#idk what this was but I think I was onto something
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Ice cold
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In which you have freezing hands, and Aaron warms them up for you.
Cw: fem!bau!reader—I think it could also be read as gn reader, getting together, fluff, first kiss, no use of yn
Word count: 1.7k
This is my first time writing a reader insert, so please be gentle with me lol. I’ve been wanting to write an Aaron x reader for ages and this idea finally came to me last night. Idk if I’ll continue writing these, but if you have any prompts let me know! It took me ridiculously long to come up with this one haha <3
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The cold bites at your exposed hands and you shiver, dropping your pen and notepad into your coat pockets because they’re all but useless now, your fingers close to snapping in half. You leave Aaron to jot down notes of the crime scene you’re in, keeping your hands in your equally freezing pockets in a poor attempt at keeping them warm.
Who has the energy to dump and mutilate a body in the woods in the middle of January, anyway?
“Isolated and hard to find, safe to say he’s a local.” You murmur, tucking your chin into the collar of your coat. You curl your numb fingers into your palm, cursing quietly at the stiffness in them.
“Yeah,” Aaron agrees. “One with experience, too. No blood spatter, no drag marks. He could’ve wrapped them in tarps.” He clicks his pen closed and slides it into his pocket along with his notepad, making you sigh in relief at the thought of leaving soon. “We’ll know more once Morgan and Rossi come back from the ME.”
You nod silently, clenching your fingers around the cold fibers of your coat pocket as you shiver again. Aaron’s gaze slides to you.
“You okay?” He asks.
“It’s fucking freezing,” you grumble, hunching your shoulders and trying to wrap your coat tighter around your body. Your hands have gone fully numb now, clenched into icy fists inside your pockets. “My hands froze over. They’re like ice blocks.” You frown, your jutted bottom lip scratching against the wool of your coat.
Aaron smiles amusedly, his heart warming at the sight of your furrowed brows, your chin tucked into your coat for warmth. You shift slightly from foot to foot, subconsciously huddling closer to him and his endless, blazing warmth.
He turns his back on the deserted crime scene and focuses instead on you, his eyes lingering on the flush on your cheeks, your skin bitten from the cold. He looks perfectly warm, you think grouchily, in his stupid large coat and his stupid neatly wrapped scarf.
“And yet when we went to literal Alaska you didn’t have any complaints,” he says.
You huff indignantly, “Excuse you, at least in Alaska I knew it was going to be—” You cut off as his fingers wrap around your wrists and gently pull your hands from your pockets.
Immediately the cold bites at them again, but that’s not what makes you falter. “What are you doing?” You ask as he cups both of your hands between his. Distantly, you think it’s a stupid question. But his hands are so warm, large and completely engulfing yours, making you feel like you just stuck them in an oven. You let out an involuntary sigh, your brain going blank at the sudden heat from his hands.
Aaron ignores your question. “You weren’t lying,” he says mildly, bending his head to look at the way your nails were turning blue. He brings your hands up to his face and blows warm air on the blue tips of your fingers, massaging them with circular motions to force the cold out of them. Your heart picks up at the way your hands disappear beneath his, what’s visible of them looking small in his gentle grip.
Your skin is icy beneath his own. “Jeez, are you anemic or something?” He looks up at you and his lips tilt upward at the flush on your cheeks, deeper now than it was before, and you both know it’s not from the cold.
“No,” you squeak, the excessive heat of his hands rendering you incoherent. His thumbs rub gentle circles onto your palms, slowly forcing the warmth back into them. “Just terrible circulation.”
Aaron hums and looks back down at your hands, massaging them thoroughly until you start to regain the feeling in your fingers. You waggle them experimentally and he smiles a little, moving his thumbs up to your knuckles and rubbing them slowly.
You can feel your blush deepen as you look at him. His gaze is fixed on your hands, utterly focused on his task as if it were the single most important thing on his mind today, as if you didn’t have any pressing concerns like a team waiting for your feedback or a serial killer needing to be caught.
By the time he’s moved to your wrists your whole body is warm, your blood buzzing under your skin. He’s involuntarily shifted closer to you, your hands held so close to his chest your fingertips ghost against his shirt.
His warm fingers brush over your wrist, catching your fluttering pulse, and your breath is trapped in your throat. Aaron presses your palms together and secures his hands over yours, finally done with his task. The warmth of your joint hands travels to your cheeks, the way his thumbs absently skate over the heel of your hands making your whole body flush. “Warm enough now?” He murmurs.
Just about to catch fire, actually. But you nod. “You’re a useful partner in conditions like these, Agent Hotchner. What with your furnace-like hands.” You try to joke through your racing heartbeat.
He chuckles lightly, his dimples digging into his cheeks. His hands are still holding on to yours. You’re glad for that, because otherwise you’re sure you would’ve risen on your tiptoes and pressed a thumb to each dimple, watching the way your fingers dip into the crevice.
“Happy to be of service. Anything else I can warm up for you?” His eyes are like sun warmed honey, gazing into yours, and the words leave your mouth before you can think about them.
“My lips are cold too.”
Oh god.
You drop your gaze as your cheeks start to flame, a jittery nervousness suddenly making your stomach hurt. You try to tug your hands out of his grip but Aaron holds on tighter, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and holding you in place.
You’re still looking down at your joint hands when he clears his throat. “I can help with that,” he says evenly, as if his own heart isn’t racing abnormally fast.
Your head snaps up. “What?” You breathe, frozen in place as he lets go of your hands. You don’t even register the sudden cold, your whole focus on the way he takes your face into his palms, his warm fingers pressing against your cold cheeks.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” Aaron asks. His face is serious, all hints of his previously playful smile gone. Briefly you start to wonder if this is one of your many dreams about him, but his hands sear your skin, the icy air burns your lungs as you raggedly breathe in and out.
You swallow, your throat unbearably dry, and nod. “Yes.” You grip the lapels of his coat, feeling the soft fibers between your fingers.
His face transforms. The hard lines soften, his seriousness melting away as he smiles again. The breath returns to your lungs. “Thank god,” he says bluntly, and you laugh, butterflies in your stomach, in your veins. You grin at him as his thumbs stroke your jaw, his fingertips sliding into your hair as he tilts your face up to his.
“Your efforts at flirting are tragic, by the way,” he murmurs, just before he presses his lips to yours and steals your indignant reply. Immediately you melt into his arms, one hand slipping into his coat and the other resting on the hard line of his jaw. You always wanted to touch it, and as your fingers skate over it, wander over the skin that meets his neck, you feel his erratic pulse beating.
It’s good to know you’re not the only one ridiculously affected.
Aaron reluctantly pulls away when you both are breathless, his lips turning up into a grin at the sight of your dazed eyes. He leans in close and presses soft, gentle kisses on your lips—just to make sure they’re properly warmed up.
