#haley has opinions

[mulderiloveyou]

QUESTION TO THE HOTCH COMMUNITY

What do you think is Aaron Hotchner rising sign?

He was born on November 2 1965. That makes him a scorpio. Which based on his personality on the show it matches.

His moon is in Aquarius and I also think this fits perfectly with his character.

So what would you think it’s his rising sign?

(if he was born around 10 pm - 11:59 pm he’d* be a Pisces moon, but I don’t think he gives Pisces vibes.)

I need to read your thoughts pls

[six-costume-refs]

Opinions on the various red Cleves braids we've been getting recently?

I like them! Six has always struggled to figure out Cleves hair for the non-Black actors; of course they had to figure out something that felt appropriate, but it also had to fit in the overall vision for the show/character and couldn't feel too visually similar to the other queens. A lot of the previous hairstyles have checked some boxes but not all, or have worked with some other wig styles but not all (like the front poof/low pony that some of the UK actors used for a while would be too similar to the now-standardized back pony for Parr). I think this one is a good compromise between all those different requirements! Here in the US it's a popular hairstyle for pop stars and has some cultural associations, so it particularly fits these productions well.

There is some difference in design so far, particularly in the color: - Marilyn Caserta has a dark maroon wig with fairly consistent color all over. She does have darker roots, but there's a very natural ombré effect into the maroon. - Haley Izurieta has a dark brunette base with mid-toned red highlights mostly built into the braid. - Krystal Hernández has some darker roots that fade into a maroon closer to Marilyn's, but the bulk of the wig is a consistent bright red.

Of course, the style is still fairly new and they always tweak specifics in these early days as they figure out what works. I'm very curious to see what they eventually land on. I do hope to see them continue choosing different shades of red to flatter each actor, just like they do for Howard. In the meantime I'm excited to see Darcy Stewart's, and very curious if Gabriella Boumford will have red in hers. ------------- Marilyn: @/marilyncaserta Haley: @/0haley0 Krystal: Joan Marcus, @/laurenmariasoosay

[heritageposts]

The Grayzone has obtained slides from a confidential Israel lobby presentation based on data from Republican pollster Frank Luntz. They contain talking points for politicians and public figures seeking to justify Israel’s assault on the Gaza Strip. Two prominent pro-Israel lobby groups are holding private briefings in New York City to coach elected officials and well-known figures on how to influence public opinion in favor of the Israeli military’s rampage in Gaza, The Grayzone can reveal. These PR sessions, convened by the UJA-Federation and Jewish Community Relations Council, rely on data collected by Frank Luntz, a veteran Republican pollster and pundit. [...] The Luntz-tested presentations on the war in Gaza urge politicians to avoid trumpeting America’s supposedly shared democratic values with Israel, and focus instead on deploying “The Language of War with Hamas.” According to this framing, they must deploy incendiary language painting Hamas as a “brutal and savage…organization of hate” which has “raped women,” while insisting Israel is engaged in “a war for humanity.” [...] Luntz’s Gaza war presentation puts his poll-tested tactics back in the Israel lobby’s hands, urging pro-Israel public figures to stay on the attack with incendiary language and shocking allegations against their enemies. In one focus group, Luntz asked participants to state which alleged act by Hamas on October 7 “bothers you more.” After being presented with a laundry list of alleged atrocities, a majority declared that they were most upset by the claim that Hamas “raped civilians” – 19 percent more than those who expressed outrage that Hamas supposedly “exterminated civilians.” Data like this apparently influenced the Israeli government to launch an obsessive but still unsuccessful campaign to prove that Hamas carried out sexual assault on a systematic basis on October 7. Initiated at Israel’s United Nations mission in December 2023 with speeches by neoliberal tech oligarch Sheryl Sandberg and former US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, a recipient of hundreds of thousands of dollars in donations and speaking fees from Israel lobby organizations, Tel Aviv’s propaganda blitz has yet to produce a single self-identified victim of sexual assault by Hamas. A March 5 report by UN Special Representative on Sexual Violence Pramila Patten did not contain one direct testimony of sexual assault on October 7. What’s more, Patten’s team said they found “no digital evidence specifically depicting acts of sexual violence.”

They also advice to use different language for Democrat and Republican voters, which inadvertently provides one of the most succinct explanation of the difference between the two genocidal parties that I've ever come across:

To make their arguments stick, Luntz recommends pro-Israel forces avoid the exterminationist language favored by Israeli officials who have called, for example, to “erase” the population of Gaza, and to instead advocate for “an efficient, effective approach” to eliminating Hamas. At the same time, veteran pollster acknowledges that Republican voters prefer phrases which imply maximalist violence, like “eradicate” and “obliterate,” while sanitized terms like “neutralize” appeal more to Democrats. Republican presidential candidates Nikki Haley and Donald Trump have showcased similar focus-grouped rhetoric with their calls to “finish them” and “finish the problem” in Gaza.

One of the slides, illustrating what language to use:

There are several more slides in the article. I recommend reading the whole thing, start to finish. One more thing I'd like to highlight though:

Luntz acknowledges Israel’s mounting PR problems in a slide identifying the most powerful tactics employed by Palestine solidarity activists. “Israelis attacking Israel is the second most potent weapon against Israel,” the visual display reads beside a photo of a protest by Jewish Voices for Peace, a US-based Jewish organization dedicated to ending Israel’s occupation of Palestine. “The most potent” tactic in mobilizing opposition to Israel’s assault on Gaza, according to Luntz, “is the visual destruction of Gaza and the human toll.” The slide inadvertently acknowledges the cruelty of Israel’s bombardment of Gaza, displaying a bombed out apartment building with clearly anguished women and children fleeing in the foreground. But Luntz assures his audience, “It ‘looks like a genocide’ even though the damage has nothing to do with the definition.” According to this logic, the American public can become more tolerant of copiously documented crimes against humanity if they are simply told not to believe their lying eyes.

. . . full article on GZ (6 Mar 2024)

[rauspberries]

Climbing Higher

aaron hotchner x bau!reader.

summary: since your sudden introduction to the bau, you've never felt like you've been on the good side of aaron hotchner. over time, your relationship has only gotten worse and worse, especially with your mission to annoy him and his mission to completely ignore you. when the two of you are put into a situation where you're forced to come to terms with your relationship, you're also forced to face feelings undiscovered.

tags: forced proximity, workplace rivals, no use of y/n, afab reader, comfort [just a tad], reader is afraid of elevators but not intimidating men, haley doesn’t exist, no kissing sorry ;/

word count: 2.9k

notes: told my friends to give me a trope, a relationship & a character. this is what my brain came up with. also; reminder that my requests r open if u have any ideas :]

Aaron Hotchner hates you.

You’ve known it since the second you stepped through the glass doors of Quantico. Since you were hired by the Section Chief, Erin Strauss, and not himself, your place inside of the BAU had been tainted before they had even seen your face. While the majority of the team has warmed up to you, you have never ended up on his good side. You were forced to watch from the sidelines as he was stoically sweet to everybody else but yourself.

That was not to say you didn’t try. At first, you tried to prove your knowledge. Talking his ear off about profiles, being proactive in the field during cases, bonding with the team. None of it had worked. All of his responses had just been soft grunts, terse nods or short answers. At some point, you had realized that nothing you said or did would change his opinion about you.

So, you decided to hate him back. If he wanted to brandish his negative opinion like a badge, you would simply return the favor. Respectfully, of course, since he was still your boss, but returning the favor all the same. 

Although his attitude towards you tended to be silent and stiff, you had settled for a more passive-aggressive approach, filled with bittersweet smiles and malicious compliance. You answered all of his commands with a smile that made your cheeks hurt, you slightly adjusted the stapler on his desk every time you went in there, you took the last bit of coffee in the pot right before he stepped up to the small kitchenette in the office. Your favorite was bringing in baked goods that you purposefully left one ingredient out of, asking him to try one and leaning on the idea that he wouldn’t be bluntly honest about them not tasting good.

Even though you tried your best to make Hotch’s life just a tiny bit harder, you were very aware of the fact that you weren’t blind. Truth be told, Aaron Hotchner was a handsome man, tall and muscular, to the point that made you have not-so-professional thoughts about him. Boss or not, the way he looked in a button down and his FBI vest had to be illegal. In some twisted truth, even his phlegmatic demeanor added to his allure.

As you stare at the back of his head while following him into Quantico, you start to conjure up the ways you could annoy him today. There were a few files on his desk that you could accidentally send flying to the ground in an accidental trip, or you could get Spencer started on a tangent during the case briefing to drag it on longer. Bonus points if it was something inappropriate, like BDSM and its effects on the human psyche.

The creativity of your own deviousness has a ghost of a smile dancing across your lips as you watch him step up to the elevators, pressing the button to call it down to the lobby. You sidle up beside him, pulling your bag up higher on your shoulder and giving him a sickly sweet smile. “Agent Hotchner.”

For a moment, you think about just how criminal it is for someone to look so good while being so incredibly irritating. His perfectly tailored dark suit brought out all of the features that made you sweat, so perfectly put together that it made you want to rip it apart with your hands. Even his hair is perfect after facing the brutal winds of Virginia, falling onto his forehead and making him look just the tiniest bit undone, even if there’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll fix it as soon as he’s in the office.

He greets you with a dip of his head, your last name falling off of his lips so quietly you almost miss it. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to speak, his eyes immediately turning back to the doors in front of you just as soon as they peel open with a metallic whir.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you follow Hotch into the elevator, staying near the doors as he situates himself near the back wall. You press the button for the sixteenth floor, watching as it lights up and taking a deep breath as the elevator jolts to life. 

Despite the gruesome things you see every single day, every reason you’re given to be scared, there is only one thing that you are fully scared of; elevators. They’re too unpredictable for your taste. The idea of the whole thing being held up by only a few cables, trusted with the maximum capacity of twenty to thirty people? Forget it. Just an accident waiting to happen. Plus, the gap between the floor and the actual elevator was a death trap for any small items you might own, and you were notoriously clumsy.

Since you either have to walk up sixteen flights of stairs or use the elevator to get to your shift, you’ve figured out the best way to manage your fear is to disassociate. Usually, you can disappear into your own mind long enough to zone out for the entire minute-long ride, not to worry about the elevator plummeting multiple floors to your untimely death at your young age.

You can feel Hotch’s eyes on your back as you take another deep breath, closing your eyes as you try to think happy thoughts, keeping yourself relaxed until you reach the floor you need to be on. The intensity of his focus on your back has the hair on the back of your neck raising, completely aware that he was profiling you at that moment. In fact, if you thought about it hard enough, you were able to imagine his face, all hard lines and tight frowns.

You’re blissfully distracted by the mental image of Hotch’s focused face until the elevator suddenly stops, emergency lights flickering on while everything else ceases to function correctly.

You take a sharp intake of breath at the unexpected jolt, looking around as if the answer would be painted across the walls. Your heart starts to thud a bit harder against your ribcage as you turn to look at Hotch, your cheeks dusting a light shade of pink in embarrassment at being so thrown off by the situation. “What’s happening?”

“Elevator shut down.” He responds blankly, his shoulder brushing against yours as he shuffles around you, his fingers jamming at the floor buttons. Much to your dismay, they don’t light up anymore, only useful for the soft clicking noise they make when his fingers poke at them. He copies your disappointed sigh as he presses the emergency button, crossing his arms over his chest as he awaits an answer from emergency services.

Stepping back to let him handle the situation, you lean your back against the far wall, covering your thrumming heart with one flat hand and digging the heel of your palm into your sternum in an attempt to stop it. Your eyelids flutter closed as you tilt your chin up towards the ceiling, the blinding bright lights helping to bring you down from the swirling worst-case-scenarios in your head. The sound of Hotch communicating with the building personnel and the other members of the BAU falls on muted ears. 

Finally, when he’s done taking necessary phone calls, he turns to you, the line between his brow deepening as he takes in the state of you. “They said they can be here in forty-five minutes. I’ve already let everyone know we’re running a little bit late.” His tone is so professional that it crawls beneath your skin, turning the bad situation even worse. 

You let out a dry laugh as you sink down towards the floor, pulling your knees closer to your chest. “Great. Forty-five minutes in this metal death trap. With you.” The irony of the situation makes you laugh again, fingers threading into your hair as you tug at your roots. “I am going to die in an elevator with my boss. My boss that hates me. This is my actual nightmare.”

As you speak, your breathing picks up noticeably, your chest tightening with the strain it takes to inhale so much air without exhaling. Your eyes shut tightly as you try to change the subject in your mind, but you can’t. You can’t feel anything but panic, running through all of the worst scenarios in your head like a fucked up Powerpoint. “Majority of the reason that elevators stop working is because of mechanical issues. Worn-out cables and malfunctioning motors. A cable could snap and we could plum -”

“Hey.” Hotch speaks, his stern voice cutting through the buzz in your ears and stopping your senseless rambling.

You are deathly aware of his presence as he crouches beside you, the sound of his jacket rustling almost deafening in the confined space you were sharing. Realizing the gravity of your panic, his hand finds your shoulder, the warmth of it burning through your blazer in a way that has you jolting beneath his touch. 

He pulls his hand away quickly as you flinch, letting it hover in the air as he sighs. “Put your head between your legs,” he instructs.

His tone is demanding enough that you’re immediately following his instruction, letting your butt hit the cold floor as you part your legs just enough to slide your head between them. With the help of your new position and softer instructions from Hotch to take deep breaths, you gulp in air like you had just been underwater, in through your nose and out through your mouth, just as he told you quietly.

Unfortunately, Hotch is right, your breathing settling slowly until you’re able to lean your head back against the wall. Peeling open your watery eyes, you’re met with his deep chocolate eyes, still stoic despite the slight care he had shown during your mini freakout. “I’m not going to die, sir,” you dryly tease, just wanting his focus off of you at this extremely embarrassing moment.

“I don’t think you’re going to die, Agent.” He responds coolly, standing up and adjusting his suit jacket. Usually, Hotch is hard to profile, good at keeping his face clear and his body relaxed, other than anger. It had become a fun little challenge to you to try and figure out what he was feeling at any given moment.

