#different household items

[rebel-hunk-enjoyer]

"ewwwww why does fandom keep bringing up how the tuskens are indigenous coded!?!?!?!"

because it's fun. :)) it's important symbolism and fascinating worldbuilding and also lends depth to the canon we have while informing the depths we could explore through fandom.

like. please continue to enjoy your blorbo posting but do not insinuate that fandom is doing something wrong or weird or unnecessary by having harder discussions about things you are not personally interested in. or that these discussions distract from the fun of fandom. like that just isn't true.

and it's a really immature way of expressing your displeasure over seeing something on a website that gives you the means to curate your experience while using it. just fyi.

[scyaxe]

man living on your own is expensive lol

[lijoue]

Boutique Hotel Mod

This mod introduces Boutique Hotels as a new venue type to elevate your sims’ vacations!

The mod is all about the vacation and guest experience for your sims, and it uses the existing vacation rental system. It’s not for owning or running a hotel. 

The Boutique Hotel is a new buildable lot type that functions like both a vacation rental and a community lot. The hotel’s daily booking price is automatically calculated based on the value of the build. 

Up to 8 different households can vacation on the same lot at the same time! Random npc guests and employees will also spawn throughout the day.

While staying at a boutique hotel, sims will generally be less tense, sad, angry, bored, or uncomfortable. Their fun and social bar will fill up slightly faster, and they’ll gain a slight skill boost to photography, wellness, and romance skills. They’ll also get a bit more satisfaction points for achieved wants/whims. 

Custom whim set: Take a photo, Have a drink, Go swimming (randomized)

Custom buff: Beautiful Vacation (+4 happy boost for 24hrs)

Base-game friendly but has extra features with certain DLC

Front Desk Computer (Get To Work Required) 

Spawns an NPC receptionist who’ll pretend to use the computer and answer phone calls all day. This is mostly for visual storytelling and doesn’t have a gameplay function. If not on a Boutique Hotel, the computer pretty much functions like a regular computer, minus some superfluous features. Unlike a regular computer, it can be freely placed anywhere for decorative purposes. To function, it must be placed centred on a desk (with a desk chair) or an island counter (with a bar stool). 

Room Phone

Order a meal instantly to sim inventory. The menu changes in certain worlds. You can order sushi in Mt. Komorebi, pasta in Tartosa, arepas in Selvadorada etc…

Order vacation purchases instantly to sim inventory. I curated items different from the default EA version.

Call a Taxi (Travel)

Miscellaneous vacation functions

Room Service Plate

Order a meal instantly to the built-in refrigerated inventory (same dynamic menu as room phone.) You can also use it to store food if there’s no fridge nearby. Uses the same tuning as the room phone, so don't delete that file.

NPC Employees

Hotel staff will spawn depending on the presence of certain optional objects. If these items aren't on the lot, the employees won't spawn.

Bar: Up to 2 bartenders

Massage Table:  Up to 2 massage therapists

Yoga Instructor Mat: Yoga instructor

Chef Station: Experimental chef

Front Desk:  Receptionist 

This mod was A LOT of hard work! I appreciate your support so much!

Have fun ♡

DOWNLOAD BOUTIQUE HOTEL MOD��(EARLY ACCESS)

DOWNLOAD MY BOUTIQUE HOTEL BUILD IL PALAZZO ROMANZA (FREE)

[whitecompri]

Going to Market With Your Hedgie

(Sonic, Shadow, Silver, Scourge)

Pairing: Sonic x Reader; Shadow x Reader; Silver x Reader; Scourge x Reader

Genre: Fluff, comedy

Rating: T (Teen)

Warnings: Mild Suggestive Themes

Sonic

He had been bothering you for about three days to take him along to the market. When you asked why he was suddenly so interested, Sonic simply said he wanted to keep you company and, if possible, buy a soda for himself. In the end, you couldn’t resist the lost puppy look he was giving you and ended up taking him to the market.

At the moment, you had your back turned to your shopping cart, evaluating the price of some essential household items. That’s when you felt the familiar breeze that hit you whenever the speedy hedgehog ran. You only managed to hear his quick steps and the sound of him breaking the speed of sound inside the market. You decided to ignore it at first—he was probably just grabbing the soda he had asked for.

However, you narrowed your eyes when you felt the breeze and heard the noise at least three more times. Turning around suddenly, still holding the items you were choosing, you saw him—completely at ease, leaning against the shopping cart, a sly little smirk on his face.

When your eyes focused on the cart, you could only sigh. He had filled it with packs of sausages, hot dog buns, and a ridiculous amount of ingredients to make chili. On top of everything sat the can of soda he had promised to grab.

"Sonic... are you trying to make me go broke?" You stepped closer to the cart, looking at the prices. "Look at this—no. You’re putting half of this back."

"Aw, come on, [Y/N], don’t you want to make your favorite hedgehog happy? I promise I’ll share the chili dogs with you."

You could only sigh and scratch the back of your neck. In the end, at least he had already decided what dinner would be that night... and for the next few days too.

Shadow

Shadow preferred not to express when he needed to go to the market for his monthly groceries. Usually, he only accompanied you when you went, but if he ever ran out of supplies in the middle of the month, he refused to say anything or admit that he needed to go shopping.

Noticing this, you started paying attention to when his coffee beans, chocolate, or skincare products were running low. That way, whenever you saw something was about to run out, you’d call him to go with you to the market—even if it was just to restock what was missing at home.

Today was no different. You walked through the aisles with your shopping basket in hand, looking for the coffee section. Shadow kept pace beside you.

Then, at one moment, you noticed he suddenly stopped. He stood there for a few seconds, impassive, then shook his head slightly before quickly returning to your side.

"Did you see something you want?"

"No."

"You can tell me, Shads, I’ll get it for you."

"Nonsense. We came here just for the coffee beans."

"Yeah, but I don’t mind getting something extra for you. Come on, tell me—what did you see?"

He hesitated for a moment, crossing his arms, then tilted his head toward the store’s freezer. Following his gaze, you spotted the frozen food section and saw some Hot Pockets on sale. A small smile appeared on your lips.

"Shadow, whenever you want something, you can just say it, okay?" Giving him a reassuring smile, you walked over to the freezer, grabbed several of the frozen snacks, and placed them in your basket.

"Now, let’s go get your coffee." You resumed walking through the aisle toward the section where you could find what you needed.

"Thank you, [Y/N]." Shadow murmured, making you smile like an idiot and blush slightly at the rare display of gratitude from the hedgehog.

"Anytime."

Silver

Silver excitedly scanned the market shelves alongside you, helping you find the best prices. It was common for the white hedgehog to accompany you on your monthly shopping trips—he was always helpful and loved coming along to carry the bags or grab something from a high shelf using his powers.

For Silver, nothing was better than spending quality time with you, which was why he always went and returned with a huge smile on his face. Today, he was being especially attentive to everything you needed—reminding you of items running low at home that weren’t on the shopping list and picking the most budget-friendly brands.

Feeling grateful, you decided to do something special for him.

"Silver, I’m done getting what I needed. I just need to check this one last product—why don’t you pick something for yourself?"

You felt warm inside when you saw the sparkle in his eyes.

"Really? Anything?" He looked at you hopefully.

"Yes, feel free to choose whatever you want."

His smile grew even wider. Thanking you, he immediately used his powers to levitate and disappeared into the market.

You finished selecting your item, placing it in the cart, and started looking for Silver. But before you even reached the end of the aisle, you saw him floating back, carrying several products with his psychokinesis.

He gently placed them into the cart before landing back on the ground with a bright smile. You blinked in surprise, glancing at the items he had picked.

You had expected him to grab sweets, snacks, or the usual junk food people typically go for.

But now, looking at his choices, you couldn’t hold back the soft giggle that escaped you. Your cart was now filled with neatly packed vegetables, fresh fruits, and leafy greens.

"Is something wrong? Did I pick too much?" He watched you, slightly worried about your reaction.

"No, not at all. I just thought it was adorable."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, you chose healthy food. I wasn’t expecting that—I thought you’d grab something completely different."

Silver chuckled quietly at your comment.

"Well, these are all essentials, right?"

"Definitely. Honestly, I never really bought much of this stuff myself." You admitted your lack of a healthy diet.

"Then how about we eat them together? What do you say, [Y/N]?"

His words made you feel warm all over again.

"I’d love that. Thank you, Silver."

He let out a soft laugh, walking by your side as you headed to the checkout to pay for the groceries.

Scourge

Honestly, you didn’t want to take Scourge to the market. It was always a battle to keep him from filling the cart with the junk food he loved. But when Scourge wanted something, he was absolutely insufferable.

He acted deeply offended that you didn’t want to bring him along. Said he wouldn’t let you run your hands through his quills anymore. Even threatened to smoke inside the house if you didn’t take him.

In the end, with a deep sigh and a hand to your temple, you gave in, telling him to get in the car. He slid into the passenger seat with that smug grin of his, sunglasses perched on his face.

At the market, you left him in charge of the shopping cart while you went to grab some cleaning supplies for the house. When you returned to where you had left him, he was nowhere to be seen.

You sighed, placing the cleaning products in the cart, but as you did, you started noticing items that definitely weren’t there before. Energy drink cans. Instant noodles. And… a toy car? You had no idea what he planned to do with that.

As you dug through the cart, you found even more questionable purchases. Your brow furrowed when you spotted an expensive bottle of whiskey hidden at the bottom. And then—your face heated up as you found a few condom boxes stuffed underneath everything else.

Shaking your head, you turned to the side and spotted him standing there, a massive bag of potato chips in hand.

“Ey, Babe. You got everythin’ ya need? C’mon, let’s skedaddle.”

You grabbed the bottle of whiskey and held it up, giving him a pointed look.

“Huh? What’s the big deal? Just a lil’ somethin’ nice for yours truly.” He flashed you a grin.

“I thought we agreed to only get the essentials for the house.” You kept your voice firm.

“Eh, deals ain’t set in stone, sweetheart.” Scourge was impossible sometimes.

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat the moment you felt his hand gently take yours—surprisingly soft and warm.

“Aw, don’t gimme that look, [Y/N]. I got some cash on me.” His voice had an almost sincere tone, and for a second, you nearly apologized for being upset.

But then—

“…And later, ya can show me just how grateful ya are.” His tone turned unmistakably suggestive.

“Scourge!”

He only chuckled, clearly entertained. You had no idea what to do with him anymore.

[svetamillss]

Headcanons: Your life together with them🩵

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Kang Dae Ho x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Park Gyeong Seok x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f)

Summary: various joint situations when you live with them.

A/N: I apologize for writing a little less often!

🩵🩵🩵

Cho Hyun Ju

Since the girl served in the army and got used to discipline, she will follow it while living with you. She always wakes up much earlier than you, about three hours, where you can sleep until 9-10 a.m., in some cases even before lunch if you get very tired. While you are sleeping, Hyun Ju will do a lot of things around the house (quietly so as not to wake you up), cook you a delicious breakfast and go to wake you up.

She will do it gently and carefully, stroking and kissing you wherever she wants. You sometimes grumble and tell her to lie down and sleep with you in a hug, but it doesn't affect her, so she continues to wake you up with kisses.

- Baby, it's time to get up, your favorite breakfast is already getting cold. And we have a lot to do. - she says gently, kissing your sweet lips.

After a couple of minutes, you still wake up and sleepily go to eat what your Hyunnie has prepared for you with love.

Kang Dae Ho

The guy has a lot of fun living with you. After all, you have new ideas almost every day. Again, recently you wanted to lose weight by the summer, you decided to run every morning. But it wasn't very good alone, so you forced your boyfriend to join you.

- So you want us to wake up at 7 a.m. on our weekend and run down the street when normal people will sleep? - he didn't understand at all why you need it, because you were beautiful.

- And you will run with me for the company! - Dae Ho only had to agree, he didn't want to offend you.

And he knew that soon you would get tired of it and you would throw away this idea, so he decided to be patient.

Thanos (Su Bong)

You and the guy were complete opposites to each other. It was especially seen with household items. Su Bong was dirty. He constantly left his clothes all over the apartment: socks in the corners, clothes were lying on the backs of chairs. You were very unhappy with it, okay, unwashed dishes, but these are extremes.

- Can you stop scattering your clothes? Can't you put the clean ones in the closet, and throw the dirty ones in the laundry. I'm tired of cleaning up after you like a little child. - you mumbled when you removed his clothes from the chair again, while he was sitting on the phone.

- Yes, yes, good. - he said without much attention.

- If this happens again, all your things will fly to the trash!

- I got it, just don't be angry, my baby. - he put down the phone and started cleaning everything, then you rewarded him with a kiss.

But he won't be able to get used to it, so he'll still leave his things, but he's ready to clean up for your extra kisses.

Park Gyeong Seok

The three of you lived in a small apartment: you, your future husband and his daughter Na Yeon. Since the girl was undergoing treatment, she often stayed at home. But you and the man didn't want her to be alone, so you decided to take a housework and sit with Na Yeon.

