902-en/Pakar.aspx

.. Help Prep your Neighborhood and Family Elderly.  https://www.oref.org.il/12550-20999-en/pakar.aspx

.. Know the Emergency numbers:

Police 100 emergency, 110 non-urgent situation

Ambulance 101

Medics 1221

Fire 102

Electric Company 103

Home Front Command 104

City Hotline 106

Senior Citizen Hotline *8840

Social Services Hotline 118

Cyber (hack) Hotline 119

🔸 MENTAL HEALTH HOTLINES, in case you are freaking out:

.. in English : Tikva Helpline by KeepOlim, call if you are struggling!  074-775-1433.

.. in Hebrew : Eran Emotional Support Line - 1201 or chat via eran.org.il

...

[voxmortuus]

Hi! How are you? So (Please don't judge me or kill me) I have this request about Hannibal x Fem! College! Reader (Age Gap) . Só Hannibal wants a baby but Reader wants to focus on her education. One day reader thinks that Hannibal is make a sex game but then ended in a non-con situation and in a forced pregnancy, what do you think? Please do not judge or kill me it's just a fantasy

PAIRING: Hannibal x Fem! College! Reader (Age Gap) (First Person POV)

UNIVERSE: Hannibal

WORDS: 766

SUMMARY/PROMPT: See above

Trigger Warning(s): Non-Con & Forced Breeding Implied and lightly described) | Blindfolding | Handcuffing | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this…

DISCLAIMER: DO NOT ROMANTICISE OR GLAMORIZE SERIAL KILLERS OR RAPE! I do not condone these actions, nor do I support them! This was written upon request. Do NOT send me hate mail, you will be blocked, do not post on this with any sort of negativity you will be blocked. If you don’t like it don’t read it it’s that simple!!! If you ever encounter this in real life please contact the Sexual Assult Telephone Hotline. Please understand this is a fanfiction, think of it like Hollywood. Also, I’m sorry if this is horrible…..

NOTE: Sorry if this isn't what you expected, I'm hoping this finds you well love! PLEASE!! If you ever need someone to talk to about this I extend my inbox to you!

IMAGE CREDIT: Divider by @firefly-graphics | Google I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF THESE IMAGES. If these are yours or you know who the creator(s) is please INBOX me and let me know. Thank you.

My Master Masterlist | Hannibal Masterlist | Taglist

All of this was such a heavy price to pay, between tuition fees, and book costs, lab fees, I just wanted to focus on school, I just wanted to focus on my classes and graduate and get a good job! But that didn't seem to be what he wanted, he wanted more. He wanted a family. As much as I would love to give it to him, I just couldn't. I needed to focus and it was becoming increasingly difficult.

Coming home one night he approached me and looked me over, tucking some hair behind my ear. He gave me that charming smile, looked me in the eyes, cupped my face in his hands, and sighed softly.

"So, I've been thinking, maybe we could have dinner then we can try something new in the bedroom."

"New? What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I was thinking that maybe we could try some sensory things."

Looking at him, I let out a slight breath and nodded. Trusting him, I feel that nothing could really go wrong. Little did I know what he was actually planning on doing.

Dinner was fantastic, as usual, and there was no questioning to the amount of wine I had downed, but I didn't have class in the morning, so a little extra wasn't going to hurt.

When he took me to the bedroom it was all done up nicely. A special blindfold, and is that handcuffs? I tilt my head and let out a soft breath. Wined and dined, I feel him grab for my hand and pull me close. Pressing my back against him I rest my head against his shoulder and let out a soft breath.

Feeling his hands wrap around my waist and slowly move up to grip my breasts. I let out a soft moan and my eyes close. Feeling comfortable, feeling like I could take on the world at that moment. I lick my lips and feel his lips move to my beck. My hands draped at my sides as his hands moved under my shirt to remove my shirt, exposing my flesh to the frost-kissed windows.

Letting out another soft whimper I feel his hands moving down my body, looping his fingers in my yoga pants he strips them from me. Looking at me he drinks me in.