However, right now, that wasn’t the case. Despite his attempt to seem nonchalant, his eyes keep flickering over to you on the floor, his body language giving away his worry. His jaw was still clenched even as he stared forward, his fingers twitching as he fought the urge to clench his fists. It was almost too easy to read, causing you to roll your eyes.

Before you have the chance to mock him for it, he speaks, still refusing to look at you. “You’re scared of elevators?”

Huffing, you pull yourself to your feet, still keeping your back against the wall. “You’re the best profiler here. You’ve never noticed?” It was a challenge, falling off your tongue tauntingly as you purposefully stared directly at the side of his face, noting the clench of his jaw and the soft twitch of his lip.

That asshole. He was holding back a smile. 

Instead of answering your question, he finally turns towards you, his arms crossing over his chest. Your eyes flutter down to admire the way his muscular arms pushed against the sleeves of his suit jacket, only to immediately remind yourself that the man standing in front of you was not only a profiler, but your boss. “You think I’m the best profiler?”

“They didn’t give you Unit Chief for your sparkling humor,” you deadpan. You follow it up with a bittersweet smile, keen eyes noticing another twitch of his lips as you turn your body to face him, chin tilting up to look at him. Standing at six foot two, he easily towers over you, but that’s never scared you before. There is a certain power to looking up at someone that many people don’t see.

Hotch lets out a huff in place of a laugh, arms still crossed as he stares back down at you, the tilt of his lips slowly dissipating. A silence stretches over you, the only sound being a soft buzz from the emergency light ahead of you. He’s the one to break the silence again. “Do you really think I hate you?”

The question takes you by surprise, blinking up at him as you take a step back. “What?”

The man doesn’t show any evidence of being phased other than the tensing of his fingers next to his elbow. “Earlier. You said that your boss hates me. Do you think I hate you?” He repeats the question, his voice still just as calm and collected. You notice how his head dips down a bit farther towards you, slightly tilting towards the right, his body giving away his curiosity.

“Do you not?” You scoff, crossing your arms defensively over your chest, copying his stance. “You’re constantly dismissing me, facing away from me. I come up with ideas and you find a way not to do them, even when they’re good ideas. I also have a running theory that you purposefully set me up to look at the crime scene each time we fly out for a case because you’re always going to the police station first.”

It sounds stupid, saying it out loud, how much you’ve noticed about how Hotch treats you. You’re aware that you sound like a whiny brat that isn’t receiving enough attention, that there are so many things that you could focus your attention on other than your boss’ appreciation of you. There’s another side of your brain that justifies all of your actions. He was your boss, someone above you, the same guy that did your annual reviews and decided if you got your raise. He was close enough to every other agent, saying yes to “family” dinner and inviting them to watch him run his marathons.

You wanted the same treatment as everyone. You wanted to know Hotch personally, wanted to be able to invite him out for drinks, talk about your personal life and everything that troubled you. It was criminal to sit around and watch him laugh and smile with your coworkers from the sidelines, wishing that his opinion of you wasn’t so skewed that it totally ruined his perception of you.

As you mentally run through everything, the truth hits you like a freight train.

You like Hotch. Despite his composed demeanor and the cold shoulder you had received since you stepped into the bullpen of the BAU, the small bits and pieces you had seen from watching from afar had given you just enough of a glimpse of the real him that you had somehow ended up a scorned schoolgirl, giggling about the slightest things and whining when they weren’t fruitful.

Hotch’s brow furrows as he watches you closely. “What?” When you narrow your eyes back at him in confusion, he sighs. “Your face changed. You realized something. What is it?”

Rolling your lips into your mouth, you wish for the thousandth time that none of this was happening and it was just a dream. Instead of directly answering his question, you tilt your head to the side. “Do you want to get drinks sometime?”

“What?” He repeats, still staring at you like you’re having a mental breakdown. For the first time since you had met him, Hotch seems flustered, arms uncrossing to pull at the bottom of his jacket. “Uhm…”

You shake your head, a laugh bubbling in your chest. “Never mind. Forget it. Sorry. Stupid. I’m gonna stare at the wall until we’re out of here.” Following your promise, you turn around until your back is facing him, fist clenching at your side as you fight the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose.

Following a soft sigh, your name falls off of Hotch’s lips. You don’t react until his warm hand is on your shoulder, the touch burning through the fabric of your blazer as you turn around to face him.

To your surprise, a smile is on his face, the laugh lines you rarely see around his eyes deepening. “I’m sorry. I was taken aback.” He apologizes, his voice shockingly sincere. “I don’t hate you. And I’d love to get a drink with you. Seems we have a lot to learn about each other. Like the origin behind your fear for elevators,” he teases.

Rather than shoot something back, you’re too starstruck by just what had happened that you just stare up at him, your lips parted as you fight for the words to say. You’re only brought out of your daze by the thrum of the elevator starting back up, blinking as Hotch moves to talk to emergency services through the intercom again.

You are still silent as the elevator door opens to reveal the BAU bullpen, Hotch turning to give you a slight smirk. “See you during the case briefing, Agent.”

[timdrakesbussy]

Some of my™ Stardew Valley HCs

TW: mention of miscarriages

Emily listens to all kinds of music but despite not looking like it, she mainly listens to heavy metal. It's one of the thing that brought her and Shane's early friendship together. And because of that, Haley shares a bit of fondness to the genre that she enjoys Sam's band (but don't tell him. this will mess with her rep).

Sam is pretty educated when it comes to literature, and English was always his favorite subject when he was in school. He's the main songwriter of his band and while Sebastian could also write, Sam manages to be witty and clever with his lyrics. Other than storytelling through song, he loves his double and triple entendres. Suffice to say, he could get along pretty well with Elliott and it's one of the reason why Penny loves hanging out with him.

Ever since she was a child, Maru thinks that Sebastian is really cool and she wants to be like him one way or another. Of course, she still wants to be herself but Sebastian is just so damn cool. During her time at school, she made herself learn how to ride a motorcycle using a friend's bike because she knew Sebastian would never lend her his.

Elliott was from an esteemed family from a foreign land (just Stardew's equivalent of Europe tbh) and was a licensed lawyer until he stopped to be a writer. Needless to say, his family are not happy by this sudden decision. Not that he needs their opinion on the matter, he was pushing thirty when he made this decision.

Harvey was an ER doctor in Zuzu City until the incident™. He knew that with his line of job, he can't save everyone. However, he can't help but feel guilty and terrible afterwards. Which is why he has routine check-ups for the villagers, and if they can't visit him, then he will visit them. You cannot escape him because he will find you (affectionate).

Both Haley and Alex believed that at one point, they actually liked each other romantically. But when they had their first kiss together, they realized that they weren't meant to be. They have this deep platonic connection that even Emily doesn't really understand, but she's happy that her baby sister have someone she can rely on and trust for all her life.

Robin takes pride in her name even if her parents weren't supportive over her work at first. She have Sebastian share her last name, and when she married Demetrius, she hyphenated their surnames instead of just taking his.

Demetrius and Sebastian were close when he was a child. Sebastian was an overly curious and precocious boy and Demetrius was happy that he could share something with his stepson, their interest in biology. Although Sebastian was squeamish and even almost cried when he dissected a frog, he managed to calm him down. And even after their mutual parting as Sebastian grew older, he's the only one who knows what Demetrius' favorite animal is: moonlight jellies.

Jodi and Kent were teenagers when they had Sam. Jodi came from a highly conservative and religious family so they forced them to marry after Jodi gave them the news that she was pregnant. As they were teens, Kent took any odd jobs he could get in the city, from a corner-store clerk to a garbage man. Until he got offered into joining the military.

Pam was a trucker before she became a bus driver. In fact, she met Penny's dad in the business. But in her childhood, she was in multiple beauty pageants and even into her adulthood, she knows how to hairdo. She helped Penny with her hair since she was a child and hope that she could still do Penny's hair in her future wedding, whenever that is.

Alex's mom had multiple miscarriages before she have him, and that was into her ten years of marriage. She was beyond ecstatic with his birth that she immediately called her aging parents who also shared her happiness, they then invited her to the Valley a few days after Alex was born so they could celebrate in the Mullners' house. Lewis heard about the news and asked if they wanted to celebrate in the Saloon in which Evelyn denied because Clara wanted a small celebration with just her family.

Abigail is the only marriageable candidate to be born in the Valley. Sebastian moved in not long after Maru was born so he was close to her as he was the only child her age at that time. Penny moved in when she was seven with her parents until her dad left when she was ten. Haley moved in when she was ten years old while Sam moved in a year after. Alex often visited his grandparents but he officially moved in after Clara's death in his pre-teens. The rest moved in as adults.

Similarly to Alex, Shane only ever visited and stayed for a while in the Valley until he needed to take care of Jas. He wasn't close with his parents and they never tried to be anyways, Marnie is always the mother figure he has. So other than Marnie and Jas, the only people he considered as his family was Jas' parents. Her father, whom he met and befriended in college (as he was his roommate, before they mutually dropped out) and her mother whom he wasn't very close to at first until they both find comradery in bullying (affectionate) Jas' father.

[kiwriteswords]

My "Unpopular" Aaron Hotchner Opinions*

*My opinions, solely! I am not trying to discredit anyone else's headcanons, thoughts, etc.! These are just my thoughts, which I was encouraged to share despite being really terrified to share some of them because they go against the grain.

Also, some of these are NSFW!

Aaron Hotchner would not date someone who was in their twenties. As much as my twenty-something-year-old self would love that, I don't see him realistically picking a partner with such a significant age gap.

Reasonings:

Hotch is a profoundly introspective and careful man. He would hesitate if he felt the age gap could lead to judgment or imbalance in the relationship. He would also be hyper-aware of the psychology behind older men gravitating toward younger partners.

He would worry about differing life stages (e.g., career ambitions, desire for children), causing long-term complications.

Aaron Hotchner would not date a member of the BAU.

Reasonings:

As the leader of the BAU, Hotch holds himself to high ethical standards. He’d worry about how a romantic relationship with a subordinate could appear, not only to his team but also to higher-ups in the FBI. He would not want to waver the team's or his superior's trust.

Hotch has a need to keep work and personal separate as much as possible; these blurred lines don't seem like something I could see Hotch crossing.

Aaron Hotchner would not be as dominant in the bedroom as one would think. However, he would lean more into this if his partner was into it, but not outwardly for himself, as I often read.

Resonings:

While Hotch is a natural leader, he does not seek power for power's sake--it's always about responsibility and protection. A lot of his natural leadership qualities come as a trauma response, and I believe he might let that down entirely in an intimate setting.

Hotch’s romantic and sexual relationships would likely be an outlet for him to shed his professional stoicism and connect authentically. He wouldn’t want to bring elements of authority or control into that space, as it would conflict with his desire to be vulnerable.

Aaron Hotchner would not want to be called "Daddy" in the bedroom; again, he may lean into this if his partner was for it, but I do not see him outwardly wanting this.

Reasonings:

As a leader, Hotch is very aware of power dynamics and strives to ensure equality and fairness in all relationships. He would probably be uncomfortable with any dynamic that places him in a position of authority or dominance, particularly one that invokes paternal connotations.

The show strongly implies that Hotch’s relationship with his father was strained and possibly abusive. He has mentioned that his father was strict and may have instilled a fear-driven form of respect rather than genuine love. Given this background, it’s unlikely Hotch would want to emulate any dynamic reminiscent of a “father figure” in a non-familial, intimate context. It might even be triggering for him.

Aaron Hotchner would likely not be the fantastic father we all write about if it were not for Haley's death and Jess's support.

Reasonings:

Hotch’s transformation into a great father was largely a result of Haley’s death, forcing him to reprioritize and step into a role he might not have fully embraced otherwise. While he always loved Jack, the tragic loss gave him no choice but to confront his shortcomings and dedicate himself to being there for his son. If Haley had lived, Hotch’s role as a father would likely have remained secondary to his career, with much of the emotional and practical parenting responsibilities falling to Haley.

The Jess of it all also comes down to writing, for the writers to plausibly continue having Hotch be this great leader and agent while also stepping up to the plate as a father. He realistically could not do it both.

On this note, I hate how villainized Haley is in the fandom. Haley wasn’t a villain—she was a woman who made a difficult but necessary decision for her and Jack’s well-being. Her divorce from Hotch doesn’t diminish her love for him or her sacrifices as a partner and mother. It highlights the complexities of relationships and how even two people who care deeply for one another can struggle to make it work under extreme circumstances. Blaming Haley oversimplifies their story and ignores her humanity.

Aaron Hotchner and Beth lacked chemistry, and it felt very OOC for Hotch to be so unaffected by their parting ways; this is more a flaw in the writing versus the character(s) or fandom.

Reasonings:

Beth was introduced abruptly and with minimal background, leaving her character feeling one-dimensional. The audience didn’t have enough time to understand her motivations or personality, making it difficult to invest in her relationship with Hotch. She felt more like a plot device to show Hotch moving forward post-Haley than a fully realized partner for him. This, again, falls on the fact that Bellamy Young had moved onto Scandal, and they were forced to end things with that plot, so who knows where it actually would have ended up. 

Their dynamic felt almost too casual, which was jarring considering Hotch’s usual intensity in his relationships, especially after Haley’s death. Also, I think Hotch might be suspect of the idea of someone kind of watching him in the park for so long? But I do feel like the writers had no other way for Hotch to realistically meet someone.

Beth’s role could have been an opportunity to explore how Hotch balances dating with being a single father and leading the BAU. Instead, their relationship was surface-level and didn’t push Hotch toward any real emotional growth. The writers didn’t use Beth to challenge Hotch’s guarded nature or explore how he might rebuild trust and intimacy after Haley’s death. Too much was going on during this season and the following, but they opened the door for this and did nothing. 

When Beth and Hotch part ways, Hotch appears surprisingly unaffected, which feels out of character. Given his emotional depth and the weight he places on personal relationships, fans expected more from him—if not heartbreak, at least some introspection or acknowledgment of the loss. This lack of reaction felt less like a natural response for Hotch and more like the writers were rushing to close a subplot they didn’t know how to continue.

I have more, but figured I would ease into this!

