#but it only works if both sides have a really valid reason!

[trippinsorrows]

without you + three

authors note: welp. the ball is, gradually, rolling.

do not read this story if you haven’t read ’with me’. it won’t work as a standalone.

warnings: none

song inspo: be without you by mary j. blige

one + two

words: 4k

“I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good thing.” Removing your eyes from the book in hand, you glare and flip your soon to be ex-fiance off if he keeps playing with you like this. 

Of course, he simply laughs as you shove on Joe’s shoulder.. “I’m serious.”

His hand moves to your stomach, rubbing a circle as he beckons, “tell me.”

Using the bookmark on the comforter, you stick it in the page you’re on and lay it against the side of you. “I think we should take Callie back so she can have her graduation.”

Joe looks over at you, brows furrowed. “I thought we were just going to do something here?”

“I know, and I think we still can, but I don’t want to take that from her. She was really excited about graduating.” It’s something you’ve been thinking about a lot, both as a teacher and a mom. It’s so important for children to feel and be able to celebrate their accomplishments. Sure, it’s only preschool, but it’s still a big deal for her.

You want her to be able to celebrate with her ‘classmates.’

And you express as such.

“She should be able to celebrate with the other kids. Plus, and I know right now, she’s still excited about them, but I don’t know, something tells me she’s going to struggle with some form of jealousy when the babies get here.”

Joe nods, not necessarily disagreeing with you. “But, that’s not entirely abnormal, right?”

“No, doesn’t mean it’ll be any easier to deal with though.” Frowning, it’s only now you also think about how that might be for you as well. For almost five years, you’ve been able to devote all of your time and attention onto one child. 

Now, it’s about to be four.

“Hey.” Joe, forever adept at reading you, brings his hand to your chin, forcing your gaze to land on him. “We’ll handle it together, alright?”

His words, as per usual, comfort you greatly. “You’re right.” His thumb flicks your chin, as you chuckle. “It’s probably good her little spoiled self is spending all this time with you now. Before she has to share you.”

His scowl makes you snort as he drops his hand back to your ever growing belly. “She’s not spoiled.”

“Joe, as the kids say, be so fucking for real.”

“What?”

Ignoring the fact that this man literally probably still has an AOL email with out of touch he is, you continue with your very valid point. “That little girl is spoiled rotten. You give her whatever she wants.”

“She doesn’t ask for much.”

“Not you being in straight up denial.” He’s so down bad for Callie Bear. It’s not even funny. “Need I remind you of her little tantrum two weeks ago? Baby, the way you folded so quickly should have been recorded. Tribal Chief, my ass. Got taken down by a four year old.”

Joe shoves you gently. “Shut up.”

Laughing, you continue, “just admit it, she has you wrapped around her lil’ finger, and she knows it. That’s why she tried you the way she did, but I mean it, next time it happens, and it will, set her little butt straight. She can take it.”

Joe’s frown doesn’t make it any easier for you to hold in your laughter. “I don’t like being mean to her.”

“It’s not being mean, baby. It’s being a parent. As much as she loves to play with you like you’re one of her little friends, you’re not. You’re her dad. She needs to respect you as such.”

“She does,” he defends, and you sigh, knowing this is probably just a battle you won’t win. Quieting down, you decide to switch topics to something you’ve been thinking more about as you prepare for the arrival of your children.

“I’m gonna tell her, you know. When she gets older, that I’m the reason you weren’t there the first few years of her life.”

Joe sits up in the bed, removing his hand from your stomach, concern evident all over his handsome face. “Y/N—”

You lift your hand to silence him. “No, she’s going to eventually ask, and I’m not going to lie to her. Whatever anger she feels would be justified, and I’ll handle it.” 

You’ve thought about this more and more as you progress with your pregnancy. The fact that these babies will get to experience Joe from day one when Callie didn’t. There’s undeniable unfairness, and should she ever want to know just why Joe was MIA at the beginning, you will be honest with her.

You’ll make sure she knows that it was you who decided to keep her a secret from her father. How specific you’ll get will depend on her age, but you’re not a fan of lying to and holding secrets from kids when it directly impacts them.

You know firsthand how thinking your dad didn’t want to be around can fuck with someone’s mental.

You won’t let that be the case with Callie.

Joe looks just as bothered, like he doesn’t want you doing anything that could impact how Callie sees you. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, but I do and will, baby.” You place your hand to his cheek, his beard a little more outgrown and slightly unkempt as he truly relaxes in the embrace of vacation. “Because that’s one thing I never did and would never do. I never let anyone say any disrespectful shit about you not being in Callie’s life. Amir would try it a lot, and I shot him down every time.”

The mention of Amir brings a scowl to Joe’s handsome face. It’s a bit of a distraction technique you’re grateful worked. This will also be a revisited topic over the years, clearly. “I don’t know what the fuck you saw in him.”

