#Mortgage Assurance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prettyboykatsuki · 2 months

Text

CIRCLE HAUNTS | TAKAMI KEIGO (HAWKS)

✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, gender neutral reader, no quirk au, horror + suspense, themes of cannibalism, implied / depicted cannibalism, noncon kissing + biting/drawing blood and flesh, intentionally open-ended, institutionalized cannibalism, white collar crime, yandere!hawks, 18+

✮ wc ; 9.9k (??)

✮ a/n ; another comm for the beloved @bitchkiss, thank you for your patience and also for letting me post.

✮ synopsis ; you move into a suspiciously nice house in the shizuoka prefecture, and meet your good-looking and unnerving neighbor. nothing is how it seems.

An abandoned house. Mostly functional in the outskirts of the Shizuoka prefectures in a lived-in district.

On auction for a little less than 7 million-yen. Located in a not quite suburb. Too much land between acres and backyards to qualify that way. All the other houses are within walking distance though, and there’s no shortage of places to go with a fair bit of time and energy.

By all measures, a perfectly good house in a perfectly good prefecture. Even now you’re not sure why it went on sale. You stare at it, outside cream colored with a gate and a cat bowl left on the porch from the previous owner - food gone to dust. Something looms on at the doorsteps, the sun-cast shadows almost as dark as oblivion night. In the front yard are wild strawberries and bushes of ivy.

It’s a home, no matter which way you look at it.

But you can’t bring yourself to walk inside.

You placed your bets on this house completely on a whim months ago.

You’d been looking for a house. No that’s not it - it was more that you’d started to look at houses. An important distinction in this instance, because you weren’t looking to move when you began. You wonder if it’s a rite of passage in your adulthood to peruse listings for places you can’t afford. Dreaming habitually of your landlord's body on a cross or of in unit washer/dryers. You weren’t unhappy with your living arrangements when you started doing it, but the longing for autonomy sunk its teeth into you and showed no plans of letting go. So browsing through houses idly, wine-drunk and exhausted, became something of a regular practice.

It was three months ago, during that practice (and after an especially scathing argument with your roommates) you’d gotten drunk and committed your usual routine. Cracked open a wine cooler, took off your clothes until you were down to your underwear, and cracked open your laptop to look at more property listings. That time, with a little more weary bitterness in your heart than all times before.

The search process for Japanese property could range anywhere from uneventful to laughably cruel at any given time. Whether it be listings for upend mansions in Tokyo or worn down one-bedrooms in Osaka. For every house that seemed livable, there were ten or fifteen completely out of reach or in complete shambles.

When you came up on thee listing initially, it felt too good to be true. A house in Shizuoka with lots of yard space. A house with decent upkeep and an even larger kitchen - and nice tatami in one of the siderooms. A beautiful house in a beautiful area, on auction instead of the normal sale. Some people had bid on it - but the pool was still low. Seven million yen was your final bet - the mortgage would only be a little more than your rent. You’d put your name down on a whim. With a laugh.

Laughed yourself unconscious and forgot about it until a month passed. A call from an unknown number to your personal cell.

A call from a realtor. Your name, miraculously, got chosen with the highest bid. The house was yours if you wanted it. You could move in as early as May.

You were convinced it was a scam at first - like any normal person with common sense would be. Immediately rejected. But the realtors assured you over the line that it wasn’t a scam, that the previous owners just didn’t want it anymore. Some kind of emergency. Of course - you didn’t believe them at face value either. So you did some research, went to tour the house, tried to gather information proving the whole thing was a hoax.

But there was nothing you could find even after plenty of internet sleuthing and asking everyone in your life to help you vet. When you mentioned to everyone, not a single person advocated for you staying in the city. Your job even offered to move you to the Shizuoka branch.

It was a good opportunity. There’s a coastal path not too far from where the house is. The previous family didn’t take the cat or any of his papers with him - but he’s friendly from what they say. There’s lots of space indoors and out.

It’s a cheap price, for a good house and you’d probably never get an opportunity like it again.

Something is wrong with it. You can tell that just looking at it now, despite how picture-esque it is on the surface. It’s a beautiful house. There’s even a second story and a balcony. You could plant a garden in the yard and still have space for grilling outside.

It’s a beautiful house.

And something is wrong with it - but you’ll never get an opportunity like this again.

Maybe you’re more of a conspiratorial person than you thought.

You look at the truck you’ve hauled all your things in. Your loved ones have been helping you in moving in the rest of your belongings over the last few months - so what's left is mostly lightweight knick-knacks and essentials. Clothes too. The car is parked along the side of the road with the back popped open for easy access. You shake yourself off your thoughts like you’re trying to banish them.

It’s a beautiful day outside. Early June heat that’s enough to warm but not enough to burn or swelter. The sun beats down on your skin, the sounds of gnats buzzing and the breeze rustling the overgrown fields makes your heart swell. You take a breath and remind yourself it’s a good opportunity. Stretching your arms over your head, your spine cracks. Putting your hands on your hips, you nod enthusiastically, encouraging yourself to try harder.

“Let’s just rip the bandaid off,” You mutter. You pull your keys from your front pocket, planning on opening the door first before hauling the rest in.

The sound of an engine makes you turn your head towards the road. A silver car, something compact - drives along the edge of the pavement. Your expression changes as the car starts to slow in front of the house. Your house. You’re never going to be used to that. Are the realtors coming for a visit? Your move-in date was set months ago, so they should know you’re here.

The car halts to a stop a few feet from your own truck, the tinted windows rolling down to reveal a good looking blonde man. He can’t be much older than you. He lets his arm hang out from one side of the window.

His hair is pushed back and shiny, and he’s wearing a button up shirt and brown pants. There’s sunglasses resting on top of his head. He kind of looks like a douche, but you try not to let first impressions sour your views. You give him a confused look, instinctively backing away as he smiles at you.

“You must be the new neighbor. Heard someone was moving into this place after the Nakamura’s left, but there’s always rumors like that floating around here,” He says, talking so much at once. You kind of have a hard time getting used to him.”But I’m glad to see that it’s true. Gets a little lonely out here if all the houses don’t have people in it. In my opinion, at least.”

You give him a blank stare. He holds out his arm to you through the car window. You have no reason not to take it, and it seems rude for you to decline - so you shake his hand. His grip is firm and assured, golden eyes narrowing into something pleased. You feel a shiver run through you.

There’s something about him.

“Uh, do I know you?” You say instinctually. This catches him off guard. He pauses before breaking out into a laugh.

“I’m Takami Keigo! You’ll hear people call me Hawks too though. I’m your neighbor. My house is..” He points north, “..the one ‘bout two minutes that way. I’m very involved with the community here. It’s pretty tight knit.” He explains to you. It doesn’t reassure you for some reason. You think it’s supposed to. “Is there anything I can help you with? Looks like you’re still moving in.”

You make an expression of distrust towards him but his smile remains unfaltering.

“I’m alright,” You supplement, trying to keep the peace. “I wouldn’t wanna keep you but I appreciate you coming to meet me.”

He looks like he’s considering the words, enough to turn himself around and leave. After a few seconds though, he pulls away and parks his car on the side of the road in front of your house. When he emerges from the front door - his expression doesn’t change at all. His smile is disarming. He’s not a terrible guy to look at - but you wonder what he’s doing so far from the city.

The way he dresses is metropolitan. His shirt is loose but his pants are fitted like their tailored - expensive fabrics that the big suits from your job wear. He’s wearing slacks when he’s not working, and loafer shoes that don’t seem suited for the outdoors. You’re not far enough in the country to be expecting country folk, but the area is relegated to families. Something suburban and simple about the people you’ve met so far, yourself included in some ways. No one like him.

You go with your gut about him and keep a distance.

It might be too early to completely shut him out - and you do want to get along with the people here if you’re going to take permanent residence. Not friendly, but comfortable. You figure it might be less precarious to go with whatever he’s interested in. He’s not going to harm you in broad daylight, not when he’s dressed like that. And you’ve already had so much apprehension since you’ve moved - you’re almost hoping there’s something you’ve overlooked about him. Something to assure you’re just engaging in some self-sabotage about everything.

You soften your posture and put on a business smile. There’s a ghost of something - intrigue maybe, but it’s gone before you catch wind of it. You wonder if you imagined it.

“Well if you insist, but I don’t want to leave you with nothing,” You offer to him, as charismatic and naive as you can spin yourself. Neither of you seem to believe it, and the whole conversation feels like a sham. But he hasn’t turned to leave in offense, so you keep going “I do have some drinks inside and I’m curious about the neighborhood.”

His grin widens.

“June heat like this is the perfect weather for a cold beer. Would be great with some meat,” He hums noncommittally. You try your best not to let your face crack into distrust. “What do you need? Just some boxes carried inside?”

You nod.

“Yeah. It’d be nice to only make a few trips here and there.”

“Easy peasy. You didn’t give me your name though. Little impersonal, don’t you think?”

You’d prefer he didn’t know it - but perhaps that’s asking too much since you’re letting him move things into your house. You give it to him neutrally, picking up a tote that you can carry along with your keys. Takami picks up your things swiftly. The boxes he chooses are heavy - you know that because of the way they’re labeled. The gesture is effortless though, and you’re not sure if it’s good or bad that you’ve noticed.

“Pretty name.” He tells you, and you do your best to not make a face. When he notices your staring, he tilts his head to one side. His teeth gleam an unnerving white. You can’t get over the yellow-gold of his eyes. “Surprising, right? But I’m stronger than I look.”

He waits for you to walk in front of him. Maybe it’s the paranoia, but it strikes you somehow. How he’s trying to appear. He’s perceptive. You walk in front of him, starting down the concrete path to the front of the house.

“Any reason or are you just a gym buff?”

He thinks about how he’s going to reply, but doesn’t meet your eyes to look at you when he does.

“Got into a lot of fights as a kid so I had to get strong. Something like that.”

When your eyes meet the second time, you can tell he’s seeing what you’ll probe out of him. Wanting to know what questions you’ll ask.

“Rough childhood, then?”

Bullseye, if his reaction is anything to go by. He hums and chuckles, still carrying the boxes. You fidget with your keys, the door sounding with a faint click as you push it open with the weight.

The lights are all turned off. It’s not your first time seeing the house - but the first time seeing it furnished in full. For weeks you’d been putting your furniture in it, and putting food in the fridge to make moving in smooth. All the other times you’ve been inside, you’ve never felt one way or another about it. Living there wasn’t actualized for all those months - but looking at your things, new and old, makes it all feel real.

It’s a moment too intimate for a stranger to bear witness to and you think he’s probably well-aware. He doesn’t say a word, just observes you from the corner of his eye. When you come out of whatever trance you were just under, he whistles.

“Nice decor,” He compliments - a fair attempt at lightening the mood. “Where should I put these?”

“Those can just go behind the couch for now, thanks.”

He listens to you wordlessly, dropping the boxes off. You watch the light of the sun reflect onto him. He’s yellow gold. You think your mother might find him good looking. He stands back up and meets your eyes. Piercing, underneath everything. He has marks on the corners of his eyes that give you the impression of a bird. A hawk scoping for something to peck at.

“Two down, about how many more to go do you think?”

“I think 6, give or take. And then some luggage with my clothes.”

“Let’s get to work then, shall we?”

You give him a tight lipped smile.

“Of course,”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to bring all of your belongings into the house. It’s a short few trips and there isn’t really much small talk for the two of you to engage in during it.

Once it’s over you, you thank Takami for his hard work and reward him with a beer as promised. You’re sure he knows that it’s only formality - but he’s completely comfortable in overstaying his welcome.

The two of you sit on the steps leading up to the front of your house - a cold beer in hand. The sun is starting to hide behind the clouds, and that deep shadow seems to cast once again. Over the both of you this time, and not just on your front steps. You let your nail push the tab of the can open, a soft carbonated hiss sounding as you depressurize it. Takami follows suit. He holds the can up to yours and looks at you before you can drink.

“Cheers to our hard work,”

You try not to balk at him, indulging his odd behavior per your own sanity. He’s aware of your apprehension, but his persistence is almost impressive. Another tight lipped smile. “Cheers, Takami-san.”

You take your first sips in complete silence and don’t look his way for any reason. You need the brief respite of peace to deal with the terrible weight of the pit in your stomach, still lingering. You wonder if his presence is worsening it, or if this is another thing your imagination decides to supplement. The cool liquid and faint sourness of Sapporo ease your mind, if barely. You observe the can in your hand momentarily, pretending to read the label.

He takes a similarly long sip of his drink and then lets out a semi-obnoxious aah. You peer over at him.

“Thanks again for helping with the move.” You say, mostly trying to fill the space with conversation so you don’t have to talk to him more than necessary. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” He says, waving his hand around in front of him. “Like I said, it’s a pretty tight knit community around here. I’ll introduce you to everyone whenever you’re free. They’re good folk.”

There’s something in his voice when he adds the last words. You wonder if you’re overthinking it again.

“Is that so?”

He looks at you, but you don’t meet his gaze. “Mm. A lot of people move out here to get a break from the hustle and bustle of the city. Hard-working folks. Families. It’s good to know them,”

You wonder if you’re being too honest about yourself - but decide that there isn’t anything he could do with the information you’re about to tell him.

“Interesting. I always grew up in the heart of the industrial district, so that’s lost on me. I even lived in Shinjuku for a while.” You offer mindlessly. “A good change of pace I guess.”

“Oh, we’re the same then,” He offers. You want to ask him to elaborate on what that means, but he brushes over it just as quickly “You’ll like it here then. Just knock on my door if you need something.”

He looks at you again that time, some knowing in his gaze. You try not to react in either direction, just nodding your head silently as you drink more of your beer.

“Yeah,” You offer, not looking towards him, “I’ll do that.”

For all the evading you down when you speak to Keigo, it was no lie that you spent most of your life living in the heart of the city.

The hustle and bustle of Musutafu, in the industrial districts of various prefectures - all of that was what you were accustomed too. When you were in your late teens and moved out for the first time - you lived in Shinjuku for two years and worked in the nightlife trying to pay for your tuition.

You would’ve never predicted a suburb for your future. It’s not the environment you know well. You can’t help but wonder if it’s always so… quiet.

In the time you’ve started living in your new home, not much has changed in your daily life.

Your initial paranoia has faded out enough to go about your responsibilities in peace. The previous family’s cat occasionally returns back to the porch, and you’ve started to buy it food just in case it decides it wants to stay permanently. A brown tortoiseshell who is always a little worried. You eat breakfast at the same time, but sleep in later since the Shizuoka branch you’ve moved to is a shorter commute. You still take your daily walks, and sometimes you’ll take some time to visit the coastal path and lay your eyes on the open water.

(The ocean doesn’t feel as comforting as it once did. Maybe it’s symptomatic of your own grievances, but looking at the endless expanse - your throat closes with the fear of it swallowing you along with it.

If it did, who would come find you? So far from everything you know?)

You’re entering into mid June, brushing along the edges of July. The heat is starting to be too much. You can’t stay outdoors for too long without feeling like your whole body is going to melt into the concrete and evaporate you from the inside. The nights get chilly, but the days are long. Humidity makes your skin sticky with sweat, and you’re running up your water bill with just how often you bathe.

Everything here is by all means much more uneventful. Some parts of it unsettle you. The nights are eerily quiet and before dawn breaks, there’s always a thick head of something perspiring in the horizon like fog.

Most days, the only people you talk to in person are your co-workers. Your friends live back in your hometown, so you only see them on weekends. Same with your family. It’s just you, and some after work dinners.

But mostly you.

And Hawks. You call him Hawks, in your head and Takami when he speaks. But Hawks feels more apt.

Hawks, seemingly, does not care what face you show him. Nothing stops him from showing up at your door at one time or another - always before you’re going on your walks.

(You want to ask how he even knows your schedule, but you doubt he’d give you any straight answers.)

And he doesn’t leave. You don’t think he would, no matter how rough you were about telling to fuck off. How demanding. You don’t want to confront him out of self preservation. It’s not easy to tell him to fuck off for some reason you have trouble placing. When you normally would, when it’d normally be so easy. You do it at your job all the time, to men much more important than him.

When he comes by, he hangs at your gate and never crosses the threshold to enter. He won’t move unless he’s invited in. You give up on being nice. If you offer him a glass of water, he’ll always agree just to see your expression change. He’s polite to make you uncomfortable. Says please and thank you, and makes conversation with you like he’s interested. An amalgam of reasons that you don’t like his company. Inescapable kindness that lends itself to plausible deniability.

What do you do for work? Oh, what’d you study for? Where are you from? Where are your parents from?

You never want to answer his questions. But he stays, lingers longer if you don’t. He archives the information, you’re sure - but you don’t know what for.

He knows what he needs to know. You live by yourself and your family is farther away. But he always wants to know more, always lingers at the gates - waiting to be let in despite how tight you’ve got your fingers on the lock.

You try not to involve yourself with him more than necessary. You avoid him if you’re walking around the neighborhood for any reason, and you never ask him about himself. He never tells you about himself either - but you can’t be sure why that is. If it’s for your sake or for his.

You try not to get used to him, but it doesn’t surprise you to see him just outside of your door. Sun pours over him in white rays like melted iron, but he’s the same as always. Same smile, same golden eyes, same unnerving expression.

He waves at you politely as you let your bodycon bag hang off of one side - a single headphone in as you look at him. You don’t bother smiling.

If it bothers him, it doesn’t show on his face.

“Hi neighbor,”

“Hey,” You reply, walking closer to the gate. It’s almost routine, but you try your best not to get used to it. No point in getting comfortable. “You’re here again,”

He laughs good-naturedly. “I am. Good to check in, no? Don’t want you getting lonely out here by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,”

He laughs again, but he sounds more sincere.

“Going on another walk? You should be careful in this heat, you know. Take care of your body and everything.”

“I’ll be fine,” You offer, standing in limbo and waiting for him to leave. “Thanks for your concern.”

“So cold to me,” He quips. So he does know. “Hope it’s a nice little workout for you.”

You sigh as you make more small talk, mostly tuned out of whatever he’s saying.

“Got any plans for today, Takami-san?”

He pauses before smiling to himself. He lets his arms cross over the metal of your gate, but doesn’t flinch when the heated edge touches his bare skin. You wonder about it, go to ask - but he’s talking again before you can.