You and the girl played a lot of her favorite games. She is very attached to you and even calls you mom.

When a man comes home from work, the girl asks him to join you and he, though tired, agrees, because he can't refuse his beloved girls.

Sometimes you and the girl like to mock him, so you can make up him with different makeup.

- Dad now a real princess! - said Na Yeon when she painted Gyeong Seok with children's cosmetics, you just laughed at this whole situation and at the face of a man who was both grumpy and smiling.

Nam Gyu

The guy loves cats very much, but since you both work a lot, you can't get a pet yet, but Gyu really wants to, so he started feeding street cats.

He thinks there's nothing wrong with that, but he was wrong. The cats are used to the fact that the guy began to feed them and they began to come to your house en masse, meowing and asking for food.

When you saw this, you were furious, you immediately called the guy and he had a shy face, he knew what was going on.

- Gyu, do you want to explain to me what's going on with cats here?

- Well... I fed them a little, it looks like they got used to it.. - you looked at him with an evil face, although you understood that he not on purpose.

- Now you will clean up after them, so that there is not a single shit from them! - you said and entered the house, he only agreed with you.

After this situation, the guy began to feed these pets less often, and you began to think that maybe you would give Nam Gyu a kitten.

🩵🩵🩵

[loveemagicpeace]

🫧4th house & Home🫧

Aries in the 4th House – The Independent Home 🔥🏠

Having Aries in the 4th house means that home life may have been energetic, competitive, or even chaotic growing up. You might have had strong-willed parents or felt the need to be independent early on.

* You may have experienced a lot of movement or instability in childhood, feeling like you had to fight for your place in the family.

* Your home environment needs freedom, excitement, and personal space.

* You thrive in dynamic, modern, or minimalistic spaces—a home that gives you the feeling of movement and self-expression.

* As you mature, you may develop a desire to create your own rules and be the leader in your household.

* Best Location: A modern city, loft apartment, or a lively neighborhood with an active energy. You need a home that allows movement and independence.

* Home Style: A minimalist, high-energy space with bold colors, sleek furniture, and an open layout for spontaneity.

Taurus in the 4th House – The Comfortable & Stable Home 🌿🏡

With Taurus in the 4th house, you seek stability, comfort, and security in your home life. Your childhood may have revolved around tradition, material security, or strong family values.

* You thrive in a cozy, aesthetically pleasing, and luxurious home.

* You might be attached to your childhood home or feel nostalgic about places that gave you emotional and physical comfort.

* Financial security and a sense of ownership over your space are important to you—you may dream of owning property.

* You enjoy a slow-paced, harmonious home life, filled with good food, soft blankets, and peaceful surroundings.

* Best Location: A countryside house, a nature-surrounded villa, or a stable suburban home with a garden.

* Home Style: Warm, earthy, and luxurious, filled with natural materials like wood, stone, and soft textiles.

Gemini in the 4th House – The Communicative Home ���🏡

With Gemini in your 4th house, your home was likely intellectually stimulating and filled with conversation, books, and movement. You may have grown up in an environment where ideas, learning, and curiosity were encouraged.

* Your home may have had constant change, multiple locations, or a sense of restlessness.

* You might enjoy living in a city, close to cafes, libraries, and places of social interaction.

* You feel most emotionally secure when you have freedom to explore ideas, talk, and express yourself.

* Your home might have multiple rooms for different activities, or you may love changing decor often.

* Best Location: A vibrant city, a lively neighborhood, or a home with lots of windows and natural light.

* Home Style: Bright, modern, and filled with books, gadgets, and conversation spaces. You need a flexible, airy layout that supports socializing.

Cancer in the 4th House – The Emotional & Nurturing Home 🌊🏠

Having Cancer in the 4th house means that home and family are deeply significant to your emotional well-being.

* You may have had a very close or protective family, especially with a strong maternal influence.

* Your home is your sanctuary—a place where you can retreat, feel safe, and express emotions freely.

* You are nostalgic and might keep family heirlooms, childhood items, or meaningful objects close.

* You need a home that feels warm, cozy, and emotionally nourishing, possibly near water.

* Best Location: A cozy home by the sea, a family-oriented neighborhood, or a sentimental childhood home.

* Home Style: Soft, intimate, and filled with nostalgic items, warm colors, and cozy blankets.

Leo in the 4th House – The Expressive & Grand Home ☀️🏰

With Leo in your 4th house, your home and family life were likely dramatic, lively, or full of big personalities.

* Your childhood may have involved a strong parental figure or a sense of needing to be recognized within the family.

* You crave a home that reflects your creativity, warmth, and unique personality.

* You might enjoy bold, luxurious decor, large windows, or a space that allows you to entertain guests.

* Family pride and legacy are important to you, and you might carry strong ancestral connections.

* Best Location: A stylish penthouse, a home with a view, or a vibrant, artistic city.

* Home Style: Dramatic, luxurious, and creative, with bold furniture, statement decor, and lots of gold, velvet, and warm lighting.

Virgo in the 4th House – The Organized & Peaceful Home 🌿📖

Having Virgo in your 4th house means you feel most at home in a clean, organized, and practical environment.

* Your childhood may have involved high expectations, structure, or a focus on responsibilities.

* You thrive in a home that is simple, minimalistic, and efficient.

* You may enjoy health-conscious living, meal prepping, and keeping things tidy.

* Emotional security comes from having a clear purpose and feeling useful within your home life.

* Best Location: A quiet countryside, a minimalist apartment, or a home in a clean and functional neighborhood.

* Home Style: Simple, earthy, and highly organized, with a balance of practicality and natural elements.

Libra in the 4th House – The Harmonious & Aesthetic Home 🎨🏡

With Libra in your 4th house, your home is a place of balance, beauty, and peaceful energy.

* Your childhood may have been shaped by a need for harmony, possibly growing up in a home where appearances and relationships were emphasized.

* You feel most secure in a home that is elegant, symmetrical, and aesthetically pleasing—you may love art, candles, soft colors, and luxurious decor.

* Your home life is often connected to relationships, and you may prefer to live with a partner rather than alone.

* You value peace and fairness in your family dynamics and may avoid conflict to maintain emotional balance.

* Best Location: A chic urban apartment, a stylish townhouse, or a place near a park or cultural hub.

* Home Style: Beautiful, balanced, and luxurious, with symmetrical designs, pastel colors, and a refined aesthetic.

Scorpio in the 4th House – The Intense & Transformational Home 🦂🏠

With Scorpio in your 4th house, home and family life were deep, transformative, and possibly intense.

* Your childhood may have involved secrets, power struggles, or deep emotional undercurrents that shaped your view of security.

* You crave privacy and emotional depth—your home is your safe space for healing and rebirth.

* Your living space may have dark, moody, or mysterious aesthetics, with a love for candles, spiritual objects, or deep-colored decor.

* You may have an intense attachment to your home and only allow deeply trusted people into your private space.

* Best Location: A secluded home, an old historic house, or an apartment with dark, moody aesthetics.

* Home Style: Mysterious, intimate, and deeply personal, with dim lighting, candles, deep colors, and hidden spaces.

Sagittarius in the 4th House – The Free-Spirited & Expansive Home 🌍🏕️

With Sagittarius in your 4th house, your home life was likely full of movement, learning, and a sense of adventure.

* You may have had an unconventional upbringing or parents who valued travel, knowledge, or philosophy.

* You thrive in a home that gives you freedom and space, possibly in an open, airy environment or one that allows for travel.

* Your home may have international influences, a library of books, or souvenirs from different places.

* You feel most secure when your environment doesn’t restrict your growth—you might even live in multiple places throughout life.

* Best Location: A traveler’s home, a countryside cabin, or a spacious loft with international decor.

* Home Style: Expansive, open, and free-spirited, with souvenirs, books, and a mix of cultural influences.

Capricorn in the 4th House – The Traditional & Structured Home 🏛️🏠

With Capricorn in your 4th house, you may have grown up in a strict, disciplined, or responsibility-heavy environment.

* Your childhood may have involved high expectations, structure, or a parent who played an authoritative role.

* You crave a home that feels stable, structured, and built on a strong foundation—you may work hard to achieve homeownership or long-term security.

* Your emotional world may be reserved, and you find comfort in routine, responsibility, and long-term planning.

* You might prefer classic, timeless decor—a home that reflects status, tradition, and durability.

* Best Location: A historic home, a sturdy house in the mountains, or a quiet, prestigious neighborhood.

* Home Style: Traditional, well-built, and long-lasting, with classic furniture and neutral colors.

Aquarius in the 4th House – The Unconventional & Free-Spirited Home ⚡🏡

With Aquarius in the 4th house, your home life was likely unconventional, unique, or progressive.

* You may have had a non-traditional family structure or grown up in an environment that valued independence and individuality.

* You feel most comfortable in a home that is modern, open-minded, and filled with technology or futuristic elements.

* You may enjoy living in a community, shared space, or a place that allows freedom and new experiences.

* Emotional security comes from being able to think outside the box and not feel tied down by expectations.

* Best Location: A modern apartment, an eco-friendly house, or a tech-savvy home in an artistic community.

* Home Style: Unique, airy, and futuristic, with tech gadgets, minimalist designs, and unconventional layouts.

Pisces in the 4th House – The Dreamy & Mystical Home 🌊🌙🏠

With Pisces in your 4th house, home is a sanctuary of peace, dreams, and spiritual energy.

* Your childhood may have been imaginative, emotionally sensitive, or even confusing, with a strong emotional or spiritual influence.

* You feel most secure in a home that feels ethereal, artistic, and emotionally soothing—you may love soft lighting, flowing fabrics, or oceanic elements.

* You may have blurred boundaries with family members and need time alone to recharge emotionally.

* Your home may be a place for spiritual practices, art, music, or deep introspection.

* Best Location: A seaside home, a hidden sanctuary, or a peaceful, dreamy retreat.

* Home Style: Soft, ethereal, and mystical, with flowing curtains, water elements, and relaxing aesthetics.

-Rebekah🫧✨🐚

[minimomoe]

How to Train your Demon

Pairing: trueform! Sukuna x Fem Reader

Summary: Life has all kinds of wins and losses. You don't know which category to put your new demon husband in though.

Tags: MDNI!, red string of fate trope, true form sukuna, librarian reader, soul mates, reincarnation, accidental summoning, love at first sight (buti it's one-sided (until it's not)), Sukuna is demon, but he's v much in love, smut and stuff eventually i guess....

Song inspo: E.V.O.L- MARINA

Part I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. (completed!)

Rule no. 1: Don't show fear

It was a mistake. A comical, nonsensical, monumental mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. You didn’t mean to create a soul tie with a demon . All you did was read a torn up book from the library. Was it an occult book about spiritual practices in the Japanese Heian era? Yes… but it doesn’t warrant an eldritch horror being your life partner. 

Actually, according to the demon, you didn’t create the soul tie, he has been waiting for you all his life. Cute, but it didn’t make the situation any better. Damn your natural inclination to catch the old and withered items thrown into the donation boxes of the library you worked at. It just pained your heart to see pages falling out of books, and the ominous leather bound grimoire was no exception. 

Restoration was one of your favorite things to do. Knowledge is always worth saving, no matter how old it may be. Books were your life. You found yourself lost in them, enchanted, terrified, taught. You had no genre as your favorite. Everything was welcomed, nothing was off limits. You knew a little bit of every culture, every study, every block buster fantasy. If you could, you’d build a machine that would let you live inside of a book and experience the scene yourself. 

Technically you could ask your all powerful demon to do that, but you didn’t want to deal with him right now.

You still weren’t all too sure on how it happened. First you were glueing the pages back to the spine of the book, running your fingers over the deckled edges when you opened a page that was stuck together. You carefully peeled it apart, a task that took ten minutes to do to avoid any additional tears, and opened up to a page that was different from the rest. The words were written in a rush, the strokes of the characters dragging much longer than it should. You only knew a tiny bit of Japanese (but much more of Latin, Russian, Yoruba, and French from having just an abundance of time on your hands), but this time you could make out some of the words. 

You muttered the ones you knew for sure, used context clues for the ones that were beyond reading. It didn’t make a lick of sense to you. You closed the book with a clamp so that the glue would set and decided to come back to it tomorrow since it was closing time. There was no rush of wind, flash of lightning, or eerie sounds. Just you and the screech of a thousand cicadas as soon as you stepped outside to walk to your car. A normal Thursday night.

Until it wasn’t. 

You shuffled around your house with a new arc from your favorite novelist in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and the largest frame of glasses known to man perched on your nose. Jazz music quietly spilled out from your hidden speakers, preventing the house from getting a little too quiet as you lived alone with your cat. It was a total boring cliche, you were well aware, but you were happy with your life. You had friends who you trusted, a great relationship with your parents, and just recently got out of a relationship with someone who you didn’t hate, you just grew apart. There was no chaotic, negative energy to feast on in your household and you liked it that way. 