[sherbertquake56]

okay I’m dropping some of my fable arcane au thoughts before the new episodes drop tomorrow even tho most of it is based on season 1 anyway—

so some basic taggings for you that I based the AU around:

1. Icarus as Jinx.

powder vs jinx is just the sherbert vs icarus name thing. toxic father. unhealthy relationship with sibling. a lil crazy and maybe evil. thinks that they are at fault for the things around them. lil bombs? nah- little SPLASH potions. hearing and seeing mylo and claggor? it’s Haley- it’s literally Haley—

2. Fable as Silco.

okay fable’s design WAS partially inspired by silco— they literally look the same— they’re both a man with two priorities: take over and make his own nation & care for child.

you know the ending scene of season 1? where they’re sitting at the table? THAT. With Jinx assuming that he’s gonna give her up to topside and him getting the first chance to talk and saying “her name is JINX!” i could write an essay on that for icarus. they’re so toxic and it’s so perfect. also that scene at the start of s2 ep2? YEAH THAT—

3. Centross as Ekko

This one is controversial and up to debate but i will die on this hill— SO THE S1 BRIDGE FIGHT. I am so willing to put aside any possible prison duo gay-ness in this AU for that rivalry/fight. they were friends!!! they were so good!! and now they wanna KILL EACH OTHER!! it’s great.

It’s also specifically thinking of Ekko’s tree home as solstice— older Ekko very much has the vibe of Violet specifically-

4. Arisanna as Sevika

I DONT KNOW WHY BUT IT MAKES SENSE TO ME. It’s specifically vexed Ari during the coworkers era but idk it just feels right— I look at her relationship with Silco and Jinx and go ‘hmmm this could be something’

[I will also say there is an argument here for swapping Centross and Ari tho— big tree city as Ari rebuilding the records goes hard, and angsty fighty toxic with jinx centross is also good— it’s like 50/50 for me]

5. Isla as Vander

LET ISLA BE A BADASS IN THIS AU. SHE DESERVES IT— something something raising vi and powder alone, something something the backstory with silco— there’s something there and it hits really hard in scenes where vi sees vander and helps her get back up— also I look at jinx and vander and I go “mmmm this is in fact how icarus sees Isla”

6. Rae as Vi

This was obvious given the above but LISTEN— in this ALTERNATE UNIVERSE OF EVENTS I think it would be fun- do I think that vi perfectly fits canon rae? no. But in this world it would KICK ASS. rae deserves to beat some people up— got kicked out of the overworld (zaun) by fable (silco) and had to go to the end (piltover) to get away from him?? rae end prince aus are already here so why not end rae also punching people huh??? also. gay people.

———

Okay— here’s where I need some help, thoughts, and opinions from you all…

1. Caitlyn.

POLYAMORY IS HARD TO TAG AND I DONT KNOW WHO FITS BEST?? For me, season 1 Caitlyn fits best as Caspian, but season 2 Caitlyn is more for Fenris— so I’m very stuck. yes absolutely give thoughts on this please—

2. Viktor as Aax (but how does that work)

Viktor absolutely should be Aax— mr. Scientist / lab experiment / turned religious figure vessel for god is CORRECT. But honestly the rest of Piltover gang is really hard with Rae as Vi— Jayce/Viktor/Mel is yelling at me to be the polycule but aGH— ya know??? very stuck on this so I instead look at the coworkers and go “mm good yes—”

Random other tags I think also make sense:

- Ulysses as that Telchin looking mf Stev— mans took out one lil medical device as his fish self and I said YUP

- The hexcore big orb thing underground as Quixis— big white glitch orb room make things go wack. couldn’t be easier than that.

———

Anyways that’s all— I’ve been rotating this in my mind for like a week and have had way too many thoughts about it thank you for your time—

[hotchs-bitch]

Cold December Night- Part 1

AN: Here it is, folks! I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it <3 In true T fashion, it's named after a Michael Buble song (yes, a Michael Buble Christmas song. I'm done defending him). Find it on ao3 here, or under the cut!

Happy reading <3

Stockings are hung with care The children sleep with one eye open Well, now there's more than toys at stake 'Cause I'm older now but not done hoping

“No, Marcus! Fuck you!”

Hotch’s gaze darts towards the clock on the wall opposite his desk. 7:28pm. He’s usually the only person in the office at this hour, but he’s certain that he just heard an exclamation from the bullpen.

He straightens up in his seat to go investigate the noise; the motion-sensor lights of his office flicker on, and the bright LED is harsh compared to the warm orange lamplight he’s been working under. How long has it been since he last moved around?

Instead of thinking about that, he stands up with a stifled groan. He isn’t as young as he used to be, and these long nights of doing paperwork hunched over sitting on office chairs is certainly starting to catch up with him.

What else is he supposed to do? Go home and be alone during the holidays? Jack is old enough to have some say in the custody agreement, and he made it clear that he wanted to spend the next few weeks with Haley.

It had hurt, especially when Jack refused to tell his dad why he made the choice. It was like a knife through the heart, but it didn’t compare to the feeling in Aaron’s chest when he spoke to Haley about it.

“He’s afraid you’ll have to work. He doesn’t want to be alone on Christmas,” she had told him, as warm and empathetic as she had ever been, but it didn’t stop Aaron from feeling the knife in his heart as it twisted around.

He didn’t want to think about that, so he worked. He stayed late, worked long hours and took on extra consults, doing whatever he could to avoid his empty apartment that didn’t even have a Christmas tree or any decorations up.

And apparently, he isn’t the only one staying late tonight.

“You’re a piece of shit, do you know that?”

The voice rings out again, and Hotch approaches his office window. His door is wide open, but he can’t see anyone in the bullpen below. When he steps out of his office, he starts following the voice as the tirade continues. Down the steps into the bullpen, towards a cluster of desks tucked out of view of his office.

“We were supposed to go tomorrow. Tomorrow, you asshole. What the hell am I supposed to tell my family? What should I say to my mother?” There’s a brief pause, followed by a scornful laugh. “You wish. Merry fucking Christmas.”

Just as Hotch turns the corner and sees you drop your phone on the desk, he hears a sob. A weak sound, like you aren’t sure you want to make the noise but have to let it out anyway.

Oh, great.

Hotch prided himself on the interpersonal relationships of the BAU, between the other agents and with himself. Maybe he wasn’t exactly friends with the agents on his team, but that was fine. There was still a mutual respect and trust, one that he relied on in the field and did his best to maintain.

Except with you.

He didn’t really know why, truth be told. You had been warm and receptive upon first starting at the BAU, and it had been a nice few weeks. But overnight, for a reason Hotch didn’t understand, a switch had flipped. You started brushing off his greetings, ignoring his offers of coffee when he made a fresh pot, and generally leaving him feeling disrespected.

The exception, and the reason he hadn’t filed any kind of complaint about your behaviour, was fieldwork. The two of you worked like a well-oiled machine, and you never disregarded his theories the way you brushed off his opinions on things as simple as the weather. 

In the field, you could read each other’s minds. But the second your bulletproof vest came off, Hotch felt like he transformed back into someone you couldn’t care less about. Like the unit existed in Cinderella, and he turned into a pumpkin at midnight.

Despite it all, Hotch still tried to respect you and even to get along in the office. He didn’t treat you any differently in or out of the field, but with time and your repeated rebuffs of his attempts at friendliness, the attempts faded away and were replaced with a quiet acceptance that you just didn’t like him. As long as you didn’t disrespect him in the field, he knew it would be fine.

So when he comes across you in the bullpen, tucked away and sobbing into your hands, he has no idea what to do. Should he try to comfort you? Sneak back to his office and pretend he never heard a thing?

The decision is made for him when he shifts slightly and his knee pops audibly, a result of sitting the way he has been for hours.

The sound gets your attention, and you barely turn your head. It isn’t the confrontation he was expecting from you finding him eavesdropping, but your reaction makes more sense when he hears your voice.

It’s ragged, and tired. You sound defeated. “How much did you hear?”

Hotch keeps his voice low, quiet, hoping that his tone can calm you a little. “Not much. Cursing aside, just that you have to go somewhere tomorrow and don’t know what to tell your mother.”

He must be right, because you heave out the sigh of the century. “She’s always right. Do you have any clue how annoying that is? She hates every guy I date, and we fight about it, and then he turns out to be an even bigger douchebag than the guy before him. I was an idiot for thinking she’d be wrong about Marcus.”

That’s one family annoyance Hotch has never had to worry about; his father wasn’t right about a single thing in his life. “Marcus… is that your boyfriend?”

“He was. And then he got arrested for having sex in public.” It takes a half-second for Hotch to put together the pieces, but you fill him in just to be safe. “And it was with someone else. Obviously. He just called me to bail him out, and I told him to go to hell.”

Aaron can’t hold back his wince. “I’m sorry. Are you going to be alright?”

The scornful laugh he heard earlier punches out of you again, and you shake your head. You’re still turned away, but it’s easy to see when you rub your eyes. “We were supposed to visit my family for the holidays. They always make such a big deal out of it, too. I didn’t bring someone two years in a row, and you would have thought the world was ending. They were so happy I was bringing Marcus. They’ve never met him, only heard stories, and they were excited to actually get to know him. Now I have to go there alone, tell my mother she was right about him, and get silently judged by my extended family for a week. I’m in hell.”

If there’s something Aaron can relate to, it’s family judgement. Later, when he thinks back on this moment, he might blame his next sentence on that. He might blame it on the late hour and his recent lack of sleep, or he might blame it on something more subconscious, like how he doesn’t need to be home for Jack this year. No, not that. He doesn’t want to think about that.

Well, it doesn’t matter what he’s going to blame it on, because he still says it. “You could bring someone else.”

“Right, totally. I’ll just finish up this report and head over to Boyfriends-R-Us.” The sarcasm is dripping off of you, a thin layer to shield the vulnerability and hurt in your voice.

Aaron definitely isn’t going to think about this moment later, when he starts playing the blame game with his past self. But if he were to think about it at all, he would recognize the way his stomach clenches when he hears your voice crack, exposing the raw hurt under it. The way he sympathizes with that hurt, and wants to make it go away.

“I could help you out.”

It’s the first time in all the conversation that he sees your entire face; you turn around in your desk chair, giving him an incredulous look. You look vulnerable, upset, and he thinks he can detect a flash of hope in your eyes before you blink.

“What?”

“I can come with you. I’ll pretend to be Marcus–you said no one has met him yet—and you don’t have to tell anybody what happened for a few months, if you like. It’s a win-win.”

If you’re curious about how it’s a win for Aaron too, you don’t question it just yet. Later, when you think back on this moment, you might blame it on that. On your own curiousity, wanting to know why he’s willing to be out of the state on Christmas and why he looks so vulnerable while he waits for you to answer.

It doesn’t really matter what you can blame it on, though; not when you stick out your hand to shake his, think ‘consequences be damned’, and say, “Deal.”

Next part >

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[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Just how much power did Marcy have over her friends pre-Amphibia? When they throw the kpop puppy party at school, the principal assumes "those two" pushed Anne into it, and Anne kind of admits it. When Anne is about to sacrifice herself, she says "all my life I've followed you two". During her one and only S1 appearance, she's seen maliciously nodding alongside Sasha when Anne steals the box, and with Marcy asking to meet up on Anne's birthday, while Sasha is the one to carry out the order, the implication is that they're almost like... working together. I know she was supposed to be "meaner" when they were working on S1, and I think they changed her personality because Haley Tju made her too adorable(? and maybe also because Matt thought the whole show would fall apart if people didn't like Marcy (considering what a huge impact she has on everything that happens, I'd say he was right). But Anne's line in THT and the flashback in All In implies she wasn't nearly as much as a doormat as it may seem sometimes, at least not as much as Anne.

Or maybe she was? Because you also see her in this place of submission when it comes to Sasha (and also Anne?), especially in BOTB, when she's happy to switch from Anne's song to Sasha's without even hearing the first, only stopping to consider Anne's approval. That scene struck me as her always happy to go along with her friends' wishes and never having much of an opinion of her own. That's why she was so desperate for them to get along during The Dinner, and why she never took a side when Anne told her she and Sasha had a fight. She closest thing to defying Sasha that we ever see her do is when she's working alongside like 10 other people to protect Newtopia from the Toad Army, and she says they had to "defeat Sasha and Grime" specifically, which I think makes sense considering they're attacking the city she's supposed to protect (she's IS a high-ranking member of its military forces AND a close advisor to its king), and not wanting to "defeat Sasha" would rock the boat with everyone else involved, Anne included. Yet we never really see her angry at Sasha for what she's doing, she just wants her and Anne to "work things out". I think it's clear that Marcy struggles with empathy, because if she put herself in Anne's shoes, she wouldn't expect her to "just work things out" with Sasha. In fact, she would have taken Anne's side agessssss ago, but she's way too focused on herself (her goal is for everyone to be happy forever and get along, while Anne and Sasha may want something else). Marcy being self-centered isn't a hot take, and I don't think she's any more self-centered than Anne was during most of S1. In fact, I'd argue Anne was even worse lol. The difference is that Anne made a million relatively small mistakes while Marcy made like two or three very big, very bad mistakes (bringing them to Amphibia, striking a deal with Andrias behind their backs, and not taking a side in Anne and Sasha's fight, which is something I never see people bring up as one of Marcy's most flawed moments).

So... going back to the question I made in the beginning... did Marcy just go along with Sasha's plans so enthusiastically when compared to Anne, who had more doubts and had to be pressured into them, that it made it look like she and Sasha were more in cahoots than they actually were? I think this is very likely. I also think it's likely that she and Sasha genuinely shared a liking for rule breaking back in LA, and her own self-centered-ness prevented her from realizing Anne wasn't comfortable with it. Maybe she never even considered if she liked to go along with Sasha's plans, like, Marcy strikes me as someone who doesn't look inwards much. I think we can rule out both Sasha and Marcy being equally controlling and possesive of Anne, because her relationship with Sasha was very much not one of equals, with Anne as a third wheel. Was she more of a third wheel? We know Anne and Sasha don't share most of her interests and will often ignore her and her needs, and we know she feels like losing them is becoming dangerously easy. We also know Sasha has no qualms taking Anne on some kind of birthday date without Marcy which I'm 75% convinced it's because she had a huge crush on Anne but I digress which, from a doylian perspective, is explained by the fact that they seemingly didn't want to show Marcy too early, but from a watsonian perspective, it just comes across as Sasha not priorizing Anne spending her birthday with both her best friends. Like, you can do with or without Marcy. She doesn't seem to remember Marcy until she texted her, actually.