“I do, actually. Gonna go into the shop today and get a new fridge,” He tells you, his grin bright and unusual. You’re surprised. He never tells you anything about what he’s doing, no matter how casual. Nothing more than whether he’s working or not. “I’m out of room in my old fridge, so I’m upsizing.”

“Out of room?”

You ask before you can calculate the correct move. It’s a slip up, you both know it. His smile widens just barely, nodding his head and closing his eyes.

“Mm. Ran out of space. A lot of mouths to feed.” He says, and opens one eye playful. “A lot of people live with me. Too big of a house to leave everything all empty.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“Oh my roommates?” Hawks says, and you nod. His smile gets bigger. “They’re kind of a rag-tag bunch. Not sociable like me. I can always bring them to meet you - if you’d like.”

“No need to trouble them.”

“But you should get to know the people who live here a little better,” He insists, finally backing away from your gate. “It’s good to be familiar with your neighbors. I’ll try and direct people to you. Word’ll get out faster that way,”

You go again to protest, but he cuts you off a second time - seeming faux apologetic about your upset.

“You should come over for dinner next week, too. Meet my roommates. At 7 ish, we should all be together. They’d love to meet you,”

You meet his eyes and wonder if his invitation is as deliberate as you assume. When you peer into them, you confirm that it is. He’s not forcing you. You’re sure that if you rejected him now, he’d return to the way he was. He might fake being hurt, but he’d still visit you at your door. He’d still linger, still be there. He’s inviting you in on purpose. Dinner with his roommates is a less than casual affair - and nonsense for your relationship.

It’s a bad idea, and maybe a trap. You’re almost positive of that.

But if you did go - it’d confirm things. You’re positive of that too. You’d know for sure if you were being paranoid, if you went into that house that looks just two minutes away and saw the inside of it. You feel your heart pump through your body as the sun moves away from the clouds. There’s no longer a shadow cast on your face. Just pure, blinding heat.

You shield your eyes with your hand, all too conscious of the heat crawling up your back and the tightness forming in your stomach.

“Sure,” You reply, noncommittally - trying not to show too much of any one feeling. No advantages. But you feel like you’ve already lost. “I’ll see if I can make it,”

“See you then, neighbor,” He waves, finally turning to leave. “Looking forward to it.”

He’s true to his word on multiple fronts. Which. Doesn’t comfort you.

An official dinner invitation, and more importantly - sending out the other neighbors to come and meet you. He’s made a point of making good on both vaguely threatening promises.

Like your old living arrangements, you don’t go out of your way to talk to anyone here. You’re busier in the Shizuoka branch (though you like it there) and you find that there’s more daily upkeep with the new and improved space. Plus it’s mostly family folks and retired couples - no one you have any business speaking with for more than five minutes. So you’re not really going out of your way to socialize.

You never planned on being buddy-buddy with any of the people who live in the area, anyway. Acquainted and friendly at best.

But in these last few weeks, folks from all up and down the streets have arrived at your doorstep bearing all sorts of gifts. Fruits and desserts and other housewarming things they think you'd find helpful. They come so often even you have a hard time refusing them, though you’ve wormed your way out of any of them coming inside of your home or crossing far-past the threshold of the gate.

On the surface, they’re good folks like he described them to be. There’s no distrust to the conversation, nothing they want to wield against you.

But something's off. And isn’t that always the case here? You’re starting to feel like you’re repeating yourself. Stuck in a loop, some kind of odd deja vu.

It’s two things you notice. They’re both minor, but they bother you.

The first is the way they describe Hawks.

Nothing but good things. Which makes you sound like a bitch, even to yourself. But it’s weird. The kind of kindness that doesn’t feel real. Empty praises like a helium balloon. Last week one of your neighbors described him as benevolent and his wife agreed whole-heartedly. Each time you wonder if you’re thinking too much about it. Benevolent isn’t a word you’d use to describe anyone you like, no matter how well acquainted.

You know people as charismatic as him so you know that it’s something people do. He’s a good guy, but you don’t know him so you say empty, kind things. Still, it bothers you. And it’s like they say. A friend to everyone is a friend to no one.

It’s uncomfortable that no one shows any sign of disagreement about how kind he is. That there’s no hesitant glances or country gossip. That not one old lady has pulled you in for gossip and wine. There’s no character. No humanity.

It’s backwards but there’s too much harmony. In the people, in the weather, in the road - paved perfectly with no cracks. Everyday of June since moving in has been nothing but blue, cloudless skies. A bright vivid sun concentrated into one shape, heat casting the illusion of waves. No June rain to water the gardens or wash off the dusty roads. No lightning storms that send all the animals howling, no winds strong enough to dust a city into the sea.

It’s not nothingness. There’s something to that at least. If it felt abandoned, it might feel less unsettling. An abandoned place is a familiar one, a memory from your hometown. An abandoned place usually means that someone lived there before you. At least ghosts are the promises of people, even deceased.

Is there something more nonexistent than a ghost, while still being material? You don’t know what that would be.

Hollow but not empty - the skeleton of a suburb. Like something has been carved out of it and replaced. Unnatural, man-made. It never fails to make all the hair on your neck stand.

Then there is the other thing.

Well it’s a stretch. Even you can acknowledge that it might just be coincidence. But nothing here feels like sole coincidence except for the fact you’ve been unfortunate enough to end up here.

A lot of people in town have… injuries. Particular ones. The elderly couple up the street has a lost leg and missing pinky between the two of them. Of the few other people living alone here - all three of them have some type of it - a part of them completely gone. A lost eye or arm, or visible scars along their sides like something’s been … cut out of them.

You know how it sounds. Even to yourself, you’ll reprimand your imagination. It’s not something you can discern meaning from, not something to draw conclusions from. This is Japan, a Japanese suburb with little kids playing in fucking mud and wild strawberries and bushes of ivy.

Maybe the people who retire here are veterans, or maybe Hawks has some kind of charity.

Maybe it’s something not sinister, because what else could it really be?

You keep trying to convince yourself that this time it really is your paranoia. Because even if you examine that, try to unravel - what does it leave you with but more questions?

You want answers. Need them so you stop tossing and turning. But even if you’re to get answers, you aren’t sure if you could trust them. You trust your gut - yourself and only yourself.

You know something is wrong, but just how wrong do things get before the point of no return?

But you can’t help living here if something is wrong. As wrong as you think. If it doesn't go away, what then? What happens to you? Neighbors keep meeting you and people keep being injured and tight-lipped and hollow eyed. Something is always waiting for you in the dark.

You want to get ahead of it, no matter how fucking sick it makes you. You have to know or it'll swallow you up.

You just want to put the whole thing to rest, and get answers. You’d take fake ones to placate you if they were believable, you’d take anything to get your fucking mind off of it.

But the longer you stay, the longer you live at the edge of the road, the longer Hawks waves to you as he passes by your place - makes you feel like you can’t rest until you know.

You need to know for sure.

It rains.

The day he invites you over for dinner, just two minutes down the street - it rains. Harsh, July rain that sounds like it’s running against the ground. Thudding as it floods the streets and turns the Earth to mush. You couldn’t have expected it. It’d been sunny in the morning, but it’d all gone gray outside while in the office. And then it got darker and heavier, like nightfall early.

You were soaked on public transport on the way home, tracking mud into your front door as you walked along the grass back to your own home. You had enough time, at least - between getting home and going over to shower and sit down.

In the two hours of your arrival from the office and your invitation - you pretend for a while that none of it is happening. You read on your couch and pet the cat you didn’t adopt. You listen to music and pleasantly paint your nails up until you have to get ready, because you don’t really want to get ready.

You’re being dramatic. Or you’re not. But you don’t want to go. You don’t want to know what happens when you get there. You think about canceling. Taking a raincheck because of the weather. Feigning an illness for your not-cat.

Something is wrong with this place, and it’s bothering you. But you don’t know if you’re prepared to find out what.

You decide to go, because the other option is remaining in the dark. You could tell him that you want to reschedule, but just like you trust your gut on most things - you get a feeling this is the only window you’ll get to find out anything important. Like if you do it another day, you’ll get the same hollow facade as always.

So you dress yourself slowly. You take an umbrella, and lock your door shut. You even say goodbye to that cat that isn’t yours. You’ll make it back in one piece but something will change once you go. Both of these you believe with full conviction.

But you go. You go.

When you get outside, you open your umbrella up and put it over your head - walking out past your front gate and onto the sidewalk.

It’s not a lie that Hawks is the neighbor closest to you. He lives within walking distance, less than ten minutes from you. The neighborhood is more compact closer to his place, your own house being more isolated - the first house when cars turn the corner.

You don't know what the house looks properly, only what it's like vaguely in shape and color. On the walk there, it’s the only thing your eyes can focus on. You stare at it aimlessly as it comes into your vision line.

It’s obscenely big. You don’t know how many people are living inside for that to be the case, but it sticks out. Even in your time in the city, you’ve never seen a house that size just out in the open, so protruding. It feels invasive.

You feel something forming in your gut as you start to approach the gate. It doesn’t look so different to yours.

Clearing your throat, you approach.

In the clear distance is Hawks, in front of the open door like he’s waiting for you. It’s still light outside, but the weather makes everything dark. The warm light pouring out of the open door casting shadow onto the concrete above it. Hawks runs to meet you at the gate to open it, not bothering to grab something to cover himself with. The rain soaks his head, makes his hair fall a little flat.

There’s a girl waiting by the door with him, younger than you both - who’s looking at you with a wide smile. Her teeth are sharp like fangs. You can see them from afar, and better as you get closer.

Hawks is quick as he unlocks the latch for you. He pulls the gate back and ushers you with his hands on your waist. Instinctually - you hold out the umbrella to cover his head. He gives you a smile as he leads you through to the front of the house. The rain feels like it gets heavier as he does.

When you’re underneath cover, you’re rushed into the foyer of their place before you can think twice.

The door shuts behind you, the noise of the rain muffled. You miss it and you want to go outside again. You look at the door as it shuts, and the girl with him closes it and looks at you.

She’s cute. She has to be a student, but she looks nothing like Hawks. He walks over to her and pats her head.

“This is Toga. She’s the youngest of us. She won’t be joining us for dinner ‘cause she’s going to see her girlfriend, but she wanted to see the new neighbor.”

You give her a passive glance. She smiles at you.

“Nice to meet you, neighbor,” She drawls the end of the word, then looks you up and down. “Hawks keeps talking about you all the time,”

“Aw, c’mon now Himiko-chan, don’t embarrass me in front of our guest,” Is what he says, but he doesn’t look embarrassed at all. “Take your raincoat and umbrella. Say hi Uraraka-san for me,”

“Uh-huh, I will. Bye-bye,”

You watch her get dressed for the rain and turn to leave. The brief sound of the rain returns and you’re all but too aware of how much you want to turn back from whence you came.

Hawks takes your jacket for you. His voice guides you to putting your shoes in the rack, telling you where the house slippers are for guests.

You’re not particularly trying to listen, but you’re out of your own body. The muffled rain thunders, cries out - makes you jump in your own skin. Lightning flashes through the whole house.

He looks at you bemused. “Just a little rain,”

“Right,” You reply, itching to get control of yourself “Been such a clear summer, so it spooked me,”

“Are you off put easily?” Hawks asks. You close up your umbrella and hang it against a wall “You seem like it,”

You shake the water off your face and neck and shake your head. “Not particularly. Just not used to living here yet.”

He nods sagely. “You’ll get used to it. But enough out of me, I’m here to introduce you to my roommates. You’ll have to forgive their curiosity, especially Touya.”

Curiously, Hawks doesn’t proceed with his usual testimony and fair. He doesn’t tell you that they’re good people, like he normally does. Just smiles, coyly, and gestures you to the corner of the hall.

From the kitchen on the other end of the foyer, you can hear sizzling and cutting - something being hacked away with a butcher's knife. Hawks waves your thoughts away as you turn your head towards it. “That’s Kurogiri. He learned we were having guests so he took up cooking. He’s the best at it, and I’m pretty decent. Himiko too.”

“Oh, that’s kind. What are we having for dinner?”

He stops to look at you. He holds his stare too long.“Meat. With some sides and rice, of course. I think it’s steak but Kurogiri doesn’t like western sides. You eat meat, right? You mentioned wanting to barbecue,”

You hesitate. Something slips in his face, but it’s gone before you can catch it. You nod. “I uh do meat. I try not to lately, to save money.”

He laughs. “Well, we have plenty to go around. Please eat as much as you like,”

You frown at him.

“...Thanks for the offer,”

He doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t make a punchy quip, or have a fresh joke like normal. Just nods aimlessly before giving you another familiar business smile.

“Lets not keep ‘em waiting,” Hawks offers, as he walks you into the basement. The darkness at the end of the stairwell puts a familiar gnawing in your stomach. “I’m sure they’ll want to meet you sooner, rather than later.”

They’re not what you expect.

His roommates. You’re expecting people like him. Metropolitan, overly friendly types. You’re expecting people he gets along with well, and some of them do.

But they’re nothing like Hawks at all, not even close.

Most of his roommates remind you of the kids living on the street during your life in the industrial districts. Rag-tag bunches who got in trouble with the law frequently, always in and out of the penal system.

Of his roommates, Shigaraki is the most antisocial. He doesn’t say anything when Hawks drags you to his room. Hawks doesn’t seem to be expecting anything either, but he does ask if the former will join you for dinner. Shigaraki looks you up and down, then laughs for the first time, and says not tonight. Hawks shrugs and moves on.

There’s Twice too, and he’s kind. Of them, you think he’s the nicest. He’s the closest with Toga. A bad past, he’s fond of Hawks (though you can’t be sure Hawk’s is fond of him.) Apparently he has some kind of condition and disorder, he tells you candidly - but he’s not unpleasant all the same. At the very least, he doesn’t offset some baser instinct to run far in the other direction.

You meet Magne, an older girl and another man who doesn’t tell you his full name. Hawks calls him Compress, but he introduces himself to you as Sako. He tells you he won’t join you all for dinner - holds your hand, places a kiss on the back of your palm as an apology. The gesture weirds you out, but you try to keep the peace.

Hawks tells you he’s a performer and you believe him.

The last person you meet is Touya.

Touya is interesting. He has thick scars along his face and neck, burn marks - but he’s got a handsome face. Hawks seems most hesitant to introduce you two, but they room together. You want to ask if that’s necessary, given that there’s so much space in the house but refrain.

When Touya greets you, his grip is casual and firm. He mostly seems disinterested, except when you’re in closer proximity to him.

Enough for him to flash you something pitiful. Something knowing, something… like he’s condescending you and pitying you all at once.

He’s the one, of all of them, that leers at you the most openly. He assesses you, polite in his introduction before turning to Hawks. They communicate something to each other wordlessly and you don’t like any of it. After whatever that had been, Touya simply turned to examine you, shrugging as he agrees to dinner and slinking back down into his room.

After a while, you go back downstairs. Hawks doesn’t tell you anything about his living space. Just sits you in a living room and chats with you until dinner is ready. Chats hollowly about the same pointless dialogue fodder he always does. He stares at you with each word, and you try your best to ignore the shivering it incites.

He’s relaxed with the charade here, but he keeps it up exceptionally well irregardless.

Nothing is strange in a way that makes all of it strange. The rain pounds against every window like it’s begging to be inside and the doors sometimes shake when thunder claps. But nothing is wrong in a way you can prove. His roommates are nothing like you thought they’d be, and only serve to prove that you know even less about him than you might’ve assumed.

He’s quick, on all fronts, to brush over any questions.

Whatever you want to know about, Hawks won’t let you. But it’s not out of secrecy. If he could tell you to be patient without spoiling your little game, you’re sure he would.

The pit of your stomach only grows heavier as the evening continues. Even though he hasn’t done anything to warrant your increasing distrust. Nothing feels as it seems.

It’s nearly eight o’clock when Kurogiri calls you all to have dinner.

Hawks send you into the dining room alone.

The walk into the dining room feels like it goes on forever. The hallway remains dark. At the end of the tunnel is a kitchen. A brightly lit dining room with warm lights and a table that seats many people. On the table, there's a bottle of sake and glasses. A pitcher of water with lemons cut into it, and plenty of sides.

On display though is meat. A lot of meat. Meat you can’t identify any one way, and that doesn’t smell like any other meat you’ve ever had. Hawks mentioned steak, and you can’t be sure it’s not that. It just doesn’t look like it from this distance.

The tables are all set-out, and there’s a steak on each plate.

Kurogiri is polite when he greets you.

“Oh,” He says, thinking to himself. “You must be the guest. Sit here. Keigo insisted I sit you next to him,”

You’re startled, but nod your head. “Nice to meet you, Kurogiri-san,”

He shakes his head. “The pleasure is all mine,”

You sit at the far end of the table, and let Kurogiri pour you a glass of water. The rest of the housemates start coming into the kitchen. Magne, and Twice, and Touya mostly - along with Hawks at the tail end. He comes around the redwood table to join you. He sits at the very head while everyone sits in what seems to be their own assigned seats. Touya sits directly to your right. Kurogiri sits at the opposite end of the table, glancing at Hawks.

“Master Shigaraki won’t be joining us?”

Hawks shakes his head. “Said he wasn’t. You can always bring him something to eat.I can take care of your guest.”

Kurogiri pauses, then looks at you. He shakes his head. “Just be careful, Hawks.”

“Have some faith in my hosting skills, Kurogiri,”

You watch on in silence as Kurogiri fixes things in a tupperware. Master Shigaraki?

“Sorry about the delay!” Hawks offers, all of a sudden. You look at the plate in front of you, and all the bowls alongside it before looking back towards Hawks. “Thanks for joining us for dinner. Please eat as much as you like and consider this our formal welcome to the neighborhood,”

Touya laughs hard beside you. “Laying it on thick aren’t you, Keigo?”

He replies in his unflinchingly calm voice. Touya must really get under his skin though, because you can hear his demeanor crack just barely. “Just being welcoming. Wouldn’t kill you to take a page out of my book, I don’t think,”

“Enough bickering,” He supplements, throwing his hands up. “Let’s eat,”

There’s a resounding itadakimasu around the table before the sound of cutlery begins to scrape against the ceramic plates alike.