You thought you heard your cat clawing on the door when you were snuggled away in your bed. You flipped the covers over and went to let her in to snuggle with you. 

“I’m so sorry, Cleo. I thought you were already in here with me,” you said, scooping her up from the floor. The ragdoll cat begrudgingly accepted your kisses of apology. You set her down on the bed, watching her find a good spot to curl up in and smiled. You went to reach for your wine glass you knew that you set on your nightstand, but there was nothing in the glass. You were sure that you didn’t finish it. You paced yourself well enough for it to last until at least chapter five, but there wasn’t a drop of alcohol left. 

“The quality of sake has diminished over the years, I see.” 

The voice came from all around the room but also deep in your chest. Cleo hissed, making a run for it out of your door, leaving you wildly spinning around for the intruder. You lunged for the heavy duty taser you kept in your nightstand, but when you turned around there was nobody there.

“What is that?” 

The bone chilling voice spoke again. Was it one person or many, you couldn’t tell. 

“I— I have a weapon!” You tried to steady your voice but it was hopeless. You were terrified. There was nobody there but you could feel a heavy presence in the room. 

“You call that a weapon?” The voice laughed. “The only weapon my wife needs is me.”

The statement made you falter. “Wife? Who are you?”

You turned around once again and nearly jumped out of your skin. A man, or a close approximation of one, sat on your bed flicking through your book. It was impossible, but he had twice as many limbs on his top half than he should, and double the amount of eyes. They were bright and red when scanning through your novel. “What language is this?” 

“F-french,” you whispered. You were dreaming. You had to be. That was the only way this could be happening. Still, dream or not, you had to protect yourself. You pressed your taser and watched the prongs leap out and touch his bare skin. He looked unbothered, merely looking down at his stomach where the taser landed and moved his arm to reveal a mouth on his abdomen. A tongue flopped out and licked the prongs, dragging it back to the mouth and the taser was slowly dragged out of your hands and into the mouth. You watched in horror as the hard plastic was crushed to pieces in front of your very eyes. 

“Useless weapon,” he reiterated, this time looking directly at you. “Don’t insult me again.” 

“Pl—please don’t hurt me.” There was nothing left to do but beg. You already punched yourself till blood was drawn. This was not a dream, you were looking at a real, evil monster who didn’t know French and ate high voltage tasers. 

He rose from your bed. You crawled away as much as you could until you bumped into a wall and still you wanted to move through it. He stood before you, looking over your trembling frame and called out for you. 

“Rise.” 

You rose, unsure if you really had a choice in the matter. One of his many hands cupped the side of your face. A clawed thumb brushed away the tear that fell on your cheek.

“Why do you weep?”

“Um… well… I don’t really know who you are,” you said honestly. You were still pinned to the wall, unable to flee and he took up your entire frame of sight. He nodded, removing his hand from your face and raising it in the air. You thought he was going to strike you and you flinched. When you opened your eyes again he was multiple steps away from you, still raising his palm.

“Time has faded your memory of me. You are my wife, and I am your husband. The string of fate proves that we are mates.” 

He stated it so matter of factly. You are my wife, and I am your husband. My wife, your husband. Mates. Forget dreaming, you have officially lost your mind. 

“I don’t… remember agreeing to that,” you said carefully. The words “husband” and “wife” bounced in your head in a crazy echo. You slumped to the floor, your body suddenly very tired. A laugh bubbled up your throat and escaped your mouth. So much for your boring life.

“Do you not feel the connection? The string is tied from my last finger to yours.” You looked at your hand, not seeing any supposed string and shook your head. 

He frowned. “You do not agree to it. It has been decided.” He crouched in front of you, inspecting your face earnestly. One side of his face was strange, not normal skin, instead inhuman, bumpy and shades darker. 

“You look the same after all this time,” he murmured. “I will make you remember.” 

“Let’s not do that,” you said quickly. “I don’t even know your name and I am not married. I’m a librarian and I have a cat. And I have never, ever met you before.”

“I am known as Sukuna, among other names,” he responded to one of your distresses. “What title is a librarian?”

This time you laughed. An deranged laugh, loud and unbecoming. Sukuna waited as impatiently as he could for you to be finished, but you kept on cackling. Once out of breath, you wiped the tears out of your eyes and leaned against the wall. It finally dawned on you how this happened. The drying grimoire that was locked up in the library was responsible for this strange turn of events.

“It’s not a title, at least, not in the way you’re thinking. It’s my job, one that I love very much. Was I ever a common worker before?”

Sukuna bristled at the thought. Even his tummy mouth frowned. “You were a queen. You wanted nothing because you had everything.”

“Interesting,” you mused. “I’m so not your girl.”

“I’m not interested in little girls.”

“Kudos to you. I think I’m going to sleep now. I’m clearly much more tired than I think I am.”

“We have things to discuss,” Sukuna protested, but you already slipped under the sheets. If I force myself to sleep he will go away, you thought. 

Instead you felt the dip of the other side of your bed and flung your eyes open. Sukuna was in bed, with you, staring your down with his four eyes. He was much too close for your liking. 

You looked at him wildly. “What are you doing?” 

“Resting with you.” 

“Get out of my bed!”

“Are you no longer tired?” 

“I am tired. Extremely tired, but that doesn’t mean I want you on my bed! Stay on the floor or something!”

Sukuna rolled his eyes at you and turned on his back, his arms crossed in two sets on his chest. 

“You were always particular with your sleeping habits. I see that hasn’t changed either.”

“Stop acting like you know me!”

Sukuna got off the bed to sit on the floor like you asked. The only problem is that you could feel his gaze prickling your skin, making it impossible to ignore him. You didn’t feel bad about kicking him out, he certainly didn’t have a pout on his face because of it, but something needed to be done. 

“Face the door instead of me,” you mumbled. 

His eyes twitched. “Commanding me like footmen,” he grumbled, yet he still turned away. You wondered if his obedience had something to do with the book. Sukuna had the aura of someone who doesn’t listen to anyone, yet he’s been more than understanding with you. Maybe you really were his wife. Maybe you were having a very elaborate and maladaptive daydream. You thought of “maybe’s” until the sun came up, still staring at the back of his pink, spiky hair. 

Your alarm chirped for you to get ready for work. You groaned. You didn’t get a second of sleep. You were too afraid of being eaten by the demon you accidentally summoned. You reached out to shut off the ringing clock as quietly as you could, but Sukuna touched it first. 

“How strange,” he said, turning the clock around in his hand. He brought it up to his ear, shook his head, tapped the glass. Then he crushed it. It was made of plastic, but the shards bent and broke to the floor left his hand unscratched. You gaped at the mess he made as he let the remains fall to the floor. “It was making a wretched sound.”

“Yeah…” you sighed. “It was pretty noisy.”

You had to find out how to get rid of him. Fast. 

Thanks for reading loves!! lemme know what ya think xx

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII.

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

[fakehousesrealawesome]

Moonreach Hall

40x35 lot (12 Ashwinder Rd in Glendalough)

§104,221 | §97,965

4 bd/4 ba

I'm sharing this mostly unfurnished. Only the kitchen and bathroom fixtures are included.

This lot may use items from any/all EPs. Custom content used:

Brick patterns by Peacemaker

Wood patterns by Simlicious (pic #3, 2nd row, patterns 5 and 6)

CAStable University Life chimney by demonwolf, and chimney cap piece by armiel

Roof by Hatshepsut

Barn walls by armiel

Windough add-on windows by Mutske (1x1, single 2x1, 2x1, tall 1x1, small short 2x1, double short 3x1, private 1x1)

Enchanted ivy by Murano

Wall by Gelydh (textured paint 2)

I also used Dr. Prosper's Glowing Orb from the Store. I have it installed as a package, and I believe you have to have it installed the same way for it to show up in your game.

DOWNLOAD HERE

My rambling is below the cut...

When I opened my TS3 game for the first time in years, I started a new game. It didn't hold my interest though, and I hopped around a few different worlds and many new Sims. Eventually I dug through my old save games and found my one in Eltham's Drift. That particular save game really needed to be purged, but I used Porter to preserve the direct family tree line of my ten-generation legacy family and moved them to Glendalough. Eltham's Drift is my all-time favorite world, so I figured I would love another one by the same creator (neuroticrobotic).

I've been adding the lots and rabbitholes from EPs after the world's release, including the elixir shop, arboretum, and an observatory rabbithole rug for the decorative observatory already in the world. I'm finding room for my favorite old builds from Eltham's Drift—like Fiddleford House, where my legacy family is still living—and will be replacing/renovating other houses as I play. I'd like to build proper shells for the rabbitholes at some point, but community lots aren't my strength. I also made some new households to populate the town, and I'm keeping a spooky, supernatural theme—again, like Eltham's Drift. All that is to say that I'm very, very excited to play this game again.

Moonreach Hall is for my legacy family heir who's moving out of Fiddleford House. The interior will have a lot more CC and Store content before I'm done with it, so I decided to share this one unfurnished. Hope you enjoy.

[princesseilish]

ROUTINES

Paige Bueckers x Mom!Reader

Warnings: Child angst? Maybe? Fluff, domestic, crying, tantrums, mentions of autism?

Synopsis: Your very busy life, as a mother and a wife but, you wouldn't want to have it any other way

Monday mornings in the Bueckers household were an Olympic event. Not dramatic. Not tragic. Just full. Shoes gone missing, cereal bowls clinking, cartoon noise overlapping with toothbrush humming, and one too-loud five-year-old trying to find her Very Specific Hair Clip like it was a national emergency.

The alarm went off at 6:30 a.m., but no one moved until 6:42.

Paige groaned into her pillow, arm flopped over Y/N’s waist.

“Tell me it’s Sunday,” she muttered.

Y/N blinked at the ceiling. “Monday.”

“Again?”

“Forever.”

Down the hall, feet hit the floor with a thump. Then came the first voice.

“MOMMY? Where’s my moon shirt?! I had it! It was on the floor for bedtime, and now it’s GONE!”

“Shit,” Y/N whispered.

By 6:47, both moms were vertical. Barely.

Y/N shuffled toward the girls’ rooms with half a hair tie still clinging to her wrist. Paige wandered into the kitchen to start the coffee machine, which groaned in sympathy.

Hazel was awake and already dressed. Kind of. She stood in her closet, holding up two long-sleeved shirts with equal suspicion.

“Tag check,” she said calmly.

Y/N, still bleary-eyed, took them both, flipped them inside out, and started snipping.

Hazel wore the same three shirts in rotation: the green bug-print one, the bluey one that violet keeps stealing and the plain gray one with soft seams. Everything else required negotiation.

“Can I wear the bug one again?” she asked.

Y/N checked it, smelled it. “No offense, babe, but it smells like mud and applesauce.”

Hazel nodded solemnly. “Then the Bluey one.”

Meanwhile, Violet’s door burst open like she was storming the castle. She wore pajama pants and a cape fashioned from a beach towel.

“I CAN’T GO TO SCHOOL WITHOUT MY MOON SHIRT,” she announced to the world. “I WILL PERISH.”

Hazel turned to her. “You say that every Monday.”

“BECAUSE I MIGHT.”

“Girls,” Y/N warned. “We are not doing end-of-days at seven A.M. Find your shoes.”

“I am in my shoes,” Violet said dramatically, lifting her pajamaed foot. “In spirit.”

By 7:15, breakfast was in progress.

Hazel sat quietly at the table, spooning plain yogurt with granola into her mouth, pausing only to tap her fingers against the table in an even rhythm. She liked neutral foods on Monday. Oatmeal if she was in a yellow mood, yogurt if she was in a blue one.

Today was blue.

Violet, however, was chaos in a unicorn hoodie. She demanded banana slices on her waffle, then changed her mind halfway through and asked for them “reconstructed,” which apparently meant separated into a different bowl. Then she cried when her fork had syrup on it. Then she cried harder when Paige used the “syrup fork” to hand her the banana bowl.

Hazel watched her sister sob into her waffle and whispered, “That’s so many tears.”

Y/N crouched to Violet’s level. “Do you want to pick a new fork?”

“I want to go back to bed and wake up in a different week.”

“Same, kid,” Paige muttered from the Keurig.

By 7:37, Y/N was zipping jackets while Violet insisted she could do her own hair, despite never once having done it successfully.

Hazel already had her backpack on, full of items she had packed the night before: a fidget popper, her magnifying glass, her laminated Bug Club field guide, two pencils she sharpened herself, and a snack that included exactly six baby carrots.

Not five. Not seven.

“You ready, Hazey?” Paige asked, crouching to eye-level.

Hazel blinked up at her. “Did you know that female praying mantises sometimes eat their mates?”

“I didn’t.”

“They start at the head.”

“Love that for them.”

Hazel smiled slightly. “I like bugs more than people sometimes.”