Leading me to the bed, I don't question. After all, he told me just what he wanted, and I was willing to oblige. Lying down on the fluffy, warm, welcoming bed. I feel my hands being cuffed to the headboard, and the blindfold being placed over my eyes. Biting my lip I anticipate everything coming my way.

Letting out a shaky breath I bite my lip and listen very carefully. I listen for what he could be doing. I hear the bed move, and fabric moving, his shirt being draped over the chair before he climbed into the bed. Biting my lip I feel his hips against mine. Returning the kiss it isn't long before his lips are moving down my body. As his lips capture a nipple I arch slightly into him and let out a soft whimper. Feeling myself growing wet between the hips I press them upward. Feeling the movement he unzips his pants and before I know it, he's shoving his bare cock into me. At first, I let out a soft whine, but then I grow to panic.

"Hannibal... stop, no. What are you doing?"

He doesn't say anything, he just picks up his thrusts. I start to kick, but I can't grip him, or let alone really fight back because he has me handcuffed.

"I said stop! STOP HANNIBAL! NO!"

But he ignored me. He didn't even bother listening. As he kept thrusting. I kept trying to twist my body but he had a strong grip on me. His thrusts became more painful, more demanding. He was going to get exactly what he wanted to get, and he was only hurting our relationship in the process.

"It's a game love, shhh..."

I knew better, I fuckin knew better!

Sitting there in the doctor's office, I look over at the ultrasound and let out a slow breath, shaking my head. I demanded to know, so the doctor did an ultrasound. Rubbing my face and cleaning the jelly off my lower stomach I close my eyes and shake my head.

After a few moments of talking to the doctor, I am sitting in my car, sniffling and wiping my nose. Picking up the phone I dial his number.

"Hello?"

"Hannibal... we need to talk."

[bvnnyluvvs]

Intro Post :D

✧₊⁺ 𝔞𝔟𝔱 𝔪𝔢 ₊⁺✧

♡︎ heyo! i'm bunny (she/they) ♡︎

♡︎ 4n4/$h vent page ♡︎

♡︎ block don't report ♡︎

♡︎ i am a minor ♡︎

Banner Credit Goes To:

@animatedglittergraphics-n-more 

Backups:

@bunnyluvvvvs

@bvnnyluvvvs

Disclaimer!

All photos/gifs/stickers are not mine unless stated otherwise. All credit goes to the original owner

✧₊⁺ 𝔡𝔫𝔦 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ₊⁺✧

-NSFW Pages

-MAPs (m1n0r attracted persons)

-radqueers

-transid (specificly transabled, transharmed, and transharmful people)

-TERFs, devotee, 4n4/$h f3tishists

-endosystems

✧₊⁺ 𝔪𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔰 ₊⁺✧

(Updated Every Month)

Weight: 227 lbs

BMI: 41

SW: 230 lbs

UGW: 100 lbs

(Last Updated: September 2024)

✧₊⁺ 𝔪𝔶 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔰 ₊⁺✧

Animals:

-(o)possums

-turtles/tortoises

-dolphins

-horses

Books:

-i'm glad my mom died

-percy jackson series

Games:

-legends of zelda (especially botw)

-acnh

-roblox (hello kitty cafe and royale high)

Shows/Movies:

-bnha (i'm not rabid i swear)

-assasination classroom

Bands/Artists

-rare americans

-chappell roan

-noahfinnce

-rebzyyx

Other

-sanrio

-squishmellows

-monster high

✧₊⁺ 𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰 ₊⁺✧

/j = joking "Your ugly /j"

/hj = half joking "I wanna kms /hj"

/s = sarcastic "No we REALLY needed your help /s"

/srs = serious "My dog died /srs"

/g = genuine "You look really good today! /g"

/ref = reference "Suck mah balls /ref"

/ex = exaggeration "There where like a million dogs at the park /ex"

/p = platonic "Literally marry me /p"