Small smile on your face, you shrug, “he’s not ugly, and his dick was decent.” And before he can say anything smug and smart, “yours is better, duh. Why you think I’m giving you all these kids, huh?” He smiles and shakes his head. “You gotta have God tier dick for me to push out not one but gonna be four of your big headed ass children. Boy, I wish you would try to leave me. You gon be wrestling into your eighties with how much I’ll come for you in child support.”

He rolls his eyes and kisses your temple, “you know I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

“Of course not, who the hell is gonna want me with all these damn kids?” The topic at hand reminds you of the book on the side of your bed, the previous reason you two were taking a break from figuring out your approach for letting friends and family know about the courthouse wedding. “Now, we really need to start deciding on names. I’m almost five months.” Pretty soon you’ll be finding out the sexes of the babies. It’s crazy to you how quickly this pregnancy is passing by, most likely due to the happiness you feel. 

Time flies when life is good. 

“Did you get Callie’s list?” 

He curses. “Shit, I forgot.”

You wave him off. “No worries.” Sitting further up in bed, you shout out, “Callie Bear! Bring us your list for baby names!” 

She doesn’t say anything, and you start to try again when she comes running into the room, Disney notebook in one hand and her American Doll in the other. She doesn’t hesitate to climb onto the bed and sit on her knees at the end, “here you go, mommy!”

You accept her notebook that’s already opened to her list of potential baby names that she came up with. “Thank you, baby.” Callie switches to sitting with her legs crossed, her doll that looks just like her, courtesy of her rich ass daddy, smack dab in the middle. “Let’s see.”

A smile falls on your face as you share the notebook with Joe, pointing out the first name that he also smiles at. 

“Moana.” Predictable. So predictable. “Maui. Hei Hei. Tamatoa.” Joe coughs beside you to clearly hold in his laugh. “Baby….are these all names from Moana?”

Callie nods happily. “And Toy Story and Encanto and The Little Mermaid,” she essentially continues to sing-song list off damn near every Disney movie ever created. “The babies have to like Disney too, mommy! Like me, you, and Grandma.”

“You’re so right.” To be fair, you really shouldn’t have expected too much more. She is one Disney loving kid, through and through. “Well, thank you so much for the list, Callie Bear.”

“Daddy, did you make a list?” She asks, head tilted as she gently caresses the top of her doll’s head.

“Not yet, baby. Mommy and I are gonna make one together.” 

“I like baby Moana.” 

He chuckles. “But you’re our little Moana.”

She pouts and corrects, “no, I’m Callie.” Her sass makes you laugh. Joe wasn’t entirely wrong. She really is a lot like you sometimes. “I want a baby sister named Moana.”

“What if they’re all boys?”

You and Callie have similar reactions. It’s just that yours is one of horror and hers is more of shock.

“Noooo, I want a little sister.” 

Adding onto Callie’s vehement protest, you make your own strong thoughts and feelings known. “And I am not pushing out three boys at once, Joe. You done lost your god—”

“What do you want for your birthday, Callie Bear?” You’re partially thankful for the save but also irritated he’s asking this question he already knows is gonna generate a wild ass answer.

“A puppy!”

See.

You do your best to use the perfect combination of understanding yet assertiveness. “Baby, we done had this conversation before, we are not getting a puppy until you’re at least ten.”

“But, I’ll be old!”

“Exactly, old enough to take care of a puppy.” One look at Joe, and you can see he’s about to open his mouth and probably find some reason to ‘agree’ with or at least defend Callie’s request. “Absolutely not. No dog until she’s older, and that’s final.”

Callie, understandably, does not agree nor like this rule, and it’s evident in her deep pout and the way she crosses her arms over her little body. “Not fair.”

“Life ain’t fair, buttercup.” You retort, quickly reminding her as you take in her appearance. “Speaking of, it’s almost time for your wash day….”

The infamous, dreaded day of nonstop hair washing and styling is enough to wipe her smile away and award her a brand new reason to start whining, “I don’t want to.”

The feeling is mutual. “Neither does mommy, but we gotta do it eventually, Callie Bear.” Looking over at Joe, you inform him, “and you will be present for this ordeal, sir, so you can learn how to do her hair for me.”

He looks confused, nose turned up. A chuckle is withheld at how much he and his daughter mimic each other in this situation. “Baby, I don’t know how to do hair.”

Sucking your teeth, you smartly point out, “you do your own!”

“I barely do anything with my hair. You know this.” 

Damn. He’s right. Lucky ass. “Regardless, when I get too big to be bending over the sink like that, someone’s gonna have to do it.”

Of course, Joe’s smartass just decides to throw out something that should probably be discussed before saying around Callie, “I’ll take her to your mom.”