But then you have lines from Anne about how "if you friend wants to you steal something, you do it, because if you don't, they may not want to be your friend anymore", which, oh boy, if she at least perceived Marcy as pressuring her into stealing the box (rather than it being 100% Sasha's idea) that would shed a whole new light on her relationship with Marcy, because it would seem like she, too, feels like their friendship could fall apart if she didn't go along with the other two's plans. And I do think Marcy at least somewhat participated in pushing Anne into it. It wouldn't be the first time she made Anne do something bad - she told her to lie to Valeriana about stealing the box, something Anne later appeared to be ashamed of, and she insisted of going along with the puppy party when Anne was having doubts. I imagine Sasha (who also pressured Anne into doing very much not so "lawful good" things, in more extreme ways than Marcy) might have come up with the idea of stealing it, and Marcy just supported it. Marcy taking Sasha's side. Possibly over and over again. We know Sasha didn't exactly manipulate her because she didn't have to: Marcy just always did everything she said. Anne was the one who needed a bit more convincing.

Marcy's relationship with Anne and Sasha is fascinating. She's definitely the most morally gray of the trio, and possibly the most complex one too, in the sense that she's full of realistic contradictions - an adorkable manipulator, an amoral softie, a self-centered sweetheart who loves her friends more than life itself, a possesive kidnapper with a heart of gold, a very selfish and self-sacrificial person... and it's never just a mask or anything, she's not just pretending to be nice, she really is that way, she really is all of that together. I think that's why people struggle to read her a lot of the times, because so much about her characterization seems conflicting with itself... but I think that's the key to making characters deep and realistic. In real life, we're all walking contradictions and we don't really make sense. Marcy's character doesn't seem clumsily put together to me, like they frankeinsteined all the different character traits she needed to make the plot work without any cohesion between them. I think she's a complex tapestry that sometimes requires a closer inspection to decypher it, and I think the glue holding everything together is her lack of intrapersonal intelligence, her inability to look inwards and notice her own contradictions.

We know she felt unloved by her friends yet desperately clung to them with everything she had, going to extreme measures to ensure they all stayed together, even when it hurt them. We know she's capable of manipulation, scheming and lying to the people that love her most in order to guarantee that goal. We know she's possesive with them, but she also loves them enough to let them go in the rare cases when she realizes she's hurting them (as seen in A Day in the Aquarium). From her journal, we also know she feels very ashamed of these possesive impulses. We know she'll neglect to form her own opinions and ideas to agree always with her friends' wishes, which means she feels completely lost when they want different things. But this also shows that she would never think of an idea of hers as being explicitly opposed to what her friends want. She wouldn't consciously do something that they wouldn't like. Which is insane, because, who would want to be separated from their family and thrown into a different world without any sort of notice? Which leads us to understand that Marcy has zero emotional intelligence and has never looked inwards in her LIFE, AND that her empathy skills are in negative digits because it would have taken her a nanosecond of thought to realize Anne and Sasha probably wouldn't like to be kidnapped. And since we know she never wants to do something they dislike, she must have just... not thought about it at all. No thoughts head empty. It really was just BLANK up there when she made that decision. I think Marcy is a very "true neutral" character who struggles with empathy and humility, who loves her friends but doesn't have the emotional intelligence to really understand them, and who is happy and enthusiastic to be Sasha 2 Electric Boogaloo because... that's what she knows. That's how her friend group works and her goal was never to have a deeper and more genuine connection to them, but to keep it close to her.

So... my conclussion is that, pre-amphibia, Marcy was Sasha's very enthusiastic (but emotionally neglected) right hand man, with Anne as their oblivious victim. It really IS complex because you have to then add Anne always looking out for her, losing sleep over her, yet also ignoring her needs, and Sasha not even bothering to hide how much she doesn't care about Marcy's feelings (which reflects on Marcy not consciously caring about her own feelings). There's also Marcy always assuming the best from them too, despite repeated evidence of their disinterest, and her fear of displeasing them looming over her constantly. Ik I said Anne was Sasha and Marcy's victim, but I meant that like... symbolically, because Anne is not innocent here either. She wasn't a great friend to Marcy before Amphibia. Here's why I always say Anne couldn't develop a deeper, more genuine and open connection with Marcy because of Sasha's oppressive presence and her own lack of emotional maturity. And Marcy couldn't develop a deeper, more genuine and open connection with Anne because of her own lack of empathy and reluctance to face any kind of conflict. So Marcy is Sasha's enthusiastic but emotionall neglected right hand man, who also feels subordinate to Anne despite Anne feeling subordinate to her. That's why they both feel like third wheels at different times. There's an illusion of Marcy with more agency and power than she actually has. In reality, only Sasha is on top, and the other two are two very flawed individuals, one slowly cracking under the weight and the other, less sensitive to the same pressure, trying to uphold the status quo.

[a3risbaby]

strong opinions, stronger arms

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 stardew valley : alex x reader (vagina, fem!pronouns)

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 Perhaps Alex's reign as the town's resident neutral guy is over because he realizes that he has pretty strong opinions about three things: gridball, salmon dinner, and you.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 smut (minors dni), fluff, established relationship (marriage), porn what plot, ok maybe porn with some feelings and an iota of plot, reader is farmer, reader is shorter, vaginal fingering, making out, couch sex, cross-posted on ao3 | 4.0k words

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 despite having ideas for so many alex fics, I have never done his route! I really want to, though. he seems like a sweet guy who has a lot of room to grow...and I'm discovering how much I like athletes. hope you enjoy this! and reblog if you liked :)

One year, Alex was voted the least picky person in Pelican Town, though he wasn't sure if it mattered much when the only voters were Haley and Emily after a late night at the Saloon. Still, when Emily knocked on his door the next day and presented him with an embroidered ribbon, something she had whipped up in a few hours, he accepted it graciously and offered to hang it on his wall.

"Who was the competition?" he asked as he rummaged through the closet for a spare frame.

"Everyone, I guess," replied Emily, hands clasped behind her back as she took in the photos on the hallway walls. She hadn't been in George and Evelyn's house since she was a kid, back when she and her sister found themselves alone and unsure of how to take care of themselves.

Haley had been eliminated quickly. She admitted that she had a long list of dislikes and wasn't afraid of making her disgust known. On the opposite end of the spectrum was someone like Linus who didn't hate anything. The town's doctor had landed somewhere in the middle.

"Dr. Harvey has a clear sense of what he likes and dislikes," explained Emily, interrupting her words to give a satisfied clap when Alex found a perfect sized frame. They headed back to his room. "You're his opposite. You're so neutral about everything."

He gave a short laugh. "Sounds like Linus should've gotten the award."

"Yes, but I have work today and the mountains are far." She patted him on the shoulder once he mounted the frame. "Congratulations again, Alex!"

.

.

.

Several seasons have passed since that day, but whenever Alex sees Emily's ribbon between his athletic awards, her words come back to him. You're so neutral about everything. He never thought about it like that, though he does consider himself an easygoing person. It's probably due to the fact that he doesn't have strong opinions, but when someone spend their entire childhood tiptoeing the line and trying to stay in people's good graces, that meekness is hard to undo.

It took years for Evelyn to coax him out of it, finally hitting the jackpot when she cooked a salmon dinner and watched his eyes light up at the first bite. Most inquiries of What do you think about this? got a halfhearted shrug, a small attempt at a smile, and a quick scan of the asker's expression—what should Alex think about it? Desperate to know the right answer, he always looked outwards, not in. It's not the greatest habit, but he tries—

"Hey, man, don't think too hard about it." Shane elbows him, knocking him out of his thoughts. "It was a dumb question. You want a drink?"

Over their shared box of pretzels, Shane offers Alex an unlabelled, uncorked bottle. Alex glances down at it, hesitant.

"Thanks, but sorry, I don't...I don't drink."

"It's just sparkling apple cider," Shane says with an even tone.

Belatedly, Alex remembers the changes that Shane's trying to make in life and mentally kicks himself for jumping to conclusions.

"Pierre was having a sale, and the kids love these. You don't like cider or something?"

"I'm okay with it." Neutral, he realizes again. He takes the bottle. "I mean, I like it. Thanks."

If someone told Alex a year ago that he'd be here—sitting in Cindersap Forest near midnight, making small talk with one of the town's resident grouches, dangling his legs off the pond's dock as he sipped from a giant bottle—he would have laughed in their face and asked if they took a gridball to the head. But it's happening, and Alex finds himself enjoying the company.

He savors the carbonated taste on his tongue and takes in a lungful of the crisp night air, thinking back to when he first came to the valley. Back then, he used to sneak out of his grandparents' house, unsettled by Evelyn's hovering and George's night-time snoring. He would hang out by Dusty's pen or on the nearby bridge, leaning as far as he could over the edge. Something about staring at his reflection, accompanied by the steady sound of crickets and cicadas, cleared his mind. It still does.

"Sorry," Shane says after a bit of silence. "It was an unfair question."

"It's cool, man."

"You two dated for a while, but you did just get married, so I guess I can't really ask if you're a tits or an ass kind of guy—"

Alex makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, face flushing once again.

"—because you'll probably say something sappy, like I like everything about her. You seem like that kind of person."

"W-well, that's not really something people think about. Do you have an opinion?"

"Of course. I'm an ass guy," replies Shane without missing a beat. "Duh. Why do you think I almost went pro in gridball?"

"Wait, what?"

Shane takes another swig from his own bottle to empty it, clears his throat, and slaps his hands on his lap like he didn't just drop two bombshells on Alex's psyche. Then he makes a comment about how it's getting late. He needs to go to bed—there's always an early morning when you live on a ranch, after all—and Alex's girlfriend...no, wife is likely wondering where he is. By the time Alex scrambles to his feet, Shane is already back on land and waving. He pauses before calling out.

"Mullner! This was, uh, this was nice. Now that we're neighbors, maybe we can do this more often. You're not too bad."

"Yeah, of course," Alex replies, still dazed. "Get home safe."

"Yeah, you too."

With all the confidence of someone who's spent nearly a decade on this side of town, Shane walks away and disappears into the dark path, hands stuffed into the pockets of his navy hoodie, a plastic bag swinging from his wrist. Alex still doesn't know what to make of the guy, previously known to him as the bitter JojaMart employee who swears every time he passes George and Evelyn's house off-shift, but you're friends with the guy and any friend of yours can be a friend of Alex's, he supposes.

Alex slips on the glow ring you gave him and squints as the area around him suddenly illuminates.

The trek home doesn't take too long. During his morning jogs, he likes to do a lap around Cindersap Forest, both to get used to the area and to help you with foraging, and it's paid off: he no longer struggles to find the signpost that points between your farm and Marnie's ranch. The first time he got lost, he had to knock on Leah's door, cracking an awkward joke while she blinked the sleep out of her eyes. She walked him home in her pajamas. With a smile at the time, yes, but she did tell him to either carry a map or stop the night-time wanderings.

You must've gone to bed early. He slips off his sneakers at the door and gives your dog a good night ear scratch. Other than the porch light and the crackling fireplace, the house is dark, and he stumbles through his night routine before slipping under the covers with you. You stir once he loops an arm around your waist.

"Just me, babe," he murmurs. "Go back to sleep."

But you turn around to face him, nestling one hand under your cheek, the other on his chest. "How was hanging out with Shane?" you ask, voice sluggish.

"Good." He pauses. "Really good, actually. He gave me some advice about making the chickens more comfortable. Some tricks to keep hay through the winter, too. Oh! I heard he did sports before, but did you know he was a gridball player?"

You hum your confirmation. "Varsity starter and nearly got signed until, y'know, life happened."

Alex whistles lowly. "Wow. Do you think he'll want to try coaching some time?"

"Maybe. Things are looking up for him now, but he might want to focus on his family for the time being."

You cut yourself off with a yawn, and he smiles, leaning over to kiss your forehead.

"G'night," he whispers, squeezing you once. You only grunt, too tired to reply.

.

.

.

As usual, you're already out of bed by the time Alex wakes up. Both of you are early birds, but you like to rise at the hellish hour of six, when the sun is just peeking over the horizon, while he gets up at the much more reasonable hour of seven. Seven-thirty, if he's feeling particularly worn out. This difference is better for him anyway—he'd rather you not find out about his morning issue and the embarrassing state he often finds himself in these days.

Groaning, he rolls over onto his stomach and wills his little friend to settle down because he hears you rummaging in the kitchen, probably waiting on him for breakfast. But bad idea—now his face is buried in your pillow, and your smell makes his stomach tighten.

This should be a good sign. It means that he's a healthy young man and madly in love with his wife—and who doesn't want that? But damn, if it isn't inconvenient. You’ve slept together before, of course. Plenty of times. He just doesn’t want you to worry about his high libido; you’re a busy person, and he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He pushes off the bed and shuffles to the bathroom, clutching a towel and change of clothes over his problem.

"You can eat without me!" he calls down the stairs. "I'm going to take a shower."

In the bathroom that's filled with more of your scent—another bright idea. He yanks the temperature handle all the way to the right, and the water that spurts from the shower head is absolutely glacial, leaving his teeth chattering and his body shivering, but at least the flush beneath his skin is gone. He can think straight again.

When he steps out of the shower and roughly dries himself, refreshed, there's a knock at the door.

"Your food's on the table," you tell him. "I'm going to change and head out to pick salmonberries. Totally forgot that they're in season, so I already missed a day."

"Do you want me to come help?"

"Mhm, it's alright. Sandy asked for a fire crystal, so I might spend the day in the desert and get more iridium ore. I also saw your schedule on the fridge; today's arm day for you." There's a smile in your voice as you remind him, "That's your favorite."