You slip your hand into his hair and sigh—the cold has nothing on you now—just about to kiss him properly when his phone rings.
Aaron steps back and the biting cold replaces his warmth. You shiver as he digs his hand into his pocket and takes out his phone, your lips abnormally warm and your hands slowly returning to their once freezing state.
“Yeah Dave,” he answers, his eyes still on you. You jut your bottom lip and he grins, his hand reaching for yours. He links your fingers together and softly runs his thumb over yours, making your cheeks flush again. “Sorry, we ran into traffic on the way. We’ll be there in an hour or so.”
Aaron ends the call and you laugh as he tugs you to the car, your fingers still linked. “What?” He smiles and you beam back.
“Traffic?” You raise your brows.
He rolls his eyes. “What did you want me to say? ‘Sorry I got carried away kissing my beautiful subordinate’?” You reach the car and he opens the door for you, but you don’t get in.
Your heart skips at his words. He smiles and you finally reach up and place your thumb into his dimple, your own smile spreading. “Yes,” you say simply, unable to believe you can finally do this. “You know they have a running bet on us.” You murmur, leaning forward to kiss the divot in his cheek.
Aaron’s skin warms beneath your lips. His hand falls to the curve of your waist and he squeezes lightly. “I know,” his voice comes out a little tight and you smile. He clears his throat and gently pushes you into the car. “The faster you get in, the faster we can collect. And we’ll use that money for our date, yeah?”
“Deal.” You grin and get into the car, Aaron’s gentle hand guiding you into the seat. He can’t help but give you another kiss before he closes the door, your lips sweet and soft between his own.
You sigh as he climbs into the driver’s seat, your cheeks delightfully warm and your hands only slightly chilly. Aaron pulls out onto the road and his hand finds yours again.
You thread your fingers between his and look out the window, feeling absurdly grateful for the cold woods you were in.
#emily is crying in the club lmfaoo#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner x you#soft aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fluff#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner x female reader#aaron hotchner drabble
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Prompt?? Request?? Idk what this is but it’s been stuck in my head and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it!!
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Frat boy au where lance is super straight passing and acts really frat bro-y. But it’s Outside POV from another person in the college who assumes he’s probably homophobic and doesn’t treat women well/ all that stereotypical frat boy stuff. They complain abt fratboys all the time to their friends too and it’s this whole known thing in their friend group. Then they see him get into this super fancy car with a hot older man (nando ofc) and is like what’s up with that. Person keeps trying to ironically figure out if lance is part of the mafia or some other mystery. Turns out he’s in a loving relationship with his sugar daddy nando (person sees them kissing at a gay bar one night, among other things 😏) and after that they’re like damn wtf and have a change in perception of lance and can’t shut up about it and tells everyone “did u know lance is gay?!!” Other shenanigans ensue.
Bonus if they become friends in the end and lance tells them all the different ways and places nando fucks him.
I need you to know that this has unlocked something that I have been talking with my irls about for literally a month now. I will write this whole thing for you, but right now please enjoy this snippet and some Lore ™.
Also this may be so uniquely specific that no one will enjoy it, but I need everyone to know this has been my secret passion project for weeks now.
Logan absolutely despises group projects. He especially despises them when he’s partnered with perhaps the worst possible group of people you could be partnered with on an assignment that is responsible for a quarter of their grade. Other than the girl sitting to his left, her blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail, spreading out notes in multi-colored pen and highlighter, their table is the least inspiring of the lot. For one, there’s him, who had barely passed elementary calc. last year and was on his way to failing macroeconomics this semester. But it’s the two sitting across from him that instill a particular sort of dread.
“You going to Rusty’s tonight?” one of them asks, Esteban, tall and lanky and slumped so low in his chair that Logan can almost touch his feet even though he’s clear on the other side of the table.
The other one, Lance, broad and just as long as his friend, shrugs, “I don’t know, man. Getting kind of bored of it.”
Logan watches as Lance takes off his backwards cap long enough to ruffle at his hair before sliding the hat back down onto his head. There’s Greek lettering embroidered along back for some fraternity Logan doesn’t know the letters of, but is sure they’re assholes, nonetheless. He’s seen the way Lance strolls into class enough times, backpack slung over one shoulder, if he even bothers to bring it, his phone in the other. He wears his AirPods during class, which easily outs him as the elitist snob he is – the type of student who’s here partying on daddy’s dime, who wouldn’t know what the term ‘work study’ meant if it ran him over with the bike Logan knows Lance keeps in the University Village parking lot. Logan couldn’t afford off-campus housing, but he knows Lance can, the bike is always parked in a resident spot.
The girl beside him shifts her notes closer, he turns his attention to her, so he doesn’t have to hear Lance recount his exploits at the local bar that is known for serving underage undergrads.
“You took all of these?” He asks the girl, mildly impressed. Her handwriting is neat, so neat it almost looks unnatural. She’s color coded them, bolded certain words and underlined others. Logan is suddenly ashamed of the chicken scratch in his notebook that’s tucked beneath his arm.
For those that don’t know, Florida Gulf Coast University is a school in Fort Myers (in south Florida, on the opposite coast of Miami). Their big draw is being “close” to the beach, realistically it’s like a 30 minute drive.
They typically attract local kids on scholarship, or rich northerners who are just looking for an easy education. But they do offer a unique golf management degree, and their claim to fame is that they’re sometimes decent in the basketball department (like 1 time in 2015 but they just will not let it go). They also somewhat have a reputation as a party school (tho I think Miami definitely more than them).
Being built predominantly around preserved land, FGCU also has a big “eco-friendly” outlook. So lots of walking paths, a course called colloquium that all students have to take, and the one everyone dreads because you have to walk through the swamp for part of it. Lucky for Lance, he would have attended during the COVID years, and thus could avoid the swamp walk because all courses were virtual.
He’d probably be a member of Alpha Epsilon Pi, the Jewish fraternity on campus. They’re lowkey, but also kind of throw the best parties, off-campus of course because FGCU doesn’t have official fraternity or sorority housing. In this world Lance has definitely drank jungle juice from a trash can with a nozzle cut into the base. He is aware of the existence of “Saturdays are for the boys” flags, frat boy Lance is something that can be both repulsive and endearing.
He has a car, but most the time he opts to take his bike places. Fernando first runs into him when he’s in his bike gear actually, which, you know, hard to resist that. Plus, picture Fernando being Lance’s backpack. Please envision it, it’s a very important image. It’s definitely happened in this universe.
Strollonso beach dates??? Yeah, 100% happened here too. One of the reasons Lance even ends up at FGCU is because of the beach, so you know his ass is there most weekends. He forgets sunscreen frequently, Fernando is used to applying aloe to his back after they’ve spent a long day on the boat. He probably has that sunburned warmth to him like 24/7. He never forgets his sunglasses though, so he also maybe has raccoon eyes.