Callie’s eyes light up a bit. “Grandma!”

“Joe.” Lord, this man got too much money or something. “You seriously are going to fly our daughter out to my hometown so my mama can do her hair?”

He shrugs, clearly not seeing an issue with what’s being proposed. “Yeah.”

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head, you lean further back in the pillows of the bed. “You are too—” However, you’re cut short mid-sentence, face and chest dropping simultaneously, the change in your disposition enough to catch Joe’s attention. 

“What’s wrong?” He’s sitting up even more, expertly masking the concern that’s growing by the second. Recognizing this, you will that small smile to start forming on your face, shaking your head as you motion for him and Callie to move closer.

“Mommy?” Callie is just as confused as you reach for both her and Joe’s hands, placing them on your belly, trying to find the spot of origin. “What—”

This time, she’s the one to stop mid-sentence as she feels it, the sensation you last felt when you were pregnant with her. Callie’s face is still set with understandable confusion, but your gaze on Joe reveals minimal concern and an abundance of amazement. 

“What is that, mommy?” Callie finally asks. The emotion in your throat takes you back a bit. You’re not typically a super emotional person, but there’s something about this moment, about feeling your babies kick for the first time and being able to share it with your fiance and child that does something to you. Knocks at those pillars that hold up your resolve. 

“That’s the babies. They’re kicking.” You explain, smiling a bit as Callie looks at you in horror.

“Why are they hurting you?”

“They’re not, sweetie. That’s what babies do. As they get bigger and grow, they need to move around and sometimes kick. You did the same thing to me.” Adding some playfulness into your voice, there’s a level of relief to see she appears less concerned. 

Your attention, however, is brought back to Joe as he kisses your temple, hand still planted on your stomach, clearly soaking up every bit of this precious, cherished moment. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against your temple. It’s such a simple statement, a little three letter sentence that means more than anyone could ever understand. Moving your hand to the side of his face, you both laugh as Callie moves her face to your stomach. 

“Don’t kick mommy too much, okay, little babies?” The determination on her face should be captured and locked away for safekeeping for the rest of time. “She’s the bestest mommy ever and pretty and smart and—”

“—and still not getting you a puppy.” While your daughter is undoubtedly one of the sweetest kids you’ve ever come across, she’s also intelligent as hell. And you know her like the back of your hand. Enough to know where she’s headed with this. 

And, you’re proven correct when she rolls her eyes again, making a ‘hmmph’ sound that has Joe chuckling next to you. She then sets her little plotting sights on Joe as she takes her hand from your stomach and moves to crawl into his lap.

You have to keep yourself from rolling your own eyes as she pulls out that sickeningly sweet voice and holds onto his shirt. “Daddy?”

Joe doesn’t hesitate to answer right away. “Yes, baby?” One look at him, and you already know what the answer is going to be. This man is so weak for this little girl. It’s not even funny. 

“Hallie wants a friend…..” Joe’s eyebrows cave in confusion as he looks over at you. 

Gesturing to her American Girl doll on the edge of the bed, you fill him in, “that’s what she named the doll.” 

He chuckles, clearly amused by the name that rhymes with hers. “She does?”

Callie nods, that excitement building back up. “Two friends!”

Mouth dropping, you prepare to put this child in her place when Daddy Warbucks beats you to it, living up to his reputation.

“Well, then we need to get her two friends.”

“Yay!” Callie celebrates, hugging Joe who ignores your look of disapproval. “Can I make her friends too?” 

And once again, the first living, breathing bank to ever exist is quick to fold. “Of course, Callie Bear.”

“Yay!” She cheers yet again for another way too easy battle. It’s not even a battle at this point. Battle would mean that both parties have somewhat of a chance, and Joe is clearly putty for his little girl. “Thank you, daddy.” She seals the deal with a hug and kiss on his cheek before climbing off the bed, grabbing Hallie as she shares, “I’m gonna make them now!”

With her tablet, clearly. The tablet you’d bet any money Joe once again disabled the time limits on. 

Lord, you’re about to have five damn children to take care of at this point. 

It’s only when Callie is out of the room and on her way to celebrate yet another successful day of finessing her daddy that you punch this man in his big ass arm. 

“What?” It’s him having the audacity to sound and look confused that has you ready to kick him out of the room. 

“What do you mean what?” Angling your body more toward him, you explain, “Joe, why are you buying her more dolls? American Girl dolls, at that. I know you must have paid at least $300 for the first one you got her. I saw all them accessories.” He rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it, because he can’t. Callie had always asked you for one, and while you could have scraped some money together to make it happen, you couldn’t come to grips with just how many other more useful things one could do with that money. “She doesn’t need them dolls, babe.”