You disappear into the bedroom to change, and he enters the kitchen to find a partially complete breakfast waiting for him: a stack of fresh pancakes, two fried eggs, a tall glass of milk. In the toaster oven, two hashbrowns are crisping. It's all perfect for a day of working out, and as he sits down to wait for the hashbrowns, Alex thinks not for the first time how he has the best partner in the entire valley.

Just as the toaster oven dings, he hears you skipping down the stairs, humming a catchy tune from the Saloon's new jukebox. When you round the corner of the living room, a wide wicker basket swinging from your elbow, he sees what you're wearing and chokes on air. He reaches for the milk to clear it. He can't lift his slackened jaw, and you're blissfully unaware.

And when you bend down to re-tie your sneakers? Game over.

"Fuck, your ass looks great," slips out before he can stop it.

You pause, then straighten. "You think so?" you ask, doing a little spin in the front hall.

You think it's a regular compliment. He's struggling to breathe with how fast he popped a boner. You look down at your outfit, clearly not seeing what he's seeing. Or rather, not seeing things the way he's seeing them.

"The leggings are from Em! She’s testing a new design, and I'm helping with feedback." You twist in front of the hallway mirror, admiring your legs. "I love the feel of them."

He's loving a lot more than the supposed feel of them.

Note to self, Alex thinks, faintly registering the scrape of his chair against kitchen tiles as he rushes to his feet, thank Emily later. He crosses the distance in quick, long strides and sidles up to you in the mirror, hands landing on your hips. If he were to look at his reflection over your shoulder, he'd see the gentleness of his gaze and how a soft smile grows on your face in return, but at the moment, he's having a hard time focusing on something other than the curves of your body.

"Well, you’ve answered a question for me this morning."

"Oh? What question?"

"Last night, Shane asked me if I'm a tits or an ass kind of guy," he says, not missing your sharp intake of realization. "I can tell him that I have my answer now."

Instead of getting shy as you might have a year ago, you grin, plant your ass on his straining cock, and grind slow circles that have him grasping at fraying self-control. He's flushed down to his chest, and yeah, he definitely has the best partner in the valley. His fingers dig into your skin, stilling you.

"So are you going to kiss me yet," you ask, raising your eyebrows, "or do I have to earn it?"

Cheeky. But he loves you all the more for it. He dips his head down to yours, and despite the blood pounding in his ears, his kiss is soft. Slow. Still riding the high of newlywed bliss, he likes to savor the sensation of cherishing you, likes to remind you of his vows through his touch.

But then you open your mouth, tongue prodding at the seam of his lips, and he groans, tilting to let you in. He turns you in his arms to press you up against the front door, careful to avoid the handle. You drag your hands along his arms and up his chest before twisting your fingers into his hair, tugging exactly how he likes it. His own hands wander down, kneading your ass, and when he pinches it, your surprised yelp morphs into a moan as he wedges a thigh between yours.

“You drive me insane,” he murmurs, pulling back to catch his breath. You look fantastic like this: pupils blown wide, lips swollen, gaze thoroughly captivated by him. He can’t help teasing, “I thought you were planning to pick salmonberries.”

“I already missed one day,” you reply, raising your chin. “What’s one more?”

He laughs—because even with his addled brain, he can’t get over how cute you are. Your playful expression will melt away soon enough, though.

Your top comes off with his help, falling to the floor alongside his own shirt, and though he normally likes taking his time working you up, he trails his knuckles up your spine and unclasps your bra right after, the motion smooth. It hangs loose off your chest, simply a suggestion of modesty.

The leggings are harder to remove. That’s already a point off in his books. He crouches to peel them from your legs with patience—a frustrating amount of patience, judging by your displeased huffs—but he appeases you by kissing down your exposed thighs and burying his face between them once the leggings are kicked away.

You let out a flutter of a sigh when he leaves a lingering kiss against the waistband of your underwear.

“You really are so beautiful,” he says, resting his cheek against your skin. He looks up at you through his lashes. Puppy dog eyes, you once called them. The most convincing in the valley. He doesn’t fight when you pull him back up, voice reverent as he repeats, “So, so beautiful.”

“Alex—”

“I’m serious.”

He takes your hand and flattens your palm over his heart so you can feel how fast it’s beating, threatening to burst out of his ribs. “You make me the luckiest person in the world.”

He watches as your gaze softens with adoration, certain that his did the same. This is the kind of love he’s been waiting his whole life for: unconditional, passionate, fulfilling. You give a small hum of contentment before kissing his sternum, and he almost feels sorry for how hard he’s about to take you.

But first.

His knuckles ghost across your chest. Only the lightest touch, and they’re already pebbling, waiting for more. His nose traces down the side of your face, along the column of your neck, and stops at your shoulder where he inhales your familiar scent. His kisses are light, fleeting, as he relishes the whimpers of his name on your lips. One hand rolls your nipples between his fingers with the occasional tug, and the other rubs circles into the small of your back, urging your hips into his. He makes sure that you feel the way his cock strains against his sweatpants. Then he subtly rolls his hips, and you can’t help the shudder that runs down your spine.

“Ah, damn,” you breathe out next to his ear, then angle your head for a messy, open-mouthed kiss.

Damn, indeed.

You clasp your hands around his neck, keeping him to you, and honestly, if Alex had to pass out from lack of oxygen, this wasn’t a bad way to go.

He moves his hand from your back to your front, sliding past the waistband of your underwear. He gathers your arousal on his finger and, without warning, sinks it into your core. Your body gives in easily, but your hips still buck at the feeling.

“Fuck, fuck.” You throw your head back, bumping it against the front door.

“I will in a second,” he promises, smiling. “Be patient.”

You’ve never been very good at that. He helps you turn around, and once you brace your forearms on the entryway cabinet, he sets out in earnest, pumping his finger in and out with ease.

“One more,” you grit out, laying your forehead on crossed arms.

He doesn’t say anything, just bites back a moan as he adds another finger and watches as your cunt takes him to the knuckle. He wishes he could see the expression on your face as you grind down on his hand, setting your own stuttering pace. He loops an arm around your waist and catches you when he suddenly adds a third finger between your folds, your knees buckling with a cry.

“You’re taking them so well,” Alex reassures you.

Once you find your footing again, he flattens his palm on your sternum and pushes you against his chest. Your shuddering breaths hitch at the change in angle; his fingers are on the thicker side, and you feel every inch of the stretch.

“You used to be so tight, crying about how big I am, but look at you now,” he murmurs, tracing the shell of your ear with his tongue. “Asking for two fingers and already taking a third. You can’t be satisfied with just this, right?”

“N-no, ahh, still want you to fill me up—”

“I thought so. This isn’t enough for you. You like to be dicked down so good you can’t remember your name, hmm?” he coos. “You’re lucky you live far from town. Doing this by the front door—what if someone hears you?”

You clench at the suggestion, and he files that reaction away for later because your hands clamp down on his wrist.

“I’m s’close, please, Alex, please—”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he hums. Kissing down the column of your throat, he pistons his fingers until he feels the telltale signs of your building orgasm, the convulsing of your walls, and when you release with a gasp, he slows, letting you ride it out until you melt away from his hold. Even though his cock is painfully hard and straining against his sweats, he still sweeps your hair from your face, asking, “Do you want to take a minute? I can get you some water.”

“It’s okay.”

Smiling, you take his hand and raise it to your mouth. You start with kitten licks before you fully suck on his fingers, eyes fluttering up to meet his darkened gaze, and when he kisses you after, tasting you on your own tongue has him counting his lucky stars again.

With a grunt, he grips the back of your thighs and lifts you, nudging your legs around his waist. You scramble for purchase on his shoulders, nails digging into flexed muscles.

“Is this what you had in mind for arm day?” you laugh as he walks over to the couch.

“No, but this is better.”

He bends you over the side of the couch, offering a throw pillow that you hug to your chest with an amused expression. You glance back at him, impishly wiggling your ass as if your position wasn't enough of an invitation.

"What a temptress," he mutters.

He kneads your bottom with one hand, giving it a quick pinch that has you giggling into the cushions, before easing his cock out of his sweatpants. The fabric does nothing to hide the shape of his erection—he's caught you looking meaningfully at it more than once whenever he wears them—but they've never felt as erotic as now.

If he had the patience, he'd tease you with it. Slap his shaft against your wet folds, drag his length along your arousal, rub the tip against your exposed clit. But he has all the time in the world because you're married now. He can do all of that another day.

He slides his head along your opening before pushing in inch by inch, moaning unabashedly as he splits you in half. You bury your face into the pillow, whimpering. It's always a bit of a tight fit, even when he makes sure to prep you.

"Let me know when I can move," he manages. You trail your foot up his leg, and that's enough for him to start pounding into you.

It's mesmerizing to see how your ass bounces against his hips. He can't believe he didn't do this sooner. Gripping at your waist, he sets the pace, driving into you until you're panting, muffling your sounds with the couch. It doesn't take long for him to make you snap again.

.

.

.

You don’t remember how many orgasms he’s coaxed from your body at this point. Once by the door, at least twice on the couch, a few more in bed—you remember slipping in and out of a sleepy haze at the tail end of it. You pull the blanket up to your chin with a content giggle.

In the other room, you hear the shower run.

(“You should get cleaned up,” Alex insisted, rubbing your ankles. “I’ll help you bathe.”

“I have a feeling that if I go with you into that bathroom, I’ll need another shower once you’re done with me.”

He shot you a lopsided grin. “Fair. I’ll clean up first and then run a bath for you?” He glanced out the window. “The sprinklers and automatic feeders should’ve taken care of the farm today, but I’ll check just in case.”

“Mhm.”

“And I’ll make...er, lunch. Take a nap if you want to.” He kissed the top of your head. He'd already wiped you down with a warm cloth. “I’ll be back.”)

Leaning over to the phone on your bedside, you quickly dial your partner-in-crime. The phone rings twice before her familiar sing-song Hello? come through. You don’t even need to waste time on formalities.

“I owe you big time,” you say, already making mental plans to mine a complete gem set. You always knew that Alex was holding back, but even with your subtle hints, he was too much a gentleman to really take you.

Until today.

“You were right, Em—getting Shane to help was the right move.”

[moremaybank]

SOMETHING STUPID — s.h

pairing steve harrington x fem!reader

summary steve's overwhelmed by the love he feels for you and blurts out a question he can't take back. he's sure you'll think he's crazy, but do you?

warnings language, but it's basically just a whole lotta fluff and steve being the cute cutie he is

author's note did i pull inspo from haley’s dad’s speech in oth?? hell yes. also, i'm really happy with how this turned out, not gonna lie. please read if you have the chance, it'll make my day ♡︎

steve masterlist

When Steve steps through the door after work with an exhausted sigh, he’s pleasantly surprised. He’s spent his entire life coming home to an empty house, always filled with a blaring silence that acted as a daunting reminder of how lonely he felt deep down inside. There was never anyone around to ask him how his day was. What was going on in his life, or if he was happy — and not the phoney kind. 

He’s so used to weathering the storm on his own, day in and day out, that he’s completely forgotten someone will be there for him this time. The previously empty home is now occupied by you and your bright, loving energy. The quiet was replaced with your music bouncing off the walls. You’re active in the mostly untouched kitchen, baking to your heart’s content and constantly stuffing your Stevie’s face full of sweets. 

Steve finally feels as if he truly has a home, and not just a place where he stores his belongings and rests his head at night. 

He makes his way through the halls, finally reaching the entryway to the kitchen and leaning against the doorframe. The dimmed lights glow throughout the room, and the artfully scattered candles burn brightly in the darkened space. Further adding to the already homey atmosphere, the sweet aroma of fresh baked goods fills the air, thanks to the chocolate chip cookies you have baking in the oven. Even with all of this going on, though, Steve can only seem to focus on one thing. 

You. 

Your frilled socks glide against the kitchen floor as you jump and twirl around on the tiles. The sound of Say You Love Me by Fleetwood Mac quells the silence, your record player turned up the highest it can go (because, in your professional opinion, there was no other way to listen to music). You pull out your signature dance moves, screwing your eyes shut and kicking your legs in the air so many times that Steve fears you’re in an imaginary fight with someone — and losing. Terribly. He also takes notice of the spatula in your hand, acting as a stand-in microphone while you lip-sync along to the lyrics. 

You’re a goofball, through and through. Still, though, Steve is utterly smitten.

“Sweet moves, baby,” he says, loud enough to be heard over the music. 

Your eyes go wide as your body stills, completely mortified that Steve has caught you in your own little world. You turn the music down, swiping the stray hairs away from your slightly sticky forehead and clearing your throat. 

“Steve! H-hey. I was just, uh…cleaning the floors. You know, makin’ them all nice and shiny for you,” you laugh uneasily. It’s complete crap and you both know it, but you’re desperate. Frankly, you’ll say anything if it means distracting Steve from this whole performing your own world tour in the middle of the kitchen thing. 

Steve cocks a brow, tongue poking his cheek as he tries to hide the grin that threatens to come into view. “Hm,” he hums, “cleaning the floors, huh?”

“Yup.”

“…With your socks?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, still slightly breathless, “It’s a…great way to incorporate exercise into daily household chores.”

Steve tries to stop it, but he can’t help but let a laugh escape from his lips. He walks over to you, arms wide open and ready to encircle around you. “C’mere, you goof. Gimme some sugar.”

You break out into a grin, happily stepping into your boyfriend’s embrace and giving him a tight hug. You feel his hands smooth down your back before wrapping around your waist and holding you tighter to him. After a moment, you pull away, and your hands come up to his face so you can press your lips to his. He hums into the kiss contently, melting into the touch he’s been longing all day for. 

“Missed you so much,” Steve pouts, his bottom lip jutting out adorably. 

“I missed you too,” you reply, granting him another kiss. “How was your day?”

Before Steve can answer, Say You Love Me comes to a stop, and the soft sounds of Landslide begin to bleed into the silence. Choosing to let you enjoy your favourite song, Steve shrugs it off, “We can talk about that later, wanna dance with you.”

Steve extends his hand toward you, silently asking for you to join your hand in his. You smile, sliding your palm into his and letting him pull you to his chest. He keeps his other hand on the small of your back, and your free arm curls around his shoulder as the two of you begin to sway together in time with the music. Steve feels you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and relax further into his hold, and he lets the voice of Stevie Nicks wrap around you both like a warm blanket as he holds you. 