Oh yeah, and Logan, being a South Florida boy, probably would have attended FGCU too. His tinder profile unfortunately probably does feature a photo of him holding a fish. Just Florida boy things.
Anyway, this maybe is nothing. But if you want to talk more about this au please feel free to message me/send an ask. And I will 100% be ready to ramble more about this ultra specific fic. A chapter coming after keep to the line this weekend maybe.
#I have so much to say about this#literally I have notes upon notes that I’ve been building with my friends#we are so sure in another universe he went to fgcu#we know it in our bones#strollonso#strollonso fic#strollonso college au#lance stroll
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𝒩𝑒𝓌 𝒪𝓇𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒
Chapter 1 🌸 Chapter 2 🌸 Chapter 3 🌸 Chapter 4
Pairing: Human!Alastor x Fem!Reader
Summary: Your parents want you to marry someone of their choice, but you already have eyes on someone else. Will you follow what your parents think is best for you or will you go with what your heart desires.
Word count: 1.9k
Warnings: human!alastor x fem!reader, slow burn, this story may contain mature sexual content. Your in your late 20's, Alastor is in his early 30's, you still live with your parents idk. If I forgot anything else please let me know.
Note: Next chapter will be out on Friday ^^ unless I decide to post early again.
𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝟦
Your father’s return from work filled the house with a sense of familiarity. As he stepped out of the car he made his way to the front porch and entered the house, his voice echoed through the hallway: “I’m home.” You emerged from your bedroom, descending the stairs to join your mother, who had also come out to greet him.
“Welcome home, hun,” wrapping her arms around your father in a warm embrace. The love between them was palpable, a quiet reassurance that life continued its steady rhythm.
You followed suit, hugging your father. “Welcome home, Dad,” your voice echoing your mother’s sentiment. The three of you stood there, a family reunited, the walls of the house absorbing the shared affection.
“Are we ready to go?” your father asked, glancing at both of you. The question hung in the air, a bridge between the comfort of home and the adventures that awaited beyond its threshold.
“Yes, we are ready” your mother’s voice sounded excited. "Yeah," you murmured, your reluctance a low counterpoint to her enthusiasm. You trailed behind your parents, the click of the door latch a definitive sound marking your departure from the sanctuary of home.
The car's engine hummed to life, a soft purr that seemed to signal the start of an inevitable journey. Your mother's excitement was a bright note in the otherwise mundane trip, her voice filled with the kind of hope only a parent can have.
As the car rolled down the street, the world outside the window passed in a blur of colors and shapes. Your thoughts, however, were anchored firmly on Alastor—his enigmatic smile, the way his presence had seemed to shift the very air around you.
"Sweetie, give Brian a chance," your mother's voice cut through your reverie, a gentle chiding that pulled you back to the present. Her words were well-meaning, but they landed with a weight you weren't ready to carry.
You didn't want to give Brian a chance, not when your mind was filled with Alastor. He had opened a door to something new, something that felt like it could be significant, and the thought of stepping away from that, even for an evening, was unappealing.
But as the car turned onto the road leading to Richard’s house, you realized that sometimes life required you to walk down paths you hadn't chosen, to meet people who might not stir your soul the way a stranger had with just one smile. Perhaps this was one of those times.
With a quiet sigh, you resolved to face the evening with an open mind. Who knew? Maybe Brian would surprise you. Maybe the evening would unfold in ways you couldn't predict.
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You could see Richard who stood on his porch, a figure of affluence and influence, his posture radiating the confidence of a man who knew the power of his wealth. As you observed him, a flicker of unease danced in your stomach at the thought that such a man could, if he so desired, attempt to wield his wealth in personal matters. Yet, you trusted in your parents' integrity, in their love for you that was worth more than any fortune.
Your father's actions were swift, a testament to his gentlemanly ways, as he moved to open the door for your mother. Not wanting to be coddled, you stepped out of the car independently, your feet firm on the ground as you prepared to face the evening ahead.
Richard's approach was measured, his greeting to your father, "Hello there Alec," a blend of formality and familiarity. The handshake between the two men was a silent exchange of respect, an acknowledgment of their relationship that went beyond mere acquaintance.
Your mother received her greeting with grace, her poise unshaken by the grandeur of Richard's presence. You watched the pleasantries, a spectator to the social dance that was as much a part of these visits as the conversations that would follow.
Richard moved toward you, his greeting smooth and practiced. “Hello, Y/N, how are you?” he asked, his eyes locking onto yours. You smiled, a polite response that masked the whirlwind of thoughts beneath the surface. “I’m good, thank you for asking. And you, sir?” His return smile held a hint of something more, a glimmer of charm that seemed to dance on the edge of familiarity. “I’m doing just fine,” his voice a velvet undertone. “Well, come on.”
As you made your way to the house, your father and Richard engaged in conversation, walking side by side. Their words were lost to you, drowned out by the internal monologue that had taken root. Your mother, sensing your hesitation, came close. “Please give Brian a chance,” she implored, her eyes pleading. “Talk to him and get to know him. I believe he’s the right man for you.”
You stayed quiet, the annoyance simmering within you. *Was this about you, or was it about Richard’s wealth?* The question hung in the air, a shadow over the evening that threatened to eclipse any chance of genuine connection. As you stepped into the house, you wondered if the path laid out before you was truly your own or if it was a carefully orchestrated dance to a tune you hadn’t chosen.
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Richard called his son Brian to come downstairs to greet you. Brian’s hurried footsteps signaled his approach. As you reluctantly turned your gaze from the window, urged by your mother’s insistent nudge, you took in the sight of Brian. He was the epitome of well-groomed, his black hair neatly swept back, bright blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with a different kind of intensity, and a slim build. He was tall but not as tall as Alastor.
You offered a polite smile, the kind that was expected in such situations, and exchanged greetings. Brian’s presence filled the room differently; where Alastor’s was enigmatic and intriguing, Brian’s carried an air of self-assuredness that bordered on arrogance. It was an impression that set you on edge, a silent alarm that whispered caution.
Despite this, you knew the evening was set, a stage upon which you were expected to play your part. The challenge now was to navigate the waters of social expectation while holding onto the thread of curiosity that Alastor had sparked within you.
“Hungry? My wife is cooking,” Richard's offer of a meal momentarily grounded you back to the present. The aroma of home-cooking began to fill the air, a subtle reminder of the domestic scene unfolding around you. "Ah yes I am, thank you," your father responded with a note of appreciation that seemed to resonate with Richard's hospitable gesture.
Your mother's nudge was a silent communication, her widened eyes conveying a message louder than words. You returned her look with an expression of mild exasperation, a silent conversation that only the two of you could fully understand.
"No, I'm not hungry, thank you," your appetite absent amidst the swirl of emotions and thoughts that had occupied your mind. The idea of food was far from appealing when weighed against the introspection that had become your companion of late.