For the first time all night, you check into your body and stare down at the plate in front of you. It feels like all your blood is rushing to your ears. Your heart pounds, blood thrumming through your nerves as you examine the plate. There’s a cut of meat on it, tender with herbs - and a side of rice and pickled vegetables. The ceramic plate it’s on is red, a deep sort of maroon. Painted birds decorate the sides along with thin leaves and branches. The other cutlery is nice. Heavy stuff, nothing cheap. Even the chopsticks have good weight.

You feel out of body as your hand reaches for them, swallowing thickly and not looking up at anyone for any reason. From the corner of your eye, you see Touya who seems to be watching your every move. Hawks doesn’t pay you any mind. You wonder why he’s doing so deliberately.

You use a spoon to help pick up rice. You eat the vegetables plain. It hurts to chew and swallow even though none of it’s dry. The lemon water you drink from the cold glass cup doesn’t soothe your throat.

The blonde glances at you. He reaches towards the sake bottle and cups circling the centerpiece of the decor and hands you a glass. “This’ll warm you you,”

You look at him, and briefly at his plate. He hasn’t touched the meat yet. You take the glass from him and sip in long drinks until you reach the bottom.

But the feeling doesn’t leave you. You wonder if you’re imagining it.

It’s meat. Beef, from what they tell you. You look up to see Twice across the table, tearing into the flesh with his teeth - and something inside your gut churns hard. Your focus is unbreaking as you see it. Teeth sinking into flesh. The outside a golden brown but the inside raw and red, fatty and bleeding. Twice’s plate pools with what looks like blood. Steaks bleed, you know that.

And everyone is eating comfortably, like nothing is wrong. Except Hawks. He has yet to cut into anything. He mimics you. He’s waiting for you to eat first.

“You should eat first,” He goes as far as telling you. His smile gleams. Pearlescent white teeth, golden yellow eyes, blackness in his pupils like oblivion. “Feels a little rude as the host.”

Fuck. Something is wrong. It’s screaming at you. The sound of scraping and chewing and swallowing becomes a cacophony as it grates on your mind. You try your best to be unaffected and drink more sake. You keep your voice calm.

You won’t panic. You can’t panic. You steel yourself.

“No no, please - go ahead. I’m a little tired so I don’t feel like chewing, is all. It’s fine, I promise.” You offer, then stare at him. “Eat.”

He looks at you surprised, and Touya laughs besides you.

He shrugs though, and eats. Unconcerned with you, with refined manners and well practiced etiquette. Hawks is polite when he eats.

He cuts through the thick hunk of meat with a sharpened knife in precise, even squares. He’s an expert at it. You watch as the outside cuts open. Underneath the brown is tender red. Bleeding red. It’s practically raw on the inside, blood spilling out from the open slices. It has that soft texture of raw meat. Hawks uses his chopsticks to grab the piece, and it yields underneath the pressure - squished between the ends.

You watch as he chews it. You watch carefully.

There’s delight in the act of eating. He savors when he chews, slow and deliberate and when he swallows - he seems especially pleased. His expression changes after the first few bites, repeating it over and over. You feel bile rise in your throat.

“It’s good you know,” Hawks hums, looking at you so deeply you feel suffocated. Flying close to the ground to pin you right when you’re least expecting, how typical. It’s so like him it makes you sick. ��You should give it a try,”

You clear your throat.

“I will. I uh, I do need to use the restroom though.” You say quickly, trying not to heave. “Where would that be?”

Touya snorts. “Down the hall on your left.”

Before he can get a word in edgewise - you bolt. You nearly knock the dining chair over with how swift you carry yourself on your legs. You run, speeding off towards the bathroom. Grabbing the handle you nearly slam the door as you hurry yourself inside.

Your chest feels tight as a sense of nausea overwhelms you, mixed with some morbid sense of relief. You were right. You were right about everything.

They’re taking body parts - this much you’re sure of. You can think of what they do with them. Selling them is a lucrative business. But eating them? It’s a level of depravity so far beyond your scope - you can’t help but feel nauseated.

Your hands grip the linoleum sink as the fluorescent lights of the bathroom flicker overhead. Your complexion has gone pale with disgust. Your stomach feels especially tight, soured. It’s almost painful how sick you are. Sweat drips along your back and into your shirt - all down the crown of your head. White knuckling the edge of the sink, you stare into the linoleum and take deep breaths trying not to fucking puke.

You’re in too deep. You were weeks ago. Maybe the minute you clocked that something was wrong about him, like you’ve seen past a carefully set-up illusion.

By rights of the illusionist, it’s only inevitable that he comes after you. You either die with his secret or become part of his magic act.

You don’t know which things he wants more.

By the time you steady your breathing at all, you hear the bathroom door click open behind you.

You nearly scream.

Hawks closes the door behind him. The enclosed space of the bathroom makes your chest ache, as you back into the sink. He looks calm. You ready yourself to run.

His eyes no longer shine. They’re almost dull, copper in color as he stares at you with a lazed smile. It’s like the mask has all but shattered. Leaving you two in this cramped, airless, stale room. Your stomach clenches, muscles tight with adrenaline. You think of all the ways out, but Hawks leans his weight on the door to keep you from running.

“Relax,” He offers, no longer pretending. “I won’t hurt you. And you’d rather not get the attention of my housemates, I’m guessing,”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You fucking—you eat people?”

He smiles. “You know, it’s pretty clever of you to figure it out. Most folks here are too stupid to see through it, but you noticed right away. I was really interested in that when we first met,”

He stands up straight, readying himself to approach you.

“Stay the fuck away from me,”

He leans against the door and puts his hands up, but not because he’s trying to appear unthreatening.

“It’s a good gig. Cheap property, more people move in, more business. When someone proves loyalty, they get a cheap mortgage and live for a small price. Up until now, no one just moving has been able to get out of it. Except for the family before yours. Still feel sorry about that one.”

The dread that washes over nearly has you throwing up. You dry heave. Hawks smile only grows.

“But you noticed right away, which was interesting. So I started getting intrigued by you. I wondered how far you’d go to find things out, and it was farther than I expected. It’s good to be clever,” Hawks offers. He steps closer to you this time and you go to defend yourself, grabbing something from the counter to hit him with. You find nothing. “Not so good to be nosy. But you couldn’t help yourself, huh? I like the spunk, at least.”

“You’re a monster,” You say and you mean it.

“It’s a house full of them. I’m just the spokesperson. And this is a lucrative business practice. My colleagues aren’t the social type, so I handle all the HR. I can’t have some newbie who just moved in fucking the protocol,” Hawks hums, tilting his head at you. “In a way I’m helping you,”

“Helping me? How in the fuck are you helping me?”

It’s a swift movement where Hawks pins you. You go to move, to hit him - to scream. But Hawks is fast. He’s strong, and completely swift - and when he grabs you to pin you to the sink, you’ve never felt more completely helpless in your life. You bite his hand, but he looks at you steadily. Cold.

“No one will help you even if you scream, so don’t scream,” Hawks reprimands, almost bored. “Cops don’t come here anyways. I would know.”

He pulls his hand away from you.

“What do you want from me?”

Hawks looks surprised then laughs.

Before you can protest any further, you feel the grip on your arms and body tighten painfully. Hawks ducks his head down against your throat, and in one motion bites. He bites hard. You can feel it break the skin, and that time you scream. You pull away, but his teeth scrape and scrape and scrape till you’re bleeding.

He sucks the blood and licks the flesh, like someone might eat bone marrow from a carcass. You can feel it then. He’d devour you into nothing if he could - while you’re still all pieced together. You look at his mouth when he pulls away, covered in your blood. Some of the skin he’s taken off, just barely. Your whole body feels feeble as he goes again to lick up and clean the sensitive wound.

Your knees feel weak as he pulls away. Your blood is on his mouth. There’s surely more on his hands. You feel sick all over again. You’re gonna throw up.

“It’s simple what I want,” Hawk’s says, and then narrows his eyes at you “I like to play with my food before I eat it,”

Your eyes narrow.

“There’s no way I’d let myself wait around here to be killed.”

“Who said anything about killing, stranger? Just eating. It’s good practice to eat. We’ll eat together. We’ll eat each other. It’s romantic, don’t you think?” Hawks hums, hugging you to him. And it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time, for exactly what he really is. “Eating together is a basic facet of a healthy connection.”

“A healthy connection? You’re insane.”

He shakes his head.

“I’m in like. Different things.”

You try again to pull away, but remain stone still in his arms. For now, there’s no escaping. But you thrash and thrash and thrash. It comforts you.

“I’ll never take it lying down.” You tell him, as seriously as you can.

He gives you a smile. It’s pearly white. It’s unnerving. It’s genuine. Your heart feels heavy as the weight and implications all sink in. Oh, he’ll chase you - if it means getting to eat you alive.

Thunder strikes the house. The walls shake. July is unwelcoming and gloomy.

But Hawks’ eyes shine yellow gold like a false sin as he looks down at you in awe.

“I’m looking forward to it, neighbor.”

#cannibalism cw #noncon cw #yandere cw #hawks x reader #bnha x reader #writing tag #sorry if there are . still errors

172 notes · View notes

radiant-reid · 1 year

Text

Easter Sunday

a/n: in honor of my favorite holiday and favorite comfort character

Summary: A cute Easter brunch with the team and some Reid babies

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (fluff)

Word Count: 3.0k

Masterlist | Navigation

The sun shining through the large double windows marks the perfect start to the day. The weather forecast has promised sunshine and higher-the-usual temperatures for the holiday weekend. Emily let the team have a five-day weekend as the BAU tradition has dictated for several years. Hotch originally started it, realizing, three months after Christmas, there was a need for family time.

For the Reid children, things look different now that their dad is home more. He has always been very present, but now he’s at more practices, doing drop-offs and pick-ups, and reading stories at bedtime. Still, their excitement for Easter has been growing, knowing it means uninterrupted time with all of their uncles and aunts.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” Spencer greets her from the doorway before she notices he’s not in bed next to her.

He hands her the mug she has every day, filled with perfectly made coffee. He’s the expert at that, so it’s his first task in the morning.

“Thank you, handsome.” She replies, adding to the thanks with a soft kiss on his lips. “It looks like a good day out there.” She notes as he draws the curtain open.

“It’s meant to be in the high 70s later.” He reports, probably having already skimmed the New York Times.

She grins, sipping her coffee. “Perfect for today.”

“We should host one time,” Spencer suggests.

Y/n chuckles softly, shaking her head. “Rossi would never go for it, and I thought you’d know better than to mess with tradition.”

He nods, knowing it’s true. “We’ll stick to summer barbeques and birthday parties since it’s the perfect house.”

It’s the type of house Spencer never really saw himself living in. Growing up, he lived comfortably, and thanks to the mortgage being paid off before his dad left, he continued living in a very middle-class area of suburban Las Vegas until he went to school.

California was more expensive, but between his multiple scholarships, he had enough money to feed himself, always be caffeinated, and live in a small apartment near Cal Tech. He didn’t see the need to spend every cent he had living somewhere fancier, and his mom’s treatment wasn’t fully covered, so he paid for that.

In DC, his place was simple. He didn’t need anything more than a one-bedroom apartment since he didn’t have family coming to stay, and without any student debt and a good-paying job, he had more money than he needed.

When they moved in together, it was to Y/n’s larger apartment that they eventually brought, and with two bedrooms, there was no need for anything huge until Matilda was old enough to sleep in her own room.

After learning they would have twins their second time, their quickly growing family needed much more space, so they brought their dream house. As much as he wanted it, Spencer never expected to have a family or a large home in the suburbs, but he does now, and every morning, he’s grateful for it.

“True.” Y/n agrees.

Spencer sits back on the bed next to her, and she throws her legs over his lap, wrapping her arms around his waist and nuzzling into his side as they enjoy a few minutes together in silence before the craziness of their day starts.

Gurgling on the baby monitor breaks the peace, and the video feed shows Mabel standing up and shaking the crib bars.

“I’ll go.” Spencer declares, shuffling away from her to get out of bed. “And I’ll get the twins changed.”

Y/n raises her eyebrows, looking impressed with what he’s promising to tackle. “Good luck.” She jokes, grinning at him as she also gets out of bed.

“I’ve got this.” He assures her. “Go shower and get dressed up.”

She’s not about to argue with it. Having a shower where she doesn’t get interrupted by little hands banging on the door asking for snacks or to change the TV channel would be a rarity.

Her new dress is perfect for Easter and spring, long and flowy white fabric with a blue floral pattern and a sweetheart neckline. It’ll look even better with some soft curls in her hair.

Spencer’s first stop is Mabel’s room. The door’s sign says her name, and the bedroom has cute flowers painted on the wall above the crib. “Hi, sweet baby.” He coos, reaching out for his youngest. She still wears her sleep sack to bed, and Spencer thinks it’s the cutest thing.

She squeals when she recognizes him, jumping adorably. “Daddy!” She yells in her sleepy voice.

He scoops her up, wrapping his arms around her and cuddling her tightly to his chest before kissing her forehead. “You know, I think you might be ready for a big girl’s bed soon.” He tells her.

Mabel rests her forehead against his. “Like Tilda?” She asks, eyes sparkling at the mention of her big sister.

“Just like Matilda and the twins, too.” He answers.

She pulls back from him quickly with excitement. “We go see them?”

“Let Daddy put your pretty dress on you first, and then we can see them.” He tells her. “If they’re awake.”

They are awake, he discovers when he finally finishes dressing Mabel. She runs ahead of Spencer and climbs the stairs without help to find the three of them in the living room.

“Hi, little people,” Spencer says, announcing himself to them.

They spin around from the TV, jumping up from where they’re sitting and rushing over to hug him. It’s one of his favorite sights when they get excited that their eyes shine upon seeing him, and one of the best feelings is how warm he feels when they race over and fling their arms around him. He has never felt as much love as he does now, yet somehow, it grows more each day.

“Daddy, it’s Easter!” Matilda cheers.

“I know.” He says. “Happy Easter.”

“Did the Easter bunny come?” Toby wonders.

Spencer nods. “Grandpa Rossi called to say he’d dropped off lots of chocolate eggs for all of you.” It’s a lie, technically, but it makes their faces light up all over again, so it’s worth it.

“Are the cousins coming?” Aspen wonders.

“Henry, Michael, Jake, David, Chloe, Lily, Rose, and Hank is as well,” Spencer lists the other BAU kids and former BAU kid, earning another round of cheers from his kids. “We need to get ready, though. Tillie, your dress is hanging in your wardrobe. Want me to help you, Aspen?”

She shakes her head. “No, I can get changed by myself.”

Independent as always, and something he should have anticipated. “Okay, upstairs and into dresses.” He instructs. “Then you can watch TV. T, you want daddy’s help getting ready?”

“Can you put gel in my hair?” Toby asks. “Mommy says that it looks handsome.”

Spencer chuckles at how cute his little boy is. “Sure, bud.” He agrees. “And it does make you look very handsome.”

It’s always a juggle with four kids, trying to get everyone dressed in time to go anywhere. Mabel can’t be left alone, so Spencer has to multitask between keeping her from running away to cause trouble while doing Toby’s hair and ensuring Aspen and Matilda haven’t gotten distracted.

“Look how handsome you look.” Y/n coos as she peers into the bathroom where Spencer’s finishing off Toby’s hair.

“Mommy!” He squeals, jumping off the stool and running over to hug her.

She hugs him back, careful not to ruin his hair. “Hey, bubba, did Daddy do your hair really nice?”

“Mhm.” He answers.

“You want help getting changed?” She offers, met by him shaking his head, following the independent streak of his older sisters. “Alright, get to it, Mister.” She instructs, sending him off to his room with a pat on the back. Spencer’s eyes stay fixed on her as she stands there, and he rests against the bathroom counter. “What?” She asks shyly.

He smiles softly at her. “Nothing.” He shakes his head. “It’s just you’re so pretty. I still can’t believe you’re my wife.”

Then Y/n is grinning dumbly, twirling in her dress for him to get the full 360 view. “I might marry you again if you keep being so sweet.”

“Then I’d be the luckiest guy in the world again.” He tells her, walking over and placing his hands on her waist. He just stands there looking at her, admiring every detail of her makeup.

“Stop.” She says, pushing his shoulder. “I love you, Spencer Reid.”

Spencer steals a kiss, careful not to mess up her pink lipstick. “I love you more, Y/n Reid.”

She shakes her head. “Impossible, but we should debate that later.” She decides. “We’ve got babies to get ready.”

“Yeah.” Spencer agrees. “It’s been oddly silent for a little too long.”

Thankfully, the silence wasn’t getting-into-mischief silence. Y/n takes over getting the kids ready while Spencer gets himself dressed, and impressively, they’re done five minutes early.

“How you do this every morning is a miracle to me.” He remarks as they make their way out the door.

“I’m just a super mom.” She jokes, but it’s the truth.

“You absolutely are.” Spencer agrees with her. “The best mom in the world.”

Car rides are possibly louder than being inside, thanks to the enclosed space, but Rossi’s house is only a few minutes drive, and they pull in behind JJ’s car.

The girls are in pretty pink dresses that’ll no doubt end up covered in grass stains, and Toby’s pastel blue shirt matches Spencer’s. In both Y/n and Spencer’s eyes, they’re the most beautiful children ever.

“Little Reids!” Penelope cheers as soon as they’re through Rossi’s wide-open front door. She’s crouched down to scoop them all up, wrapping them all in a tight hug, looking like the definition of sunshine in her yellow dress. “Aren’t you four just so perfect?” She asks rhetorically as she pulls back to look at them. They are, and their parents nod to answer her confession.

After answering a few of Penelope’s questions, they squirm away to run through the house and greet everyone else.

“And the perfect parents.” She greets them with hugs as well.

Y/n chuckles onto her shoulder. “You look incredible, Pen.” She compliments.

“That’s you, Mrs. Reid.” She replies. “And you’re all matching, just the cutest family ever.”

Spencer grins, wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulder. “We kind of are.” He agrees.

“Come on, come see everyone.” Penelope ushers them through the house, taking on the role of secondary host as she usually does at Rossi’s. She and Krystall tag-team the job.