The two of you sway back and forth, taking a peaceful moment to feel your hearts beat against one another. Steve never wants to let go. This is the closest and most intimate he’s ever felt with anyone, and that should scare him, he thinks. But it doesn’t, because being with you feels like heaven on earth. He can’t believe that he’s found someone who makes his heart soar the way you do. Who makes him smile so hard his cheeks hurt, and gives him a love so deep and true that it’s become a vital part of him. Just thinking of you makes his knees weak.

He’s completely enamoured by you.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, breaking him free from his thoughts as you pull away from his grasp slightly. 

Steve looks down at you, remaining silent, and his gaze flashes over your features. The kind eyes he feels he’s always known. The tiny scar near your temple from where you’d gotten stitches as a child. The curve of your lips and how he swears he can feel them gliding over his own every single time he thinks about them. He then moved onto the oversized t-shirt your body is clad in — one you’d obviously stolen out of his closet, and the pair of boxers hanging from your hips (also swiped from his wardrobe). Your aforementioned frilly socks pulled your signature at-home look together, one that brought an incredible amount of comfort to Steve. It shows him that you consider his home to be your home too. That you’ve found a home in him, just as he has with you.

He can see himself doing this whole life thing with you forever, and he can’t explain it, but he suddenly feels compelled to speak up, and the words tumble from his lips before he can stop them. 

“Do you wanna get married?” 

Your head shoots up, and you peer up at him with a look of shock. “I’m sorry, w-what?”

Steve’s eyes threaten to bulge out of their sockets, and his heart rate skyrockets as the panic waves through him. “Oh god, I- I said that out loud,” he says, slowly letting go of you and running a hand through his long chestnut locks. “Wow. Uh— Okay.”

“Did— Did you just ask me to marry you?” You stammer, quiet as a mouse. You don’t move. Steve doesn’t think you can. 

It’s obvious that you think he’s gone certifiably insane. His hands raise in defence, and he manages to start blurting out everything he can in an attempt to rectify the situation. “Listen, baby, we can totally act like that never happened—”

“Steve—”

“—In fact, it didn’t. I have no idea what you’re talking about, babe. No freakin’ idea—”

Finally, your hand cups over his mouth to stop him from rambling any further. His last few words sound muffled before they eventually come to a stop once he realizes what’s happening. His fingers curl around your wrist, moving your hand from his lips before giving you a small, sheepish smile. His cheeks flush profusely, “Sorry.” 

Oh, the things Steve would do if it meant he could take back the last few minutes of his life and go back to before he opened his big mouth and ruined everything. It’s not that he doesn’t want to marry you. That’s definitely not the case. But the regret he’s currently feeling after watching your horrified reaction play out…it’s enough to make him want to jump into his pool and never come back up for air. 

But then…when your eyes seem to light up and a small smile curves your lips upward, he thinks there just might be some hope left for him. 

“You wanna marry me?” You questioned, your hands finding solace on his lower arms. “Why?”

His brows pull together in confusion? Why? He can see the doubt eating away at you by how small you’ve become in the past few seconds. Are you truly doubting how much you mean to him? How much you’ve spun his world on its axis and changed him forever? 

“I— What?” 

“Why would you want me to marry you?”

“Yeah, I got that, I just…are you serious?” You nod, giving him the slightest shrug. Your shyness is peaking through far too much for you to offer him any more of a reaction. 

A soft and gentle laugh slips past his lips and his body relaxes. His warm palm smoothes up your arm and finds its resting place at the base of your jaw. His thumb swipes over your skin, and his warmth bleeds through your flesh. All the love he holds in his heart for you floats up to his eyes, and his chocolate orbs soften. He’s never felt so tender and full of affection as he does now. 

“You have no idea how special you are to me, do you?” 

He says it with such conviction that you know the words are true to his heart. Still, the way they hit you is all too much, and you can’t help but deflect them with a tiny joke. Your eyes fall away from his. “I mean, I figured you liked me a little.” 

“Stop,” he chides, albeit gently. He guides your gaze back onto his. “I’m serious.” 

It’s your turn to apologize as your cheeks heat up. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry. Just, hear me out.” 

“Okay,” you murmur. 

His left hand mirrors the hold his right one has on your face. The ring you gifted him for your first anniversary is cold against your skin. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he takes a breath before speaking. “You— You’re staggering, honey. You’ve given my heart a home. You’ve had it since the moment I met you, and you’ve kept it safe. Cherished it and nurtured it. You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted. I— I look into your eyes and it's like I can see the rest of my life inside ‘em.” 

Your heart melts, and you feel the tears start to pool in the brims of your eyes. “Steve,” you whisper. 

“I have no idea what’s going to happen in the future. Not a freakin’ clue, especially with all the supernatural shit that goes on in this town. But I do know that you’re supposed to be in it. You are my future, baby. I might not know a lot, but I do know this. You are the girl I’m going to spend my life loving. And I’m gonna give you everything if you’ll let me.”

His heartfelt words are almost enough to make you forget about your doubts. You want them to. But you can’t seem to quiet the worries circling inside your head. 

“Steve, I love you. You know I do. But, aren’t we too young? I don’t want to risk losing you. I don’t think I could take it if I did.” 

His hands slide down your neck and land on your shoulders. His warmth spreads through you again, and already, you feel better. It’s almost as if all he has to do is exist to wash your fears away. 

“I know. I know we’re young. But, so what if we are? To me, that just means I get to be with you even longer.” One hand abandons your shoulder, and he hooks his index finger under your chin. The pad of his thumb strokes over the tip of your chin. Eyes boring into your soul, he holds them captive. “You can drive at sixteen, drink at twenty-one, retire in your sixties. How old do you have to be to know that your love will last? ‘Cause I know my answer, down to the second.” 

You can’t seem to hide the smile that forces its way onto your lips. The sincerity in his gaze, the vulnerability he’s shown you since day one, it’s all too much. You can’t imagine ever walking away from him, can’t imagine what your life would be like if he wasn’t in it. Mornings you shared where he’d pout as soon as you mentioned getting out of bed. Picnics on warm summer days. Hearing him sing along to the radio in the car. You want those memories and every single one that would come to you in the future — your future with him. 

“Ask me again.” 

“Yeah?” He smiled. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed. But just as he’s about to do as you asked, half of the words leaving his mouth, you can’t contain the excitement. Your lips slam onto his as you pull him closer. You murmur a few yesses against his lips and feel them spread into a grin. Soon, his arms are wrapped around your waist and he’s lifting you up and into the air, spinning you around with joy. The kitchen is soon filled with giggles, and Steve is exclaiming your news loudly, even though you’re both alone.

“We’re getting married, sweetheart!”

STEVE TAG LIST (JOIN HERE): @oncasette @taintedxkisses @findapenny @bmo-bri @hemogloban @slytherhoes @shawnspoems @vigilanteshitposting @poppet05 @earth2starkey @aerangi @cantstoptherecs @sarah5462 @slut4drudy @cilliansangel @darleneslane @sya-skies @gillybear17 @lovelyxtom @rcbuttercup @redhead1180 @runningfrom2am @thejuleshypothesis @scarlettocean @subconsciouscollapse @violetmacher @iluvteyqmm @buckyisveryhot

[hotchs-big-hands]

might be tmi but i desperately want to eat Aaron’s ass 😳 it’s so cute and he deserves it so much and ughhhh 😮‍💨

AAAA HELLO ANON YOU ARE ON THE SAME WAVELENGTH AS ME CUZ BIG SAME I THINK ABT THAT SO MUCH

Ya girl has to write a blurb abt this too so ummmmm NSFW! minors DNI

gn!reader

We can easily say Aaron has most likely had a very vanilla sex life. I mean he was with Haley since high school and then dated Beth for a while, and in my opinion I doubt they really got too frisky with it.

So you and Aaron are together now and you’ve definitely been exploring kinks with him, stuff he’s never done before and he’s got a grasp of what he likes. You’re enthusiastic when you suck him off, taking him down to the base but also nuzzling and kissing his balls whilst you jerk him off. But on one particular occasion, as you’re messily sucking and kissing the underside of his balls, your tongue slips out to lick down and it just barely brushes against his perineum and he gasps out, hips thrusting upwards as his cock twitches. Neither of you expected such a reaction, and he takes a moment to recover and apologise- although he definitely doesn’t need to.

You can’t stop thinking about it but you haven’t brought it up to him. Your mind wanders though, you’d fantasised about rimming him but you didn’t want to bring it up and make him uncomfortable if he wasn’t into it as well. But that reaction… you had yet to admit to him you’d gotten yourself off thinking about it since it happened.

On the flip side, Aaron has been thinking about it nonstop ever since. Ever since he began dating you and your sex life turned adventurous, he had done a lot of research. And in turn, discovered things he had yet to bring up to you. Before you he had never even considered the prospect of anything being in or around his ass, but now he’d seen and read about certain things- watched certain things- and he suddenly had a desire to try some things out.

You’re making out, he’d just gotten out of the shower and returned to your shared bedroom where you all but attacked him with your mouth on his, hands grabbing at him until he has you straddling his lap. You can feel his clothed cock hardening against your inner thighs and when you part for oxygen, you lazily trace your fingers over his chest as your mouth opens and closes a few times, deep in thought about how you were going to bring up what you wanted to talk to him about. He notices and raises a brow at you and squeezes your hips.

“Everything alright, honey?” He asks quietly and you hum with a smile. You tell him you want to talk to him about something and he chuckles.

“As do I actually. Please, go ahead.”

And so you do, watching the micro-expressions form and change with every word you utter about what happened the other night, admitting you'd not been able to stop thinking about it since. He shakily laughs and for a moment you aren't sure if that's a good sign or not. But he tilts his head as he scratches his temple and you realise he's blushing.

"I... would be lying if I said I haven't been thinking about it ever since either." He admits and smirks a little. "I... I did some research on it. I wouldn't- uh, I wouldn't be opposed to trying it with you."

He grunts when you shudder with excitement, inadvertently grinding on his crotch and his hands return to squeezing your hips again.

And it's a while later when you're both stripped completely nude and your lips are pressing kisses all over his body, trailing down his chest and his soft, hairy stomach in the direction of his leaking cock. But you merely lift your mouth away and smirk at him, pressing a single kiss to the tip of his cock before you move down to his balls and nuzzle into them.

He jolts and makes a quiet noise of surprise when you pull at him and grab a pillow to prop under his hips, telling him to hold his legs back by hooking his hands around the back of his knees. He bites his lip and complies, creases forming across his stomach from the curled up position he's in and his leaking cock smears precum through his thick happy trail. And now you have access to it, his puckering little butthole. It makes you salivate, but you check in with Aaron to make sure he's still on board.

With a nod and quiet affirmation from him, you lay down on your stomach and your hands come to grip the backs of his hairy thighs firmly. You lean your head forward and he swallows thickly and as you press a kiss to his inner thigh, he gasps and you feel the muscles move under your hands. You press another kiss to the other thigh and smile when he gasps again. You begin kissing inwardly, closer and closer to where he anticipated your mouth and finally your mouth reaches his pucker. His eyes widen and his head falls back against the pillows and you press another kiss to it.

“Fuck… oh fuck…”

With a grin, you slip your tongue out and swipe at his hole and his body jolts with another gasp. You lick it again. Then again. You begin circling the hole with the tip of your tongue ever so slowly, then swipe it up to his perineum and press a kiss there as well. And when he feels your tongue slip inside the slightly more relaxed muscle, he moans oh so prettily. He feels your grip on his thighs tighten further, almost bruising, and you wiggle your tongue inside him. He can barely form words, a cacophony of noise pouring past his lips whilst you makeout with his rim.

Then, one of your hands moves to grip his shaft and the other massages his balls.

He knows he’s a goner, he’s not going to last long- embarrassingly so- but the increase of broken moans and whines as you work his body eagerly. You want him to cum, he can feel your excitement as he realises you’ve been rolling your hips into the mattress. He grips onto the back of his knees desperately, holding for dear life as his lower body begins to move. He’s fucking your hand, fucking your tongue. And you’re lapping it up with pure delight.

“Baby, I- I’m not gonna last-” he chokes out and you work faster, sucking on his pucker and swirling your thumb around the tip of his twitching, leaky cock. It’s all it takes to push him over the edge. He tenses, his hole tightening around your tongue and he moans your name brokenly whilst the pleasure ripples through his whole being. You jerk him through his orgasm, and he idly feels the spurts of cum hitting his stomach and chest. But he feels so far from it, floating in pleasure as his eyes scrunch closed.

He only comes back to earth when he feels you gently moving his hands from the back of his knees, gently straightening his legs out on the bed and stroking his thighs. He smiles at you softly through hazy eyes and you smirk. You want to clean up the mess on his body, with his permission of course. He groans softly and his spent cock twitches. He certainly won’t say no to that.

[stardewremixed]

So... I was scrolling through fanart which turned into impromptu stream-of-consciousness writing prompts. I hope you like how it turned out.

WARNING: (Mild) smut, references to alcohol, drugs, and smoking. (Does not assume Farmer's gender).

Abigail - Organizes the town charity softball games, breaks a few windows (and a few hearts). Tough girl to hide her insecurities - you know the ones - her parents don't get her or support her and she's lonely as an only child (still living at home with her parents). She has this smug side smile when she's got you right where she wants you and will argue with you over trivial matters because she has to be right. She pitches in when there's a town disaster, the first to roll up her sleeves, not afraid to get dirty and work hard. Would absolutely be the tank in your DnD party. She dominates no matter what sphere she's in, including the bedroom. And Abigail is as wild and adventurous in bed as she is out of it. Oh and you always do it at the farmhouse because she's loud (and her parents are light sleepers).