“Same,” Paige said.

7:44 a.m. was always the mad dash.

Y/N held out Violet’s shoes like they were fire extinguishers. “Let’s go, Vi. We need to be out the door in two minutes.”

“I need my galaxy hair clip.”

“You said you wanted the butterfly one.”

“That was before my waffle betrayal.”

Paige stepped in with her calm-coach voice. “Okay, we’re gonna take three big breaths and pick one clip.”

“I WANT SEVEN.”

Y/N groaned and picked her up, carried her bodily to the car as Violet declared, “This is a violation of my civil rights!”

Hazel trailed behind, narrating to herself. “It’s always more dramatic on Mondays. Maybe because the moon was full last night.”

By 7:51, they were in the car. Somehow.

Hazel sat with her book open, reading about bark beetles. Violet kicked the back of the passenger seat and sang about cats made of lightning.

Y/N adjusted the rearview mirror and looked at her daughters.

Hazel’s sleeves were tugged down over her wrists. Violet had granola in her hair.

She exhaled.

“Do we have everything?” Paige asked, buckling in beside her.

“Hazel’s lunch is labeled. Violet’s form is signed. I packed extra pull-ups for the nap mat.”

“Supermom,” Paige whispered.

“I haven’t even changed.”

“Still hot.”

The drive to school was always quieter than the house. Not quiet, but less loud.

Violet was half-asleep by the time they turned onto the school street, head lolling to one side. Hazel, still focused, traced her finger down a paragraph and whispered, “Did you know some beetles glow in the dark because of bioluminescent bacteria? I bet they have good parties.”

Paige turned in her seat. “You nervous about anything today?”

Hazel didn’t look up. “I don’t like lunch duty with Ms. Barker. She’s loud. Her shoes squeak when she walks.”

“Want me to email your teacher?”

Hazel shook her head. “I’ll just sit on the end of the table.”

Y/N met Paige’s eyes. Another unspoken: she knows how to take care of herself… and I still want to bubble-wrap her.

By 8:07, they were pulling into the drop-off line.

Hazel zipped her bug jacket all the way up. Violet sat up suddenly, wide-eyed.

“Wait. I forgot my nap bunny.”

Y/N turned around. “You haven’t used the bunny in weeks.”

“But today is the day.”

“I’ll drop it off, okay?”

Violet looked betrayed, then sighed deeply like she was forty and about to sue someone. “Fine. But don’t forget. I need her for moral support.”

Hazel leaned over and whispered something to her. Violet nodded.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“Secret sibling code,” Hazel said simply, then opened her door.

Watching Hazel walk into the building, backpack snug, arms straight at her sides, never failed to squeeze Y/N’s heart.

She still felt like following her in. Like holding her hand until lunch. Like explaining to the loud substitute why Hazel sometimes covers her ears or doesn’t like it when other kids touch her markers.

But she didn’t.

She just waved, and Hazel waved back, and then disappeared inside.

Violet followed, skipping two steps behind her like a miniature shadow, shouting, “WAIT FOR ME, BUG QUEEN!”

Back in the car, Paige reached over and took Y/N’s hand.

“You did good.”

“I didn’t cry this time.”

“You almost did.”

“I miss her already.”

“She’s fine. She’s thriving. And you’re gonna be okay.”

Y/N let herself smile. “Until bedtime.”

“Until bedtime.”

Hazel didn’t really like school. She liked learning. She liked books and facts and tiny plastic beetles she could line up on the edge of her desk like a science exhibit. But school — the parts with chairs that squeaked, hallways that echoed, and teachers who said things like “everyone has to participate” — that was harder.

She didn’t complain, though.

Hazel didn’t really do complaining. She just found ways to work around things that made her feel buzzy or weird or out-of-place.

Her teacher, Ms. Lee, was one of the good ones. She understood that Hazel sometimes needed to sit next to circle time instead of in it. She knew that when Hazel stared out the window for five minutes, she was probably just imagining a bug colony starting a government.

But not everyone got it.

Y/N had gotten the email around 10:12 that morning.

“Hi Y/N, I just wanted to loop you in on a quick recess moment — nothing major, but Hazel didn’t want to join the group game again today, and one of the other moms reached out expressing concern. I assured her we’re working on encouraging inclusion. Happy to chat if you’d like.”

Y/N had stared at the screen. Read it again. Then slowly set down her tea and muttered, “Encouraging inclusion, my ass.”

She spent the next twenty minutes pacing in front of the laundry basket, muttering things like “Hazel doesn’t need to learn to play tag, Karen, she’s not applying to the NFL” and angrily folding toddler socks while imagining elaborate ways to crash the next PTA meeting.

Paige, mid-practice break, FaceTimed her at the exact wrong moment.

Y/N answered still holding a sock like a weapon.

“Oh no,” Paige said immediately. “Who emailed you.”

“Hazel didn’t play tag at recess and now it’s a thing.”

Paige exhaled. “Did she push someone? Cry? Bite anyone?”

“No. She just didn’t play.”

“…So she sat by the tree again?”

“Probably organizing ants by family structure. But some mom complained.”

Paige rubbed her forehead. “Is this the same mom who brought gluten-free, sugar-free, joy-free cupcakes to last month's birthday party?”

“Yes. And she’s on the PTA.”

Paige sighed. “Want me to call the school?”

“No,” Y/N muttered. “But I do want to launch her Range Rover into the sun.”

At school, Hazel sat on the bench near the edge of the playground, eating her snack with one hand and sketching a picture of a beetle queen with the other.

A couple of kids ran past her, laughing too loudly. One accidentally kicked mulch into her shoe. Hazel didn’t react — just paused to shake the pieces out and went back to drawing.

Violet, on the other hand, was halfway across the playground when she spotted it.

Her sister. Sitting alone.

Again.

She had tried — really tried — to play with the other kindergartners. But their rules were weird and too many of them yelled, and one girl named Olivia told her that Hazel was “weird” and “doesn’t know how to play freeze tag right.”

Violet had pushed her. Not hard. Just enough to make her point.

She was still on a semi-probation from the monkey bars.

But now, seeing Hazel by herself again, Violet stomped over and plopped down next to her in the mulch.

Hazel blinked. “Aren’t you playing with the chalk kids?”

“They’re boring and mean.”

Hazel looked back at her notebook. “You can go if you want.”

“I want to be here.”

Hazel’s shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit.

“I’m drawing a bug army,” she said after a moment. “For the beetle queen.”

“Can I be the butterfly assassin?”

Hazel nodded slowly. “You have to pass the loyalty test.”

“What’s that?”

“You don’t run away when people say I’m weird.”

Violet narrowed her eyes. “I would bite them.”

Hazel smiled. “You’d be a good butterfly assassin.”

Y/N picked the girls up that afternoon like she always did — coffee in hand, anxiety simmering just below the surface, sunglasses on because she’d cried earlier and didn’t want Violet to notice.

She watched as Violet came sprinting out of the building, hair a mess, backpack hanging off one shoulder, yelling, “MOMMMMYYYYY, I DIDN’T CRY DURING REST TIME AND I GOT TWO GOLDFISH.”

Hazel trailed behind at a more even pace, hugging her sketchbook to her chest.

Y/N crouched and opened her arms.

Violet launched into her like a missile.

Hazel leaned into the side of the hug. Not all the way, but enough.

“Hard day?” Y/N asked softly.

Hazel shook her head. “Just noisy.”

“Want to talk about it in the car?”

“Can I talk about bug empires instead?”

“Of course, baby.”

The car ride home was Hazel’s favorite part of the day.

She’d unbuckle, fold her legs on the seat, and rest her notebook in her lap like she was a professor giving a lecture.

“Today I made a list of all the bugs I’d bring to space. Ants, because they’re organized. Beetles, because they’re strong. Moths, because they understand darkness. No wasps.”

“Wasps are jerks,” Violet agreed from the back seat.

Hazel nodded. “Wasps ruin birthday parties.”

Y/N smiled as she drove, listening to her daughters build an imaginary insect space colony while the sun dipped low and the streetlights clicked on one by one.

That night at dinner, Paige was late.

Practice ran long, and Hazel only ate half her pasta before asking to go organize her markers. Violet refused to eat anything that wasn’t shaped like a dinosaur.

Y/N tried not to snap.

She didn’t always succeed.

“Vi, please. Just one bite that’s not a T-Rex.”

“BUT I ONLY LIKE THE TASTY ONES.”

Hazel blinked at her sister’s outburst, confused and quiet.

“I don’t get why crying is part of dinner,” she said softly.

Y/N closed her eyes. “It’s not, honey. I’m just… tired.”

Hazel nodded and slid a green stegosaurus toward Violet. “This one’s shaped like it has manners.”

Later, once the girls were in bed (or at least in their rooms), Paige came home to find Y/N sitting on the couch, eyes red, holding a bug sketch and a half-empty glass of wine.

Paige didn’t say anything at first. She just sat beside her and waited.

“They want to ‘encourage inclusion,’” Y/N finally muttered.

Paige sighed. “Hazel didn’t even notice, did she?”

“No. But I did.”

Y/N swallowed. “I see the way they look at her. And at me. Like I did something wrong. Like I’m not parenting her right. Like it’s our fault she’d rather talk about moon craters than make bracelets in a group circle.”

Paige leaned her head on Y/N’s shoulder. “Hazel is brilliant. Weird and curious and wild and brilliant. They don’t get to decide who she’s supposed to be.”

Y/N exhaled shakily. “I just want her to be okay.”

“She is.”

Y/N leaned into Paige’s shoulder. “And Violet’s about to punch another child in defense of her sister.”

Paige smiled. “At least we know she’s loyal.”

Hazel didn’t like bubble wrap.

Too loud. Too sudden. Too nothing for five seconds and then popPOPPOP all at once.

But in some metaphorical way, Y/N had wrapped her in it anyway.

Not because she thought Hazel was fragile. But because the world didn’t bend for girls like her. And if it wouldn’t bend, Y/N would pad every corner, kick down every unfair door, and snatch the damn scissors from anyone who dared to pop her daughter’s peace.

It just… got exhausting sometimes.

And Hazel was starting to notice.

Tuesday Morning, 6:58 AM

“I can pack my own lunch,” Hazel said calmly, standing on the step stool in the kitchen.

Y/N blinked. “Oh. Okay, I just thought—”

“I know what I eat.”

“You do,” Y/N said quickly, handing her the carrots. “I just like helping.”

Hazel nodded, grabbing the bento box and carefully lining up each baby carrot like soldiers. “You can help Violet instead. She put cheese in her pocket again.”

From the other room: “NO I DIDN’T.”

Y/N sighed and looked over at Paige, who was nursing her coffee like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

“You’re up early,” Y/N said softly.

“I’m not. I’m just standing with my eyes open.”

7:42 AM – The Dash

Hazel tugged her soft, tagless navy sweatshirt over her head. Violet screamed in the hallway because her socks had “stitches that feel mean.”

“Hazel, can you grab your sister’s shoes while I do her hair?”

Hazel hesitated. “I don’t want to go in there when she’s loud.”

Y/N flinched. “Right. Sorry. I can—”

“I’ll get the shoes,” Paige offered, yawning and already halfway down the hall.

Hazel and Y/N looked at each other, quiet.

“You don’t like when I make you do emotional stuff,” Y/N said gently.

Hazel shook her head. “I like when people tell me what they need. I don’t know what to do when people cry.”

“I don’t always know either.”

Hazel thought for a second, then offered: “That’s okay.”

At School, That Afternoon

Hazel didn’t notice the stares. Or maybe she did, but she had gotten good at filing them away like background noise.

She sat cross-legged near the fence at recess, sorting pebbles by texture — smooth, scratchy, sparkly, chalk-dusty.

Three girls ran by. One of them pointed. “Why is she always doing rock stuff? She’s weird.”

Hazel didn’t flinch. She just adjusted her stack.

But Violet heard it.

From across the yard, mid-tetherball, she heard it.

And stomped.

“HEY!” Violet shouted. “She’s not weird, she’s just INTERESTING!”

Hazel looked up.

The girls laughed. “Your sister’s a rock weirdo.”

Violet opened her mouth to retaliate — and stopped.

She turned, marched toward Hazel, and plopped beside her in the grass.

“What’s that one?” she asked, pointing to a black stone.

Hazel passed it to her. “Volcanic.”

“What’s it do?”

“It exists. That’s kind of enough.”

Violet nodded. “Then I’m a volcanic rock too.”

After School

Y/N was already parked in the pickup line when she saw Hazel coming out, her hood up, her arms crossed over her Bug Club binder.

Violet followed behind, bouncing as usual, waving at anyone who looked her way.

When they got in the car, Hazel climbed into her seat, buckled up, and stared out the window.

Y/N didn’t ask “how was school?” — she knew better.

Instead, she tried, “Did you know turtles can breathe through their butts?”