Henry, Michael, Hank, Matilda, Toby, Aspen, and Mabel are waiting in the living room, their little faces pressed against the glass as they look out the big glass doors trying to spot the hidden easter eggs in the garden.

Everyone’s in their nice clothing, dresses and good shirts with jackets. It’s mostly BAU members Y/n often sees at Rossi’s, but Derek and Savannah have made the trip and quickly hug their old friends.

“Look at you, mama,” Derek remarks. “You’re as gorgeous as ever.”

“And you’re as flattering as ever.” She jokes, nudging his shoulder. “We didn’t know for sure that you’d be coming.”

“Couldn’t miss a family day.” He reminds her.

The Simmons’ walk through the door a moment later, and Rossi flings open the glass doors for the excited children to race outside and start their egg hunt with squeals of delight.

Y/n gives Rossi a hug as the adults stream outside. “Thank you for hosting another wonderful Easter.”

“You’re always welcome, my dear.” He assures her. “I hope you don’t mind the little Reids going home full of sugar.” He nods to the massive baskets of chocolate and candy each kid carries, almost as big as Mabel.

“I guess Spencer’s doing bedtime.” She jokes. An hour on the trampoline should do the trick.

“Speak of the devil,” Rossi says, drawing her attention to her husband as he comes waltzing over, holding out an extra mimosa to her.

She takes it appreciatively, letting him wrap his arm around her shoulder. “A very handsome devil.” She chuckles, making Spencer blush easily. It’s endearing to her that he reacts the way he did the first time.

“Shall we eat?” Rossi asks, looking around the yard where everyone’s scattered chatting.

“It almost looks too delicious to eat.” Y/n compliments, looking at the spread.

It’s the gorgeous, perfectly prepared food the team has become accustomed to having at Rossi’s. There are hot cross buns, fresh bread, fruit salad, pastries of all kinds, bacon, eggs, waffles, and all the toppings in the world.

They sit at the adult table, and Spencer’s hand drifts to her knee instinctively. It’s why she sits on his left side each time. The kid table is next to the big one with smaller seats and prefilled plastic cups of juice. Rossi and Krystall are always prepared to entertain.

The kids take their seats, and Y/n momentarily leaves to ensure they’re getting balanced plates and not just gorging themselves on chocolate and candy.

Then she’s back to Spencer’s side, and they’re talking with the rest of the team, basking in the warmth of the sun and family. It’s what they always have been. Even throughout the darkness they’ve seen over the years, they’re closer than ever, and there’s so much love between them.

After brunch, a few drinks in, and Spencer’s more relaxed, pulling Y/n onto his lap and resting his head on her shoulder while they laugh and joke with the team.

It doesn’t last too long before someone’s pulling on Spencer’s sleeve. “Daddy, can you look for the Easter eggs in the trees?” Toby asks, showing him his best puppy eyes even though it’s unnecessary since he’d do anything for him.

Spencer looks around the table to see Derek and Matt being asked the same question, all three of them being targeted by their sons for their height. Flashing a curious look at Rossi, Spencer agrees, moving out from under Y/n to join the hunt.

Rossi and Krystall insist on cleaning up, not wanting their guests to move a muscle, which leaves most of the girls alone at the table since Penelope and Luke are getting drinks and definitely not flirting with each other.

Rose, who has been sleeping so far, starts to cry in her carrier, and Kristy unclips her, pulling her into her arms for cuddles to quiet her. She’s adorable, most similar looking to Jake, in Y/n’s opinion.

“She’s so tiny.” Y/n remarks off-handedly, looking at the small baby. “What’s it like? Four to five?”

All eyes are on her in a second, but JJ beats everyone else to speak. “You’re not...”

Y/n shakes her head quickly, stopping that rumor before it can start. “No. No, I’m not.” She assures them, holding up her glass of champagne to prove it. “I’m just wondering.”

“The nights are rough, but diaper changing is still the same,” Kristy answers honestly. “And Mabel’s probably young enough that you’ve got all her stuff. Is it something you’re considering?”

Y/n shakes her head again. “Not until I see a little baby or that.” Her eyes drift to Spencer, who’s chasing Toby and Aspen around the yard. “But we could end up with twins again, and I think six is a little too crazy.”

Laughter breaks out around the rest of the group, which relieves the seriousness of discussing family planning.

“Here.” Kristy offers Rose to hold, and Y/n takes the baby happily, looking at her adorable face and seeing up close how tiny she is.

“She’s so precious.” She notes, catching Spencer’s eyes. “Spence, look at how little she is.”

Her address gets Matt and Derek’s attention, who are standing next to Spencer. “Uh oh,” Derek remarks knowingly, smirking at Spencer.

“Someone’s about to commit to a new baby.” Matt pats him on the shoulder, smirking as well.

Spencer chuckles, unsure of if it’s true or not. He’ll give her another baby, promised he’d go up to five if she was willing. “Do you think I could pretend I didn’t hear her?” He asks jokingly.

“Get over there, papa bear.” Derek insists with a laugh.

Dutifully, he walks over, sitting next to Y/n and admiring the baby. “She’s so cute.” He compliments Kristy first.

“Look at how little she is.” Y/n repeats.

“Yeah, it seems impossible they’re ever this little.” He remarks, earning hums of agreement from the other women sitting around the table who once had babies this little and now have fully grown children running around in the yard. He remembers when his children were that little like it was yesterday, but Rose still looks tiny. “No more, though.” He tells his wife with a laugh.

“Yeah, you’re right.” She agrees. “Not when we’re just getting full nights of sleep.”

The party continues into the late afternoon. The company is too good, and too much fun is being had for anyone to leave earlier.

Despite how much candy they’ve eaten, Aspen and Matilda still manage to eat more in the car on the way home. Y/n agrees they can sleep in the lounge for a sleepover while watching movies, and it takes them far longer than usual to fall asleep, but they do.

Y/n and Spencer hug in the kitchen as they watch the ending credits. He knows it’s a good chance to ask about what he heard earlier. “Do you actually want another baby?”

She’s taken aback, figuring it was forgotten, but she shakes her head. “Not really, but I think our kids are beautiful, and babies are cute when they’re that little.”

“We’d get more chocolate if we had five.” Spencer jokes, nodding to the baskets on the table and pulling away from her to steal one.

“Spencer.” She giggles, splitting the chocolate egg with him. “I think we’ve got more than enough. It’ll last us until next year.”

“I love Easter, you know?” He asks rhetorically. “And you, everything we have, our kids, being a dad, brunch.”

She nods in agreement, leaning up to peck his lips. “I love you, too. Thanks for being in this with me.”

Spencer takes her left hand and kisses her ring finger. “Always.”

Tell me what you think

Taglist

Join here

@anonymous-reading @bingereid @measure-in-pain @archer561 @la-vie-en-amour1 @cynbx @spencers-dria @hardpartybasketballshepherd @ilovespencerreidmarryme @mrsobrien888 @parahmur @averyhotchner @honkroselyn @randomwriter1021 @bunnyweasley23 @rebeccasoutlook @teenwaywardasgardian @bubb1eana1ee @icequeen6666 @are-y0u-sirius @psychomanias @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @jswessie187 @k-gallacher @morganwilliams @vaella1821 @ndubes04 @juneballoon999 @tiaras-amongst-trash @onceinadifferentdimension @criminal-reid @yikesyikesyikes95 @80strashbag @ilovespencerreidmarryme @citylights31 @ssavanessa22 @thedancingnerdmermaid @doctorspenceryeet @camreid @canadailluminate @lethpartridge @ssagube @spencerreid-mgg @nightlockcornucopia @allexthakatt @silverhetdanes @aperrywilliams @g-l-pierce @reidswhoree @beepbooptoop @silverhetdanes @kyanyakya @katiejozeisler @matthewwhore @megnotfound @80strashbag @mrsobrien888 @morganwilliams @j-cat @440mxs-wife @hueycat2004 @gspenc @icurasthefallenangel @iheartspence @ssavanessa22 @bisexual-virgin @thecraziestcrayon @katesreading @cance1medaddy @kuolonsyoja @alexlovescriminalminds @kahootlobbymusic @nomajdetective @idonotexiste @drayshadow @justalittleweirdoo @a-little-bit-of-everything19 @spencesscarf @lhhluvr @holding-on-to-my-youth @averyhotchner @mugi-chwan95 @gspenc @navs-bhat @idkbubs @mochionly @nessy-nygma @nani-2305 @casfellinlovewithhumanity @shinyanchorface @nbyrd390 @drayshadow @hot-dino-nuggies @averyhotchner @simonsbluee @collectiveuniverses @meggie-m00n @allthecolorsneverseen @sassymoon @nomajdetective @exmachina187 @exhaleli @lucymfer @stumbleonmywords @reeid @hopefullawyerfishprofessor @graktung @sir1usblacksgf @pinkcoffeecup @luckyladycreator2 @fairyellieee @malboroniightz @kateyee @corefleur @maybe-not-this @starrylang @citylights31 @baby-bi-bi-bi-yeah @ssa-uglywhore27 @kitkatkaitin @rocketxgirl @navs-bhat @bellarkeselection @strugglingtodoshit @joy-soul-gallery @venomsvl @harry-is-my-sunflower @luckyladycreator2 @egglantine23 @holding-on-to-my-youth @misselsbells06 @starrylang @lokisel @gryffi-ndor @lilibet261@idkbubs @slutalexis46 @glimmering-darling-dolly @kodiakwhiskey @rocketxgirl @mochionly @goldentournesol @xdsage @missusstark @spaceygirly1 @holding-on-to-my-youth @insomniacbeth @nbyrd390 @shirleyrose @airedale17 @tanyaherondale @buckys-estrella @geekykeen @lovingsherlockmolly @rory-cakes @muwun-blossom @jetblckdreams @i-wanna-be-conan-obrien @reidsbookmark @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @idfvc @sammypotato67 @tanyaherondale @1-800-brain-and-heart @stcrrjoon @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @wholesome-beans @frickin-bats @chaoticevilbakugo @goldeng1rl8 @arrowurboat @itzyourgurlnihya @belongwithreid @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @spencer-reids-mismatched-socks @addievermore @harrymybelovedd @chimpmunk @i3k2ts @axen-gers @gxrlwithluv @finny-of-the-rear @greengarsstuff @altsvu @jakiki94 @narryl0ver @justreadingficsdontmindme @hobireasns @goldentournesol @kbakery @kaitieskidmore1 @twofacesoftheworldbutnotsome @chaoticconnoisseurgiver @kbakery @twofacesoftheworldbutnotsome @geekykeen @thisbitch-6 @andreead @kayleea122 @xoxospencerreid @dirtytissuebox @xoxospencerreid @jaydahlynne @sultrypotter @awhoreforspencerreid @sprinh @doe-eyed-fallen-angel @kamilaxq @beans-beanz @malindacath @halloween-is-my-nationality @kenny-0909 @mexicosuitrry @lucyysthings @iheartfinnthehuman101 @vane28282 @mente-sindescanso @lucyysthings @tatespillows @cecethoughts @manuosorioh @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @barbietiingz @grandhideoutavenue @feelinlento @i3k2ts @malindacath @luredwithpretzels @sanaz1dlol @ant-mans-tacos @mente-sindescanso @yumuramma @bubblebuttwade @bellarkeselection @spenceswifewhore @barbiekatz @itseightbeats @neptunes-curse @sucker1-1punch @nyx2021 @stilinski-void-04 @dirtytissuebox @daydreaminrry @mysticfalls01 @furiousladyking @gildedstarlight @halloween-is-my-nationality @reidsmexyconverse @scargarcia-magshotchner @wdytminy @rio-reid-whoreee @lovelyxtom @b3ast1706 @slvdsjjk @beenz-beenz @alltoowell-lilysversion @la-reine-des-enfers @mochi-moons @itzliyalupin @queenofrandom @ryswritingrecord @ynbutbetter @thxtmarvelchick @allthingsfashionn @justlivinginadaydream @liltimmyst @catertotshitposts @max-mml @crynroom @sugarcoated-lame @lilibet261 @bts-sugaplum @dezibou @a-marlene-s @crynroom @tracysnook @spencersprettyslut @alexxavicry @reidingspence@melonmochi @thicksexxualtension @haylexo10 @rosaliedepp @bport76 @dirtytissuebox @itsmekarlam @saintnourah @liltimmyst @mikkelsenlover @spencer-reid-wonderland @dirtytissuebox @esoltis280 @berenicexd @lyn07 @crynroom @taysatlantic @alphabetbarnes @4margaritasalex @namelesslizz @allisonslibrary @suckmyass-things @jasminesacademia @littlemoon-fairy @lucy @waywardhunter95 @neptunes-curse @rayrayfrommindless21 @regulus-black-223048 @dingusfreakhxrrington @sluttt444slashersss @little-miss-blinder @fdl305 @feltonswifesworld87 @sunsetlarry @lovelyvante @rintheemolion @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @dashneydanger @namelesslizz @malindacath @sleepy-enby16 @itzteaganbitch @baubarbie @rippl3s @kokoterainonago666 @mizzysx @princess-of-the-snake-pit @cvrosstuff @coldheartedmar @fudge13 @mushy-mushroom04 @live-laugh-love-spencerreid @crazy4chickennuggets @lundenloves @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sapphireplums @no-soy-fer @haleyshue97 @rippl3s @writingliv @poppetbaby02 @not-feeling-so-good @mizzysx @reidssweatervest @gabxbyr @tayswozle @mslowlife @spencybear @brightlilith @happymangospot @devilslilbabysblog @lover-of-books-and-tea / @bunny-script / @pauline5525mgg @fanf1ctionwrit1n @j-cat @captainhotchner @ceeellewrites / @randommmguerr / @sinnxagain / @goofygubler7 / @alotdreamers / @resident-boygenius / @nibb / @coffeemochicat / @tyblackthornsheadphone

@reidsbookclub @gublerstwilight @k-k0129 @spookyspence @eevee0722 @iamreallytryingiswear @dontcallmekittens @gublur @countingthestarsinfinitely @xhopingthis-worksx @claryandjacelover @spencersjello @mikewizkalifa @actingchica @almost-a-ladybug @foodsarcasmandyou @illegallygingerr @darkacademicwhore @uhuhuh @alexxavicry @probablycryingg @awkwardnesshabitat @black-veil-baby @uwu-queen-420 @one-sweet-gubler @whovianayesha @buckys-doll17 @gubedawnreid @parahmur @whovianayesha @i-wanna-be-conan-obrien @kierstiniscrying @simonsnowsblog @usuck @geekykeen @i-wanna-be-conan-obrien @sexy-dumpster-fire @j4sephluv @sophneedsfandoms @asantos7783 @hotchandspencearedilfs @kitkatkaitin @allthingsfashionn @spideyjass @sammypotato67 @dimpledsmilex3 @vincentvanshoe @nervous-plant @safespacespence @agirlinherhead @maraudersminds @hopelesslystuc @bakugouswh0r3 @ilovespencerreidmarryme @elnmop @ah-blossom @bellam47 @matthewgraygublerlover @liltiana-ann @happypixy380 @aaija @arrowurboat @reidsonlyangel @xreaderandshits @alohastitch0626 @nyx2021 @assemblemotherfuckers @idjit-sonovawitch @hwngslove @nycreid @helen-with-an-a @sia2raw @hufflepuffwhore13 @pastelbabygirl19 @blomfildsbeauty @hagridsmomma @differentavenue @grxnde-dwt @indecisive-asexual-stuff @hufflepufftruffle @alexxavicry @eichenhouseproperty @musethekitten @langcvn @cucufk @paperbackprettyboy @spencersprettyslut @devilslilbabysblog @padf00ts-l0ver @honey-stark @spencemylove @an0bra1n @jordierama @amurderofcrowsinatrenchcoat @bellenotthebeast @cynbx @darkenwolfie @conniesanchor @cloudxxs @jellycolors @instabull @neptunes-curse @sydneekomspacekru @ccosmic-illusion @majooooooooooooooooooo

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid one shot #Criminal Minds #CRIMINAL MINDS FANDOM #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds family #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic

755 notes · View notes

soraviie · 1 year

Text

them as boyfriends.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ masterlist

━ about: fluff ━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON:

Conversations! I am extremely chill about it but still insistent

Conversations about stuff!

Doesn't even have to be like here's the top 10 reasons why Auguste Comte was a cunt but like overall

Why do you enjoy doing some things and why are these things his hobbies you know

Why he knows that some of his habits are bad but he can't seem to stop them and so on

I always think that Namjoon is very concerned about doing the Right Thing, you know, being an objectively good person within a subjectively impossible world he probably worries a lot about "oh, was this thing I said perhaps going to rub you off the long way", "is what I'm doing with my influence enough, is it right?" "oh, you said it was okay but could it be that when I did this you wish I didn't and so on"

Wants to do right by the people he loves so open, frequent communication he views as an opportunity to improve and be assured that he's not an ignorant tool

A multifaceted individual so you get to see all sides - cute and cuddly, shy and embarrassed, the hoe side

Does absolutely wake you up in the mornings like "get up, sucker, we're going somewhere, get up"

Often says he's bringing you to a little something and it could be anywhere between a specific tree in a park and a booked-out art gallery during the night

Tries to echolocate you if he's out and forgot to take his glasses

He's insecure that he can't cook so he probably cleans a lot

Probably has read an article about weaponized incompetency and therefore tries to split chores evenly and keep them regularly done

He's actually torn up he can't do most things he would want like - wait for you after work or walk along the river freely

So he puts the extra effort in all he gets - lazy mornings, eating brunch abroad etc.

I can for some reason imagine him slow driving a bike at night and you're walking beside

Why is he not giving you a lift? He's scared he'll crash and you'll be hurt

If you can drive and own a car he will indicate that he wants to be driven not by asking but by sitting in the seat and putting a seat belt on in front of your eyes

When on tour or working late nights sends you short videos of the animals he finds along the way (think of that Instagram video of him harassing a crab on the way home from work)

Deep morning voice! Lord!