"Well, why don't you go for a walk with Brian, he can show you around, you know," your mother suggested, her voice a crescendo of excitement. The prospect, however, did little to stir any enthusiasm within you. The thought of spending time with Brian, especially when your thoughts were still entwined with Alastor, was less than appealing.
Yet, the suggestion hung in the air, an expectation that was hard to dismiss. With a resigned breath, you nodded. "Alright, a walk sounds nice," you conceded, mustering a smile that you hoped appeared genuine. It was a compromise, a small concession to the evening's agenda.
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The walk had taken an uncomfortable turn, the silence between you and Brian now filled with the unspoken acknowledgment that this was not going to be the match your parents had hoped for. His question about your favorite hobby seemed trivial in the grand scheme of things, especially when your thoughts were elsewhere.
"Uh-um sorry, what was the question?" you repeated, trying to salvage the conversation out of politeness more than genuine interest. Brian's response, a mix of impatience and resignation, only confirmed the disconnect.
"I said what is your fav-ah never mind," he said, waving off his own question. It was clear that the walk was merely a formality, a box to be checked in a list of social expectations. The realization that neither of you was invested in this encounter was oddly freeing.
The evening turned to night, and the moon emerged from behind a thick blanket of clouds. As you both turned back towards the house, Brian spoke again “I do find you very attractive,” His words hung awkwardly in the air, a compliment that felt more like a transaction than a genuine expression of admiration. The silence stretching between you both like the shadows cast by the moonlight.
You winced inwardly, the idea of being ‘bought’ by someone like Brian—a notion that seemed all too plausible given his demeanor—left a bitter taste. Yet, you cling to the hope that your parents would never reduce you to a transaction, that their love for you transcends societal norms. But doubts creep in—*what if duty outweighs love? What if their expectations bind you more tightly than any contract?*
As the house loomed into view, the evening’s events solidified a resolve within you. You wanted more than the superficial exchanges and the roles assigned by wealth and expectation. You sought a connection that was genuine, a partnership of equals where respect and understanding were the foundations.
With a polite nod, you acknowledged Brian’s comment, choosing to keep the conversation civil. “Thank you, Brian,” the words measured and devoid of the warmth he might have been expecting.
As you stepped back into the house, the door closing with a soft click behind you, the weight of the evening's expectations seemed to fall away.
Inside, the sounds of dinner preparations and your parents' soft conversation provided a backdrop to your thoughts. You excused yourself, claiming a need for a moment alone, and made your way to the small garden at the back of the house.
The garden was a quiet sanctuary, the moon casting silver shadows over the blooming flowers and lush greenery. You took a deep breath, the fragrant air mingling with the scent of the earth, grounding you. Here, away from the expectations and the judgments, you could think.
You thought of Alastor, of the way he had looked at you, as if he truly saw you. You thought of yourself, of the life you wanted to lead—one filled with passion, with adventure, and with love that was genuine and true.
The sound of footsteps on the gravel path pulled you from your reverie. You turned to see your mother approaching, a gentle smile on her face.
"Y/N, are you alright?" her voice soft with concern.
You nodded, offering her a small smile. "I'm fine, Mom. Just needed some air."
She joined you, looking out over the garden. Together, you shared the silence, each lost in thoughts as the garden's beauty enveloped you in its peaceful embrace.
Time, however, continued its inexorable march, and soon your mother stood, her voice soft but resolute. "We should be heading home now, sweetie. C'mon, let's go inside and say our goodbyes."
You rose, feeling the solidity of the earth beneath your feet, a grounding force as you prepared to reenter the house. The farewells were brief, a polite exchange of words that marked the end of a evening that had unfolded in unexpected ways. You left Richard's house behind, the car's gentle hum a comforting sound in the quiet night.
PS: Alastor will be making an appearance next chapter.
Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list so you be updated every time.^^
Also I sometimes tend to make minor changes to the chapters.
Thank you! For reading I hope you enjoyed it.💖
TAGLIST: @magictoebean @little-slyvixen
#alastor#alastor smut#alastor x reader#alastor x reader smut#hazbin hotel alastor x reader#alastor x you#hazbin hotel#human alastor#hazbin hotel alastor
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Do you think Sephiroth knows Lucrecia is his mother now?
I'm currently holding onto the belief that he doesn't. At least, not in a detailed sense. Yes, he should technically be able to figure it out using the knowledge from the Lifestream. But he never makes mention of it at all, nor does his relationship with Jenova really seem to change in any way. Lucrecia is kind of an extremely important character throughout the Compilation. If they were going to connect the dots with her and Seph, they would have had him say something by now. Maybe they will do something of that nature in Part 3. But I don't think so. Sephiroth seems pretty unshaken in the belief he is Jenova's son, complete with conceptualizing himself as something inhuman and of Jenova's heritage, despite coming from two human parents. Again, someone with Sephiroth's massive ego would have openly refuted alternative claims out loud, especially during one of his monologues. The fact that he never refers to himself as anything other than Jenova's son leads me to believe that he really doesn't know about Lucrecia at all.
Plus, there's Opera Omnia to consider. Vincent pretty much outright TELLS Sephiroth about Lucrecia...only for Sephiroth to completely blow him off.
Keep in mind that the full context of this exchange is framed with Sephiroth going on and on about Jenova, only for Vincent to refute him with claims about Lucrecia without actually mentioning Lucrecia's name. It's treated like a reveal to Sephiroth, only for Sephiroth to ignore what Vincent is saying. So Sephiroth's rejection isn't "hey I know about Lucrecia and I don't fucking care what you have to say about her she sucks" and more of "I have no idea what you're going on about, but it's annoying so shut up".
At this point, and idk if there's a Jenova-influenced mental block or if Seph is in denial or what--but Sephiroth is not aware of Lucrecia's existence. And honestly, I'd prefer that. Part of the tragedy is that they will never truly meet each other. And Sephiroth is so arrogant and insane that he clings to the delusion of Jenova without considering alternatives. Pretty messed up.
#asks#ff7#ffvii#final fantasy 7#sephcanons#crisis core#sephiroth#lucrecia crescent#jenova#vincent valentine#dissidia opera omnia
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Maybe you could write ellabs with sub ells who is a little too cudly in the morning? Maybe with a moening sex in the kitchen or in the bathroom Plzplzplzplzplzplz
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aww sleepy ellie!!