“You gon’ let her get a puppy now?”

An easy ass answer. “Hell no.”

He has the nerve to catch a slight attitude with you as he affirms, “then she’s getting the dolls.”

Rubbing your temples, you realize this isn’t a ‘fight’ you’re not going to win. “You know what, whatever. You do what you want, but I’m telling you right now, these—” You bring his hand back to your belly. “—babies are not going to be spoiled like their big sister. They gon be like Oliver Twist and grateful for a bowl of soup.”

He moves his hand around, probably trying to see if he can feel any more movement. “Callie is grateful.”

“For now.” Not really wanting to have this circular dialogue with him, you grab your phone to see a couple missed texts but open the one from your mom first, instantly rolling your eyes. “Not this again.”

The shift in your voice catches Joe’s attention. “What?”

Shaking your head, you show him the thread, thumb right next to the link for an article on ‘melanin maternal mental health’. 

Talk about fucking alliteration. 

“I don’t know what’s been up with her lately, but she’s been sending me all these links for articles and like motivational photos about mental health and motherhood.” You explain to him, going to heart the message and send a quick response to at least show some appreciation. Because there is a little there. That your mom cares about you so much. But the concern isn’t necessarily valid or needed..

This is the happiest you’ve been in some time. A long time. If ever.

Nothing is going to change that.

Especially being a mother to three more children. 

Placing your phone back on the nightstand, a glance at Joe reveals he’s debating something. “What?”

He moves closer to you, hand pushing back some of your coils. “Been thinking about that movie thing…..”

The smile on your face grows as you move closer, eyes twinkling with all the curiosity in the world. “What did you decide?”

—------

Megan is having a wonderful day.

One of the best she’s had in a while.

Not only did she manage to wake up on time, but the coffee she ordered from this cute little cafe she found while on a business trip in Denver a couple months ago awaited her on the outside of her apartment door when she got back from her pilates class the night before.

And there’s few things she loves more than a delicious cup of morning Joe.

A smirk falls on her face as she hums “Here Comes the Bride” while engaging in her extensive shower routine, admiring the expert work of her wax lady. Body hair has always been an absolute no. But, it’s when she moves the loofah across the weight of her heavy breast that Megan imagines hands and not her loofah. Big hands that would cup her boobs roughly as he forces her to turn around, slams her up against the shower wall and fucks her hard from behind, her moans and shouts of pleasure dancing across the tile, alerting everyone of just who owns this pussy.

Hand gliding down her wet, nude body, she keeps the vision going, slender thighs clenching together at the thought of him forcing her on her knees, his dick down the back of her throat, eyes watering as he mouth fucks her.

“Joe….” Thin fingers slip past wet folds as she realizes she’s going to be a couple minutes late for work.

So worth it though. 

Because Megan hasn’t come like that in years. Her legs are practically wobbly as she finally exits the shower, bathroom mirror completely fogged to where she has to grab a towel to clear up a section so she can see herself.

The pink tinge of her cheek brings a sly smile to her face. 

“I can’t wait until we can be together, my love…” A sweep of sadness comes over her as she grabs her phone, admiring his handsome face on her lock screen and opens Apple Music to play his entrance music, selecting the repeat button before she continues with her routine. 

It takes her about the usual time.

And soon enough, Megan is out the door, having finished her delicious coffee and opted to just have a banana for breakfast. There’s no time for unnecessary caloric intake.

She has to start preparing for the wedding. 

Walking into the office, right away, she can detect the almost sullen atmosphere and does her best to match the vibe.

To play along. 

And before she can go to her office bestie, Paige, to “find out” why everything feels so off, the team is pulled in for a mandatory meeting.

Luke’s quiet demeanor does take her a bit back. He’s never quiet. She’s not complaining though. Not at all.

As soon as everyone is seated, he starts off with the general pleasantries that are weighed by the sadness in his voice. And then he gets into it. “I know some of you have heard, but for those who haven’t, I—uh—I got some bad news.” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “There’s uh—no way to say this, but Susan Jackson was found dead this morning.”

As an array of gasps and shocked countenances fill the room, Megan does her best to blend in, to play along with the genuine surprise of all of her coworkers.

Paige leans over to whisper to Megan, eyes also watery, “they say she killed herself. That she was found her on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building. Window was open and everything.”

Megan expertly fakes a horrified expression. “Oh my god, how heartbreaking.” She even manages to crank out some tears that don’t shed but get the job done. “I can’t believe she’s gone….”

“Megan.” She lifts her head, eyebrows also raising. “I know you worked close with Susan on a couple of clients, and you also know she was set to assist Roman Reigns on his debut film, but with Susan gone….”

Megan shakes her head, pulling out a few sniffles. “It’s okay. I’ll….I’ll do it. I’ll take Reigns as my client.”