Absolutely the one on the list to have sex to relieve pent-up anger

Sleeps shirtless

Just get like ear plugs or straight-up knock yourself out because I just know he snores like a whole ass truck

If he's in love, really, I mean truly in love you're straight up becoming immortalized in the songs

Like he assigns a symbol that he associated to you whether a specific flower or a word or a concept but it's a little thing that keeps mentioned throughout

If it's a private track will ask you to moan for it to be used in a track

On like one day in a year when you convince him to be lazy, for sure, sits and watches TV with like a passive-aggressive frown and munches on chips really loudly

It's not even a bad show it's just how his face looks then

When meeting your friends, has an awkward "smile and wave, boy, smile and wave" stance

Definitely plays up his hotness once in a while - sleazy smiles, and those bedroom eyes, there are two wolves within him, a romantic and a player

If you're walking through an art gallery, for sure talks about every single thing he sees

The way you're on his Instagram is by sharing the photos you take, through them he can see the man you fell in love with and he becomes giddy over it

YOONGI:

So hear me out but when Yoongi is crushing he's like a boyfriend, when he's in a relationship he's like a married man with two kids and a mortgage

It's not that the spark is missing (guy can get you hot and bothered in a matter of seconds, you know what I'm saying) but it's literal comfort

Everything about him is comfort

He's like what men think men should be but so much better

E.g. fixes stuff - lamps, chairs, bulbs

Has plans on doing renovation

He never does it but he insists that when he gets the free time-!

"Next weekend."

"Yoon, you said it last weekend."

"Yeah, and eventually I'll do it. Consistency is key."

If he's home and you're there cooks meals 100%

For some reason, I always think he's really into cooking breakfast

It's more likely for him to cook breakfast than dinner because he would oftentimes order it in

Soft lighting in the apartment, no overhead lights

His type of touching is subtle

When you're watching say a movie, he doesn't lean into you wholly but like sits and keeps a hand slumped on your knee

Listen to this - fleeting hand holding

If you're keeping your hand on the table and he's near, he'll stroke your hand for 3 seconds take it away and repeat

Touches your pinky with his - it's like saying "hey"

Now hear me out, gossip

Jimin is for sure the no.1 gossiper but Yoongi is not too far behind himself

You're getting the freshest hottest brew about every single idol and producer he finds repulsive

Not too big of an outdoors guy but he'll do literally anything for you so if you want to go on like a few-day retreat, you sit him down and ask him:

"Is this something you want?"

"Yes -ㅅ-"

"Be honest! Are you really okay with going away this weekend and doing absolutely no work?"

"You'll be happy -ㅅ- yes -ㅅ-"

Hates it but you're happy so he's happy

I think he gets a little bit insecure about his partner not being to be able to do a lot of things so he spoils them a lot - trips and rest days and such

Is a hypocrite though

If you drink a lot of coffee nags the shit out of you only to drink seven cups himself

And here's the hill I'm going to die on - really strict when it comes to eating sweets before proper meals

He might be chill when you say you're not hungry, it sometimes happens you know, but will not! have it! for you to eat candy before dinner!

"What are you - my mom?" you sneer as he shOVES a pack of gummy worms into a deep, dark corner of a pantry where it most likely will never see the light of the sun ever again

"I'll call her," he warns, stirring whatever he was cooking that evening. "Don't test me."

Fights with him are rare and very diplomatic

He treasures you a lot so he takes a logical stance and flat out states "we both could say something hurtful, let's take a breather"

If you're in a foul mood and anNOYED at everything and itching for a fight, he'll cock an eyebrow and just say: "Is that really something you want to be spoken out there?"

Sometimes gets you cute plushies

You once walked in on him reading omegaverse fanfic and no, there is no backstory, nor an explanation given

Holds an incredibly harsh critique of snacks

Tastes a chip, hates it, discARDS the packet with a "d i s g u s t i n g"

You will absolutely hear a fuck ton of "back in my day" and "these are not Korean nuts, these are x nuts, they're no good"

Somehow I think he shits himself more before meeting your friends than parents???

Because he knows how to get along with older people but your friends who are convinced he's going to cheat on you, he's nothing but another over-inflated popstar stroking his ego? not a clue, he's a lost boy

He's so humble and helpful that, of course, he wins them over

Probably has driven your friends somewhere where they need to be, like a reception, probably offered his car for moving purposes (does anyone else help their friends move in and out of places?)

When on long car rides absolutely tries to gaslight you by saying the most impossible shit like:

"Of course, there is."

"There are no rivers in the Gobi desert!"

"But there are! Ancient people, how do you think they managed to travel all that distance? It's because they got to the river and that replenished them halfway."

Actually just wants to talk to you and this is an easy way to do so

dRUNK Yoongi just think about it and enjoy, he's so giggly and smiley and probably calls out for you with annoying frequency

Your nickname is an inside joke, many don't think it's cute at all but you know better and that's what's important

JIN:

Gets irrationally shy even after dating you after a while, say, you're changing and he walks in, for some reason puts a hand in front of his eyes??

Definitely covers his body if you're checking him out

"Can we please have some respect? Some decorum?" he whines, neck flushing at an alarming speed

Annoys you a lot, he's the annoying boyfriend

Tells the most ridiculous things, like:

"______________, I was in the bathroom and I did this," flicks hair. "And wow, I'm just so handsome. You must be a very strong person indeed to be able to bear it every day."

His confidence is a Schrodinger's cat - half true, half - farce

Somedays he wakes up and doesn't feel it at all and hides away from you saying he's ugly right now

Please assure him a lot during that time

If you work too much he's the best remedy for that

Jin is wise and helps you see how your time is the most important thing, that you don't have to prove your existence to anyone and can occupy space without proving your worth over and over again

Conversations with him don't often delve into deep waters but at the same time you don't feel unheard because he listens very attentively even if he doesn't share these anxieties and concerns

Does, unfortunately, give you secondhand embarrassment quite often

Has and will wear ridiculous outfits that have people turning their heads around

You're trailing with him, hand in hand, head low and Jin's ears too are flaming like gasoline on fire but who is he to prohibit himself from indulging things

Most likely to want morning sex, I will not elaborate

He has a special soft smile for when he feels properly cared for and babied

Appreciates being given flowers, hair tugged behind the ear

He doesn't give a fuck what's a norm, it makes him feel nice, fuck you, he'll continue doing it

If you find fishing boring, sorry you'll have to put up with it

"I guess this will be our thorn, honey, you'll just have to endure this for love"

He takes no shit, not even from you but in return never, ever prohibits you from enjoying things

For example, diving into ice-cold water in a lake is not his idea of a fun time but if you enjoy it, he'll be by the side shivering with a towel and a thermos

Definitely, 100% rehearses meeting your parents and quizzes you on his

It is no surprise at all when you meet that both of you know just the right words, the right gestures

Jin loves his family and to be put in a conflict between you and them is a walking nightmare

So he does his best to avoid that

You often eat at very random places scattered throughout the town and sometimes out of it

One day it's a luxury five-star restaurant in a penthouse, the next you're sitting on a wobbly chair at a marketplace, eating a small vegetable or meat skewer from a plastic cup

But Jin always knows how to bring a good time, so both times are just perfect

HOSEOK:

Okay so if this makes sense but Hoseok is the type of boyfriend who wants you to improve

So he wouldn't be super clingy or overly protective or madly jealous but he shows his care by reminding you to do self-care

Like skincare routine, morning and night he's there to ask you if you did it

Or whether you ate well, why not, why are you neglecting care in your life

I don't see him as overly romantic like big-ass gestures but really consistent care from the start

Now hear me out and don't tussle, he partially views you as a responsibility and a project

and befORE YOU GET PITCHFORKS LEMME TELL YOU SOMETHING

He works hard, correct?

He's a strict teacher and absolutely works himself 100% for maximum improvement

And it's not like he's hovering over you like a helicopter parent, moulding you into a version of his liking I just think he wants you to be the person you really like

So obviously it depends on what your goals are but he's really quietly motivating you to do better for yourself

It may not sound most romantic but at its core he wants you to be happy and I think he realises that it doesn't always just means being loved by a close person

So he wants you to improve, feel better about yourself and feel better about the world in such a way

Because the world is a very dark place, it can't handle even more negativity

Kinky, 0 explanation iykyk

A hype man for sure

If you're ever feeling like you can't do something he'll convince you that at the very least there's not so much loss involved as you think

Handmade jewellery especially if he's been away for a long time

I imagine him sitting at a studio, taking like a 15-minute break and he's tinkering with beads, arranging them and stringing them into a bracelet tailored to your interests

Buys you clothes more than anything else say like a car or a house

He splurges reasonably

Though them triangle bags he had back in the day cost like 300 that's my whole rent homie

It's hard to read what he'd be like as a boyfriend but out of all most likely to feel like a friend with added stuff

Which isn't bad at all

I think he struggles between the view of love in the traditional sense he's been taught and interpreting it his own, more peculiar way

Buys subtly matching clothes

Has a private Instagram and definitely hypes you up there

If he's upset but not overtly mad, he'll lie in the bed and Complain using full VFX of Hobi sound effects

Somehow managed to friendzone you once

As an act of revenge, you did that as well and now has learnt his lesson

100% has inner demons but out of all is the most likely to not share it, above Yoongi, above all

He doesn't struggle with communication per se but struggles with understanding that he himself can have faults and he doesn't have to do everything alone

He holds people he loves in high standard hence why he's so insistent on self-care; on being the best you can be within your own eyes, so it makes complete sense that he holds himself up to the highest standard, cutting himself the least amount of slack

Makes you feel like you're the most hilarious person in the world but doesn't talk much at home

If you feel awkward at an event and pressured will leave immediately, I just have a sense about this

JIMIN:

Has a knack for jealousy but the type to end with you being railed the entire night with his jaw clenched

I know we all like his cute side but he can be scary

He can be standoffish and sharp he just mostly chooses to not be

He chooses the high ground though that doesn't always mean he wants to take one

So if you have an ex he particularly loathes he will be near poisonous to that person

But lets it go because it's not about them, it's about you and you deserve his undivided attention

He needs assurance a lot because I think he's convinced himself you'll leave because honestly, it's a hard lifestyle to tolerate in a partner

Touchy but listen to this his favourite is not hugging you but leaning into you

Because it can be so variable

Like cutely leaning onto you whining at you at a full volume or pressing his nose in your cheek with a smirk

I have a feeling he'd enjoy it if you have some temper

He hates fights, absolutely abhors them, and probably has fights because he didn't voice something in the first place because he didn't want to fight

But if you're mad at someone else? If you're angry and getting heated and being bossy?

He just ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

But he often has ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) he's in tune with his sensual side

Speaking of sensual, reads the most toe-curling, filthy romance books in his free time

I'm talking like casually sipping coffee and calmly listing through like a BDSM orgy

He's the type to try everything once, within reasons

Often when talking has a soft, whiny voice and holds a part of your body rubbing circles there

I can't imagine his flirty nature not getting him in trouble at some point

But he makes his commitment known in very intense ways

Like gripping your jaw, making eye contact and saying something along that he can't even sleep without you, you're in his bloodstream

Kind of corny but manages to make it sexy because it's Park Jimin

He wants to know everything about you - what you're thinking, why you're thinking it, what made you to be who you are now and who you want to be tomorrow

Desires to make eye contact

Steals more of your clothes than you do his

Drunk, kind of out of it dancing to slow, sexy songs is a MUST for him

In a way there are two parts to being loved by him which are very representative of his sides - one is cute and cuddly, wanting you to be happy, like an idealized version of kids being in love and the other one is hungry

He wants you in and out, if you're not his in the understanding that he knows you best, that he can please you physically and please you mentally by giving you comfort, he's not happy

Sentimental, probably secretly keeps tokens of yours from the beginning of the relationship

Has a copy of all your childhood pics, argue with a wall

The one true no. 1 gossiper, he knows everything about everyone like your workplace for example

He knows why exactly that co-worker of yours left for a two-week vacation and the reason is salacious as all hell while you could be sitting there - "I have a coworker by that name?"

If you're out and he sees someone being rude, will viOLATE them

His sense of humour could make a person suicidal fr

But unlike some, he uses his inside voice

Has things that annoy him in your relationship but I don't think he says it unless it's really bad

He lets small grudges pass hoping to preserve the balance

Because only the mere thought of you leaving terrifies him

Once Jimin ties himself to someone, genuinely, he doesn't want to let them go for nothing

If you're away for a long time, let's say going abroad or really busy with work, his emotions get the best of him and he gets quite upset

But he hides it and frankly somewhat succeeds

But you can also tell when you return home that he was missing you like crazy

He needs to be pampered then, reassured that everything's fine

Does everything you want even if it's not what he would usually do

If you feel like driving for a while to stare at the moon, he absolutely would

Seduces you over and over again

Partially I think the reason he changes up his behaviour so much is to make sure he's keeping you on your toes and you wouldn't leave

It's lowkey a phobia of his

It's so obvious he's dating you

You can just see the Love

Also if he would just stop glARING at strangers for bREATHING your direction, that would be great

Reminds you to do a lot of things but also needs those reminders as well

Often so tired he forgets to do basic things so you have to wrangle him to take a shower or brush his teeth before bed because he really works himself very hard :(

If you're on your phone when it's time to sleep will yANK it away like a mOTHER

Love to him means sticking together - always

TAEHYUNG:

bops

Oh, you're expecting an explanation?

You're not getting any :)

Very soft

Also very weird

Being his partner means being his interpreter at times

You two have probably developed a language of your consisting chiefly of sounds

Sends you a shit ton of selfies

Mostly stupid and often blurry

He's a blurry sort of guy

Has sent a selfie taken from underneath his nostril

You could be sitting at work and he sends you a wet, shirtless selfie

Cause he's a menace

Big enthusiast of having soft lights as well

It makes the atmosphere feel more intimate

Everything is about intimacy when he's with you

Emotional, spiritual, physical

Where Jimin is in love with love, Taehyung loves romance

So big, classic, romantic gestures are a part of the Kim course

Date nights are unavoidable even let's say you're in two different countries he'll find a way

Sometimes by spontaneously flying out, sometimes by arranging the most ridiculous zoom call known to man

Like the camera placed where you would sit across the table with a restaurant dinner in front

Buys you lingerie, jewellery and fancy clothes

Teases you about loving him

"Ah, ______________ your passion for me makes a guy shy."

Cue to you sitting like -_-

Cause by now you're tiRED

I imagine he does get on your nerves a lot but by weaponizing all of that infamous charm at this point you're convinced he could get away with breaching the Geneva conventions

Always looks at you like he's done absolutely NO WRONG

Even if it happened like 3 seconds ago

Gatekeeps you in a way

He wants you all to himself and he's afraid if you don't like his friends, you might end up not liking him as well

Really values your opinion of him

Has gone to a fortune teller to ask how your future would look like

When you're going through a tough time, he "lends" you his angel

Misses you like crazy when you're apart

And sometimes even when you're here

If he's miraculously drunk, you're not getting him off you

Fucking Clingatron 3000 over here practically treats you as a plushie when you go to sleep

If you're the more reserved type, he's simply over the moon trying to make you flustered

And if you're really cuddly, he invites it eagerly and joyously

Jump atop of him and he'll laugh head thrown back onto the bed

Absolutely the type to find you being angry quite cute, with the exception that you're not so mad you're breaking up with him

This is of course really annoying because what if you want to establish dOMINANCE

Well good luck with that

He'll just smooch you to pacifism

Is lowkey always horny

Has kinks but I do not have the strength to think about them

Every week attempts to cook a fancy meal which ends up being an inedible concoction tasting like an armpit sweat

Promises to not do it again but lo and behold next week!

Watches a lot of movies with you

Watches you if you're out

Really zones out when you're ordering or simply waiting for something

If you're both at home plays soft music in the background so he could pull you into dance at any time

Fresh flowers whenever the old ones wilt down :(

Brings you to a lot of hipster cafes late in the evening

Quite often says the most inappropriate shit at absolutely the wrong place and time

For example, you're about to throw the bins out and he casually lets it slide -

"What if we tried for a baby right now?"

Smiles at his phone when texting you

Recalling back to the finding you cute when angry, definitely smiles and chuckles to himself if you're being huffy and complaining about work or what some dumbass did today

Begs you to share food

The type to bump into you playfully when walking

If he's going to bed, you're going to bed (can't sleep without his plushie)

Increasingly ridiculous nicknames - honey, babe, dearest, flower, sweet bean, rice cake, jujubii (warps it to sound more cuter version of jujube)

Eats up every capitalized love celebration ever invented - white day, rose day, his own made - "our first kiss day"

Really sentimental in that way

I think he wants love to feel more like a movie than it necessarily is so tries his hardest to make that dream a reality

JUNGKOOK:

It is often and with an honestly worrying frequency that you think there is nothing but mii music behind those eyes

Zones out a lot

Stops mid-sentences

Sometimes forgets to listen when you're ranting

It's because he feels safe with you

He feels that he doesn't have to make perfect sense so his mind wanders a lot because he's very relaxed when with you

The type of guy who holds your legs crossed in his lap, one hand caressing your calf when watching a movie

Speaking of movies, yes, you probably have a whole list of tv shows to watch together

(which he absolutely cheats by squeezing in extra screen time)

But you know what he absolutely does

Plays the most horrible otome games known to man

I'm talking about the horse dating simulator, every and all butler romances in the app store

At first, it's just to make fun of it

But then naturally gets really competitive and complains quite hard if the butler he's supposed to be romancing doesn't like him

"Why are men so hard to please?" he growls, fingers gripping the phone so hard the knuckles are white. "I spent 45 diamonds on this dress and "okay" is all YOU CAN SAY?!"

Though you started the game together, he's the one to finish them because it's just slightly hard to develop a romantic interest in an anime pigeon for you but not for Jungkook

Does as he's told when it comes to chores - washing dishes, cleaning, laundry, does it all eagerly

If you're messy, nags you but doesn't go as hard as, for example, Hoseok

Before you stop by his apartment, 100% tried to make it more "palatable" for you

Meaning, shOVES those 7 mattresses of his lying around into a closet or something

Whilst he's pouring a glass of wine you hear a crash come from somewhere

"What's that??" you ask and he sweats, absolutely shits himself

"Nothing," he replies, voice squeaky

"Didn't sound like nothing..."

"...dON't even worry about it."