✧₊⁺ 𝔱𝔞𝔤 𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔡𝔢 ₊⁺✧

#bunnyisnthungry = 4n4 stuff

#bunnyandatoothbrush = pvrg1ng

#bunnyplaysfruitninja = barcoding

#bunnylyfts = five finger rule

#th1nbunny = th1nsp0

#grossbunny = grossp0

#bunnyxyogurt = me4lsp0

#bunnyrants = vent posts

#bunnyboards = vision boards

#bunnywieiad = wieiad

#bunnycheckin = monthly check i#

#barcodetipswithbun =$h tips

#butterflytipswithbun = 4n4 tips

#bunnysguides = guides

#30daysofth1nspo = th1nspo ch4llenge

#di3twithbunny = my d13ts

#bunnyanswers = answering stuff!

Sexual Assault/Rape - 800-656-4673

https://rainn.org/

Child Abuse - 800-422-4453

Suicide/Self Harm - 988 or text "CONNECT" to 741741

Domestic Violence - 1-800-799-7233 or text "START" to 88788

Eating Disorders - (800) 931-2237 or text "NEDA" to 741741

Addiction -  1-800-662-4357

LGBTQIA+

[sscrubberhose]

Ya got any dialtown headcanons? :3

hooo boy. ive been chewing on this all day and I think i have a decent amount to say!

Spoilers for Dialtown!

Tw for mentions of suicidal ideation and religious guilt

Phone/Typegingi:

-Is aware of everything that happens in my fics but forgets

-is more aware of how people perceive them than people give them credit for, wants to make everyone happy

-has a strong fear of being alone, which is why they bother people so relentlessly. if they were to be fully ignored for an extended period of time they would have a breakdown

-Has both the phone and the typewriter head and can change them out at will, dont ask where they keep them.

-has bitten theoroar many, many times and will do so again. is even more fearful and hateful of him after the zoo explosion

-has a lot of love to give and genuinely prefers being around their friends

-has a level of intelligence that is genuinely sort of surprising sometimes. this intelligence is used at random

-is surprisingly easy and hard to kill at the same time

-the narrator is actually a separate entity to them who cares about them very much

-seems to be passively suicidal but no one can tell if theyre joking or not

-roger rabbit rules, whatever biology is funniest is what they have

-perceived height changes based off of this rule as well. no one notices.

-breaks into town hall once a month for funsies

-enjoys sweet things quite a bit

-autistic beast

Randy:

-is actually a decent cartoonist, but rarely draws due to hand pain. likes drawing gingi and oliver the most

-has a lot of religious guilt due to growing up catholic with a very very strict, religious father, left home as soon as he could. also why he is afraid to talk to God.(hobo)

-father harped on him his entire childhood about being a burden, now feels that he owes the world for existing. this is slowly healing.

-due to his upbringing hes still learning how to function as an adult, i.e cleaning, cooking for himself, things like that. hes working on it!

-has sensory issues, has ASD

-fear of cgi animals comes from having to watch weird religious propaganda films for kids when he was young. he is getting over it thanks to oliver.

-extremely observant and notices things a lot of people don't, but usually doesnt say anything for fear of being annoying

-knows shooty and stabby on a first name basis(not that he knows whos who)

-sees Norm as a father figure but would never admit that

-has a long list of phobias that hes working on recovering from, but is too nervous to go to therapy for

-has a LOT of plushies in the ticket booth that Oliver and Gingi have given him, refuses to get rid of any of them

-taking the bandage off wont instantly kill him, he doesn't know this.

-can skateboard, does not do this often

-gets sick very easily, has to be forced to rest as he tries to insist hes not sick

-is roommates with Oliver, they have a bunk bed

-got his number changed so the hotline wasnt tied to him anymore

-is actually a good singer, never sings due to thinking he sucks. Will hum to himself while working at the ticket booth

Karen;

-Has actually gotten fairly close to the other datables since the conclusion of the game, doesnt know how to express this

-Visits Dialtown for a few months out of the year to catch up and spend time with her friends

-part of her contract with helping rebuild was better wages for those who worked at the bank. It took a lot of arguing but she felt that no one should suffer like she did.