And my husband.

Luke gives her a nod of appreciation, wiping at his eyes as he clears his throat and continues to address the room.

It takes almost everything in her not to roll her eyes. The woman was fucking fifty for crying out loud. 

She lived long enough. 

He says something about grief counseling, the suicide hotline, blah blah blah.

Megan does her best to listen but mostly tunes out the rest of the meeting. It’s irrelevant. She has what she wants. Now, it’s time to go after who she wants, the thought alone creating such an intense, euphoric feeling inside of her stomach as she casually traces the brand new tiny letter ‘J’ she now has tattooed on her ring finger.

[ablog]

I love pov!! I love povs so much!!! I love to see stories of why and how the "bad guy" got to where they are! Bonus points if from their pov they are the good guy!

I would LOVE to see a show/movie that starts with us following the regular hero backstory and see the character grows and becomes a better person and all of that, and later have corruption arc, but not from some evil dude doing something to them, but from the inside and all that occurred to them, the bigging of a hero and a villain are often similar with little differences from their lifes and the environment around them it's so fucking interesting and i would LOVE to have it as the show's "twist"

[moonlinos]

Call my bluff, call you ‘babe’

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Childhood friends to lovers, fluff

♡ CW: Implied smut, alcohol consumption. Twenty solid seconds of angst, but it doesn’t even really count. It’s just tooth-rotting fluff.

♡ Word count: 5.5k

♡ Synopsis: Minho has been your best friend since you two could barely form coherent sentences. He was there when your last baby tooth fell, he was there when you failed your high school exams, and he was there as you walked down the aisle.

♡ A/N: This was going to be just word-vomit fluff to make me cry, but I couldn’t control myself and before I knew it there were… so many words.

You were four years old when you met Minho. It was the first day of kindergarten, and you were assigned seats together. The entire day was spent with you chatting to every kid you could reach from your seat while Minho quietly sat painting and doodling by your side. You vaguely remember thinking he was odd and whining to your mom about how your seatmate was boring, and that was why he was the only kid in class you didn’t talk to. She smiled and told you maybe you should make an effort to talk to him. That same day, you racked your little brain for a reason why your seatmate might be so quiet and promptly decided that he was too shy to start a conversation himself. You then asked your mom if the fact that you didn’t talk to him might have made him sad, to which she hesitated, and that was enough to have your bottom lip wobbling.

You remember tears streaming down your cheeks as you frantically sobbed, inconsolable at the fact that your seatmate was sad and that it was partially because of you.

The next day, you asked if Minho would like to use your special glitter pens — you even told him you wouldn’t mind if he used your favorite colors. That was really all that was needed to plant the bud of friendship between you two.

Ever since that day, you two slowly became inseparable.

You attended the same elementary school after begging your parents, writing a very concise list of reasons why you two could not possibly be separated. Reasons such as the fact that Minho still didn’t know how to tie his shoelaces, so it would be dangerous for him to be alone in a new school. Or the fact that you were always losing your gloves, and Minho always carried an extra pair in his backpack just for you, so you would surely catch a cold if you didn’t have him beside you during winter.

All extremely valid reasons.

Minho began walking you home from school when you were both nine years old. He was often left alone due to his parents’ work schedules, which made him become the most street-smart kid in your class. You had to beg your mom for a week, but she ultimately caved in.

Your favorite thing to do on your way home was to stop randomly and doodle on the sidewalk with chalk, with Minho joining you in no time. You even had your favorite little sketching spot — right in front of a nice old lady’s flower shop, where you two would spend far too much time decorating her entrance pavement with flowers, rainbows, and smiley faces. She would later introduce herself to you, Ms. Kim, and would always thank you both with a flower of your choice. You always picked tulips, and Minho always picked daisies.

On one hazy winter day, you and Minho were eager to adorn the flower shop’s entrance with a new set of doodles since the ones you had done just yesterday got covered in snow. As you two did your best to dig through the piled-up snow with your gloved hands, you suddenly felt something hard slide down your throat. Your hands stilled, and you turned to look at Minho with wide eyes.

“What happened?” He asked. “Did you lose your glove in the snow this time?”

You shook your head frantically, careful not to swallow. “Teeth,” you simply said.

Minho looked at you like you were crazy, squinting his eyes as he studied your face. “What?”

You felt tears well up, and he immediately abandoned his mission of shuffling through the snow before pulling you into a big hug.

“Why are you crying? Don’t cry. I hate when you cry, I feel weird when you cry,” He said, but no tears left his worried eyes. Minho never cried, that was something you had learned a while back. 

You, however, cried until Ms. Kim noticed you two from the window, cooing as she approached you two with a gentle smile. You tried your best to explain your predicament. Minho sat with you behind the wooden counter, holding your hand in his, the smell of flowers making everything feel less catastrophic than it did ten minutes earlier.