If he has to take out the bins and your high-heeled shoes are the only thing available, he'll be strutting down to the garbage like a Victoria's Secret model

Has switched those LED lights to red to try and dance sexily in front of you only to bump his crotch into the corner of a closet

You're 90% of his impulse control so if you're gone, expect to see him with one eyebrow upon returning

Has cried at least once about thinking how much he loves you

Turns up his hotness just to see what happens

Is HIGHKEY ready to go at any given point

Even if he's dead tired, he's like "just a quick, lazy sesh, okay 🥺🥺🥺"

If you're scolding him also does this 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Finds it absolutely hilarious and endearing if you're bossy

Obeys whilst giggling all throughout

Your ass is a source of comfort for him, it's not your ass it's OUR ass once you're with him

If you're close with your family, probably the one most likely to spend a lot of time with them (of course, only with you there cause he cannot handle that tension A L O N E)

When you first brought him to meet the fam, anytime you tried to leave he would look at you with a smile on his lips but wide panicked eyes, hissing:

"do nOT leAVE me"

"I need to go to the bathroom..."

"Hold it! for the love of gOD hOLD iT."

After a while, he's a bit more chill, the type to be brought along to every camping trip and cookout

Is probably used for labour by your relatives

No, does not send you memes, he's breaking the Gen Z stereotype as he's not attached to the hip with his phone

Makes a conscious effort to spend enough time with you

He can be weaponized to kill bugs, shoo away birds, glare threateningly at strangers

Gently wrestles you for fun

Really enjoys it if you take care of him, like put hair oil in his hair, massage his shoulders, cream his hands etc.

Doesn't like spending a lot of time hanging around somewhere so he whines in your ear

"Are you going to be done soon?"

"We just got here. I need to buy a new shirt."

"You have plenty at home and they all look great on you. Let's just go eat. There's online shopping for a reason."

Gets jealous a lot but never gets angry at you and quickly lets it go

Mostly pouts and fusses if he thinks you're being too friendly with someone

Sometimes utilizes you as weights whilst working out

Like makes you lay on top of him when he's doing push-ups

Adores if you try to manhandle him only to then show you how it's really done by taking a hold of your legs and hoisting you around his waist

You have had a talk about whether he'd choose Namjoon over you and the results of that debate were relayed to Namjoon himself who just looks at you both with a frown that says "what the hell are both of you on"

Gets lowkey combative if you have bad habits that impact your health like smoking, too much drinking, or not eating regularly

Health to him is very important in spite of you pointing out the hypocrisy of it

As he often fails to take proper care of himself

But he tries so he wants you to try your best as well

Makes a secret tattoo about you

Like your favourite flower, or a favourite thing

Similar to how Namjoon immortalizes you in a way, but on his flesh

Sings around the house but is too shy to give you concerts

Sneaks you into the studio, however, for you to express your opinion

Sneaks you into a lot of places

Like an afterparty or a press conference

A member will see you and wonder out loud:

"I think I saw _____ walking by."

"You're just getting old, seeing things," Jungkook replies trying not to seem too guilty

You can absolutely tell if he has a surprise planned for you

"Jungkook, are you planning to bring me on a secret date?"

"0.0 no 0.0"

If you're mercilessly destroying him at a game, he threatens to cry

Would get upset at you for something he dreamt

Glares at you over coffee cup:

"You said you liked Yoongi better than me."

"In a dream you Dumbo," you roll your eyes. "I'm literally making you breakfast."

He answers with a vague hum, then turns up his nose, all offended:

"Said you liked his hip thrust more."

Wants to adopt more dogs, so you'll have someone to keep you company when he's on tour :( and so that they could protect you in case of home invasion or stalkers

828 notes · View notes

night-filled-mountain · 5 months

Text

So I live with my husband, my 4-month-old daughter, and our best friend and housemate, who is a trans guy (and single). We all bought a house together over a year ago. Split the down payment three ways, split the mortgage and bill payments. We're in this for the long haul. We're a family.

My housemate also wanted kids and wanted to try IVF, but was obligated by his insurance to try three (expensive) rounds of the less invasive IUI first, which his doctor assured him WOULD NOT WORK.

One round and he was pregnant. WITH TWINS.

The twins will be born in January (or maybe late December, who knows)--less than five months younger than my baby. In many ways, we will all functionally be raising triplets.

I will be leaving my job in less than a year (when Housemate's parental leave is up) to care for my goddaughters full-time for a few years because it is the cheapest option for our household (and I can't fucking wait).

Our neighbors, coworkers, etc. cannot figure out the dynamics of our household for the life of them.

I never post here anymore, but I figured only Tumblr could possibly appreciate my life.

#it's honestly a shame i don't have the makings of some sort of subversive mommy blogger #we'd never have to worry about money again

115 notes · View notes

phantomrose96 · 1 year

Text

Yknow I don't think I've... talked about the absolute smorgasbord of shit what's gone wrong with my condo since I moved in so

day 0 - hadn't moved in yet, was just moving items over, turned the sink on for just a moment. turns out the tube feeding into the sink faucet was full of holes (how???) and this caused a never-ending leak under the sink. the standing water rotted the baseboard under the sink

still day 0 - said leak and water accrual dripped down and damaged downstairs neighbor's ceiling ($$$). she has to call me to tell me about it.

I have to get a plumber out there next day (still not living there yet! empty place! I have to take off work). While waiting for plumber, I discover heat's not working.

Go to basement to investigate boiler. Seller didn't fix the issue they claimed they fixed.

Plumber looks at sink. Declares it full of holes. Says he can come back in a few days to fix it.

(Plumber postpones, then flakes. I chase down a different plumber.)

Plumber 2 says the issue is with the garbage disposal, not the faucet. Can come back x days later to work on that, and the boiler.

Plumber 2 comes back x days later (I have to take off work again), says "oh the disposal was messed up but also the faucet has holes." Says he can come back maybe the NEXT day with a new faucet

Oh also the smoke detector in the back hall is low battery beeping and I don't have a battery for it. It's constant, every minute on the minute.

I bike to a hardware store and buy a faucet and a battery ($$). Get lost on the way home. (All of this back and forth is by bike. I live in the city and do not have a car.)

Plumber replaces the faucet ($$). I replace the smoke detector battery but it's still beeping. Dozens of more stupid minutes later of going up and down and up and down stairs and dragging my big stupid ladder around, I realize it's the carbon monoxide detector which is hidden behind the door I need to open to even get to the back hallway.

Plumber services the boiler ($$$)

I move in. I have a less than great time emptying everything from my apartment, which doesn't have plumbing issues. On a bad foot to start.

Travel for Christmas. Come back. Now the first floor back-hall smoke detector is beeping. (At least I have a fucking battery. Get my big stupid ladder down the back hall, knock every wall on the way down, and replace that battery).

I get first month's heating bill (I'd been living there for 10 days if even.) $334. Jesus christ. Likely due to the boiler issue.

Electricity goes out for the evening, same day as I get this bill from the gas and electric company, because fuck you I guess.

Homeowners insurance log in doesn't work. I haven't received my bill, which I need to pay.

Radiators bang in the middle of the night. Something something about them being old or not level or full of ghosts. Cool I don't need to sleep or whatever.

I've received no correspondence from the bank about my first mortgage payment. It'll be due Jan 1st, which is a holiday, so I reach out early. They say it's in the mail.

I monitor my mail every day. I receive no mail. I contact again. I reach out to my old apartment building in case it's there (they can't tell me). I sign up for a bank account with them online. I jump through various hoops to discover the bank has my address wrong. The address of the place the mortgage is on...

They had the mortgage address right. They had my home address as identical to the mortgage address but with one number missing. No one noticed. They'd been sending my stuff to a non-existent address, or the back of a college warehouse, I haven't quite figured it out.

I jump through more hoops to pay my mortgage payment with a check in the mail (I had to go buy stamps and an envelope) (late, but they assure me there's no penalty, but are you sure.)

^This has all been about 2 weeks. btw.

(I get a therapist, and find my way to being seen by a psychiatrist, which I guess is good but jesus is it $$$. Still figuring out how to use my stupid HSA)

People on floor 1 move out. They've got contractors in constantly renovating the place top to bottom. I get all their paint fumes.

Sound proofing doesn't exist, turns out. I hear my downstairs neighbors' conversations. I hear their tv. I hear street conversations. One night it was pouring rain and I was woken up by the sound of something banging against the house. Like genuinely banging. I go outside and investigate - it's a car idling with their windshield wipers going. Windshield wipers. Why would that be audible. Walls made of paper.

Floor 1 contactors leave the back door open one night. Luckily I wasn't storing anything in the back hall and had the door to my interior locked.

I receive my next month's heating bill. $689. I call the gas company and they shrug. I call the plumber and he shrugs. I turn the heat way down cuz I don't know. I dunno. Something's wrong with the boiler but it just got serviced so I dunno. I have to call someone else.

Speak of the devil, cones appear immediately outside my building declaring there's going to be gas line work. For a month. They start with the jackhammers at 8am every weekday. It's gonna be a month. I miss the windshield wipers.

We have a weekend of arctic freeze. -30F windchill. I go down to the basement Sunday morning to do laundry. Floor 1 contractors have outdone themselves by leaving a window open. Pipe had burst in floor 1 and was pouring water down into the basement, totally flooded.

I have to call the plumber, and flag the Floor 2 people about it and they at least find the master water shutoff. I'm dealing with the plumber and I have no water for half the day and no laundry for me.

I want to lie down in a marsh for a bit.

#chrissy speaks #this isnt even touching on the stuff I am simply BAD at #like figuring out furnishing #which has been a whole fucking ordeal but thats because im bad at it so its not like i can blame anything else

461 notes · View notes

sgiandubh · 8 months

Text

Sasnak City - a different view

I will never encourage you enough to read the whole comments' thread of a post you liked. Otherwise, it's blink and you'll miss it, as I almost missed the only feedback of the Sasnak City event we have on this side of the spectrum: @rosfrank's. She graciously agreed to let me repost them and I truly thank her for the kindness.

Her comments were made under two different posts, so I collated them and vetted their content as much as I could, given the unprecedented context of the SAG-AFTRA strike and the scarcity of details. I did not watch the recap on Instagram, because I am not a fan of the format.

I had no idea Sasnak City was a consistent partner of the Camp Encourage for autistic children project. At least since 2020, as a very superficial Google search shows:

...in 2020, with RR...

... in 2022....

What is Camp Encourage?

This:

Do you have any idea of what it is to be the mother of an autistic child? I don't have this honor. I have never been through the stress and the pain of looking for the right solution, for the good therapist. I never had to swallow my impotent tears and fight with the angel, fruitlessly asking myself why did it happen to me.

I can assure you that career, money and the white picket fence house which mortgage you just paid off do not matter. Not when you wait dejected, with your well-garnished checkbook and no hope in sight, until the good doctor will finally see you. Not when your child is a desperately inaccessible fortress. Not when you tell yourself you just can't take it anymore and yet miraculously find out that yes, you eventually can, over and over and over again.

Before judging, you might want to take a moment.

Side note: the man who supposedly is not good with kids interacted with the organizer's autistic son. On stage (try and take an autistic person out of their comfort zone, anyone?). Oh. What an inconvenient truth, again.

Different figures circulate. I think this is pretty close to reality and also to the 'small and personal fan convention format'. Not sure it made anybody rich overnight, after you deduce all the costs - part of proceeds went to the above charity, anyways. Zealots would like more transparency, perhaps. With which moral authority?

Second bone of contention and a particularly unsavory one, at that, the disrespect of the SAG-AFTRA's strike rules:

What was I telling you, the other day?

As for the limbo, I cannot believe no one bothered to look around a bit for confirmation. On Facebook, for example:

They did their due diligence homework. This announcement was posted on July 14, 2023, with a solidarity with the strike hashtag to boot. Propaganda? Hypocrisy? Oh, give me a break. It is legally impeccable.

There you go. No mention of the show anywhere - check. Screened questions - check. Only the SS paraphernalia (pics, etc) supplied - check. Books still ok for autographs (at S's discretion to go ahead or not, which means SAG-AFTRA is ok with, by the way) - check. Make lemonade when life gives you lemons and 'be creative' - check.

Where is the problem? Why certain sleuthing skills suddenly vanish when it's about formulating a balanced, reasonable POV?

Let me guess. It's all about the "go away, ugly socks, your story sucks" syndrome. Oh.

You'd wish, duckies. You'd wish.

I am not these people's lawyer. Playing Atticus Finch completely ceased to interest me sometime around 1998 AD. I even doubt we can stand each other IRL, for reasons. But I am not discussing people, here. I am discussing and debunking a homespun web of self-righteous lies.

Thank you, @rosfrank. Your gesture was generous and very, very brave.

#sag aftra strike

142 notes · View notes

respectthepetty · 3 months

Text

Make Shin Suffer for 35 Minutes!

Full disclosure: I like Guide. He is a good actor, but I like him aesthetically because he is beauty and grace, and I am desperately in love with his face, so my thoughts on Bake Me Please have always been biased meaning . . .

I loved the Bake Me Please special episode!

Shin is still a Black Brooder and a jerk.

And Guy is still fine and the obvious better choice.

But Shin is very much in love with his Blue Boy Peach and has started incorporating Peach's color into his wardrobe.

However, on the day he is finally able to see Peach due to Peach's busy schedule, our Black Brooder decides to wear pink! Because he is very much in love with Peach, and Peach picked this shirt for him.

But Blue Boy Peach doesn't give one eff and tells Shin to change back into his normal black then abruptly leaves.

Shin is worried Peach no longer loves him, but Atom assures Shin that Peach is very much in love with him, so much in fact that it makes Atom sick to his stomach.

But the entire friend group does suggest that perhaps Shin's boring ass personality is to blame for Peach's distance since Shin tends to bore them to death every single damn day.

So Shin sits on that honest truth, and with some convincing from his friends, he decides to surprise Peach.

He asks Peach if he is doing something on the 17th, which happens to be Shin's birthday, and Peach replies that day is a very important day.

Now, Shin is all kinds of excited as he bakes a Torta Caprese highlighted by the blue background for his Blue Boy.

But Peach doesn't show up claiming to be somewhere else celebrating someone else since Shin said he didn't want to do anything for his birthday, so we flashback to the boys asking what Peach wants to give Shin for his birthday, and he states he wants to sleep with Shin.

The entire table is shooketh by this way-too-much-information truth!

But what Peach means is he wants to sleep with Shin every night in their bed in their home as in he wants to move in with Shin. Once Atom fully recovers from the scary thought of someone wanting to have sex with Shin, he immediately questions his friend's sanity by reminding him that Shin is, well, Shin, and who the hell would want to willingly live with Shin? (remember that his brother had a crush on Shin, so Atom is definitely holding grudges, and I love it)

Then, Atom proceeds to list all of Shin's shitty quality WITH supporting examples.

And tries one more time to help his friend see the light before he ends up married to this man with a mortgage, a kid, and a dog named Ruffles. *shudders at the thought*

But Peach is Peach and double downs on his BIG feelings for Shin, so the guys decide to help Peach be less weak for that jerk and devise a plan to make Shin suffer for reasons that I think are totally valid since they just want to see Shin in pain which who wouldn't?, but they do this under the guise of forcing Shin to see how much he wants Peach around.

But the problem is Peach is ready to cave the second Shin texts him.

The guys know how to handle this and take Peach's phone away and threaten him to stay strong so they can all reap the benefits of watching Shin possibly cry.

It's a constant battle, but the boys remain steadfast in their goal of making Shin pay for all the shit he put them (AND ME) through for six episodes.

But I do appreciate that Peach recognized how fine Shin looked in that pink!

Finally, the big day is here, and Shin is peak Sad Boy energy and probably listening to Drake's "In My Feelings" on repeat, so, of course, the fam is ecstatic and very pleased that their plan to make Shin lay on the floor in the fetal position worked in Peach's favor!

But they pull one more stunt and decide to change the writing on Peach's cake to say "I'll give you a good time tonight" instead of "I want to live together" which would have matched Shin's cake.

Basically, they are doing the Lord's work!

And everybody wins including my light x dark duo!

But especially the audience because we deserved to see Shin miserable for 35 minutes, and we also deserved to see Shin lift Peach on that counter, and . . . eff it! Just enjoy the visual.

And I'll enjoy my Oab x Guy crumb.

I needed this, and I deserved it!

#bake me please #bake me please the series #bake me please special episode #this special was for me #and I loved it!

50 notes · View notes

storiesofsvu · 1 year

Text

Love Comes Quietly Ch 4

Alex Blake x reader warnings: language, mention of sex related things, alcohol, some teasing.

Alex was thoroughly enjoying her weekend, a week of not having to leave the DC area meant the house was clean, her laundry was already dealt with and the fridge was full of fresh food. The weather was gorgeous, her back patio doors slid open along with a couple of windows to let the warm breeze into the house. She’d left a playlist going from when she’d been cleaning the kitchen, now perched on the couch attempting to finish one of her fiction books before they picked up another case when the work week started the next day.

She had just finished a chapter, debating whether she was going to keep going or move onto something else when the doorbell rang. At first her brow furrowed, glancing toward the door before checking her watch and she remembered, sliding a bookmark into the book and placing it down on the coffee table. She padded over to the door, pulling it open with a bright smile on her face.

“Hey!” She greeted and you returned the grin.

“Hey! I’m so sorry I’m later than I said I would be, the storage unit took longer than I thought and then I got all turned around.”

“You find the place okay?” She asked, stepping back to let you into the house, scooping up one of the bags you’d placed down on the front step.

“Oh yeah, your directions were great, I just fucked up left and right.”

“Well… welcome.” She gestured to the house before picking up a key ring off the table in the entry way, “this is yours.”

You took it from her with a soft thanks, following her around the corner into the front sitting room, a couple of cozy sofas and chairs, a shelf lined with books and a bar cart in the corner. Down a small hallway she lead you to the room you’d be using for the time being, complete with a very comfortable looking queen bed and a full sized closet ready and waiting to be unpacked into.

“I’m sure you’re exhausted if you want a rest now I wouldn’t be surprised, that drive would take it out of me.”

“Oh it wasn’t that bad!” You assured her, though you did drop down onto the bed, pulling out a phone charger to immediately plug in, “I split it between two days, stopped in New York for that wedding last night.”

“And yet there seems to be a lack of a hangover?” She teased with a grin and you laughed.