I think she'd wake up and already be squeezing her thighs wanting abby but finds that side of the bed cold. she'd groan and finally crawl outta bed looking for the only person that could help her while she dripped down her thighs, and there she is. Abby Anderson, humming to herself will she flips pancakes in the air, the sound of butter sizzling in the pan, a cool breeze from the window blowing bits of her hair out of her face but ellie doesn't give a fuck about the pancakes, the butter or the goddamn wind. she needs abby. she stomps towards the stove and turns off the fire, startling abby. abby spins around to face ellie with a confused look on her face ellie uses this as an advantage and smashes her lips against abby's. at first abby is incredibly confused but once ellie grabs her hand to shove a few fingers inside of her she completely understands. ellie breaks the kiss once abby's fingers are inside her feeling so much better already but because ellie is a brat who made abby stop cooking abby is not going to move her fingers...ellie is. she gets the memo when she stares up at abby with those big eyes shinning with tears and abby just looks right back at her with a straight face. ellie whines but starts moving abby's wrist to help her move her fingers in and out of her. her head falls onto abby's chest, eyes closed and her lips are making the prettiest noises, pleas and abby's name are all that can be heard but she's having a difficult time cumming she needs something else and because abby lovers her she reluctantly gives it to her. she rubs her thumb in harsh cirlce on ellie's clit, ellie yelps in pleasure her face flushed and sweaty she's now grinding against abby's hand her moans becoming louder and louder as she begins to cum, her legs are shaking and she can barely stand. her eyes roll into the back of her head as she gushes all over abby's hand. the orgasm is so strong and just what she needed cause she collapses onto abby exhausted but with a smile on her face. abby then picks her up and carries her back to bed, she then goes right back to cooking cause she's knows ellie well enough that she'll be starving when she wakes up.
the end!
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a/n
idk if it's good! let me know!!
#abby anderson#abby anderson smut#abby anderson x reader#ellabs x reader#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x reader#vi arcane x reader#ellie smut#ellie the last of us#ellie williams
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i literally have your post notifs on now 🫣 that conquerer mark fic was soooo good omfg 🙏🙏 while it’s kind of on the topic of bff mark, would you be able to do like…childhood friends mark that knows the reader is attracted to him (probably in love with him) and kind of uses it to manipulate her? or something similar idk LMAO i’m just in love w the childhood friends/friends to lovers trope and i think u could put a really fun and dark spin on it!
mdni! possibly uncomfortable for some, will add tags soon so please bare with me! not very smut like, some at the end.
this is just a small drable, i will extend on this idea! please enjoy!
i very love this idea; i already know exactly what i will do with this hehe. he's been aware of your little secret crush on him since you both started highschool, thinking nothing of it, thinking that you would eventually grow out of him… until you don’t. you were certain that you were destined to be.
that was until amber came along. you felt threatened, terrified that she would take him from you- she was gorgeous-and he knew it tore you up inside. when college came around; you almost gave up on him. you thought back to how he had knocked on your bedroom window floating one day making you panic and almost scream awake the entire neighbourhood. oh how you wished that he had stayed by your side.
you scrolled through the newsfeeds on your phone, watching back mark-invinvible's - fight today, pining for the sweet boy that you had fallen in love with. you felt as if you needed mark grayson to eat, sleep and drink.
he flew through your window, taking you by surprise as he nodded his head at you as a quick greeting, disappearing into your bathroom in his suit and emerging a second later in no shirt and pajama pants. "thought i'd do a quick check around the city before bed." he spoke, your eyes quickly glancing at his body, observing him. you were sure he wouldn't notice, you'd been doing this for years and he hadn't even paid you no mind.
that wasn't true. mark saw the way you looked at him. not just now, but all the time. he could see the way you mourned for him, heard the way you touched yourself for him, jerking off to the sounds of your hopeless shameful cries afterwards, slowly slipping into despair as you tried to wrestle with the realisation that mark was with another. he craved it. craved you, wanted you.
he wanted to get off…
you were his best friend, so when you watched him slump onto the end of your bed and listened to him complain about his relationship, you comforted him, you heard him. you felt guilty to admit it, but your heart fluttered at the possibility of amber being out of the picture. oh you felt horrible.
mark knew how you felt: euphoric. you were hoping on their downfall. mark and amber were actually only on a little break. “it’s just been rocky recently,” he would get back with her eventually. “we should try seeing other people.”
and he sees right through you, sees right through his pretty little friend. he doesn’t hesitate, his hand resting on your lower back. “i know you like me, i’ve seen the way you look at me.” he speaks and you flush, wanting the bed to open up and swallow you whole. you try to speak, but are interrupted by mark. handsome, strong, sweet mark. “i’m kinda pent up… just- i don’t know.. i don’t wanna make it weird,” he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, shrugging along with his words. take the bait.
“me and amber— not so active anymore. if you get me.” what was he getting at? you thought your heart was going to pop out of your delicate little chest.
and then he finally pops the question.
before long, you’re on your knees, mouth stretched around your best friend’s dick, drool leaking from the edges of your mouth as he rocked his hips into your face, “c’mon now, i thought you liked me… hah- are you gonna start being a good fleshlight or am i gonna have to go next door and finish inside of amber, huh?” his words were lost on you, the only thing you could focus on was the way you had finally gotten his attention; you were finally useful to him.
#dark blog#invincible#mark grayson#mark grayson x reader#mark grayson smut#fem reader#bff!mark grayson#invincible x reader#invincible smut
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good afternoon!
I'm very curious how Quackity would act when his girlfriend is being harassed by a strange man. (whether at work or in a public place, cafe, karaoke, club, ordinary street - you decide).
his girlfriend starts to panic, has anxious thoughts, trembles all over her body. In general, fear for her body and life.
if it's too much for you or something like that - don't write! and I also really hope that there is nothing strange in the text, because I used a translator for this query…
No it’s fine! I write a verity of things so this is fine :)
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idk what to name this 😔🙏
TWS: Sensitive topics and SA
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You both could be at a cafe or something and you’d offer to go up and order the food whilst Alex sat down.
“Hey i’ll go order stay here” You’d say and he’d nod. He would go on his phone occasionally glancing at you.
you’d walk up in line, a man came up behind you. you’d think nothing of it and you’d wait for the person in front of you to order, “Hey!” The man would say and you’d turn around “Hi?” You reply.
“Your really hot can i have your number?” He’d start and you’d look over at Alex who was on his phone. “Uh..no I have a boyfriend.” You’d say turning back around, “Well I don’t see him so you don’t” The man would whisper in your ear his hand reaching to your lower back, “Don’t touch me.” you’d squirm away.
“Aw come on.” He’d try to grab your ass but you’d move back, at this point Alex had glanced up and saw you two. He’d walk up to you and just as the man would try to touch you again he’d slap his hand off you. “Who the hell are you?!” Alex would ask and you’d hug onto him. “oh i’m her boyfriend” The man would lie and Alex would chuckle
“Boyfriend? yeah no, get the fuck away from us.” Alex would say.
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you two decided to go home and talk about it, Alex would be so pissed.
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How Relationships With Them Would Be: Pt 3
Let's finish this off because this post series has taken a long time to finish.
(*sigh* never mind. This will be in 2 parts because it's longer than I thought it'd be.)