Hazel blinked. “Cloacal respiration. Old news.”

From the back: “YOU SAID BUTT,” Violet squealed.

Y/N smirked. “Hazel, anything on your mind?”

Hazel shrugged. “I didn’t cry. So it wasn’t a bad day.”

Y/N exhaled softly. Paige’s words from the night before echoed: She’s not broken. You don’t need to fix it before she tells you there’s a problem.

“Okay,” Y/N said, “Let’s go home and make dino nuggets.”

“I want the ones shaped like herbivores,” Hazel whispered.

“Copy that.”

Later That Night

The girls were in bed — or near it — and Y/N stood in the laundry room folding tiny socks and smaller leggings with military precision.

Paige walked in holding a juice pouch.

“She said thanks for not asking,” Paige said gently.

Y/N paused. “Hazel?”

“Yeah. I tucked her in and she said, ‘I like when Mommy doesn’t make me talk about hard things before bed.’”

Y/N laughed under her breath, hands on her hips.

“I’m trying so hard not to mess this up,” she said.

Paige set the juice down and hugged her from behind.

“You’re not messing it up. You’re showing up. That’s the job.”

Y/N leaned back against her. “Sometimes I just want to bubble-wrap her.”

“She wouldn’t let you,” Paige said. “And Vi would just pop every square out of spite.”

That Weekend

They didn’t go to any parties. Violet was invited to one, but she refused to go without Hazel.

“Why would I want to play dress-up with someone who doesn’t like my sister?” she said, arms crossed, rainbow clip in her hair.

So instead, they played in the backyard.

Hazel lined up tiny army men with insect wings glued to their backs. Violet acted out dramatic soap operas with grass clippings and dandelions.

Y/N sat in the doorway, coffee in hand, watching them just… be.

Not fixed. Not polished. Not trying to be anything they weren’t.

Just Hazel. Just Violet.

And that was enough.

Hazel didn’t like the new hallway tile.

It was too shiny. It squeaked under shoes in a way that made her shoulders tense, and it made the lights feel brighter somehow. On Monday morning, she stood in the entryway of her school and refused to take one more step.

“It’s the same hallway,” Y/N had said gently, crouched beside her. “They just cleaned the floors.”

“It’s louder,” Hazel whispered, eyes on the tiles. “And slippery. I can feel it.”

“Want to walk next to me?” Paige offered, giving her a little room. “We’ll go slow.”

Hazel didn’t answer, but she did start moving — carefully, like each step needed approval from her nervous system.

Violet, meanwhile, had already bolted halfway down the hall and was yelling something about art class and glitter glue.

Y/N watched Hazel's slow progress, then looked at Paige, her jaw tight.

“I should’ve emailed the school. Asked about the maintenance schedule.”

“Babe,” Paige said gently. “It’s just waxed tile.”

“It’s not just waxed tile to her.”

That afternoon, Y/N walked around Target with an abandoned grocery list in one hand and a cart full of soft-seam leggings, cotton undershirts, and exactly three backup pairs of Hazel’s favorite socks.

She didn’t realize how much she was overdoing it until she found herself comparing the thread count on pillowcases like Hazel was planning to move into the linen aisle.

She called Paige while sitting in the cart herself, phone balanced on her knee.

“I’m spiraling.”

“I figured.”

“She hated the floor this morning.”

“I know. But she still went.”

Y/N closed her eyes, pressing her fingers to her temple. “What if next time it’s too much? What if it’s a fire drill or a different sub or someone bumps her the wrong way and I’m not there?”

There was a pause on the other end.

“You’re not supposed to be there, Y/N. That’s the whole point.”

“I don’t like the point.”

“I know.”

Hazel had always needed just enough control over her environment to feel safe.

And Y/N had always been the type to build a moat around her daughters’ comfort. She could see it — the way Hazel stood a little too close to the wall in crowded places, the way she tugged her sleeves down when she got overwhelmed, the way her eyes flicked sideways when someone tried to hug her without asking.

And the way she never, ever asked for help. Not even when it would’ve made things easier.

So Y/N did it for her.

She emailed the teachers. Sent notes in the lunchbox. Researched noise-canceling headphones until her browser thought she was hard of hearing. There was nothing she wouldn’t do.

But Hazel wasn’t five anymore.

She was seven — whip-smart, quietly funny, obsessed with moon phases, and the self-appointed captain of something she called the "Bug Defense League." And she was starting to notice the way her mom hovered just a little too much.

One night, after dinner, Hazel sat on the floor in the living room, sorting plastic insects by species. Violet was in the kitchen doing… something with tape and construction paper and a banana, which Y/N had decided to ignore for the moment.

Y/N crouched beside Hazel.

“Hey, you want me to print out that new list of bugs you told me about?”

Hazel didn’t look up. “I already made it.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s great.”

A beat of silence.

“Mom?”

“Yeah, bug?”

“You don’t have to check on me every time I’m quiet.”

Y/N froze a little. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am okay. I just like it better when no one talks for a while.”

It wasn’t said with attitude. It wasn’t a dramatic moment. Just a quiet boundary.

And Y/N heard it. Really heard it.

She nodded, sat beside Hazel for a moment longer, then stood up — hands at her sides, not reaching to fix her shirt or wipe marker off her cheek. Just… letting her be.

Later that night, Paige walked in from practice to find the house quiet — suspiciously so.

“Everyone alive?” she called out.

“Emotionally?” Y/N answered from the couch. “Barely.”

Paige chuckled, dropped her bag, and kicked off her sneakers. “Who cracked today?”

“Me. Hazel set a boundary and I actually respected it.”

“Proud of you.”

Y/N flopped her head back against the couch cushions. “I feel like I’ve been parenting with bubble wrap for seven years. And now I have to take it off. And I hate it.”

“It’s not gone,” Paige said, sitting beside her. “It’s just… thinning.”

“Violet’s going to need it, too. She’s been extra lately.”

“She’s five,” Paige said. “She’s always extra.”

Y/N laughed, exhausted. “I think she ate half a glue stick this morning.”

“As long as it was gluten-free.”

The next day, the girls had a half-day at school, which was code for “you’ll get nothing done and still feel like you ran a marathon.”

Y/N picked them up at noon, and before Hazel was even buckled into her booster seat, she was deep into a monologue about ancient trilobites and how they might have been the earliest evidence of molting.

Violet interrupted her mid-sentence to declare, “I PEED A LITTLE DURING NAP TIME BUT I BLAMED EMILY.”

Hazel blinked. “You lied?”

“I saved myself.”

“Do you want to wash your hands again?” Y/N asked, already passing back sanitizer.

“No,” Violet said proudly. “I want chocolate milk.”

Hazel looked at her sister like she was a Rubik’s cube.

“I don’t understand you.”

“That’s okay,” Violet shrugged. “I understand me.”

That weekend, Hazel decided she wanted to try leggings again. The last time hadn’t gone well — the seams were too tight, the fabric too loud (her word), and she had cried for forty-five minutes afterward without really explaining why.

But this time, she said she was ready to try again.

So Y/N brought out the softest pair she could find, and Paige made it a whole thing — a Legging Ceremony. They lit a candle, which Violet tried to blow out three times, and put on spa music while Hazel slowly stepped into the cotton like it was lava.

And when she didn’t cry — when she sat down and said, “It’s not my favorite, but it’s okay,” — Y/N had to walk out of the room to breathe for a second.

Paige followed her.

“She didn’t scream,” Y/N whispered, stunned.

“She’s growing.”

“She’s brave.”

“She’s ours.”

That night, both girls climbed into Hazel’s bed like usual. It was only supposed to be a quick cuddle — five minutes, tops — but somehow Violet fell asleep upside down, Hazel started whispering about Martian beetles, and neither mom had the heart to move them.

Y/N stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching them.

“They’re gonna be fine,” Paige said, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Y/N leaned into her.

“I just hope the world is ready for them.”

Paige smiled.

That Night

The girls were finally asleep.

Probably.

Hazel had curled herself into a tight comma under her weighted blanket, her Bug Club binder tucked beside her pillow like a bedtime story. Violet had passed out upside down again, one foot sticking through the safety rail, her unicorn nightlight casting shadows across the wall that she’d almost certainly insist were haunted by morning.

Y/N stood in the hallway just outside their rooms, staring.

Not doing anything. Just standing there. Listening to the soft sound of Hazel’s sound machine—rainstorm setting, always—and the faint thrum of Violet’s sleepy humming, like her brain was still half-playing tag in her dreams.

She didn’t move until Paige came up behind her, barefoot and quiet, holding two mugs of tea.

“One’s just water with honey,” Paige said. “We’re out of actual tea. Or maybe I just didn’t want to boil a second pot.”

Y/N took it without looking. “Water with honey sounds fake, but I’ll drink it.”

They leaned against the wall together, shoulder to shoulder, facing down the hallway like the world might throw one more thing at them before bed.

For once, it didn’t.

“I almost cried again,” Y/N said softly.

“When?”

“Today. When Hazel let me braid her hair without flinching.”

Paige looked over. “That was a big one.”

“She didn’t say thank you. She just… handed me the brush like it was normal.”

“It is normal. For her.”

Y/N sipped her tea-water-whatever. “She’s figuring herself out faster than I figured her out.”

“You figured her out fine.”

“I thought she was just sensitive for the first year. I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t need to know right away. You just had to love her.”

“I still don’t always get it right.”

“Who does?”

Y/N let out a breath. She didn’t realize she’d been holding it since dinner. Since that tiny, silent moment when Hazel had let her tuck the blanket a little tighter, when Violet had whispered “night, bug queen” before immediately asking if worms had teeth.

They didn’t always say thank you.

But they didn’t pull away either.

And that was something.

Y/N stepped into the girls’ room once more before bed. She adjusted the curtain just slightly, just enough to block the streetlight from hitting Hazel’s face. She picked up a crayon from the rug and tucked it back into the box. She kissed Violet’s forehead—still slightly sticky with whatever she’d snuck from the pantry.

She didn’t say anything.

She didn’t need to.

Back in their bedroom, Paige was already half-asleep, arm flung across the pillow, hair still damp from a rushed shower.

Y/N crawled in beside her and didn’t even flinch when a single LEGO piece stabbed the bottom of her foot on the way in.

It was just part of it. The mess. The noise. The endless string of small, sharp things you stepped on that reminded you you were still inside a life you made on purpose.

And god, what a life.

Paige murmured something without opening her eyes. “Did you double-check Hazel’s note for the bug fair?”

“I did.”

“She’s bringing mealworms, right?”

“Alive.”

“Of course.”

A long silence stretched between them, warm and comfortable.

Y/N closed her eyes.

She didn’t know what tomorrow’s morning would be. If Hazel would be in a gray mood. If Violet would refuse socks again. If she’d get another email from a mom who didn’t get it. If Paige would have to run out mid-breakfast for practice.

She didn’t know.

But she knew that she’d handle it.

Not perfectly. Not all at once. Not without raising her voice or forgetting to sign something or burning a bagel or crying in the laundry room.

But she’d handle it.

Because this wasn’t a story about fixing her kids.

It was a story about showing up.

About loving them so loudly and so quietly, at the same time, that they never once wondered if they were too much.

About being the person who said, every single day, “You don’t have to change. I’ve got you. Just grow.”

And so they did.

Bit by bit. Bug by bug. Tantrum by tantrum.

They grew.

And so did she.

Right there with them.

[chiacanwritesometimes]

shopping headcanons!

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨🛒୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

ship: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 765

authors note: light hearted hc’s since ive been writing a lot of hurt/comfort. next fic is gonna be a little painful, so im giving a fluff offering before that! this one was really fun to write :) no warnings!! this was inspired by my recent shopping trip lolol, enjoy!