“A pleasant lack of male strippers would be to thank for that. I doubt the bride’s parents would be alright with that kind of entertainment.”

“True.” She chuckled, softly squeezing at your shoulder, “c’mon, I’ll show you around.”

You followed her out of the bedroom, she pointed out the bathroom across the hall, noting that it would basically be your private one as the master bedroom has an ensuite. Around the curve of the hall opened up into the open living room and kitchen, patio doors leading to the backyard. The space was large, bright with sunlight, kitchen island in the middle of the room, the flooring shifting to hardwood as you shifted into the living room, two large comfy couches and an arm chair. A couple of books and a case file lay on the coffee table alongside Alex’s leftover coffee mug from that morning, the walls lined with shelves, books, nick knacks and photos littering the space, a large tv mounted on the wall across from the main couch. Alex led you down the short hallway on the other side of the room to show you the spare room you could convert into an office or whatever you wanted, her home office and a brief glance into her room before you’d circled back.

“I completely forgot to ask about rent.” You suddenly turned back to face her, leaning back against the kitchen island.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” She immediately waved you off.

“Alex…” You near warned and she chuckled.

“The mortgage has been paid off for years.” She shrugged, laughing again at the way you narrowed your eyes at her, “if the utilities jump, you can help with those.”

“Fine.” You admitted defeat with a warm smile, “thank you.”

“I’m the one here to lend a helping hand while you get settled, that’s what we agreed on.” She moved through the kitchen, pulling open the fridge, “I was going to do chorizo pasta for dinner later if you’re interested?”

“Sounds amazing.”

“Did you want to eat now?”

“Later’s fine.” You waved her off, “I was thinking about running to the store anyways, make sure I have a few things for the week. You need anything?”

“Hmm.” She thought for a moment, “coffee creamer.”

“Brand? Flavour? Type of milk?”

“I trust you,” she shrugged, “surprise me.”

“Alright.” You chuckled, “where’s the nearest store? Or best close by I guess.”

“There’s a Safeway just down Georgia.”

“Awesome.” You pushed off the counter, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Alex knew that adjusting to having someone in her space again might be weird, or throw her off a little bit, make her change things in her daily routine that maybe she didn’t really want to change. However she found herself somewhat surprised at how much she enjoyed having you around right away. The level of comfort you found yourself in her space certainly helped, you’d made yourself right at home but not in an invasive way whatsoever, you simply weren’t tip toeing around like house guests did sometimes.

The first night she’d made dinner, you’d wordlessly started doing the dishes while continuing the conversation from the dinner table, packing up leftovers while you sipped on your wine. The two of you stayed up chatting on the couch with the television on in the background until she caught herself yawning yet again and made the call to head to bed.

Sharing your home space was something that you weren’t used to either, having been on your own for years out in Boston. You were incredibly thankful for the opportunity Alex had given you, and wanted to make sure she knew just how much you appreciated it. It took little to no effort to help with dishes, unload the clean ones (though sometimes that did end with Alex being unable to find something as it wasn’t in the spot she was used to, but it was an adjustment period after all), to make sure the coffee pot was always on in the mornings. You very much enjoyed her company, but you also knew what it was like to constantly have someone else around, so you stuck to your side of the house on quiet days.

Mornings were quiet, not too much chatter as the two of you woke up, silently moving around each other in the kitchen as breakfasts were made and lunches were packed. It was normally by the time you got into the car that the conversation would actually start. Some evenings were spent together, one of you cooking while the other perched at the kitchen island, others you’d retreat into your own space. Alex would peek into the sitting room when she was done cooking to find you curled up on one of the couches with a case file, or hear the low rumble of the television from your room, the door open only a crack to try and keep it quiet but also in a way that said she was more than welcome to come in.

It only took a matter of days for both of you to fall into the habit of cooking twice the amount of food you regularly would, even if the other person wasn’t around. It meant that mornings you went out for a run, breakfast was ready and waiting by the time you got out of the shower. That days when Alex was teaching and thus home later, there was a plate in the oven still warm for her even if you’d gone out. If she left the wine glasses out on the coffee table on a Friday night, by the time she got up the next morning they’d be washed and drying in the dish rack and if you left laundry in the dryer, you’d find it neatly folded by the time you got home. The two of you slipped into a very easy routine without even having to think about it, it just worked.

While your first month at the BAU certainly had been a lot, it went by surprisingly smoothly and quickly, you were passed your probation period before you even knew it. The team had all welcomed you with open arms and you fit in perfectly, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that you had been the right pick. Emily was already fond of you from the interview process, but getting to see you really in action in the field and how quick you were to put pieces together working cases really reassured her that you were meant to be on her team. It also didn’t hurt that outside of work hours, the two of you got along as well as you did with Alex. Emily was quick to ask if you wanted to grab a drink, introducing you to a few of her favourite places around town. If it was a weekend adventure with Emily you always knew you were in for a good, yet slightly chaotic time.

“You’re eating early.” Alex greeted as she returned back into the kitchen from the back yard, “what is this? Senior citizen dinner day?” You shot her a playful glare as she chuckled.

“I’m going out with Em later.”

“Doesn’t that usually entail food?”

“Yeah.” You mumbled over a bite of chicken, “but she specifically told me to Uber, so I’m sure there’s going to be more alcohol than food involved.”

Alex laughed at that, stealing a green bean off your plate, “mmm! That seasoning is delicious!”

“There’s extra in the fridge for you.”

“You’re a goddess.” She smiled, pulling open the fridge to grab a bottle of water, “you know, you and Emily have been hanging out a lot…”

“Yeah.” You shrugged, glancing up at her with a furrowed brow, “she’s fun to hang out with, knows a lot of cool places around the city.”

“Didn’t you bunk with her in Atlanta a couple of weeks ago?”

“I had to bunk with someone and they gave her an executive suite, it was an obvious choice.”

“Hmm.” She grinned softly at you and you raised a brow, still confused, “so all these nights out aren’t dates then?”

“Ew! Alex! No! Besides, if they were I would’ve told you. I do my best to not sleep with my bosses, figure it would make the work place a little too dramatic.”

“Did you really just ‘ew’ at Emily Prentiss?” She asked with a laugh and you shook your head at her holding back an eye roll, “you’re saying you don’t think she’s attractive?”

“Alex…” you shot her a warning glare, “she’s become my best friend. Is she my prettiest friend? Absolutely. Can I look at her and appreciate that she’s stunning? Yes. But I would never, and she’s not my type.”

“How so?” She raised a brow, taking the opportunity to steal another bean from your plate.

“I dunno.” You shrugged, “she’s… too daddy for me.”

“So you’re saying you prefer mommy?” She asked with a smirk and you about choked on a bite of food, feeling the heat instantly creeping up your neck and she laughed. “you should come with me to my next Pilates class, I’m sure you’d find one there.”

“I’m regretting making you dinner.” You deadpanned and she chuckled, turning back to the fridge to grab a snack, nearly ignoring what you’d said.

“You know, I’d never really thought about it, but she does kinda give off those vibes.”

“What?” You asked, distracted with your phone as it pinged with a text.

“Emily.” She stated simply, turning back to you.

“Well I mean, considering her selection of straps, she’s definitely a dominant top.”

“You’ve seen her sex toy collection and you’re still trying to convince me you two haven’t ever fooled around?”

“Not in person!” You defended, “we were having an alcohol fueled conversation about sex toys and she sent me a couple of links.”

“Yeah and which of the ones she uses is your favourite?”

“You asking for recommendations? Or are you jealous, Professor Blake?” You raised a brow and she let out a scoff of a laugh right before your phone pinged again and you swiped open the message from Emily.

“What?” She asked with a chuckle as a concerned expression took over your face.

“She just sent me the address… Swingers Club Dupont Circle?”

“Well now I certainly don’t believe that you two aren’t fooling around.” She laughed, “Call me if you need an escape out of there, or honestly even just a ride. Good luck.” She shot you a wink that you rolled your eyes at before she disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone to try to figure out what the fuck Emily was playing at.

___________________

@svulife-rl @clarawatson @hbkpop @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @swimmingstudentchaos891 @itisdoctortoyousir @temilyrights @alexxavicry @evilregal2002 @alcabots @ladysc @dextur @disneyfan624 @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @prentiss-theorem @happenstnces @whiteberryx @heidss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @allyofcl @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @emobabeyy @1974-sp @theclassicgaycousin @kalixxa @leftoverenvy @bigolgay @daddy-heather-dunbar @regalmilfs4me @scorpsik

#alex blake #alex blake x reader #criminal minds #love comes quietly #alex blake: criminal minds #alex blake fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fandom

114 notes · View notes

beguines · 1 year

Text

The twist that makes tradlife a phenomenon of our times is that it also includes earnest criticisms of life under capitalism. Many tradlifers are young women who hate work and celebrate arrangements where men rescue their wives from the professional realm: "When my friend's mom first started dating her husband," one viral tweet reads, "he said 'Stay with me, marry me, and you’ll never have to work again.'" Only tradition can salvage love from modern indignities and the early-morning commute. Like a trapdoor, the idea swings open to reveal a baby-pink fantasy too fragile and nostalgic to be taken in the open air. Regular people preoccupied with bills, healthcare premiums, and rising rents will find much of the tradlife lifestyle to be out of reach. That paradox is what makes it such potent social media fare: tradlife is, at bottom, perpetuated by "influencers" who know how to make others feel desirous and frustrated in equal measure. It is a menacing advertisement jingle, for a product people may not want or be certain exists.

By describing the misery of work, tradlife ennobles itself. But as an ethos it also maintains a willful stupidity about modern capitalism's historic dependence on the family, a constitutive structure of capitalism, through which property, debt, and economic interest are all consolidated (it was Milton Friedman, after all, who wrote that "the ultimate operative unit in our society is the family"). As a concept, "the family" has worked even harder than "the individual" to overshadow our ethical obligations to other people. But few have use for notions of society anymore, defined as it is by unpredictability and fear of rising crime. We want only securitized intimacy—the happy assurance of a shared mortgage.

[. . .]

On a macro and micro level, then, tradlife proffers a purportedly risk-averse solution to the political challenges that patriarchy and sexism present. It guards women from most men and from public life. Meanwhile, the ideology itself shies away from present-day discontent, further withdrawing from the world it purports to wish to change. The family has long been an exclusive realm, where people hoard both interpersonal and economic resources. Yet tradlife overlooks this contradiction of its own supposed anti-capitalism, supplanting it with the sharp and flawless grid of a pixelated image. Regardless of its nostalgic Americana, tradlife's vision owes less to Norman Rockwell than Thomas Kinkade: the glitter is cold, and the insistence on perfection almost hysterical. Rockwell, even at his most idealized, still populated his work with people and their hijinks; he was interested in the capacity of individuals to surprise each other. Meanwhile, in its videos and photos of well-lit, private spaces, tradlife makes property rather than humans its central object. As in Kinkade's paintings, the house appears as a refuge from others.

Perhaps all contemporary relationships are attended by hierarchy, and tradlife is just more honest about the power differentials of intimacy. But feminism, at its best, has always pointed to the possibility that love could one day be different. It has maintained that we do not currently know the full range of its possibilities, because love between men and women has so far only happened within a narrow patch of unjust conditions. Tradlife seeks the certainty of formulaic relationships, but it hides from its purveyors the prospect that a different kind of society may have better, different formulas, or no formulas at all. What might marriage look like without the imperative of property? How might love be lived without the dramas of jealousy, pain, and insecurity that crowd a world in which public space and dignity are never fully shared?

148 notes · View notes

capricornrisingsstuff · 11 months

Text

I’m like a lawyer with the way I’m always trying to get you off

lawyer!eddie x fem reader

Thank you once again to @oneforthemunny for sparking this lil idea of mine.

If I get enough inspiration I may build up on this in separate drabbles lol

Contains: MNDI, adult language, fluff, kissing, dom/sub dynamics, Eddie being a legal version of his mafia!eddie persona, there’s also beef with Jason Carver. Younger!reader and older!eddie, use of pet names. Mentions of parental death. Fem reader. Reader is 25, Eddie is 40.

Prompt: Eddie is the most cutthroat lawyer in town, you are the court stenographer. Eddie is in the process of getting Jason Carver thrown into prison for embezzlement but…Jason is your uncle (yikes). Will family loyalty overthrow your adoration for Eddie’s flair for the dramatic (and his baby cow eyes)?

Hawkins Indiana County Court

As your heels, fresh from the summer Starcourt annual sale, click-clacked along the marble floor of the courtroom, you let out a huff of frustration. Your files and binders heavy in your arms, an amount of spare paper only authors could dream of, being dragged by your side in your carry case, you were desperate to impress. You didn’t forego nice manicures or acrylic nails for nothing; not to mention the gruelling unpaid internships in legal firms across Hawkins and the insufferable “legal eagles” who looked at you like you were the freshest piece of meat dropped into the enclosure. You were here to make an impression, you were here to win and you were here to be the best court stenographer Hawkins Indiana County Court had ever witnessed.

One small problem stood in your way of conquering today-scratch that, make it one small problem and one rather big problem; your uncle was up in court today for embezzlement and you were the only stenographer without a case today, therefore you were assigned it. The big problem, came in the form of a messy bun, big brown eyes and a dazzling grin…that of Edward “Eddie” Munson. “Don’t even think about him, don’t even think about him, don’t even think abou-“ your internal mantra was broken by a wall of Armani fine tailoring, Versace cologne and an Italian leather briefcase, making you stagger to the side on your heels. “Whoa there Bambi, can’t go down on the ice while you’re not even ahead yet can you?”. You glanced down at the hand gripping your arm-fine silver rings with intricate details on every finger.

“I can assure you Mr Munson, I’m f-fine”, you stuttered as you pulled yourself up and gained composure. “Well well well, the youngest of the Carver bloodline…are you preparing to watch your uncle make like the Romans and fail miserably in the ring of justice?” he mused, while he checked his Rolex watch. “Speaking of darlin’ ten minutes and the show starts. You go ahead of me so we aren’t seen walking in together” (and so I can watch that peachy ass of yours sway in that illegally tight pencil skirt he thought), as you made your way to your position in the courtroom.

As the witnesses, the jury and the judges piled in, you tried to suppress your emotions as your uncle was brought into the courtroom in handcuffs. Jason Carver had always been good to you and your mother, particularly when your dad passed away. He single handedly solved your mortgage problems, there was a new car on the drive and your bank account was healthy enough for you to take on your internships. Everything was above board…apart from the government and industry documents found in his safe when his home was raided on the embezzlement suspicion. And now all you can do is sit and watch (or rather type) as his reputation went down the drain in one fell swoop of the theatrics of the prosecution-Eddie. Eddie Munson, Jason’s high school tormentee. How this must taste so sweet to him, you thought as you settled behind your keyboard.

You don’t even know how you made it through the trial being able to see through the line of tears that threatened to spill onto your keyboard. Years of pent up aggression, hate and disdain all came out in Eddie’s defence. He didn’t leave Jason the lickings of a dog; it was as if he was moderating one of those dungeon games he was famous for back in high school. He was even making the jury wince at the cutthroat facts he was spitting about the case. Unfortunately, you found yourself typing the words *jason carver* *I sentence you to* *15 years in prison with right to parole*. You allowed yourself one last look at your uncle as he was lead back to his cell; your eyes meeting with the theatrical professional that is Eddie, standing behind him. In a last ditch attempt to retain your composure, you haphazardly gathered up your things.

As you glanced up, Eddie was gone. Your shoulders slumped with relief as you made your way out of the courtroom, you were the only one left in the room so decided to be leisurely about your pace, rather than hastily like earlier. Rounding the corner to the executive legal offices where your reports are filed and sent off for printing, the door marked “E.Munson Esq.” in gold lettering swung open. You didn’t even get a chance to breathe with the speed at which you were dragged into the room. “M-Mr M-Munson wha-“ you stammered as you heard the brass lock of the door click shut and your knees met the edge of the leather bound desk. “M-M-Mr Munson”, Eddie mocked, mirroring the pout that was on your face as he caged you in to the side or his desk with his arms either side of you. “Darlin’”, he drawled, as the palm of his hand ran it’s way up your skirt and along your thighs, “I just wanted to apologise. For putting Bambi’s uncle away for a really long time”, he whispered, as he leaned into you more, causing you to part your legs instinctively to make room for him.

“Are you scared honey? Are you sad that your uncle has gone away and left you? You’ll have to earn your own money now sweetheart won’t you?” He cooed as his fingers trailed their way along the crook of your neck. “I-I make my own money tha-thank you very much”, you tried to sound confident but the touch of his fingers only brought out a whine from you. “Hmmm well in my courtroom Bambi, the judge disagrees with that evidence…if you want to get off for free, with riches and privileges, I can be the one to set you that retainer”, he muttered as his lips softly met your neck. “In the eyes of my law Bambi, you’re mine. And you’re in for a very very long stint of being in handcuffs and wet panties”.

#eddie munson one shot #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie fanfic #eddie x reader #lawyer!eddie #oneforthemunny

75 notes · View notes

hackerqueen · 11 months

Text

Another Love

Chapter 1 Heartburn

warnings: this fanfiction will tackle heavy topics such as mental health and violence. there will be sex scenes.

– Fuck!

This word was often repeated every morning in my apartment. I was not an early bird, quite the opposite. I definitely preferred to fall asleep late in the evening, often in the middle of the night, to sleep until noon. Unfortunately, I was no longer a teenager, but a twenty-three-year-old woman who had to go to work every morning to pay the rent and bills. Life was often a bitch, wasn't it?

More curses spilled out of my mouth as my windshield wipers sped faster than Dan making up another shitty joke. Or a meme. His memes sucked, though I never told him that.

Duskwood was usually cloudy and rainy at this time of year. This is the second time I am convinced of this, because I moved here exactly two years ago. At times like this, I ask myself why? I could live peacefully in sunny California, sipping drinks on my balcony. But sometimes life writes its own scripts without asking you.