Ms. Kim explained that you had no reason to cry, as it was normal for kids to swallow their baby teeth. And you remember harshly shaking your head and explaining with a trembling voice that you hadn’t cried because of that. You had cried because that was your last baby tooth, which meant you were officially a grown-up. You didn’t want to be a grown-up. Minho wasn’t a grown-up yet, with his last baby tooth still holding on proudly in his gums. You didn’t want to be a grown-up all alone; it would be terrible and sad.

That afternoon, you two went home together in silence, your respective flowers clutched in your hands. Minho was never good with words. Sadness engulfed him because he couldn’t do enough to make his best friend smile again. What was the point of a best friend if they didn’t make you laugh when you were crying?

Minho walked into school the next day with a proud smile on his face before placing his last baby tooth on your desk. You eyed it curiously, brows furrowed.

“There, I took it off last night,” He simply said. “Now we’re gonna be grown-ups together.”

At eleven years old, your daily after-school video game appointments began.

You had just cut your hair short; a bob you thought looked cute on your favorite singer turned out to be cataclysmically unflattering on you. And, at eleven years old, it was earth-shattering and definitely the end of your life (despite what your mother told you).

You spent every second out in public with your hair hidden by a beanie, hoping it would distract people from your disastrous haircut.

Except it had the opposite effect.

One particular day at school, a boy came up to you simply to inform you that your head looked like a mushroom before running away, laughing with his friends. They were foolish words spoken by a foolish boy, but you were eleven. Once again, earth-shattering and the end of your life.

You avoided everyone the entire day — including Minho, whom you always talked to no matter your mood. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid him for much longer, seeing as he walked you home every day, so you simply prayed he wouldn’t notice your puffy eyes or that he at least hadn’t heard any of the other kids making unfunny jokes about your haircut.

After school, Minho sighed in feigned annoyance when you told him you had lost your gloves again before retrieving a pair from his backpack. Like a habit, you asked if he wanted to hang out at your house, although the answer was always unchanging.

“My mom’s baking a cake,” you told him. “We can play video games and then eat it together.”

Minho hummed in agreement, adjusting his backpack before grabbing your hand as you two began your daily walk to your house. It was something you always did, never walking anywhere without your hands clasped together. These past few months, however, this once ordinary gesture had begun making your heart beat faster. You didn’t understand why, and you would rather not think about it because every time you did, the words from your other friends would echo inside your head. Their stories about how they felt their hearts racing when their crush had hugged them or even looked their way, making you question if maybe…

But it couldn’t be. Minho was your best friend. How could he be your crush?

It was another one of those afternoons, your mom busily making you two sandwiches as you and Minho played New Super Mario Bros on your Wii under the blanket fort you always meticulously built. Minho had been acting weird all day — even weirder than you, who had to endure all the asinine jokes and hurtful words from your peers. As you completed the last level for the umpteenth time, saving Princess Peach, Minho all but threw his controller to the side. You turned to shoot him a questioning look, which went ignored as he rummaged through his backpack.

He retrieved a crumpled-up piece of paper, which he promptly gave to you.

You cocked your head, awaiting some sort of explanation, but Minho simply picked up his controller once more and hit play on the game.

Unfolding the paper, words greeted you in Minho’s messy handwriting.

YOUR HAIR LOOKS CUTE. STOP HIDING IT.

Your lips parted slightly, but before you could say anything to him, Minho reached out and snatched your beanie from your head. Your short hair and bangs cascaded onto your face, partially obscuring your view. But you could still make out his side profile, where a faint smile appeared on his lips.

After that, you two were silent for the rest of the day, eventually dozing off under the tent lulled by the sound of your mother’s hand mixer and Mario’s theme song. The sun eventually set outside the window, and you woke up to two plates of your mother’s cake waiting for you on the coffee table.

From that point on, your beanie was left forgotten inside your drawer.

You were fifteen when you realized that perhaps your feelings for Minho weren’t all that platonic after all.

It all started with a letter on Minho’s desk on a rainy Friday. October 25th, Minho’s birthday.

Minho’s quiet nature hadn’t changed one bit since you first sat beside him at four years old. He would rather die than start a conversation, rarely went out to the movies with your friend group and, most importantly, hated being the center of attention. That was why he told no one about his birthday since you two began high school this year. It was the subject of much debate among your little group of friends, with some bribing Minho with his favorite snacks or promising to do his assignments until college just for some sort of clue; a day, month, even the day of the week he was born.

But Minho never budged.

So, seeing a letter on his desk on the day of his birthday was odd, to say the least.

You arrived back to the classroom late after chatting to your friend from another class in the hallway, catching as Minho sat down with a puzzled look on his face and an open letter in his hands.