Penny - shy and sweet as usual, intimidated by the ladies of the town, especially Abigail and Haley. Always carrying books, keeps her head down, and her heart is plagued by being the daughter of an alcoholic and a sailor who abandoned her mom. Dreams of a Beast to rescue her Beauty, would kill (metaphorically) for that library and yellow ball gown, but doesn't actually believe she's that pretty, even though she's stunning and educated and articulate, when she's not stumbling over her words in painful shyness. Reads everything she can get her hands on. Would write a children's novel if she could ever work up the courage to ask Elliott to be her editor. She is the blushy kind of lover and reads up on tips and tries to apply what she's learned. You think it's freaking adorable when she asks for 'sex lessons.'

Haley is not a natural blond (*gasp*) - we know! We were shocked too. She's notoriously vain but it's to make up for the fact that her mother was a supermodel and never had time to be a real mom, so she desperately wants attention and to be noticed as beautiful and worthy. Critiques her nose, the shape of her breasts, her thighs, her brows, her hair style, and hopes to someday love herself as much as her mirror does. Got the Dino tattoo on her lower back as a drunken dare from Emily and now she kinda likes it because it makes her not so perfect for once and that's a relief. She wears the best lingerie - pretty, feminine, lacy. And her fantasy she shares with you after a few too many Cosmopolitans? To do it in front of a full length mirror.

Emily - yes the girl absolutely presses paste jewels on her face because why not? She's the cool big sis (stepsister of Haley). The free spirit. Blue hair. Who cares? Other people's opinions don't really define her. Always wearing multiple necklaces and bracelets and rings. This girl has rings. Believes in crystal healing. Lets her sleeve slip off her shoulder after one too many drinks at half-price karaoke nights. She gives you that side-eye, daring you to take her home. And this girl has got some freaky passion (in a good way of course) and yes, she's flexible. It's not that she is really into one night stands, but she doesn't get hung up on the morality of sex. She just goes where the wind blows and enjoys every moment. No expectations. No labels. Just serious fun.

Maru - is a powerhouse genius with a sort of perma-frown on her face when she's concentrating that's somehow annoyingly cute. It's never quite good enough - whatever she happens to be working on. She has those glorious thick curls always bouncing around as she moves from project to project with eager determination. Summer humidity might create the great frizz storm, but she's too focused to bother taming it. Her rims keep it out of her eyes. Always a gadget or two in this girl's hands and she doesn't mind the Inspector jokes. She is far too serious about science and technology to worry about (or even notice) the random taunts of a more average intelligence population. But just because she's super smart doesn't mean she isn't kind. It just might take her longer to notice you, but that hyperfixation, those beautiful eyes, when they are on you, it's really special.

Leah- when doesn't she have paint on her nose? Dried clay on her clothes? Ink beneath her fingernails? Art is her life and the forest outside her door is a veritable landscape of dreams, the mountain tat on her sleeve a mere imitation. Her thick and wild red braid flows free and swishes back and forth as she moves and every once in a while she gets self-conscious. She knows she is pretty but she would rather have someone notice and appreciate her art. But there's something super sexy about the half-buttoned shirt, suspenders, and the nervous tuck of hair over her ear. People fall in love with her everyday but not everyone stays, as she's learned. Still she perseveres and pursues her love of art, capturing raw, pure moments away from her former bustling city life. When you offered to pose for her and be a subject for her art, it wasn't initially meant to be sexual. But she couldn't hide the flicker of interest in her eyes. And then a few weeks later when you finally kissed good night in her doorway, it was like a fire had been released. You tore each other's clothes off and did it right there standing up, then again halfway to the bed and finally made it to the bed for the third round.

Sebastian - the wild, just-rolled-outta-bed hair that's too long and his mother is always saying he should cut it, but he doesn't listen, just like the warnings she gives about the cigs perched between his lips ("those things will kill ya"). Multiple piercings, skulls on shirts, arm bands, the ripped hoodies - all symbols of his rebellious youth carried on because he can't shake the ghosts of his past. Secretly afraid that he is just a teenage boy trapped in an adult body. Hiding behind clouds of smoke and blue glowing screens make it easier to deal with the fact that he didn't follow his dreams. Freelance programmer. Dungeon master. Designing s video game. Lives in his mom's unfinished basement because it's quiet and Maru used to be scared of the dark. So when he does surface and you remember he's alive, it's actually a big deal. He made an effort and when you thank him, he just shrugs in that sexy casual way and says he wanted to see you today. It's simple but so meaningful. He's quiet but he loves you in simple ways - stealing glances from his computer, using coupons to buy your favorite foods at Pierre's, and delivering a piece of furniture you bought at his mom's shop (and conveniently 'forgot' so he would have to bring it to you, and he knows this and did it anyway). Oh and there was the time your computer crashed in the middle of the night (yes, really) and you were in the middle of applying for a farm grant and thought you lost everything you'd been working on for weeks, and you cried and called him, and he came over to fix it and recovered the data. And you may have made out and landed in bed together after (it was a dark and stormy night and the rain is like an aphrodisiac for you). You apologized a dozen times and said this isn't what you called him for and it wasn't supposed to be a midnight booty call. He laughs and kisses you gently and says he wouldn't have minded it if it was because he's wanted you badly for so long. And you went for round 2.

Sam has so much energy, too much, and he usually channels it into making mix tapes, half-finishing songs, pranking Morris and Shane at JojaMart, and skating half-pipe. But if you thought he was an empty airhead, think again. Behind the beanies, cut off sleeves, and ripped jeans, the crazy hair, and goofy smiles, there's a heart of gold. He will kneel down and tie Vincent's shoes for the five hundredth time, even though his kid bro should know by now how to do it. He'll carry those groceries all the way back to Evelyn's house for her, chattering about animal shapes in the cloud and a wicked sweet song he heard on the radio. Maybe someday he will write a jingle for the airwaves too. He will work a double shift so Shane can take Jas to swim lessons or the dentist or because Marnie was irresponsible again and left his god niece alone again late at night. And he will always buy his friends a round at the Saloon. Even if he's broke and spent all his coin on some vintage rock vinyls and the sugary cereal obsession of the week. He's a kid at heart, but he rocks hard and loves hard. That youthful exuberance is just what you need - bubble baths with rubber ducks, half-burnt pizza, dollar stor rose petals, and (root) beers in bed, making you giggle when he gives you foot massages, and tickling you with his tongue (oh yes, he knows all your sweet spots)!

Harvey may be older and mild-mannered, but he remembers little details about all his patients, whom he has come to know as friends and surrogate family. He never met his dad, his mom passed when he was a kid, and he was raised by his grandpa on canned pork and beans, microwave dinners, and model planes. His grandpa was a man of a few words, but they would paint models every evening. Sometimes they'd go out to the airstrip and watch planes take off and Grandpa would reminisce about the "good Ole days" when he still flew in the Air Force. And he always wore ties so the doc has kept up the tradition, and he still wears the coats with the elbow patches that smell of pipe tobacco and peppermint. And even though grandpa has been gone for a dozen or so years, Harvey still paints models most evenings. And every once in a while, he drives out to that airstrip with you to watch the planes while eating tunafish and pickle sandwiches and sipping wine in paper cups. And when he holds your hand, when he puts his arm around you, when he makes love to you, it's like he fits in your life and your body perfectly. Oh yes! The doctor is in!

Elliott - for all his flowery prose, his day to day speech is actually pretty down to earth once you get to know him. Maybe he comes across as a bit of a snob with his extensive vocabulary, but he really just wants to impress you, not turn you off. He (literally) likes long walks on the beach, dreamy piano sonatas, and long soulful ballads. On Chat nights you can find him loosening his ties, letting his hair down, and kicking back a pint with his BFF at the bar. He is never awake before 9:30 or 10 because his writer brain comes alive late at night. He has a flawless complexion (and he's proud of his skin care and hair routine). Inspiration might strike anywhere so he always carries a pen and notepad in his pocket and says things like "can I quote you on that?" for the Pelican Town Times, a newspaper he's trying to revive and has a circulation of maybe 3 people. He's always publishing poems under a pseudonym but his unpublished novel is his pride and joy and he doesn't let anybody read it so when he finally shares an excerpt with you one day it's a really important moment. And of course, when he does finally publish, the dedication is to you, which will make you cry, and he also dedicate it to the particularly bothersome seagull, which makes you laugh, the one that always squawks at the most inopportune times like when you two are trying to "have a romantic moment." His bed might be a little creaky and his cabin a bit drafty, but he treats you and your body like royalty (and to regular nightly full body massages).

Alex - yeah, he's not a complicated guy. He likes sports, surf, and sun. Granny has been his favorite, the first woman in his heart, and he's kinda spoiled by all her love and attention (yes she still cuts the crusts off his sandwiches and does his laundry), but he isn't a brat. He can fix a leaky roof, a leaky sink, a leaky sprinkler system. He mows the entire practice field at the high school in the spring, rakes leaves in the fall and shovels snow in the winter for his neighbors. He still sells ice cream from time to time in the summer, but usually works as a seasonal lifeguard on Ginger Island. Sure, he might be a bit disconnected and doesn't always know what his partners want, but when he's wrong and you tell him, he admits it. And while he can lift you up on his shoulders so you can pick fruit in the orchard and he has the stamina of a Greek god in bed, he doesn't brag about it (at least not very often). He really just wants to make you happy above all else. Oh and he wants to be a dad someday.

Shane was like a drug, in the beginning - you're addicted to this man, dad bod, scruffy face, and all. You love him in spite of his mean and grumpy exterior. Somehow insults turn into foreplay. Maybe it's toxic but you don't care. This man sets records in bed, and he's not a one-hit wonder. As you start showing him affection and stick around despite his numerous attempts to scare him off, he realizes you're here to stay and maybe he can have something of a life again. So he cleans himself up, goes to therapy, quits drinking, and detoxes. Boy! It's not pretty. But it's worth it to him if it means he can have you. And that makes you love him all the more. Sure he's still addicted to Joja colas, but that's really not so bad. Nothing fazes him. Chasing down cows in a thunderstorm, setting Jas' broken arm, putting out a barn fire, rescuing you from a capsized fishing boat, carrying you out from the mines for the umpteenth time, even a chicken landing on his head while you're discussing favorite sex positions in the garden. Come on. That should have elicted a laugh. He's come a long way from that scowling drunk in the corner at the Saloon who just wanted angry hookup sex. He has become your rock just like you were for him all those years ago.

[spacelazarwolf]

i looked up the current candidates for the 2024 presidential election in the usa and it is. really fucking bleak.

democrats:

joe biden - current president. doing...ok. he's pro trans rights and has been doing some good stuff to fight climate change, but he's like a hundred years old and

robert f kennedy jr - seems to have decent opinions on a lot of policy, but thinks that chemicals in the water are making kids transgender and has suggested that covid is a conspiracy by ashkenazi jews and chinese people

marianne williamson - anti vaxxer apparently, also i guess thinks love is the only thing that will defeat trump

republicans:

ryan binkley - conservative pastor that thinks marriage is "between one man and one woman", anti choice, wants to Build A Wall

doug burgum - republican governor that has actively passed anti trans legislation, anti regulation (unless what you're regulating is trans people ig????)

chris christie - is apparently opposed to bans on gender affirming care, but vetoed a bill allowing trans people to change their gender marker, anti choice

ron desantis - i feel like i don't need to explain

larry elder - denies systemic racism and wants police to be harder on crime, anti crt and dei, pretty solidly anti trans

nikki haley - anti choice, extremely anti trans, anti immigrant, supports israel while also having an evangelical pastor who has a history of antisemitism and racism and queerphobia open for one of her events

will hurd - doesn't seem too horrendous, not noticeably anti trans, but supports 15 week abortion ban

asa hutchinson - great value brand trump

perry johnson - was republican candidate for governor of michigan but was disqualified due to fraudulent ballot signatures

mike pence - yeah

vivek ramaswamy - "anti wokeism", would pass a law requiring teachers to disclose to parents if they found out their kid is trans, supports bans on gender affirming care, wants to end sanctuary cities and address mental health through "faith based approaches", hedge fund bro

tim scott - said that america is not a racist country and the biggest problem facing black people is "fatherlessness incentivized by welfare", opposes same sex marriage and gender affirming care and thinks democrats are using school to "indoctrinate children"

corey stapleton - montana secretary of state, couldn't find much abt him

donald trump - donald trump

independent

cornel west (green party) - seems really cool actually but two party system will fuck him over

i hate the two party system so much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

also congrats to the dems for yet another milquetoast kennedy, and congrats to the republicans for having the most racially diverse list of racist and transphobic candidates!!!

[big-mean-trans-dyke]

Breaking!

Juliet Routing, leader of a rebel TERF movement, announced on social media this morning her decision to step down as the movement's leader, and subsequently abandon it entirely.

The announcement follows months of turbulence for the group founded a little over two years ago. Promoting the defiance of established TERF laws, Routing founded the group which has been gaining followers since its inception in an effort to undermine the new Trans Government. 'Protest' included failure to register as a TERF, failure to undergo annual recertification, graffiti, and public disturbance early in its inception. In recent months, however, their actions became more extreme, expanding to destruction of both government and civilian property and, most recently, the kidnapping of three prominent cuntgirl government supporters.

While the group's earlier movements were largely frowned upon, but ignored as acceptable forms of protest, their more recent actions began to turn public opinion more harshly. Notably, a few weeks ago, parliament announced their intention to outlaw the group, laying out expected punishments for members and changes to protest law moving forward. The arrests of its members was expected to be carried out tomorrow.

Last night, the group struck first on an unannounced livestream beginning shortly after 11pm. The livestream began with a rushed statement and apology by Haley Fitzpatrick, widely recognized as the group's second command, cut off just before its end by the entrance of Juliet Routing. She was brought to center frame, stripped naked, and bent over a table. What followed was an individual apology made by each member, between 60 and 70 in total. Each member then performed some level of humiliation to the now-disgraced leader, ranging from spanking, spitting or urinating on her, writing, and even anal rape by 23 of its members.

At the end of the livestream, Haley returned to announce the location of their meeting place, known to authorities but previously unknown to the public, and explained that Juliet would be bound outside for the following day to be used by transfems in hopes of mercy and lenient sentences for all other members.