===========

shopping with bucky wasn’t easy. the few times you convinced him to go with you, he stayed a little grumpy throughout the trip. he mostly went to keep you safe, to watch you while you were in the zone. the times he didn’t go, he constantly checked your location, similar to a worried mother. when you came home, he would pepper kisses around you, exhaling in relief that you came home safely.

when shopping for groceries, he spent most of the time scoffing at the prices. almost as if on command, he would say, “back in my day, milk was a quarter”, or something of that nature. that always made you giggle and roll your eyes, so he was glad that his annoyance with inflation made you smile. he would try to buy 10 pounds of beef behind your back, but when you caught him, you both negotiated a reasonable amount to keep.

he would often visit the fruit section, and see if plums were in season. if plums weren’t there, his second option were mangoes, and if those weren’t there he would get oranges. despite how much he complained about going to the store, he enjoyed seeing you concentrated on the products, and making a calculated choice. he also enjoyed seeing other people, wondering why they were there. he would assign them backstories, for example: a nervous teenage boy in the flower section was about to go on his first date, an older woman with a warm appearance was buying ingredients to make brownies for her grandchildren, etc. it brought him some feeling of comfort, as if he was just another civilian with no other care. that, of course, wasn’t the case, but he liked to imagine it anyway.

when shopping for gifts, he would always suggest a candle, because that was the first thing you gifted him. he liked watching the little flame flicker, and was mesmerized by the comforting smell. he would ask you to buy a candle for him every time you went out the store, with an excuse that he ran out of his last one. he kept a secret collection underneath the bed, thinking you didn’t know. of course you knew, but you went along anyway, to please him. he was always excited to see what new smell you brought him this time, and kept certain smells in specific places. fruity for the bathroom, spice for the living room, citrus for the kitchen, eucalyptus and fresh linen for the laundry room. he had a whole system, and would change candles out for holidays. you enjoyed seeing him passionate about something, plus it made your house always smell good, so you never complained.

when shopping for household items, he suggested to buy in bulk, so as to make fewer trips overall. you agreed, but you both had different ideas as to what “in bulk” was. for you, it was buying a reasonable amount of toilet paper to last six months. for him, it was buying enough to last five years. you managed to compromise and land for 18 months, but you were always embarrassed checking out, because the cashier always had an amused look when seeing the amount of toiler paper in your shopping cart.

when checking out, you always paid in joint. he would pay half, and as would you, unless there were special circumstances. after paying his half, he would excuse himself, saying he needed to go to the bathroom or something. he then would run to the flower section of the store, grab a bouquet that you were eyeing, and pay through self checkout. by the time he finished paying, so did you, and he met up with you, bouquet in hand. despite how many times you told him not to spend money on those sorts of things, you always had the biggest smile on your face, so he never listened to you.

when unloading the shopping bags into the car, he would hand you a few bags, and escort you to the passenger seat. he didn’t want you doing a lot of work, plus he liked being the one to organize what goes where.

after arriving to your home, you would take a few bags and unlock the front door, returning to grab more bags. you’d always see him with all of the bags in his metal hand, and the other hand closing the trunk. he would smile sheepishly and hand you two bags from the bunch.

shopping with bucky wasn’t easy, but it certainly was entertaining.

[tedsies]

i caved and bought the legacy collection out of curiosity

i bought it on steam by the way, no way am I going anywhere near the ea app

random thoughts as i go along:

game loaded up straight away with no issues (what a strange feeling)

got into pleasantview within 2 minutes (obvs I have no cc installed right now so its gonna be faster anyway)

a bit of a jumpscare to see the game again without reshade ngl

straight into the lothario household. don you look... different without all my defaults

screen resolution defaulted to the right size without me having to change anything by the way, which was nice

turned up all the graphics setting to max and going to visit the goth household as that always gives me lag, even vanilla

this experience is already making me realise I need to cut down my 12gb downloads folder, cos man this is so smooth and fast without all of that in my game

well everything is working perfectly straight out of the box. had no issues with multiple sims on the big goth lot

going to quit and load up again with my ui mods and defaults next (along with hugelunatic's ikea pack as cc)

legacy collection has an entirely different file path by the way, so won't mess with existing ultimate collection installs (i wouldn't have dared to do this otherwise)

okay all my defaults, ui mods and some others are now in (downloads folder is up to 3.64gb now) and everything is working fine still

ikea items as cc don't seem to be fully appearing in the catalog though? that might be a me problem but i dont know

adding in all my cas cc now, along with hood defaults and hood deco cc (downloads folder is up to 6.5gb now). i'm also adding in anything else I can think of like camera mods, user startup cheat etc etc

getting into pleasantview in less than 2 mins still

heading into cas for the first time now...

... and it loaded up within 10 seconds even with ALL of my cas cc? and this is the first time too so I would've expected major lag. normally cas takes about 60 seconds to load in my game

update on the ikea pack as cc... the build items are definitely there, but not the buy for some reason?

biting the bullet and adding in the remaining 6gb of my 12gb downloads folder

all of my cc is now in the game and loading times were about 30 seconds longer than before. still no issues

took darren dreamer to a community lot and there were no crashes/issues/lag. normally going to a community lot is very dangerous for me cos its where I get the most crashes or issues, its why all my community lots are incredibly small lot sizes

also I have the hood deco view set to extra large... normally I have to have it set to extra small just to play in a small household

i dont think I'm being delulu here to say things are running better

next up is adding in all of my mods, then after that I might dare putting in my mega populated uberhood save, and try reshade?

another ikea update: everything is showing up now. it was me being an idiot

so all of my mods are now also in (so my entire downloads folder now) and i haven't been able to trigger any crashes or pink soup yet through normal gameplay? even with extra large hood view from lots

reshade keeps crashing my game on startup... damn, what am I doing wrong

RESHADE IS NOW WORKING (ver 6.1.1)! thanks to this guide

I finally added in my uberhood save (which is packed with hood deco and and has 35 playable families).... and it's working! I also played with a household for a bit and everything was working fine

final update before I go to bed (as its gone midnight here lol)

i now have all of my mods, cc, saves, and reshade installed, and I've yet to have any pink soup or crashes (apart from the crashes when I was *incorrectly* trying to install reshade). honestly... i'm surprised. i dont want to speak too soon obviously, but things seem better. i was just playing in a household with extra large lot view on and that would usually IMMEDIATELY crash my game, but nothing happened. tomorrow i'll actually play for an extended period of time, so i'll be able to tell more for sure then.

i hope this has been helpful to at least a couple of people, and i'll leave with you a shot of my pleasantview newly loaded up in the legacy collection 😅

[braaan]

Sunday Best (w/ Eunseo)

male reader & wjsn eunseo

fluff & smut, 3k words

As far as you’ve rationalized, it doesn’t make any sense.

For starters, you and Eunseo have been together since high school, and this is far from the first time she’s been in your apartment.

The first time, hours after a mutual friend’s birthday party gets cut short, Eunseo’s throwing up in your bathroom. It’s a tale as old as time: the Friday night of a long weekend, way too many groupchats, high school bravado kneecapped by Fireball shooters — it’s messy, and senior year. You get you’re her boyfriend’d into nursing her back to life, and one grueling night shift later, she’s under your covers while you’re trying to get comfy on your small-for-sitting futon. And despite how early she’s up the next morning, between the still warm almond croissants on your countertop, the deep hug she pulls you into before you can drum up anything sarcastic, and how much better your basketball shorts sit on her waistline — drawstring double-knotted, waistband rolled all the way up — it’s hard to stay mad.

Another time, you’re coming back from date night, and before the front door even closes in on you two, she’s walking your apartment’s perimeter, pulling out supplies from a backpack. You’re trailing her, trying to simultaneously close the distance she covers and read the tiny labels on household items she leaves in her wake. Before long, there’s not a countertop unmarked by these tiny rubber characters (“They’re called SMISKIs”), all of your spaces start to predominantly smell like daisies, and you don’t recognize half of the brands in your bathroom. Any other time: you’d say something. Any other time: you’d stand up for yourself; puff your chest into the slight height difference. Any other time Eunseo wasn’t reappearing from your bedroom in a tiny cotton shirt and all eight inches of these plaid blue pajama shorts: yeah, you’d draw your boundaries.

Sometime after that, in the lull of quiet comfort and work from home, her legs are in your lap as you both bat away questions on individual video calls. Difference couldn’t be any more stark. Twelve minutes into your morning meeting, in between unmutes of your desktop microphone, you’ve tallied up a total of twenty words, and have entertained a serious-and-three-quarters imagination about where else you could call into this — your camera’s off, after all. Eunseo’s your in-office foil: her chocolate hair freshly straightened, her baby blue button up perm pressed, her small talk status quo. Eunseo’s full of shit. Just off camera, unobvious in her digital four walls, she hasn’t changed out of your heather gray boxer shorts she wore to bed.

So, really:

It’s not the first time you’ve seen Eunseo wake up in a pair of shorts.

It doesn’t make any rational sense how much it still gets a reaction out of you.

--

Granted, it’s an unreal view.

The sun hurries through your curtains to pool around her feet, daybreak serving as stepping stones as she pads to your en suite. Golden yellow melts into her milk chocolate hair, spinning already light browns into shades of almond and sand between sunlit highlights. A breeze picks up through the fabric, and the light breaks. One moment she’s haloed, cast in sunlight, all of her curves etched in radiance; the next, momentarily obscured, a dream in soft-focus, half-glimpsed and inviting whole-yearning. From where you’re propped up on your elbows, she flickers in and out of reality and reverie, real-deal and daydream. She’s a light show in slow motion, superposition between technicolor and transfiguration; sunkiss and shadow in perfect ballet, catching an everyday angel between the light that loves her and pockets of beautiful mystery that make her all the more alluring.

All of this to Eunseo: her morning routine.

She walks without hesitation. Even when it’s mundane, there’s a tangible confidence in the way she sprays sea salt into her hair, carding her fingers through her roots.

It’s the one thing that threw you for a loop about her, really: for a long time, you were waiting for the character to drop. Blended between candor and how you’d be able to read anything just off of her facial expression, Eunseo was headstrong, and always heart first. Early into your relationship, it was unnerving. Younger yous bounced between bouts of ‘wow, that’s frank’ and ‘what are you compensating for?’. You got where you were in life — to you: where most people didn’t — by never playing all your cards, and here Eunseo was all the same, hand face up on the table.

Though it doesn’t take you too long to eventually admit that forward is sexy.

It’s in the way she asks for what she wants, unbothered by the answer, discarding pretense and step-by-step; it’s in the way she’ll take the lead without warning, showing up after work at your lobby to take you on a night she’s pre-planned; it’s in the way that — because on the weekend, you wake up on her time — she’s six feet away from you, tip-toed, peeling at the curtains: all the way stretched out.

And outlined in daylight, you don’t miss a detail.

For starters, her shirt’s way too small. It’s this light material: cheap white cotton that curls in on itself at the hem. And as she reaches out at the Roman shades, revealing more and more skin, you can explore all the small of her back, run imaginary hands along where her shirt stops, down the soft line where skin kisses spine. You can trace your thumbs at the space just above her hips, skirting shapes at her waistline, dancing just above the navy soccer shorts Eunseo wore in tenth grade, faded far from school colors, and tiny as hell.

You could sit there for hours — you’d find new angles to obsess over.

You get half a beat.

“It’s rude to stare, you know?”

And in one motion, Eunseo closes the distance between where she was and where you sit, quickly cross-legged on your comforter.

“And even ruder to have fun,” she starts, patting the blankets grouped around your waist, “all by yourself.”

“Fuck off,” you spit, batting away at her forearm. The blood runs to your cheeks, and your ears are hot. “You might as well be wearing nothing — what am I supposed to do?”

Looking at you through her fringes, the edges of her lips pulling into the start of a smile, she doesn’t need any words — it’s a brutally honest admission.

“You’re saying,” she whispers, “it’s these you like?” Both of your eyes flick to where her hands find the trim of her shorts, tracing the stitching at her thigh, following a runaway stripe with a fingernail — matte white, all insidious, and teasingly slow.

“Eunseo,” you try again flatly. “Fuck,” and there’s a pause here, implicit now anything but, “off.” 

Which would be half convincing if you could take your eyes off of her legs.

You’re tracing her thigh in your head, filling the toned crease with your gaze, painting Eunseo’s legs with attention.

She leans into you, and makes it hard to think. Your thoughts are cloudy; in the moment. Nothing becomes more top of mind than the smell of daisies.

There’s a half beat.

Then a whisper against your lips: “Tell me what you like.”

Forward is so fucking sexy.

Kissing Eunseo is like fire: hot, and all at once. She’s running her hands under your shirt, snaking her legs under your stomach; she’s whimpering against your bottom lip, redirecting your hands onto her chest; she’s running her tongue against your teeth, wedging herself square in all of your focus — you’re trying to keep up.

You’re kneading at her chest through cotton, creating new creases, feeling the bud of her nipple get hard in your hands.

You’re tugging at her t-shirt, stretching fabric out of form.

You’re molding Aphrodite — palming, gripping, shaping. Sculpting divinity on earth called for hours of sanctification, and you were here to worship.

Eunseo’s like putty to it all — so sensitive, and pliant at your fingertips. She’s moaning at your mouth, then whispering praises. Hushed against your lips: more, more, more, more, more.

You blink life back into your eyes, and magnetically, inherent like gravity, they fall onto hers. Filled with the night sky — wine-dark, galaxy-wide, abyssal, fully oblivion — even now: hooded, sultry, and all shades of dangerous, they felt inevitable, like they were where yours belonged. They beckoned — like they were written in all of your universes, like all the right roads led back to them.

And it’s like Eunseo reads your mind, because all of a sudden: she’s scarlet, a very red blush dancing across her cheeks.

“Okay, pretty boy,” she starts, catching her breath. Then, gathering her hair into a ponytail: “I’m going to blow your mind.”

And without hesitation, because you’re still stuck in ten seconds ago: “You look so cute.”

And because now she has to: “I’m already going to put you in my mouth, you don’t have to flatter me anymore.”