“What’s up?” You asked, sitting on the desk in front of him.

He looked up, thick glasses crooked from a dodgeball incident earlier that week. “Yumi found out it’s my birthday today,” He informed you, a bit too nonchalantly. “She organized a birthday party at her house tomorrow with our friends.”

You immediately took the letter, reading it and blanching at the words written in the girl’s pretty handwriting. She had found out Minho’s birthday by snooping around Facebook until she found his mother, who had a plethora of pictures of Minho on his previous birthdays. Not only that, the letter ended with a paragraph where she confessed her feelings to him — with all the clichés and dramatics only an adolescent crush could provide.

You still remember your first thoughts upon learning that information: Oh, Yumi. Of course a girl like her would do something like this.

You cringe at your words now, but at fifteen, you deemed no girl worthy of your best friend. Especially ‘girls like Yumi,’ who in your eyes all but threw herself at him. At the time, you thought you were looking out for the boy who was practically your brother. Now, you understand you were simply an insecure fifteen-year-old who allowed ugly, misogynistic thoughts to brew inside your mind out of fear of losing Minho. For your immature brain, every girl interested in Minho was an enemy because they could easily take him away from you.

And Minho had never reciprocated any girl’s feelings, always politely turning down the few confessions he had gotten during middle school. You were ready to berate Yumi, your brows immediately furrowing as your face contorted, but Minho beat you to it, speaking before you could utter a word.

“I know I should be mad, but isn’t it a little… cute?”

You couldn’t help but scoff, the sound escaping your lips like a burst of disbelief. You also couldn’t help how your hands began to tremble as your heart shot up to your throat.

“Cute?” You asked with the strongest voice you could muster. “You think her invading your privacy is cute?”

And Minho simply shrugged, tapping his fingers on his desk. “A little bit. I know you don’t really like her, but she’s part of our friend group,” He said, taking the letter from your shaky hands. “Plus, she’s always been nice to me, and she is cute.”

That was all you could physically bear to hear, excusing yourself from the conversation with the lie that your friend had called you from the classroom window before sprinting out into the hallway. As you continued walking, your palms grew clammy and your heart weighed heavily in your chest.

You felt tears well up in your eyes once you reached the stairs. Sitting on the steps, you cried into the cardigan of your ugly school uniform. You didn’t care that you would be scolded for skipping class; all you cared about was that your best friend was going to be taken from you.

After school, as you and Minho were about to exit the school gates — your hands tightly clasped together as they always were — Yumi appeared carrying a cake, the rest of your friends behind her as they all sang happy birthday. 

Minho blew out the candles and made a wish. Everyone cheered as his best friend, Chan, shoved his face into the cake. Minho yelled at him, grumbling with glasses covered in white frosting, but ultimately laughing along. Yumi was quick to clean his face with a napkin, earning her a smile from Minho before he released your hand to gently squeeze her rosy cheeks.

You remained quiet, forcing out a smile and looking up at the sky every now and then so your tears wouldn’t fall.

All because Minho had let go of your hand.

Minho’s fifteenth birthday — that was the day you learned you could fool everyone else, but never yourself.

Your seventeenth summer was a drag.

Minho had just been broken up with a couple of months before, Yumi crying as she explained her parents wanted her to focus on her studies, and having a boyfriend was simply a distraction she couldn’t afford if she wanted to be a doctor someday. An unwilling participant in the entire situation, you sat awkwardly at the bus stop as she spoke.

You were ready to witness Minho cry for the first time in your life, maybe yell about how unfair her parents were being, but he simply pressed a kiss to her forehead just as your bus arrived.

Not much had changed when he began dating Yumi, with you learning that suppressing how you truly felt was worryingly easy. You still hung out with them, battling through their cuddles and kisses like a soldier on the front lines of a war. Never unscathed, but always strong. Nobody needed to know about how you cried into your mother’s arms almost every night before falling asleep.

The only change had been you and Minho’s daily gaming appointments. You two had since outgrown your video game phase, both now interested in diverging things that made it impossible for you to enjoy them together. You discovered your love for flowers went beyond doodling on the sidewalk in front of a flower shop, but Minho complained that growing flowers was too time-consuming, and he loved dancing, which you were far too uncoordinated and lazy to even try doing.

And so, you two settled for simply hanging out together at your house. Your room had easy access to the roof, which you two took full advantage of, setting up a permanent blanket fort where you would snuggle up with pillows and talk for hours after school.

That summer was no different, with Minho stretched out across the old mattress, watching the light pink sky slowly fade away as night set in while you two busied yourselves talking.

That was the day you finally gathered the courage to ask Minho about his breakup, desperate to understand why he had appeared so unfazed. After the one-year milestone of their relationship in February, you had begun to make peace with the fact that she would probably be around for a while.