Cater:
I mean.... he might be ok? But he seems to have a lot of issues going on with himself, so I'm unsure if he'd even be ready for a relationship. It would probably be a pretty stable relationship, though. Although, if you're one of those "I need silence or I will go fucking insane." people, probably won't work out.
MC: *trying to zone out because they need it*
Cater: MC! YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT JUST HAPPENED!
MC: *still trying to enjoy the silence*
Cater: MC! COME ON COME ON!
MC: Can I have some peace for a moment?
Cater: But you'll miss it if you don't come!
Probably a pretty good boyfriend for certain personalities.
Ace:
Fuck no. Have you not read the wiki thing where it says he literally ghosted his gf? I get that was in middle school, but this mans literally runs from commitment and will probably bully you because he thinks it's teasing.
Ace: Seriously? That's the grade you got?
MC: I tried my hardest! I'm not from this world, remember?!
Ace: But Grim got a better grade than you. Grim! How dumb do you have to be?
MC: *either raging or crying*
(I may have based this off a fic I read)
I hope you're good at teasing his back, otherwise y'all will never get along.
Deuce:
Maybe another good one? He seems to have gotten better with his anger, so that's something. He probably wouldn't leech off of you too much. I think his only problem is that he might not see the relationship as an actual relationship, y'know? He might just treat it like a normal friendship or something. Maybe once he's graduated, he'd be better with knowing how to deal with a relationship, but for now? Not so much. He might also honestly forget y'all are in a relationship. (this might just be a headcannon? Idk)
MC: We should give each other pet names!
Deuce: Why?
MC: Cause we're dating!
Deuce: *pauses to load* ....OH!.... Right.... yeah.... we are.
But honestly? Probably a pretty good boyfriend.
Jack:
Ok, now we're just getting good boyfriend material, wtf? But seriously, Jack is a family man, and he's good at keeping at his goals. He'd be perfect at keeping his significant other on track and keep them from procrastinating. He'd probably also help them keep in shape. I feel like his only flaw is he tends to either overestimate people's abilities or try to push his views onto others a little too much.
Jack: You have to keep going or else you'll get used to stopping right before you get the exercise you need!
MC: *literally sweating through their clothes and pretty much fucking dying* I NEED A BREAK!
Jack: Just keep going! It's fine!
As long as you're an overachiever and you're ok with your limits being pushed, I'd say he's good bf material.
It's been a while, so I hope I still made this ok. There were a lot more good boyfriends than I thought there'd be.
Oh well. I'll get the next part out at some point.
#twst#twisted wonderland#disney twst#disney twisted wonderland#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#disney twst x reader#disney twisted wonderland x reader
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my possibly unpopular opinions on therapy/psychiatry
- Just like suffering is not inherent to womanhood, suffering is not inherent to humans. Just like it is not okay to just expect that women will be subjected to suffering, it is not okay to expect that it will happen to anyone and it's just the way things are.
- Therapy is not inherently wrong for trying to alleviate the suffering, but I fail to see the doctors acknowledging the fact that the suffering is a collectively shared experience, and suffering is caused by someone. Moreover it is the whole point of therapy to focus on just yourself, "take responsibility"(for the harm that was done to you?) and seeing what you can make do. Basically because again, doctors cant really tell their patients to go overthrow the gvt or divorce their shitty husbands. Thus endless copium instead of, yknow... something actually meaningful.
- Antidepressants arent inherently bad but they cant cure you. They are just psychoactive drugs. Caffeine, tobacco, cocaine, they all are psychoactive in one way or another, and your brain doesnt really care if the substance is legal, illegal or prescribed. It modifies the symptoms but it cannot actually cure you. Or something. If you struggle with depression/anxiety related issues, I would highly recommend that you try to look for a way to alleviate them that is not just you popping pills for 10 years in a row.
- Our society is purposefully built to fuck us up. Just like "dyslexia" is not a thing in societies that dont have a writing system, "ADHD" or "depression" or "anxiety" are non-syndromes, they show only in very specific circumstances. It is possible to reform the world so that it doesnt force suffering and disabilities onto people.
- Psychoactive drugs that actively alter people's neurochemistry and may lead to both psychological and physical dependency are catastrophically overprescribed and one day the big pharma will be held accountable for their crimes lol
- I repeat that I do not oppose psychiatric medicines as a concept. Psychiatric disorders fuck people up, I know it personally. BUT. Sorry but there is a difference between a socially-induced disorder like anxiety, and a disorder of a purely biological genesis like bipolar mania or schizophrenia. I dont think depression or anxiety are easy. But consider what, someone suffering from delusions in mania cannot CBT their delusions away, they basically have to be on meds. MAYBE think really hard of the pros and cons here. You are lucky to have a relatively healthy brain, dont wash it down the drain.
- Medicalization and profiting off of any suffering is highly concerning. The transgender pharma will also pay for their crime of persuading (otherwise healthy) people that they cannot exist and will literally kill themselves without unnecessary medications and surgeries.
- If you have agreed on me on the previous points but my opinion on transness triggered you, consider unbrainwashing yourself? Idk? Can't you put 2 and 2 together? These are literally the same kind of phenomena.
- I say it all as someone who has been on antidepressants for a long time, and also who knows many people who were on antidepressants for a long time. I've seen both huge benefits and huge debilitating side effects.
As a matter of fact I am also completely normal and can be trusted w
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found this in my drafts is this anything
#whump tropes#bear with me#idk what this was but I think I was onto something#whump community#do we have anyth here babes????#????#you didn’t see my bias shhhh#all tropes are valid im just being silly hete ok#forceful caretaker#supREMEEE
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Not gonna go out on this limb on a 25k post, but maybe it’s okay that kids today don’t know as much about using an actual computer as we do/did? Is it useful knowledge? Of course it is. So is using a sewing machine or being able to rebuild your VW with a copy of that one book every VW driver used to have. That’s not the right question—most practical knowledge is useful after all. The question should be “is it relevant to the way people live right now.” “How to Keep Your VW Alive” is a timeless fucking classic; my ex and I kept our copy long after he sold his VW. But I’m not buying a copy now because it won’t exactly help me keep my VW ID4 on the road.
And it’s funny, because I tend to read along with those posts and nod my head, because back in my day we HAD to know all that computer stuff. And then for some reason today, I remembered a conversation my mom and I had with my grandma in the mid 70s when I was a teenager. Grandma made my mom’s wedding dress. She worked at a department store doing alterations on foundation wear, which if you look at 1950s foundation wear, you’ll realize was both necessary and difficult. So she was shocked when I said most of my friends didn’t know their way around a sewing machine. “But how do you make sure your clothes fit?!” Well, Grandma, people don’t wear heavy foundation wear any more and clothes don’t need to be as tailored as they did back in the day—it’s 1975 and the only alterations I need to do is hemming my flares so they just touch the floor when I’m wearing platforms.