--

Eunseo’s flipped over, her cunt inches from your lips, drawing lines along your length with her tongue. And you’d return the favor quicker, if not for how mesmerizingly methodical she was. You’re catching glimpses of bits and pieces in the negative space between your bodies. Through her t-shirt: a flash of the flat of her tongue as she reaches the tip of your cockhead, her white nails replacing her mouth around your shaft at the top of her dips, her pretty pink pout — how they all disappear as she takes your cock down her throat. She knows all your soft spots — what you like; where you like it — and always gave you what you loved.

It feels like it all makes sense -

Your hips bucking into her mouth on her downbeats, the saccharine song she starts humming mid-bob, the precum-stained kisses she’s leaving along your length in legato, the half-notes they send across your nervous system -

- all of you feels like it rhythmically belongs together.

“Eunseo,” you manage to grit out, and you feel her smirk against your cock.

You can narrate it in your head. Hm? she’s goading, minxy moxie maxed out. This is all it takes to make you cum? There’s a half-choke — a rough buck of your hips. Fingers curl around your shaft — the hum she has in the back of her throat picks up. A little bit of your cock in my mouth? You’re like a tuning fork to it all. You’re dizzy.

And you’d probably die then and there, if not for the last resort of your tongue on Eunseo’s cunt.

It’s one of the only things that levels her, really.

All the build up is cut in half, tempo slowed down to a grind as you swipe long, breathy flicks of your tongue on Eunseo’s pretty pussy. You’re pacing yourself against a water droplet–rhythm in your head. Arms hooked around her thighs, thumbs tracing circles counterclockwise on her skin -

Down.

Build.

Up.

Down.

Swell.

Up.

It’s unholy the noise she makes next.

Too adorable to just leave hanging.

“Look at you, Eunseo,” you taunt, where the start of a stanza would go, and then drop back into cadence — no air for her to respond — tongue back on her slit. 

And against against your mouth, it’s almost like all of the candor is causal — all the forwardness just carefully-crafted camouflage to get you on her cunt — because reduced down to a mewling mess, white-knuckle around your bedsheets, spine arching to get even closer to the flat of your tongue, there is no back talk. Eunseo was yours, her cunt was all yours, and she was so willing to follow.

Doubling your efforts on her heat, lapping against her little pussy, tracing a thumb around her clit -

“Baby,” she whines.

- Eunseo knows she’s coming undone.

And in this full-on, two-part second that you’re completely lucid to -

- she does.

At first, it’s like time’s frozen. You can feel her tense up under your breath, cheat one last gulp of air, tighten her thighs against your forearms.

Then, everything’s in fast forward. Eunseo unravels. She’s scrambling on polyester, looking for a hold, any grip to support her through how hard she’s cumming on your tongue. The words caught in her throat catch up to her, and all the way through her high, she’s conjoining cuss words, peaking into falsetto as you line kisses along her cunt. Son Eunseo melts against you, onto you, unwound and fully fucked.

But never enough to return the favor.

Gracefully sensual, she straddles you, catching herself on your chest, sitting square on your hips, parking up against your length — you’re caught off guard by the sharks.

Plastered against Eunseo’s shirt: an elementary guide to enough shark species to line anyone’s trivia back pocket — Whale, Great White, Mako, Tiger, Basking -

And because now she has to: “My eyes are up here, perv.”

And without hesitation, because this time that’s genuinely low: “Oh, fuck you.”

And not a beat after that, right against your lips, and riding further up your cock: “You only wish.”

Eunseo’s mouth is on yours, and then so’s her tongue. And as she’s exploring your chest with her palms, thumbing at your nipples, you can only smile. You don’t know why you doubted yourself: with Eunseo, there’s no way anything’s a character.

There’s a beat that you both take, and in the next, there’s a shirt over your face.

You’re blinded, covered in SHEIN sheer, and — instincts taking over — you reach your hands out to grab at anything.

You find Eunseo’s waist as she takes you in her pussy.

It’s hot, it’s tight, it’s needy. She’s getting you both back on beat, picking up the pace, up-and-down on your cock, side-to-side on your hips — you’re trying to keep up.

Your grip tightens, and it’s downright unholy: your thumbs touch at her belly button.

She’s so small, so tight, so in your hands, and so fucked, so fucked, so fucked -

“Cum in me,” Eunseo exhales, then suffixes: “in me, in me, in me.”

Your head goes into overdrive — it’s a time bomb: pulsing, racing, tensing; it’s a million miles a second, and so fucking dangerous. You’re gritting your teeth, crushing her waist in your grip -

And because now you have to, and in lossless lucidity: “Eunseo, fuck off.”

She’s so fucked.

And you know in the moment that follows -

How quickly she finds her place under you, picking up where her fingers were last on your cock — kissing, twisting, sucking, her matte white fingernails hypnotic up and down your shaft -

How guttural the moan you let out feels, like it comes from your tailbone -

How hushed the holy shit is on your lips as Eunseo swallows load after milky load -

- how fucked you are, too.

(You always will be.)

--

There’s a little song and dance you play after Eunseo pops back out of the bathroom.

Again: it’s not either of your first times with each other, but like routine — still and forever — you’re falling into characters you know and love.

Eunseo’s laying it on thick, walking like a textbook taught her how to: drummed-up and exaggerated, heel-toe, heel-toe. Hands folded behind her back, she’s in this half-bend, lips pursed, eyes wandering: suddenly fascinated in the brushwork on your walls or how light catches random trinkets, bending over to the left, the right, and just under to make sure their shadows are still there. It’s all but complete, just missing a laid back whistle; it’s all comically stupid, just always the most adorable thing.

Of course — and only after two full minutes of the charade, drawn out and profusely slow-burned; only after you’ve rolled your eyes so hard they might stick, tension just under boiling point — her little exploration leads her to your bed.

And with that kind of setup: anything she said would’ve landed.

So “... you don’t want to put a kid in me …” absolutely does.

Her head’s in your lap now, face cracked in this darling half-giggle.

Outwitting Eunseo is a losing game. You never win. Not against the air that lingers around her, peppered sweet and spicy, intoxicating even when you were both sober. Not against her expert balance of prickly and precious, cutesy-cocky carefully-crafted. Not against the crescents in her eyes when you’re this deep into a bit. You don’t really have to.

She kisses you, and it tastes like the promise of time: that you’ll always have more.

It’s pre-teen sweet, spiked with hands brushing soft spots: it’s goofy, it’s whole, and you’re both giggling — trading tender breaths, sharing secrets in the exhales, melting smiles into each others’.

Here — in between the playful banter, nose-to-nose with Son Eunseo — you’re complete.

“Want a coffee?”

(And it’s probably the only thing you’ve done once and only once. You should make the coffee.)

“I’ll make us two.”

--

:')

feel like everything's been fast paced recently, so hope not cringe to say that this has been a serious refuge for me. domestic... interplay (?) is so fun to explore, and i could probably tease out established relationship footsies switchy blurry lines forever — hope you enjoyed!

thank you @majorblinks for the beta (my twin flame and no one is ever going to do it like us), @chunksworld for giving me the push to write eunseo (guys girl enjoyers!), and @passingnotions for everything in between (u next.)

[phoebejaysims]

Boutique Mod - DOWNLOAD

Inspired by the sims 2 shopping for clothes system, I present a sims 3 take on buying clothes, accessories and running a thriving boutique! Set up shifts, keep the racks stocked, and you might find yourself in profit!

Required:

Ambitions

NRAAS Master Controller + Integration Module

Optional:

ITF if you want to use the clothes mannequin and some visual effects.

Late Night if you want the animations for the security guard.

Seasons for extra interactions on the mannequin.

Savvy Seller Set for some visual and audio effects.

Full Documentation is included in the download. I spent a while writing it out, so please read thoroughly!

How Stores Work:

Set up a shift

Hire Employees (bosses count as employees so stores are fully functional with only one sim!)

Link at least one rack to the register

Open for business!

Employees:

Store employees can be given three types of roles: register attendant, sales attendant and security guard.

Employees will do their jobs automatically but you can always manually tell them to do things too like: restocking, dressing up mannequins, helping customers, among other things.

Customers:

Inactive and active sims can browse through the racks and have the ability to purchase items. They'll interact differently depending on if they are shopping at a clothes rack, accessory rack, or at a mannequin.

Inactives won't purchase outfits from mannequins unless you direct them to (or you enable auto-purchasing in the XML). However, they may "fake" buy clothes.

Once finished shopping, customers hold their bags and wait to be rung up! Take too long and they may abandon their purchase.

Shopping:

Adjust prices and restrict customers by age and gender to customise your store!

Clothes Racks:

Buy Clothes for your own sim, sims in your household, or (if you're an employee) suggest clothes for customers.

Employees that suggest clothes for customers can fulfil Ambition Stylist jobs this way.

Accessories Racks:

Choose accessories to be sold by adding them to the XML in the package file. The XML comes loaded with a few base game items already plus a couple modded items (Arsil's Sunglasses and lipstick - that won't be loaded unless you have them installed).

Sell buy-mode items as well as CAS items!

Make your CAS items wearable from your sim's inventory using your own meshes or my dummy accessory (see Documentation and XML for details).

Blacklist certain categories from being shown. If you want a dedicated shoe shop or an opticians, you can have it!

Try on products before buying them to see if they suit your sim. If there's a mirror in the room, they'll check themselves out in it.

Clothing Mannequin:

Try on the mannequin outfits to see if they suit your sim.

Plan different outfits to display and even set them to be rotated through seasonally.

Let your employees be creative and choose a random outfit for the mannequin to wear.

Buy clothes for your own sim, household members, or customers.

Allow or disallow inactives from automatically purchasing display outfits.

Security Gates:

Give your security guards something to stand and look threatening by.

You can try your luck at stealing from the shop. If you're caught, you'll have to pay up. If you get past the gates (or if there are no gates), enjoy your bounty!

Boutique Door:

Cloned from the Savvy Seller doors without the annoying 'kick-every-last-person-out-the-building-come-closing-time' feature.

Link this to a register and let the open and close sign automatically flip itself. Also, close the store or rename it, straight from the door.

Phone Interactions:

Ask for time off work (paid or unpaid).

Call in sick.

Cancel vacation days.

Credits and Thanks:

@dhalsims for adding geostates to the ITF rack for me. Modders, I really recommend her if you need any 3D models made also!

DouglasVeiga for the BG rack with the geostates.

@aroundthesims for allowing me to use her objects in my mod as always!

Sims 4 for all the animations that I converted.

Simstate & merchant mods for the idea to go into a mode to link racks to the register.

The OG shop for clothes mod and pedestal by @anitmb.

Arsil and @zoeoe-sims for wearable CAS items idea that I adapted.

Ani's Candle mod & Amb. Makeover XML which I looked at for inspo on how to do accessory rack xml.

Compatibility:

All new objects so shouldn't conflict with anything really.

Removes the 'plan outfit' interaction from dressers.

Made on version 1.67.

If you would like to donate as thanks, please feel free to do so at: my kofi! I don't take your generosity for granted!

Download: - Simblr.cc - 2t3 Boutique Mod Suggested Extra CC: - Lyralei's TS2 Conversions (incl. clothes changing booth) - More ATS3 Security Gates - ATS3 Friperie Set

Known issues, prop information and the full feature breakdown are all in the documentation.

Please be patient with me if there are bugs to fix. Also, anyone who DMs me "I don't know how to create a new shift" will be immediately fined £150.

With that said, please enjoy the mod and tag me in your beautiful boutiques,

Phoebe :)

[ladychaos]

Hey! ✨ Sooo I've decided to start a new project, and I'll share my progress, builds, and households here and on Patreon as I always do.

🟣 It's simple: I'm doing a makeover of Ravenwood, but not just to add to my save file in the future: it will also be a standalone save file just with this world if you want to play the challenge I created: a murder mystery based on/inspired by the game Clue/Cluedo.

🟣 I've created characters, and I'm building the different lots and writing a whole story. Once the final file is done, I'll share it: it will also include the entire story and other special clues so you can play through it.

To create a more immersive experience, a little bit of CC will be needed, as well as some mods. Everything will be listed of course. Most of the CC I'm using was made by the amazing @surely-sims who created gorgeous Clue items and content. Thank you for your kindness and the wonderful resources you agreed to let me use freely. It helped a lot in setting up everything. I also want to thank @aroundthesims for letting me put their CC in my download files!

This post will be updated to keep track of my progress. Everything you need is under the cut. ⬇️

🔍 RAVENWOOD CHRONICLES: RESOURCES & PROGRESS🔎

This is a storytelling challenge of sorts. You'll play as a detective and must meet certain Sims to get more clues about the murder. There will be additional clues in the file under their name in the save file and clues in the houses, builds, descriptions and my videos too!

You'll be free to make the story move any way you want to. Some canon events and characters will be set to give you a baseline to resolve the murder, but the rest will be up to you and your imagination!