Given the circumstances, it's expected that authorities will accept the group's disbandment with only minor sentences for cooperative members including a temporary ban on TERF certification and some amount of community service. Juliet's sentence remains beyond speculation for the moment. That said, Juliet is expected to remain bound where she is for transfem use for the remainder of the day, so do take the opportunity to enjoy her before she's taken into the hands of the authorities.

[swarvey]

paper rings | harvey x f!reader

summary -> you get yourself a partner for the flower dance; harvey lets his imagination roam wild. warnings -> very mild hints of nsfw wc -> 2861

a/n: lowkey writing this chapter was sm fun. enjoy!! we're getting into the thick of it now >:)

ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6

paper rings masterlist

chapter five: you belong with me -> "been here all along, so why can't you see?"

“He’s dancing with who? ”

You looked at Haley with big eyes as she nonchalantly filed her nails. Emily, whom you’d learned was her older sister, continued to braid her blue hair, while Leah worked on her latest sculpture in the corner. The artist had invited the three of you to her cottage to spend some time together, to your surprise — from the small conversations you’d had with her throughout the season, she seemed to be pretty reserved. After running into her and the sisters more than a handful of times, though, she must have warmed up to all of you.

“His nurse,” the blonde repeated, her tone bored and monotone. “This is old news, keep up.”

“I only got here a few weeks ago,” you sighed, slumping down in your seat. “How was I supposed to know?”

“Haley, be nice,” Emily scolded lightly, walking over to Leah and admiring her work. 

The Spring season had flown by quicker than you anticipated, though it felt fulfilling to know you had accomplished so much in such a short period of time. Your once weed and debris-ridden farm was completely cleared, replaced with plots of crops. You made sure to leave some open spaces for the animals you were planning on getting, excited to take the next step in your farmer life.

Throughout the past few weeks, you’d gotten closer to Haley and her sister. The blue-haired girl was closer to your age, though her personality was a stark contrast compared to her younger sibling. She was open and expressive, while Haley was typically moody and blunt. Both of them were kind to you, though, and it was refreshing to talk to people you could at least somewhat relate to.

Obviously, you had Harvey, too. The two of you made sure to get dinner with each other at least once every week to make up for your lost time together, never once mentioning romance again. Instead, you easily fell back into rhythm with him, old jokes resurfacing and memories continuously being shared. You’d nearly forgotten what good company he made; he never interrupted you, and always made sure to ask about your day.

Better than any boyfriend you had, anyway.

“She’s just jealous because she has a crush on him.”

The comment snapped you back into the current conversation, head quickly turning to look at Haley. She had a knowing smirk on your face as you began to blush. 

“Honestly, you sound like a high schooler,” you huffed, turning away. “I’m just not used to the thought of Harvey liking someone, that’s all. It’s like knowing my brother has a girlfriend.”

“Right,” she responded, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “So, you’re not jealous?”

“No, I’m not.”

“And you’re not interested in dancing with someone? Y’know, just to see how he reacts?”

Silence.

Emily and Leah looked at you with similar expressions, brows raised and curiosity in their eyes.

“No, no way,” you laughed, as if she’d said a joke. “I mean, seriously? Who would do that?”

“I would,” Haley said without hesitation. “The worst that can happen is that he gets a little jealous, so what?”

“There is no way Harvey of all people would get jealous over something like that.”

“So do it.”

You looked at her with narrowed eyes, trying to think of a rational reply. She shrugged, not even bothering to look up at you.

Emily cleared her throat. “Well, it would be nice to see you dance,” she said, though there was a mischievous edge to her words. “You’d look beautiful in one of those dresses.”

You eyed Leah for her opinion, but she simply shook her head, continuing her work. “Don’t drag me into this,” she said, squinting at her woodwork. “I’m done messing around with guys.”

“You literally dance with Elliott every year,” Haley noted, pausing her filing to give her a deadpan stare.

“Elliott and I are friends, that’s all,” she replied, her voice final. “Besides, after what happened last time, I think I’m over boys completely.”

“You mean, you don’t think you’ll date again?” you asked.

“I never said that.”

Emily blinked in surprise. Haley hummed in approval, resuming her previous acts. Leah blushed slightly, though you gave her a reassuring smile and shrugged.

“Who am I going to dance with, anyway?” you questioned. “I mean, doesn’t everyone in town have a partner already?”

“I doubt Shane will do it,” Emily sighed, crossing her arms. “He only dances with me because Marnie forces him to every year.”

“I don’t know if Elliott will, either,” Leah added. “He’s a bit . . . particular.”

Haley dropped the file beside her, a tired breath escaping her as she wordlessly picked up her phone. 

You tilted your head. “What are you—”

“Alex, where are you?” A pause. “Come over to Leah’s. Now.”

The three of you gave amused glances to each other as Haley hung up, obviously annoyed by whatever Alex had said on the phone.

A few minutes later, the jock showed up to the cottage, roughly knocking twice before opening the door. Upon seeing the four of you sitting in Leah’s living room, he stopped suddenly in the doorway.

“Uh, am I . . . supposed to be here?” he asked.

“Just get in and shut the door,” Haley snapped. 

Sighing and mumbling something about her “not having to be so mean all the time,” Alex made his way over to all of you, awkwardly scratching the side of his head.

“You’re gonna dance with her this year,” she said, pointing her thumb at you.

“What?!” He quickly looked between you and her, dumbfounded by her remark. “Haley, why would I do that?! I don’t even remember this girl’s name!”

“I don’t doubt it,” you muttered, and Emily laughed.

“Listen up!” Haley stood, and despite being a solid few inches taller than her with a much larger build, Alex flinched, seeming to shrink away. “ You are dancing with her because, quite frankly, I’m sick of dancing with you!”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She groaned, rolling her eyes. “It means, we’ve been doing the same thing for years now, and I’m bored. I don’t want to do it, so I’m sitting out.”

“But you never—” She glared at him, daring him to finish his sentence. Instead, he let out a short breath of defeat. “Fine.” He turned to you, undeniably uninterested. “What’s your name again?”

“Y/N,” you replied, equally as flat-toned. “Thanks.”

“Sure, I guess. Can I go now?” You felt a little bad for him, especially since he looked like a kicked puppy,  but you knew him well enough that he’d bounce back within the hour. Haley nodded, and he quickly made his way out of the cottage.

“Actually, we should get going, too,” Emily said, checking the clock. “We still have to make dinner.” With that, her and her sister made their goodbyes, leaving you and Leah alone.

“You know,” she started, wiping her hands on her pants and looking at you with a smile, “she must really like you if she went to those lengths for you. I don’t think Haley’s ever sat out of the Flower Dance.”

You nodded, chewing your lip. “Yeah, well . . .” You trailed off, your head being filled with thoughts of Harvey and the words he’d said before.

“I guess we’ll see how it goes.”

-

Harvey anxiously fiddled with his tie as everyone began to arrive at the festival, brushing a hand through his hair.

Shane stood beside him and scoffed. “Seriously, you’re acting like we’re at your wedding. Calm down, doc.”

“Yes, I know, I just . . . I want to look put together.” For you, he wanted to add, but kept his mouth shut. “I can’t believe she’s going to see me do this dance,” he mumbled, not even having to say your name for his friend to know who he was talking about.

“If I can do this every year in front of Jas, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he replied, looking at his goddaughter with a fond look on his face. Those were the only moments where Harvey saw the typically stoic man soften. 

“Before you know it, she and Vincent will be old enough to participate themselves, you know,” he said, hiding his smile when Shane scowled and whipped his head towards him.

“Like hell, she will,” he retorted, giving her friend a death stare. “That kid better watch it. He does anything to Jas and I swear I’ll—”

“Ah, my glorious friends! How are you this fine morning?”

Harvey and Shane nearly toppled over as Elliott appeared in between them, balancing them with his arms wrapped around their shoulders. Harvey was sure he heard the man next to him mutter some not-so-kind comments under his breath, but ignored them.

“It was fine, up until a few seconds ago,” Shane snapped, ducking out of his hold. “How are you always so damn chipper at every hour of the day?”

Elliott stood up straight proudly, his healthy hair shining in the light. “You see, this is what the magnificent tool of sleep can provide you. With proper vitamins and a good night’s sleep, anyone can be as energetic as a hare.”

“What is this, a fuckin’ ad?” 

“He’s not wrong,” Harvey chimed, making Shane grumble and walk away towards Jas.

“Ah, I’m afraid I have some news to share with you, my friend,” Elliott started, turning to look at him with a slightly worried look on his face.

Curious, Harvey opened his mouth to question him, but was interrupted by the sound of Emily gasping loudly and calling out your name. 

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw next.

He watched as you walked into the festival wearing a flowy white dress, flowers intertwined into your hair. He swore he felt his heart jump at the sight, unimaginable thoughts racing through his head as he wondered what it would’ve been like to be by your side then, or even before at home helping you put the dress on, drunk on the sight of your exposed skin—

Wait.

Harvey’s imagination went blank when he saw Alex by your side, saying something to you to make you laugh. Certainly he was dreaming, right? He’d seen you just the other day, and you had never once mentioned anything about the aspiring gridball player. Was he even your type? Was that what you were looking for? If so, his hopes were out the door. 

“Harvey? You okay?”

As he blinked back into focus, Harvey realized Maru was now standing in front of him, concern written all over her features. He turned to glance at Elliott confusedly — noting how he was anxiously biting his fist before mouthing him a sorry — before giving his nurse a kind smile, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder.

“Yes, sorry, something just . . . came to mind,” he lied. “You look amazing, Maru. Thank you for dancing with me again.”

She laughed. “You don’t have to thank me every year, Harvey, it’s not like I’m doing this against my will. I like dancing with you.” Her face flushed slightly at her last sentence, though he paid it no mind. He was more interested in your figure walking over to him, a lopsided smile on your face.

“Hey, Maru,” you greeted, an ounce of tension in your tone. 

Though, Maru didn’t seem to notice, smiling brightly back at you. “Hey! You look great, you’re paired up with Alex, right?”

“That’s right!” His jaw tensed at your despicably happy mood. “Haley wasn’t too interested in dancing this year, so he decided to ask me.”

A lie . Harvey knew you well enough by then to tell when you were lying, and he felt it immediately as the words left your mouth. Why, though? What were you doing? Or, more so, what part were you lying about?

“Cool,” the nurse replied simply, completely oblivious. “Well, I think we’re about to start, so how about we all get lined up?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You jumped slightly when Harvey pulled you back by your arm, trying his best not to be swayed by your looks as he scanned your face.

“What?” you laughed, feigning innocence. “Is there something on my face?”

He shook his head quickly, blushing before letting you go. “No, it’s just . . . I didn’t expect you to be dancing, is all.”

“Well, someone didn’t ask me,” you teased, making any words get caught in his throat. “I’m kidding, Harvs. Alex just needed someone to dance with.”

Another lie. “I see.” 

“Harvey, come on!” He waved to Maru in acknowledgment, giving you one last look before beginning to walk away.

“You, uh, you look stunning, Y/N,” he managed, turning so he couldn’t see your reaction.

As the music began to play, Harvey’s body easily began to move with it, remembering each step after years of doing the same movements. The only difference, though, was your body in his line of sight, Alex’s arm wrapped around the small of your back. 

A familiar feeling started to rise from his gut. He recognized it as how he felt in the saloon the first day you’d gotten to Pelican Town, telling him shortly about your previous relationships. He didn’t like how it made him feel, not at all, but he couldn’t resist it as he observed you. What kind of cruel game was the universe playing? 

Alex looked down at you, giving you a small, unexpectedly shy smile. You grinned back.

That should be me. The singular thought raced through his head as the music swelled, Maru twirling under his arm in front of him. His eyes stayed on you, breaths becoming hot with jealousy. You should be with me, not him.

Then, as everyone entered the last part of the dance, you tripped on your dress, nearly falling backward. Harvey tensed, and if it weren’t for Maru already leaning back on his arms, he would have lunged for you. 

It didn’t matter, though, as Alex had already caught you, his face inches away from yours as you panted heavily.

As everyone applauded, Harvey gently let go of the girl in his arms, looking away and taking a couple deep breaths to still himself. How was this happening? Did you enjoy seeing him suffer? 

Apparently, you did, as you lingered in Alex’s arms after standing up. He watched as Emily and Haley greeted you with smiles, even Leah walking up to compliment you. No one seemed as taken aback by the situation as he was, though that was of no surprise to him. 

“Seriously, Harvey,” Maru said, and he realized she was standing in front of him with her hands on her hips. “You don’t look too hot. It wouldn’t look too good if the town’s doctor got sick, would it?”

Harvey cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. I think it’d be best for me to go a bit early, then.” She nodded in agreement. Guilt ate at him as he walked away — he felt terrible for leaving Maru there alone, but she was right. Although he didn’t have the kind of sickness she was thinking of, he was obviously not in the right state of mind to be interacting with people who mostly saw him as a pillar of stability.

Just as he escaped the forest area, a voice called his name, his eyes widening as he recognized it immediately. 

“Where are you going? Everyone’s still there,” you asked. You had a leaf sticking to the front of your dress and your face was blushed from running to him. 

If you were his, he would’ve dragged you home with him, making good riddance of that damned piece of clothing before showing you just what you did to him. 

Instead, he walked forward a couple of steps and plucked the leaf off, allowing it to drop out of his hand easily.

“I’m not feeling very well,” he said, voice thick and gravely. You looked at him with another new look in your eyes, though he couldn’t decipher what that one meant. Were you upset? Confused?

Or were you interested in the sound of his jealousy-filled tone?

“Right,” you replied shortly, nodding. “You should go get some rest, then.”

“I will. I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner?”

“You know the drill.”

With that, Harvey turned back around, almost in a daze as he resumed his journey home. As soon as he got in his apartment, he fell to the ground in exhaustion, swiftly loosening his tie as he leaned back on his door for support. His thoughts were filled with the image of you dancing with the jock, except he imagined it was himself by your side, swaying to the music with your hand entangled with his. Then, of course, there were the thoughts of what would come after; after he’d walk you home, after he would lock the front door, after he’d shrug off his suit and push you onto the bed, lifting the dress and exploring what was underneath. 

At that moment, Harvey knew it was hopeless.

He would trade anything, go to opposite ends of the earth, if it meant you’d be with him.