-expresses her love for her friends by making them ponysonas. Is a huge pegasister. will infodump about it for hours to anyone who will listen

-enjoys botanical illustrations the best, next to drawing horses

-draws horses with normal horse heads as a form of abstraction

-puts capsaicin oil in her paints so Gingi will stop drinking them. This did not work.

-enjoys vintage movies and game shows and talks at length with Oliver about them when they go out for coffee or dinner together.

-she and randy doodle together sometimes

-also has severe sensory issues and has safe outfits she wears. will cry if she has to touch certain fabrics. (LOOKING AT YOU CRUSHED VELVET)

-safe foods are microwave dinners and pasta, but she keeps her diet balanced.

-her and Norm get along now and will sometimes go for hikes and chat about life(and ways to wrangle gingi)

-allergic to shrimps

-can play piano

Oliver:

-Got a new therapist who doesnt think hes weird or annoying(it didnt phase him but thats not groovy to say to someone)

-has POTS, often needs to sit down at work so he doesnt faint.

-is a HUGE horror fan, could tell you everything about the behind the scenes of every major and minor horror movie to come out in the last decade.

-works as a haunt actor for the Dialtown Haunted House every single Halloween, wants to run it someday

-has a log of every new thing he notices about Gingis biology, the log is three books long now.

-Really wants to run a youtube channel where he does amateur ghost hunting with randy, has yet to convince randy that this is a good idea

-is very physically affectionate, though he does ask permission first before touching anyone!

-Has had top and bottom surgery and is comfortable where his transition is, thankfully his insurance under Mr. Dickens covered it! (Mingus isnt a TOTAL monster)

-has a digital scrap book of all his favorite memories with his friends

-makes rage comics unironically.

-favorite color is actually black, red just seems to be his thing!

-has been legally adopted by Mr. Dickens but decided to keep his last name as Swift because "it was rad."

-is actually friends with most of the ghosts and poltergeists that live in the cinema/scareshack

-kept the popcorn and soda dispensers, but got the soda dispensers to dispense SODA and not...whatever the fuck it was doing before.

-helped renovate the basement of the cinema into a haunted maze that he helped design, the theme changes once a year!

-got those unicycle lessons and knows how to juggle as well!

-likes rollerskating, has Heelys on all the time

-allergic to peanuts

-can play guitar

Norm:

-Is aware that Gingi sees the face on the sticky note change and thinks its sort of funny

-Is actually good friends with God and the two go out to lunch once or twice a month

-enjoys fishing and will take Randy and Oliver on fishing trips, Gingi usually follows regardless of invite.

-Sees himself as a father figure to most of the dateables, and is willing to fill in that role.

-apologized to Karen for his behavior by baking her fresh bread. is actually an extremely good cook

-irises and pupils are both void black due to exposure to the wormhole. He has not noticed this. Eyes used to be honey brown.

-Has to stop Mingus from doing a new evil scheme once a month, has a spray bottle for this purpose.

-does actually have other outfits for when the space suit needs to be washed, is never seen outside the house when this happens

-Oliver, Karen, and Randy have seen his real face, they were like "cool" as Gingi is just...far weirder.

-i imagine him as strawberry blonde. Short hair, either buzz cut or just short. maybe some stubble. I dont have a good image of what his face looks like, it is just bag to me

-not great at public speaking but REALLY good at pretending to be

-is actually very good at using technology but will sometimes pretend not to be just to tease Oliver.(it works every time)

-can also play guitar

Bigfoot:

-...no.

-okay okay i have one. You could use his fur to make yarn IF you washed it. You will never be able to get close enough to brush him though.

Misc headcanons:

-heads can be repurposed after death, like cadaver bones!

-the more popular headtype for modern business men and women is a laptop

-after what happened to Callum Crown, the answering machines function was completely separated from memory storage

-Snakes have syringes for heads

-peter and his wife are poly and want roger to be their third, but roger is as dense as a brick and peters too formal to just say it out loud.