Now you can back up and look at the broader picture, the one that says, but your car should be repairable by you as long as you have clear instructions, and you should be able to alter your clothes or make your own, and yes, you should know how to organize the files on the desktop of your laptop. But the fact that for the most part it’s become easier and easier to just not do those things (if they can be done at all) isn’t exactly the fault of Kids Today. And it’s certainly not meeting them where they are or even trying to understand why they feel they don’t need that knowledge if, instead of looking at why they don’t have it and maybe even don’t need it, you just decry their lack of the Deep Wisdom.
#idk man#we see shit all the time about how saying insensitive stuff#affects the listener#how can you be on these kids’ side#if you clutch your pearls in their hearing#about shit no one’s teaching them to do?#maybe you’re not blaming them#but think back to the time you didn’t know how to do something#your folks did back in the day#made ya feel kinda dumb didn’t it?#also it’s hilarious that this is about kids not using laptops#next you’ll be telling me they don’t know how to go online using dialup#and then loading something onto their website using ftp#what do you mean yon don’t know COBOL?#like fuck man#this is just adults bitching about kids#and i thought we weren’t gonna do that anymore?
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your narumitsu art made me weep with joy and I heard you want more requests 👀
idk if this is the right place to put them but I think phoenix coming with miles to try on his glasses for the first time would be sweet :,) miles asking how they look and phoenix being just smitten. the good stuff
Dear anon… you sure know how to pick em! Things got very out of hand very quickly while drawing, and well. You inspired me to draft a comic! I didn’t want to make you wait long, so here are the sketches for the pages relevant to your request <3
Thanks so much, and hope you enjoy~! 💜
#narumitsu#wrightworth#we do love a good oh moment but i think beanix deserves something more like a sack of bricks. you’re fucked king!#if it’s not clear beanix is imagining ALL of that. like photoshopping the glasses onto memories#the glassesfication of miles edgeworth#also i can’t promise this comic will see the light of day because i’m VERY bad at writing these two despite what you might think#the whole time i was writing it i was like ‘he would not say do or think that. draw it.’ in a i-cant-do-any-better-rn way#still despite that this was super fun so THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE INSPO!!!#hope edgeworth enjoyers approve bc idk what im doing#thank you for your time if you’re reading this welcome to the prison of my mind <3#rendoodles#phoenix wright#miles edgeworth#beanix#fan comic#fan art#aa#anonymous#asks
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I see aplatonics talking about how people assume not having friends means you're an unlikable person and how harmful that can be and it just reminds me of how people will point to assholes and say they don't have friends as an insult but like...I know a lot of assholes with friends. Their friends also tend to be assholes. someone not having friends is not a moral failing. Assholes have people who like them and will hang out with them while the nicest person you know may have no friends at all.
so y'know, I'm with the aplatonics and platorepulsed ppl on this one.
#text#aplatonic#aspec#idk how to tag this im sorry haha#technically i would count as aplatonic but i dont use the label because i dont feel strongly enough abt it#as in abt my lack of platonic feelings and lack of attraction in general haha#whats the saying 'i believe in their beliefs'?#anyways i think the aplatonics are onto something and i'm 100% here for it#society really do be moralizing every relationship all the time huh
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YOU KNOW WHAT?!? i miss dr. sharon!!! she would have gotten everyone’s shit together and told roy to stop suppressing his urges to fuck jamie tartt & misdirecting it as anger towards him and just act on it lol.
#i think it would really be beneficial for you both#what’s the worst that could happen?#everything! and then you’d be seeing a lot more of me#and then i’d be making more money#so you’d encourage me to do something that might be a terrible idea so you can get more sessions out of me? …i respect that#thank you. but i’m also positive this wouldn’t be a bad idea#later jamie comes up to him like#dr sharon said we should fuck. she say that to you too?#maybe we should try it then idk she’s a doctor right? might be onto something#dr sharon fieldstone#ted lasso#ted lasso s3#roy kent#jamie tartt#roy x jamie#tedependent
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Ya know what’s curious to me? In Episode 2 when Crowley asks Aziraphale in the cellar whose side he’s on, Aziraphale responds “God’s, of course!”
Ya know why this is curious?
Well, for one, they’re talking about sides. Heaven and Hell. Their respective bosses. Crowley’s response of going along with Hell as far as he can makes sense, it’s what we expect to hear, but when he turns the question on Aziraphale, he doesn’t exclaim ‘heaven’s obviously!’ He immediately associates himself and his values with God directly.
Second of all, In episode 6, when talking about accepting the Metatron’s job offer as the new supreme archangel with Crowley, Aziraphale says “but heaven! Well, it’s the side of truth, of light, of good.”
For the entirety of Good Omens season 1, Aziraphale had always talked about following God’s ineffable plan, which was a noticeably different turn of phrase than those such as Gabriel used in heaven, always referring to it as the Great Plan. This is even the very thing that lead them to wiggling their way around Armageddon in the first place when confronted by Gabriel and Beelzebub.
Aziraphale has always made the distinction that he is an angel and does good because he believes that God is good and he trusts in their design.
Now I might just be loosing it, it is nearly 3am, but this sudden distinction and the choice of Aziraphale to not only discuss heaven in such a manner, but to refer to it as an entire Side, and use the adjectives he uses to describe heaven when we’ve only ever seen or heard him talk about God this way… it just all plays very intentional to me. It feel’s weird.
Especially once you take into consideration the flashbacks we’re shown of Beelzebub and Gabriel discussing the failed Armageddon in their little pub rendezvous. They never once mention their respect ‘boss’. Gabriel says “we are ready for round two.” And Beelzebub’s response is “as are we.” This we that they’re referring to isn’t God. It’s not Satan. They’re talking about the beings who reside in these respective places. The Angels and the Demons. And the conversation then continues with Gabriel admitting, “everyone in Heaven is all like, ‘Well, you’re the commander-in-chief, can’t you just make the war happen anyway?’ Like, I make the rules.” And whats Beelzebub’s response? “That’s exactly what my lot said.”
The pressure isn’t coming from God anymore. In the past, like seen in the Job episode, when there were divine tasks at hand they were dealt with by the angels for God, and God was directly involved in finding the outcome. There was no going through management or filing paperwork or monitoring miracles. And hey, I get it. As time evolves along with the humans, so does everything else.
My question is, is it possible that with these evolutions in the human world, that Heaven and Hell have perhaps learned a thing or two from humanity as well? Already they’ve mimicked the clothing, the office spaces, the entire design of heaven and hell down to the management hierarchy. Is it possible that these wars and these fights aren’t being started by God anymore, but an act of civil war amongst the Angels and Demons? We already see Michaels urge for power and control paralleled and almost foiled by Shax’s drive for control and power and both were the driving factors between any of the Major problems this season that lead to major conflicts between Heaven and Hell.