The pouring rain made my commute a bit more difficult, but I finally made it to the office where I was supposed to stay for another eight or nine hours. My boss threw papers at my desk, which didn't bode well. Halfway through work, I looked at my co-workers. Since I was a child, I liked to observe, analyze and draw conclusions about human behavior. So it was also now. However, the current view made me drowsy boredom. A group of people locked in a glass building, caring only if their shitty paperwork will pay the rent and pay off the mortgage. Will it allow them to go out to dinner at a restaurant at the beginning of the month, or maybe they'll get lucky and they can afford four days away at the end of the year? Corpsrats whose minds were completely closed to the world around them. I was a hypocrite judging them. Because I was absolutely the same. I also chased after money, abandoning my dreams and passions.

Deep, philosophical considerations were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. Seeing the name on the screen, I smiled slightly, despite my obvious tiredness. I picked up right away.

– Hello, hello. - greeted a nice, almost singing voice, which finally regained this lovely note – I'm picking you up from work today.

– But..

– Without any buts. We'll be choosing decorations today, you can't be absent! Nobody I know has better taste than you. Besides, you know what Thomas is like. He'll agree with me about everything, even if I pick the worst shit.

I burst out laughing. There was no contact with Hannah for several weeks. She needed hours of therapy, shed tears, and shutting herself off from the world to recover. To understand what happened. Has she come to terms with it? Was there any reconciliation at all in this situation? No one in the group seemed to agree with it. Damn, how were they supposed to accept that their longtime friend, the man who always made them laugh, did something like that? They couldn't even talk to him. Only Jessy had this honor, but I don't know if it didn't affect her even worse. I was just a shadow. A hiding shadow that listened to their conversation.

– Okay, you convinced me. Be there at 4pm – I told her shortly and said goodbye. Maybe this day won't be so bad after all.

* * *

– Thomas, don't interfere. – I grumbled under my breath as I flicked through the catalog with bouquets

I heard his loud protests to which Hannah reacted immediately.

– Babe, you know I love you, but I'll be carrying the bouquet, not you. Unless you want too?

The man got angry and left us alone. I suppressed the urge to comment on her rather dubious choice of husband and rolled my eyes, but a mischievous smirk must have affected my face hearing my biting thoughts.

Did that sperm really win?

I stopped quickly when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

– I can see you're not getting along, but just a little more. It will be better after marriage. Thomas is just stressed out. – she assured me and I nodded – You know, two years ago it all ended. This anniversary has such an effect on him.

I felt a shiver run down my spine. How... how come it's been two years since this nightmare ended?

– Have you forgotten? – she asked, seeing the pale expression on my face

– N-No. – I coughed at my broken tone of voice. – It's just that... it's a bit weird? That, time flies so fast and we live like two years ago?

– Can we do otherwise? I think we'd be best off living for them. – she said, then smiled sadly and squeezed my hand – Have you been at his grave?

I sighed, slowly shooking my head.

– Me neither. I'm not ready for that yet. –she confessed honestly and my heart clenched. Today was the day I had to face my past.

Getting into the car, I typed into the GPS the cemetery, which was located on the outskirts of Duskwood. Half an hour later, I was there. I gripped the steering wheel, letting out shaky breaths. I had no idea how long I sat there, but I finally moved and took out the rose I had bought on the way out of the back of the car. It was intensely red, reflecting my feelings at that moment. My mind was unconscious, my feet led me all the way to the grave. No wonder, my body knew the way by heart. I looked up at the name carved on it.

Jake Donfort

I swallowed. One candle was lit, illuminating this late evening. So Lilly must have been here already. I crouched down and carefully placed the flower on his grave. It may have been two years, but some things haven't changed. My heart still burned as I remembered the black-haired hacker who once meant so much to me. Now my heart squeezed even tighter as I realized something else.

The memory of him was fading, a little at a time and I could feel myself forgetting.

Time passed inexorably, and my upside down life returned to normal. Two years ago, I couldn't imagine my life without him. We had a promise, right? He promised we'd meet. He promised he wouldn't let us be separated. However, his promise was burned with him in the mine fire because he never came back. Even though he said he would.

#duskwood jake #duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood phil #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fandom #duskwood jessy #duskwood hannah

71 notes · View notes

jellyellymusings · 5 months

Text

Having a child in the modern world is a decision that is often taken way too lightly.

When I was 21, I made the decision to have a surgical sterilization procedure. Many of my family members were distraught, as you might imagine, but I assured them that it wasn’t a decision I made casually, nor on a whim. I knew this could be life altering, I knew I was very young to be making this choice, and so I did a lot of research, self reflection, and talking it through with my emotional support network. I’d known since I was a teenager that I’d never want to be a mom, but until I began searching for the reasons behind that gut instinct, I hadn’t realized how mammoth a task it really was. Actually, at the time I had to write an essay about this same topic - just for my own sake - in order to grapple with all of the nuances that it came with. There are so many facets to consider when making the choice to be a mom, or to never be one. When doing my initial research, I started out with the practical debate method: figure out the other side’s reasoning. Subsequently, I decided to simply… talk to moms: my mom, my sister, co-workers, friends. New moms, experienced moms, moms who’ve lost their children. Surprisingly, what I found was that most of the time, they had never given much thought to the “why,” they had just done what came naturally.

My own mom’s story I already knew, and it likely played a big role in my ultimate decision. Both my sister and I, born 10 years apart, were “oopsies.” My dad, to put it lightly, was not the greatest, and being tied to him in such an inextricable way was detrimental to her mental health, and affects her to this day. Hers might be the most tragic of the stories I heard. One coworker, a soccer mommy of three in the most Rae Dunn way, had pictures of her kiddos tacked all over her cubicle. I asked her straight up, “Why did you decide to be a mom?” She told me, “I don’t know, I guess we wanted something cute and cuddly to play with. Like a puppy that talks!” Originally, I had planned to ask more questions, but I quickly changed topics and cut the conversation short after that. I was absolutely dumbstruck at how somebody could be so casual and flippant about the choice to create human life!

The way I see the decision to become a mom, you should be so beyond sure of yourself. And I don’t mean in the, “I’m going to be Super-Octomom and do everything perfect” way. I mean in the, “I have all of the emotional, financial, and spiritual support that is needed to raise a loved, loving human being, without sacrificing myself to do so,” way. I feel that if people stopped and asked themselves hard questions about it, they might think twice. Questions like, “Am I prepared to raise a child with special needs?”, “If I were to suffer personal tragedy, could I continue to give my child the love and support they deserve?”, and “if I bring a child into this world, will they be able to flourish in our future?” It seems that many mothers, if they have the option to ponder their decision at all, shy away from this kind of self-reflection. When my sister announced her third pregnancy, I was aware that her family was already suffering financial hardships. They still live in my dad’s home, often unable to pay the mortgage. I felt so afraid for the future of my soon-to-be nephew, not to mention the well being of my two already-forlorn nieces. Imagine my shock and discomfort at learning that her pregnancy had been planned, and eagerly awaited! They had decided that my youngest niece (14 years her sister’s junior) needed a playmate. As if they are pets to entertain. I’ll refrain from digressing more here, as it’s so close to home, but I’m sure you’re understanding my point. The decision to become a mother is the decision to create a life. To make one half of this decision without any consideration for the consequences on the other is, frankly, selfish and irresponsible.

While at first I was angry at these moms for their seemingly frivolous attitudes, I’ve realized they aren’t to blame. It is, of course, a matter of cultural and societal expectations. When women are placed in the “baby-makers” box, and this is the most natural process your body can go through, it’s reasonable to not give much thought to it. However, I believe we are evolving, intellectually, past the norms of the naturalistic world. Humans have the cognitive ability to have foresight, consider consequences, and make our own decisions. Modern women now also have medical and technological advancements that make the choice to reject society’s ideas of your future even easier. We are freer than we have ever been in this regard (well… at least we were two years ago.), and I hope that the moms who are simply taking the expected path begin to realize that they have infinite potential.

#my writing #childfree #gender roles #gender equality #motherhood #philosophy

24 notes · View notes

ghostaholics · 1 year

Text

ᴄᴀᴛᴀʟʏsᴛ ( ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ )

SUMMARY: (au only mildly inspire by the original tv/game timeline since I started writing this before ep. 2 came out; honestly not very canon-compliant) After reaching Colorado – the Fireflies' former backdrop for failed vaccine trials – you and Joel get ambushed in the science lab by people who have since then, made their new home at the abandoned university; during the scuffle, one of the attackers stabs you with a syringe containing unknown contents. PAIRING: Joel Miller x fem!Reader WARNING(S) FOR LATER: pining (mutual) sex pollen; dub-con; p-in-v unprotected sex; use of a mouth gag and a rope during sex but it's for safety assurances not because Joel's a dark guy; still angst even though I left in 50% of it; religious references and lots of metaphors that don't make sense; unbeta'd - expect mistakes; characterization is based on second half of the game and I may have accidentally made him too soft oops idc, ooc for sure WORD COUNT: 2 k A/N: PT. 1; this is already over 10k words in my drafts and I still don't even have like half of it done yet but I'll put out this small part for now I guess

IT'S A GODDAMN SICKNESS – THIS FEELING, festering, like skin stripped raw and every nerve lit on fire. There’s nothing left of you – only flesh and bone knitted together by gnawing hunger.

He should put you out of your misery.

You would welcome death over this: it would be faster, easier, not each excruciating second prolonging your suffering as time bleeds, drawn-out, stretching at an unbearably sluggish pace. This won't pass over. It's only been getting worse the longer you try to ignore it, to let it snuff out on its own. The craving is bad. It surges through your veins, leaves your blood boiling as if it’s burning you alive from the inside-out. Insatiable need devours your body like an all-consuming disease; your mind is scrambled, thoughts as good as ash at this point aside from the surviving idea that you know that this will swallow you whole.

Here's how it happened.

HE'S A KILLER; The leftover carnage is a gut-wrenching testament to that – a breadcrumb trail of carcasses deserted along the westbound, beaten track to Colorado that’s rivaled only by the number of skeletons in his closet.

Not that he's had much choice. It's this very concept that every single media outlet had kept pushing, what had plagued the top headlines, breaking news, and morning segments leading up to Outbreak Day in a concerted effort to capitalize on a little something called sensationalism. The public had wolfed it down, too – had gorged themselves on the idea of it even after all the grocery stores had been raided bare and there'd been zero food left on the shelves; TVs as their place settings with radios emerging as their proxies not long after the power had gone out – because the drama of it all had been more satisfying than the shitty scraps they'd been getting by on: survival of the fittest, who'd get wiped out by the infection first? And Joel Miller is a living legacy that continues to push the limits of natural selection with every poor bastard that he manages to sink a shiny fucking bullet into.

Adaptation. The end of the world has chewed him up, teeth gnashing – razor-sharp incisors; no leftover bones, no remains like the majority of the people who’ve met a collective demise, but a man spit out in one intact piece (physically, anyways – mentally, that’s probably another story). Now, he’s a stone-cold terror. Cutthroat – all jagged edges and mistrust leaching into his pores. Someone who’s had to acclimatize, because the way he sees it, there’s a million different choices to make that only ever lead to two outcomes. And Joel always picks whichever option affords him the best opportunity to stay alive, but it’s the reason he’s got a ledger drowning in red.

Before, that had meant late mortgage payments and loan sharks hunting him down, risky wagers with shady figures to get Sarah new clothes in time for the upcoming school because she’d been outgrowing them every damn year, and also don’t forget the shady business ventures he’d invested in until he’d learnt his lesson the hard way and had decided to throw himself headfirst into work – day in and day out to save up for his own construction company, something stable and honest; maybe then he wouldn’t have to lie about forgetting to pick up the milk or the pancake mix because the reality had been that he was struggling to put food on the table, and maybe he’d get to spend more time with his daughter and pay the soccer club fees that he couldn’t afford so she could make more friends outside of him and the Adlers, and maybe his blood pressure would level out so his pockets wouldn’t dry up with the cost of his medicine because his insurance had been shit, and maybe he wouldn’t have to go to bed every night crunching numbers behind his eyelids to figure out if he had enough to get through the next month’s round of bills, and fuck, maybe things would finally start to look up for once in his life.

Then it had all stopped mattering in an instant.

So now, it means shooting someone dead without a second thought – a past full of necessary evils: ruthlessness, cynicism, and a death toll second to none. Anybody coming up against him? Shit out of luck. He’s never had a problem with having to pull the trigger, and being caught on the wrong end of his gun always promises a grim fate.

Except Columbus, Ohio.

It would’ve been another blight, another wicked deed buried underneath the growing mountain of awfulness that he's responsible for. There are a lot of things that keep Joel up at night, but as bad as it is to say, this definitely wouldn’t have been one of them.

And then, the impossible – first person to break the cycle: a scavenger combing through the tipped over stands of North Market, kneeling under the dusty Penny's Meats cleaver sign at a basket filled with plastic bags of twenty-year-old beef jerky. And Joel would kill (quite literally) for that if it meant securing his next meal; hell, the next week's worth of them. The only thing standing in between him and food security could be taken care of with an easy shot to the back of your skull at point blank range.

A target.

An inconvenience.

— but that's another story.

Since then, it’s been a road paved with affliction. Ohio. Indiana. Illinois. Iowa. (Nebraska's a sensitive topic.) Wyoming.

Joel grasps your hand firmly in his: dried blood over split knuckles and calluses that have stayed around forever because now he wields a gun 24/7 instead of a carpentry tool from his blue-collar days; he helps you navigate the terrain so you don't misstep – a sprained ankle can slow us down in more ways than one, he always says. Cautious, trigger-sensitive, because he needs to be. The action is meant to be practical, shepherding you over the terrain. So you opt to neglect how his fingers slotted between yours shoos the bitter cold from making a home out of your body and thaws the ice from the crevices chiseled in your bones.

The feeling is nice.

The thought is dangerous.

Because, Nebraska: a hellish nightmare in the flesh.

(Let's not talk about it).

(But circling around the topic doesn’t help. You don't bring it up, and yet it still takes center stage, occupying your mind. Always. How could it not?)

Hordes of cordyceps-ridden pieces-of-shit on your heels until you'd been driven into a corner, back against the wall – odds in the negative as infected after infected had zeroed in on your position and converged like a putrid swarm, a writhing mass of rotten bodies, all of them clambering over each other for their own share of pulpy, human meat to tear into; it'd reminded you of the same way people had been after the outbreak had reached critical mass.

Ravenous.

(This is what had been a difficult pill for you to swallow in the beginning – before you'd started sleeping with a machete along the edge of your bedroll, before the sound of a person choking on their own blood had gone from something that had cursed your hands with a 'round-the-clock tremor to nothing but fucking white noise, and before you'd learned everything there is to know about how to survive amongst societal collapse where 'every man for himself' has never been a more true statement than it is now: the hunger doesn't stop when you turn into one of them.)

As the two of you weave through dense foliage overrunning anything in its path and past man-sized slabs of concrete that form a serrated pattern of the very ground you're currently forced to scale, Joel rumbles a low, "Easy, now,"; you can see how in the dead of winter a plume of air leaves his mouth whenever he talks. He's nice to look at, better than your surroundings by a long shot. Boulder is just another wasteland that offers nothing new in your trek across the country because underneath the whalebone-white quilt of snow smothering everything, it's the same old shit that you saw when you'd cut through the never-ending stretch of land that used to be the Bible Belt to get out of the Atlanta Q.Z. It'd been ghost towns dotting the map between miles and miles of infestation: the walking dead had been piloted by the impulse to tear you apart alongside their living counterparts – the survivors with rootless hearts that stalked in the shadows like vultures waiting to pick your corpse clean of supplies.

But, for as on guard as you have to be, you'd rather focus your attention on Joel, because the snowflakes burying themselves in his beard are far more interesting than the decaying buildings and jigsaw-puzzled pavement that paint Colorado with an apocalyptic finish. He's a welcome distraction. Maybe, too good. The toe of your boot catches on the uneven landscape while you're lost in thought so you brace yourself to strike the ground as it gives out from under you, hands flying out in reflex. Instead, sturdy arms secure themselves around your waist before you can fall. You’re hauled flat against the solid wall of Joel's chest, something akin to an embrace that shouldn’t feel as nice as he is to look at. Even through layers of clothes, even through the frigid temperatures during this time of the year, his heat manages to bleed into you.

"Told you to watch your step there'," he murmurs in that long Texan drawl. Whiskey on his breath. Caramel. Ethanol. Burning alcohol-sweet, it greets you alongside the usual smoky and metallic smell of gunpowder and blood; the kind he'd pilfered from a liquor store back in Omaha – makin' sure it's good enough to the Molotov cocktails with, he'll comment before taking a swig. Brings it up like clockwork, as if it gets funnier the longer he keeps trying to wear the joke out even worse than the soles of his boots. It doesn’t. Just short of being a jack of all trades. Certainly no comedian.

Not a drunk, either – isn't stupid enough to put himself in jeopardy around these parts. You'd seen it before, once: cheeks flushed red and eyes glazed over; couldn't walk a straight line for five feet, much less aim a gun (September 26th, you remember). This isn't that. The whiskey's stronger now, though. You can tell when he stands nearby, face inches away.

(He's been drinking more lately. Not a lot, but the right amount to drown out the memory of... well, ever since—)

He's the closest thing to home that you know.

(—he almost lost you.)

You find yourself latched onto the sleeves of his jacket for stability, and even though you should push Joel away – a voice in your head that warns you to put distance between you and him – your fingers curl tighter into the coarse fabric to keep yourself upright as you regain your footing. “You see that thing? Swear it came outta nowhere."

He huffs out a small laugh, not one of those full-bodied ones that you’ve only heard probably twice since you met him (both of them at your expense and God, do you miss his smile), but it’s still a rich, little sound that comes off as something pleasant to your ears all the same – breaks up the monotony of the snow crunching under your heels and teeth chattering during the occasional bouts when you shiver. "Sure," he says, because he knows you can't lie for shit.

You untangle yourself from him with some reluctance. Homesick – a feeling that you attempt to shake off with more mindless conversation to make the time slip by faster. "Out of every place we've been to, Colorado definitely makes bottom three."

There's faint amusement coloring Joel's face. It makes him look years younger. "We haven't even gotten to UEC yet." He tilts his chin in the general direction that the two of you had already been heading towards. "Over there. Just across the way."

Skepticism stains your voice. "You know, something tells me that I won't have a change of heart."

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ - ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #unfortunately i have the smut just not the action~#this will very likely not be done until i finish the term #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #tlou #the last of us

104 notes · View notes