I'm also going to do some type of chronicles for those of you who enjoy lore and storytelling. I used to write for a living, and I'm so happy I found inspiration in this, which made me start writing again. It will also be something to read while you wait for the special save file.

🟪 DOWNLOADS

📂 LECLAIR ESTATE

📂 LECLAIR HOUSEHOLD

[sunny44]

Bye bye binky!!

Pairing: Lando Norris x Mom!Fem! Reader

Warnings: none I guess and English is not my first language

Summary: You and Lando are trying to get rid of your daughter’s binky.

The Norris household was in constant motion as always. Lyla, at two years old, was a curious and energetic child, always running from one side to the other, dragging her toys and, of course, her inseparable pacifier.

For Lando and me, the mission to get her to stop using the pacifier was becoming a saga.

Lando was sitting at the kitchen table, looking pensively at a list of methods we had thought of.

“What else can we try? It seems like we’ve done everything.”

I stopped washing the dishes and sighed, looking at him.

“I think we’ve tried all the possible advice. Let’s review?” Lando picked up the list and started reading.

“First, we tried the pacifier fairy approach.”

The Pacifier Fairy

One quiet night, Lyla was getting ready for bed. I sat next to her with a storybook.

“Lyla, did you know there’s a pacifier fairy?” I said excitedly as she looked at me curiously.

“A pacifier fairy?”

“Yes,” I replied. “She visits big boys and girls and takes their pacifiers to babies who need them. In return, she leaves a special gift.”

Lyla’s eyes sparkled. “A gift?”

“That’s right. How about leaving your pacifier under the pillow tonight?”

Lyla hesitated but ended up placing the pacifier under the pillow. The next morning, she found a small new toy in place of the pacifier, but the magic didn’t last. When night came, Lyla cried for the pacifier, and Lando and I ended up giving it back to her.

The Reward Calendar

The second attempt involved a colorful calendar on the fridge. Each day Lyla went without the pacifier, she would get a star sticker. After a week, she would get a big prize.

“Lyla, look how many stars you’ve already earned!” Lando said, pointing to the calendar.

Lyla smiled proudly.

“Wow, and o get a prize?”

“Yes, if you keep it up!” I replied, excited.

But halfway through the week, Lyla had a crying fit so intense that we had to give in again, giving her the pacifier.

The Substitution

Trying a new method, we decided to buy several toys and stuffed animals to offer as new comfort items for her.

“Look, Lyla, a new teddy bear!” I said, showing the brown teddy bear.

Lyla took the teddy bear but quickly dropped it and went back to the pacifier.

“I want my binky, Mommy.”

We tried various different toys, but nothing seemed to offer the same comfort as the pacifier for Lyla.

The Gradual Approach

We decided to adopt a gradual approach.

“Let’s limit the use of the pacifier to just bedtime,” suggested Lando.

“Good idea,” I agreed. “That way, she can get used to it slowly.”

During the day, we put the pacifier away and distracted Lyla with games and activities. However, each night, the separation was met with tears and whining. Once again, we found ourselves giving the pacifier to calm her down.

The Distraction Tactic

The last attempt involved constant distractions. Whenever Lyla asked for the pacifier, we offered some fun activity.

“Let’s paint a picture, Lyla?” I suggested, holding a set of watercolors.

For a while, this worked, but Lyla soon began to insist on the pacifier, even in the middle of activities.

Lando sighed as he finished reading the list.

“None of this worked.”

I approached him, placing my hand on Lando’s shoulder.

“I think it’s time to try something new. Something that will really make Lyla want to say goodbye to the pacifier on her own.”

And that’s how we came up with the balloon idea. The hope was that by turning the farewell into a celebration, Lyla would better accept the change. With a final sigh of determination, Lando and I prepared for the final attempt.

“Tomorrow morning I’ll go out to buy donuts for breakfast, which she loves, and the balloon. Then we’ll do it,” Lando said, and I agreed, finishing organizing the kitchen so we could go to bed.

…

The morning sun lit up our house, and the day was perfect for a celebration. Lando and I were sitting on the floor, surrounded by toys and building blocks. Lyla was beside us, firmly holding her pacifier. We had already planned everything. I arranged the donuts on a tray so that when she let go and the pacifier was gone, she would have something she loved to eat and perhaps help her forget.

“Lyla, look!” Lando said, kneeling beside our daughter. “How about we send your binky to the sky? So it can travel around and see new places.”

Lyla looked at the balloon and then at the pacifier, holding it even tighter.

“Daddy, I like my binky.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Lando replied softly, stroking Lyla’s hair. “But you’re a big girl now. And big girls don’t need a binky, right? Besides, it’ll be so much fun to watch the balloon fly!”

Lyla hesitated, but the idea of seeing the balloon rise seemed interesting. Finally, she let go of the pacifier and allowed Lando to tie it to the balloon. Lando handed the balloon to Lyla and smiled.

“Ready to let go, Lyla?” Lyla held the balloon with both hands, her eyes fixed on it.

“Ready.”

With one last look of hesitation, she let go of the balloon. We watched as it slowly rose higher and higher into the blue sky. For a moment, everything seemed fine, but then Lyla looked like she was about to cry—we could see her lips trembling. But then Lando and I started jumping and shouting with joy.

“Woohoo! Bye-bye, binky!” shouted Lando, raising his arms.

“You did it, Lyla! How amazing!” I shouted, clapping.

Lyla looked at her parents, surprised by their reaction. Slowly, a smile began to form on her face. She stood up and started jumping too, imitating her parents.

“Woohoo! Bye-bye, binky!” she repeated, laughing.

We continued to jump and laugh together, our joy spreading to Lyla. Gradually, she forgot about the pacifier and focused on the fun of the moment.

After a few minutes, we stopped to catch our breath, still laughing. Lando picked Lyla up and hugged her.

“I’m so proud of you, Lyla. You are very brave.” I joined the hug, kissing Lyla’s forehead.

“You did something amazing today, sweetheart. We are very happy.”

Lyla smiled, feeling proud.

“Does this mean I’m a big girl now?”

“Yes, you are,” Lando agreed, stroking her head.

After a few minutes, we went inside to eat the donuts and celebrate that we had finally said goodbye to the pacifier.

Bonus scene!

Landonorris instagram stories

“Bye Bye Lyla’s binky”

[hoe4hotchner]

Hello, my 18th birthday is on the 13th and I was wondering if you had time for a request by then if not it’s fine and if you’ve already done the idea and I haven’t seen it I apologize. The request is hotch x actress reader where they meet her because she somehow involved in the case ether her director is a suspect or the unsub is obsessed with her or something and she a big actress but she keeps her private life hidden well I think I’m asking for a request in the right spot :) if you can do this thank you sm!

In the spotlight | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Actress!reader | WC: 1.2k | CW: Fluff, mention of stalker ish unsub, not really any case related stuff.

A/N: Welp…… a little late, but better than never. I've honestly been so busy the past couple of months. Also I'm procrastinating a lot and doing everything except for studying

The BAU wasn’t typically in the business of celebrity encounters, but when a string of murders pointed toward a high-profile Hollywood set, the team found themselves in unfamiliar territory.

“You’re sure she’s involved?” Morgan asked as they walked through the grand double doors of the studio lot.

“Not directly,” JJ replied, flipping through her tablet, scanning the reports that had made her pick up on the case. “But the unsub has a fixation on her. He’s left notes at each crime scene referencing her movies.”

Hotch had dealt with cases like this before – obsessive fans, delusions manifesting into violence – but something about this case had his instincts on edge.

Then he saw you.

You were a household name. Hollywood’s best-kept enigma – an A-list actress who had managed to keep your personal life out of the tabloids way longer than anyone had anticipated, and still managed to do.

That was no small feat.

You stood near the edge of the set, engaged in conversation with your director. When you noticed them, you excused yourself and approached, your expression unreadable.

“You must be the FBI,” you greeted smoothly, your voice carrying just enough warmth to be polite but not inviting. Your agent had only just notified you of how serious the situation had become a few days before the arrival of the team. “I appreciate you coming. This is terrifying.”

“Agent Hotchner,” he introduced himself, his usual stoic demeanor in place. “These are Agents Jareau, Morgan, and Reid.”

Your gaze flickered over each of them before settling back on Hotch. “I wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’ve been in the industry long enough to know obsession breeds danger.”

“We believe the unsub is escalating,” Reid interjected. “Each victim has been found with items linking to your past films, suggesting a deep personal attachment to your career.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Fantastic.”

“We’ll need to go over any recent threats you may have received,” Hotch said. “And we’ll be assigning protective detail.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, though not out of defiance – more out of frustration. “I keep my personal life locked down for a reason. If word gets out that the FBI is babysitting me, the media will have a field day.”

“I understand,” Hotch replied, his voice softer now. “But your safety comes first.”

Something in his tone made you pause. The unreadable steel in your gaze softened just a fraction.

“You’re different from the other agents I’ve met,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone else.

Hotch raised a brow, having heard you clearly. “How so?”

You offered a small, knowing smile. “You actually care. I'll have my agent send my relevant details to your team.”

Despite your initial reluctance, you allowed the team to dig through the threats you’d dismissed over the years. It was a pattern, Hotch realized. You had become so accustomed to being watched, desired, and obsessed over that you had learned to ignore the warning signs.

Not this time.

Late one evening, after hours of combing through evidence, you found yourself sitting beside Hotch in your trailer, an untouched cup of coffee in your hands.

“You don’t talk much,” you observed.

He glanced at you. “I talk when there’s something to say.”

A smile ghosted over your lips. “That must be refreshing for your team.”

“They’re used to it.”

You exhaled, eyes flickering toward the pile of letters on the table. “I should be more scared, shouldn’t I?”

“You’re handling this well.”

“I think I’m just tired of it,” you admitted. “The industry, the expectations… the fear. I worked so hard to keep my real life separate from my public one, but it doesn’t seem to matter.”

Hotch studied you for a moment before speaking. “You’ve done everything right. This isn’t your fault.”

You met his gaze, something unspoken passing between you. You had spent years being seen but never truly known. And yet, in just a few days, this man had managed to break through the carefully constructed walls you had built.

He stood then. “We’re going to find him.”

When the unsub was finally apprehended, the weight you had been carrying lifted, but something unexpected lingered, an attachment you hadn’t anticipated.

As the team prepared to leave, you found yourself standing beside Hotch, the energy of the set swarming around you.

“If you ever need anything…” he started, trailing off as if unsure how to finish the thought.

You tilted your head, a playful smirk creeping onto your lips. “Are you offering me your number, Agent Hotchner?”

A rare, almost imperceptible smile crossed his features. “Strictly for emergencies.”

“Of course.”

But you both knew this wasn’t the last time you’d see each other.

As he walked away, you found yourself staring just a little longer than necessary.

Even though the case had ended, Aaron Hotchner lingered in your thoughts long after the BAU had left Los Angeles. You weren’t sure what to make of it. In your world, people came and went, drawn to the fantasy of who they thought you were, but Hotch had never, although you'd know him for mere moments, treated you like a spectacle. He had looked at you, really looked at you, and seen more than just an actress.

You weren’t sure when you’d see him again – until you did.

It started with a call. Late at night, after a particularly strenuous day on set.

“Hotchner.” His voice was calm, although he sounded tired.

You sat up in bed, your heart picking up its pace. “Is this an emergency?”

A pause. “Not exactly. But you told me once that if I ever needed to talk, I should call.” A slow smile tugged at your lips. “And here I thought the FBI didn’t take personal calls.”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle. “We don’t. Not usually.”

That was the beginning.

Over the next few weeks, the calls became more frequent. Sometimes they were brief, check-ins disguised as polite conversation. Other times, they stretched into the late hours, with you learning more about the man behind the badge. His job, his son, the way he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. You shared pieces of yourself in return, opening up in a way you rarely did.

It wasn’t long before one of those calls ended with a whispered confession.

“I miss you,” you admitted, voice barely above a breath.

Silence hung between you, thick and charged.

Then, softly, “I miss you too.”

When Hotch finally saw you again, it was different. He wasn’t there for a case. He was there for you.

You met in private, away from prying eyes, and for the first time, there was no pretense, no agent and actress, no investigation or security detail. Just two people drawn together.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” you murmured as he stood in the doorway of your home, looking every bit as composed as always, though there was something softer in his expression now.

“I wasn’t sure either.”

You stepped closer, tilting your head. “But you’re here.”

He nodded. “I am.”

You didn’t overthink it. Instead, you closed the space between you, your fingers skimming the lapels of his coat before you leaned in, pressing your lips to his.

Hotch responded without hesitation, his hands finding your waist, pulling you against him in a way that left no room for uncertainty.

When you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“This isn’t simple,” he murmured.

You smiled. “I don’t need simple. I just need you.”

And for once, Aaron Hotchner allowed himself to believe that maybe, he could have something for himself, too.