-Harry and Jack are a couple in this universe, Jack is just a very odd boss to work for regardless

-Billy is Abel's kid. The mother is unknown. probably a one night stand.

-the swans miss randy :(

-there are a few headtypes that are banned for various reasons, one of which is having a megaphone AS your head.

-Roger is autistic and has a stutter, and sometimes has to use ASL to communicate. Peter knows ASL for this reason

-The Narrator could talk to the others, but only if it was an emergency

-all Dialtown OCs are canon. theyre in town somewhere, having fun and living their lives!

-Dialtown is bigger than shown in game, including the town square which has a fountain and a park surrounding it, as well as a skate park, rec center, arcade, a pizza place, etc.

-all the dateables have met satan at least once, they just didnt know thats who that was

-shooty and stabby are dating, theyre just very bromance about it. good for them...

-rotery phone heads are coming back in fashion as a sort of 'retro' vibe.

-getting prosthetics/emergency plastic surgery and medical care is actually quite accessible.

-jerry and his wife come visit dialtown every christmas soley so that gingi doesnt run all the way out there to visit them and get hopelessly lost. theyre doing quite well!

-there are competent members of the dialtown mob but they dont really do much other than hang out at the bar

if i think of anymore Ill let you know!! thanks for askin!

[campaign-spotlight]

hey so about those PC intros you've been hearing so far in Season 2

We've been having a lot of fun getting to hear these snippets of people's PC voices and characters. We want to keep this going in Season 3. And to make this process a lot easier, we've set up a hotline for you to submit PC intros. You can just call 724-320-2020 and leave it there. So overall the process looks like this:

Be 18+, have a PC that you've actually played in a real home campaign, figure out a brief intro that lets listeners know about your character and tells them that they're listening to Campaign Spotlight.

Call the hotline and read out that intro in your character's voice.

DM us here on Tumblr so that we know who you are and how to credit you.

A good intro gives us a sense of your character's flavour and the campaign you played them in. So it could potentially sound something like this:

I'm Belladonna Nightshade, wicked fairy of the Summer Court. These friendly fools I'm travelling with know nothing of my plans, but they'll learn soon enough. For now, you're listening to Campaign Spotlight.

Or maybe something like this:

I'm Peter Picklebrine, licensed broker-dealer of Thayan antiquities in Waterdeep. The incident with the tentacles is completely unrelated to me or my business. I'm proud to be this week's sponsor for Campaign Spotlight.

Anyway, DM us if you leave a PC intro, and if it turns out well we'll include it as at the start of a Season 3 episode - and credit you in the show notes. (Also, I guess this might be the first announcement that we're definitely making Season 3?) If you have any questions, please feel free to DM us!

[everytechever]

Home Credit Qwarta made Lazada shopping easier

Home Credit’s Qwarta clients can top up their Lazada wallets using Qwarta credits making online shopping and checking out even easier! #HomeCredit #Lazada #Qwarta #HomeCreditQwarta #finance #loan #lifestyle #everytechever

In the past years, there has been a dramatic shift in consumers’ shopping behaviors. From trying on clothes in actual boutiques and pushing carts along grocery aisles, Filipino consumers are now taking most of their shopping online — doing virtual try-ons, filling up their digital carts, and checking out those purchases through swipes and clicks. And this trend is not going anywhere as more and…

[libraford]

The realtor I was talking with last year texted me yesterday asking if I was still looking to buy a home and its like that's very sweet of you to ask but with four jobs last year I still only made 20k and the dude at the FHA hotline said I needed to make at least 30k even if my credit score was near perfect and I had a hell of a down payment.

I know like four people total that make 30k.

[minosimu]

Strangetown Recap 1

New jobs, poverty and near-death experiences.

Since completing his degree at La Fiesta Tech and moving to Strangetown, Ajay was keen to get to work right away. While he dind't study biology, he's taken an interest in the health sciences and wanted to get a job in the medicine career. Lucky for him, an opening appeared the day after he moved in!