That brings us of course, to the Metatron. Who is he and where exactly did he come from? When did his position become necessary and why wasn’t he present as the ‘voice of god’ in the job minisode? Why suddenly are all of God’s plans, only being carried out by him?
Do you want to know why I think Gabriel was being demoted and not sent to Hell as a fallen angel? Because I don’t think they can. I think that’s something only God can do, but what kind of fear and control would that hold over all the busy bee’s? No, no, instead, let’s frame it as a Kindness. Heaven won’t cast you out because it will make them look bad! because it’s happened before, so they have no choice but to play a game of politics to keep everyone in check.
But here’s my question. Has there been a fallen angel since the great war? Why is it that after all this time, Aziraphale hasn’t fallen time and time again? Why is it that instead of an Angel falling from grace to join the armies of hell, the response to an act of rebellion is absolute destruction. The same could be said for hell. If you have demons walking around that are doing good, wouldn’t that simply just re-spark their halo’s? Why is it that they’d be destroyed by Holy Water instead of simply returning to Heaven?
It’s because God plays an ineffable game of their own design. They’re not playing with earth, or humanity. They’re toying with the Angels and the Demons. It’s why they’re placing bets with Satan.
When Crowley’s attempting to convince Aziraphale to run away for the last time, he doesn’t say Fuck God and Fuck whatever game this is, we don’t need to be a part of it. He says Heaven and Hell are toxic we need to get away from them.
It’s just so curious to me how this season has carefully and slowly taken us away from the idea of God and God’s Ineffable Plan and instead led us into this drama between Heaven and Hell, no mention of God whatsoever. No narrator.
#thoughts anyone?#genuinely curious if i just need a fucking nap#but also idk this time watching it really just struck me#when theyre discussing sides in the job minisode#they’re talking about heaven and hell#when the question is turned back on Aziraphale however#unlike crowleys answer of ‘i go along with hell as far as i can’ he doesnmt even mention Heaven#he goes straight to god#uk what thats a good point#let me add that into the post rq hold on#fuck me i went back to add the little paragraph and went on a tangent#it is now nearly 4am#so#ahem#shit#i hope this is even vaguely coherent and that people see it#i hope it doesn’t get swallowed by the void cause i think im onto something but im so tired#bi.f.shit#good omens#good omens 2#good omens 2 spoilers#crowley#aziraphale#ineffable divorcées#ineffable husbands#good omens spoilers#good omens meta#good omens analysis
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Steve's kindness is, like all self-taught one, a mirage of borrowed expressions, a collage of habits picked from people he loved, a bit stilled but eager and well-meaning, sometimes a bit chopped at the sides, a growing want to let the good feelings out in front of the right people.
Eddie liked to sometimes watch him and find all the signs of other people in him, try to match them up to right people.
He would watch and think - this is Nancy's stubbornness to never give up on people and Dustin's loyalty, he would see him trying to give advice to Dustin and see Johnathan's akward pep-talks to Will. The way he would always try to have snacks for the kids screamed both Joyce's and Mrs. Henderson motherly kindness. His willingness to sit in silence, a steady presence, when somebody needed it shined with Will's warmth. How he fights for the people he cares about, letting his meaness be a defense for them all, a barier and a shield similar to Max's snark.
And whenever he found himself to be the matching person? It made him feel loved, so fucking loved and seen that he would choke on it.
Eddie sometimes would make a game out of it, to found the matching puzzle whenever Steve's kindness shone (and it was a lot of the time). It was always someone from the party and he would always find himself with a strange fond warmth whenever he realized who it was. And usually he was good at it, it wasn't really hard when he loved and knew all those people too
There were exceptions though. The first one was Robin and it wasn't for the lack of Eddie's knowledge and love for her and moreso because of the whole RobinandSteve being always so SteveandRobin, never really separate. Whatever was Steve's was also Robin's, their clothes, habits or sometimes even their smiles shone in the same way. They were mismatched in a funny melted together sort of way, his kindness was her and hers was his and it was hard to difference between the two when even they didn't know where one ended and the other began, they traded traits like they traded clothes, wore them bright pink socks with yellow soft sweater, a joke to cheer you up with a soft you can tell me anything in the same breath.
He didn't really knew whose kindness it was the innate one that must have been deep within Steve before he let it shine or Robin's. He didn't think it would really matter anyway, they would trade it between themselves like shiny cards anyway.
The other one was a smile. An unique one, one that Eddie swore he saw somewhere before and that lacked the freckles and a missing teeth except noone in the party had these two traits, at least not as Eddie knew them and he could never find that one puzzle. It was boyish and full of mischief, usually with a starry reflection in Steve's eyes.
The last one was a lift in his tone, the way he would make his voice honey-like sweet when he tells Robin her new haircut suits her or El's new shirt brought out her eyes. The intonation always made Eddie think of bubble gum and sugared summers.
He couldn't place the last two to nobody. At least not until Steve told him about Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins.
Obviously Eddie knew about them, but Stevie didn't talk about how they are. But how they used to be.
"Sweet." he said while passing the joint they shared laying on Eddie's bed, pressed from shoulders to their ankles. "Carol used to be sweet, warm with the naive love only kids hold" Steve's eyes were looking out the window of Eddie's room, as if he could see the young version of them just outside playing childlish games. "and Tommy used to be wild. But not like bad wild, more like he was always chasing trouble, adventure. Like kids do."
And Eddie couldn't see it, not with how the world twisted them into different people, cruel. More cold, all sharp teeth and autumn's rain.
Except he could, he could in Steve's special smile and the sound of his voice, he could see it and he could see the love that Steve Harrington had for them.
"They're douchebags now," he said when Eddie voiced it out loud "but I did loved them once, sometimes I feel like I've never stopped, they just... Grew out of my love, grew into something I couldn't."
It should be strange, to love something someone isn't anymore, but to Eddie it just spoke of the way Steve Harrington threw himself into love, how he never really stopped loving and caring. It was admirable, it was so lovable and it was so Steve-like. Earnest in the sweetest way.
It made sense that Steve Harrington would love people even through his expression of it.
#idk what this is#i just kept thinking about how at some point Steve must have loved Tommy and Carol#and yeah some relationships are bad and you need to drop the people because they are as*h*les but that doesnt mean the love was never there#or that you don't sometimes feel the ghost of it when you think of them#And I think Eddie - just would watch the people he loves - would observe them and analyze them#cathegorize them or their habbits and expression into something a little cabinets in his mind#this is kind of shitty but oh well i've written it so now i'm bestowing it onto others#i'm trying to get back into writting because my laptop will be hopefully fixed soon and i'll actually could write then#but i cant so for now this ficlet is here#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#platonic stobin#my writing#ficlet#dom's tumblr writing
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