Newly employed, Ajay spent some time getting to know the locals. He met Kristen at 94 Road to Nowhere and they immediately started flirting and he asked her out on a date!

The two of them hopped next door for a bite to eat. While they toasted to their new lives in Strangetown and had some general chit-chat, Ajay struggled to find any meaningful connection with Kristen.

The fact that the date didn't elicit any sort of emotional reaction from Kristen says enough about their connection. *yawn*, she thought.

The next day, Ajay visited the pool again and ran into Lola. They struck up a conversation and had a little poolside boogie and Ajay asked her out.

They headed Downtown and things were going well...

Until the waiter dropped food all over Ajay!

Sigh, another mediocre outing for Ajay ending in a stunted blank expression from his date.

Lola was feeling a little sympathetic for Ajay, so she did stick around for a bit and took a nice picture with him. Maybe a second date wouldn't be so bad?

Over at the Singles household, the women have been struggling with money with job listings not being aligned with their degrees or interests. They couldn't afford a repair service to come and sort out the power outages they've been having. Chloe made an attempt and barely got it fixed. Kristen watched on hoping Chloe would get electrocuted.

They all headed to Sims Gone Wired so Erin could touch up on her cooking skill. Though, they had no money to do anything else other than enjoy the free amenities there. Food was absolutely out of the question.

Tension between the housemates got worse..."YOU GET A JOB"..."NO YOU GET A JOB"

While Kristen really wanted to make it work in Strangetown, her horrible housemate, Chloe, is not someone she envisions living with long-term. After all, she does enjoy the city vibe much more.

"Goodness, I'm hungry...if only there was someone in this town who is rich, handsome and...oh, my, that looks like an expensive smoking jacket..."

"Hi, I'm Kristen..."

Back at home, food was becoming a real problem. "Any ideas, Kris? This rotten mac and cheese isn't quite cutting it for me". "You know what, Lola, I've always wanted to do a dine-and-dash. Girls, get ready, we're eating out large tonight!"

"Kris, I'm so nervous about this. The only thing I've ever stolen in my entire life is my dad's credit card so I could call the psychic hotline for research purposes" Erin muttered.

But she was quickly lulled by the sight of a good Lobster Thermidor and a glass of champagne. "So when do we do it, Kris" Lola asked. "You shovel your last bite and..."

"I beg your pardon, ladies, I may be old, but you do realise I've heard absolutely everything you've been talking about and you WILL be paying for those meals" the host said subtly as she was looking through her booking notes. Erin looked like she needed a clean pair of knickers.

It would've been nice for Chloe to get the brunt of the scolding, but it was Kristen's idea, so she took the brunt of it.

Heading back home, things were really starting to fall apart.

Erin tried unsuccessfully freestyling for tips...

Bathroom amenities were breaking...

And they got roaches...

Not to mention the heat of the scorching Strangetown sun. Poor Kris, the others thought it was just a little heat stroke...

But it was death! Erin pleaded with Grim to not take her friend...

And she won!

While Kris was incredibly grateful for being revived, all Erin could think about was food. "At least you got fed in the afterlife, we're all still starving! Just order a pizza and put it on our tab"

...

"What do you say we all take a vacation?"...

[hotlinebiker]

BIKER ⛧ MALE ⛧ ⚣ ⛧ ADULT

I am Biker, I refer to myself as a fictothrope. I'm not fictionkin, a fictive or whatever else. I'm not delusional either, this is just who I am.

I will be reblogging hotline miami content, as well as 80's - 90's media, and aesthetics that remind me of home.

Jacket (@jacketdriver) is my mate 🐓🔨🧡

interects from @redgravelycan

icon credit

⚠︎ +18 only | untagged blood and violence ⚠︎

[urniombj]

HEADLESS DEER

Writing by me! Wanted an excuse to make some Home Safety hotline type "creatures". Hopefully y'all enjoy this! More to come for sure! Have some government documents pet guides and maybe a few videos if this gets popular enough

Couldn't find the artist for this one 😅 comment if you find them and I'll credit their work!