Minho shrugged at your question, hands resting on his stomach while he gnawed on his bottom lip. He explained he was sure that he liked her, but it turned out he valued her as a friend much more than as a girlfriend.

You couldn’t help but scoff at the answer. You knew Minho better than you knew yourself at times, which was why you knew he was lying through his teeth.

“Why did you stay so long with her, then?” You questioned, the resentful lilt in your voice a bit too obvious. You cleared your throat before adding, “I mean, you surely didn’t act as just friends.”

“I guess I felt lonely before,” He explained. “I was selfish for staying with her, but I enjoyed having someone. Was especially nice after…” Minho trailed off, dismissively shaking his head, and you remember being close to throwing him off that roof as he kept being so damn enigmatic.

“After what?” You prodded, “Minho, I’m your best friend. What’s the point of us talking if you’re not gonna tell me the truth?”

He turned his head to look up at you, the darkening sky making his eyes gleam as if they held an entire galaxy of stars. You felt that familiar nervousness return.

“It was nice to not be so alone after so many years of pining after someone.”

You cocked your head to the side, and Minho had the gall to chuckle at your puzzled expression. You shook your head, mumbling to yourself that your conversation was pointless if he wouldn’t tell you the whole truth.

Lying next to him on the mattress with a sigh, you could feel the weight of Minho’s gaze on you. You couldn’t bring yourself to move.

You remember the moon was already high in the sky by the time one of you finally moved — Minho, who slowly inched his hand closer to yours before clasping it tightly in his. Despite your racing heart, you thought nothing of it. He was now single, so it wouldn’t be ludicrous to assume a habit you two had cultivated for many years would naturally return.

However, after some beats from your erratically racing heart, Minho’s fingers intertwined with yours. You had never done that before, always holding hands in a way that all but screamed platonic.

That night, with his thumb caressing your skin and his hand squeezing yours, Minho finally spoke the truth after so long.

“It’s you,” He said, tone nonchalant but voice audibly shaky. “Think I’ve been pining after you since I was nine and ripped my tooth out ‘cause I thought that’d make you stop being sad.”

You remember gasping quietly and his hand tightening around yours as the clock ticked and your silence remained. You remember finally mustering up the courage to turn to look at him and being met by an expression you had rarely seen on Minho’s face in the thirteen years you had known him — he was scared, wide eyes dancing around your face as if he looked for an answer in your features, his chapped lips parted slightly as if he was ready to backtrack the moment he saw any hint of doubt in your eyes.

You remember smiling at him and how his expression shifted into pure confusion. All it took was for him to finally have the nerve to hold your hand in the way he’d always wanted to, and for you to use his courage as a catalyst for your own. You remember how you closed the distance between you two and pressed your lips to his. You remember it feeling weird because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

But you also remember it feeling right because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

Your transition from being best friends to being in a relationship was easier than you had ever thought it would be — it was also slower than you could have ever imagined.

Minho never asked you out or confessed his feelings beyond what was said on the roof, and neither did you. It was a shared knowledge between you, a silent agreement that didn’t need words — at least for now. The little gestures and subtle changes left no doubt in your minds that you two were, in fact, no longer just friends — like how you began to always intertwine your fingers while holding hands, or how Minho would pull you onto his lap when you hung out with your friends, or how you would rest your head on his shoulder as he played with your hair during lunch break.

Your friends certainly had questions, the confusion written all over their faces easy to read like a book, but you both knew they also understood your relationship without you needing to make a big deal out of it.

You picked him up from dance class every weekend, sometimes arriving earlier just to catch a glimpse of him through the glass door, as Minho insisted he was too embarrassed to dance in front of you.

One day, thoroughly unprompted, he reached into his backpack as you two exited his dance academy and pulled out a yellow tulip. You had furrowed your brows at the sudden gesture, and Minho nonchalantly told you that planting your favorite flower was surprisingly easy. Since becoming teenagers, you had stopped going to Ms. Kim’s flower shop, and you had long forgotten about how you two used to have your own respective flowers back in the day.

It seemed Minho hadn’t forgotten.

That was one thing you had come to know about him only after you began dating. Although he seemed cold and distant on the outside — rarely communicating his feelings through words — Minho secretly kept a mental note of every little detail about the people he cared about, and he unfailingly found a way to communicate his feelings through actions. Such as promptly handing you a brand-new flower he had picked before you even had the chance to mourn your tulip as it began to wilt.

You, on the other hand, had always been the type of person to communicate through words; spoken, written, or read, which is how you began saving your best daisies from the small garden you created in your backyard and practicing your flower arrangement skills exclusively by making pretty bouquets you could gift to Minho (always with little notes hidden among the flowers).

Your once explicitly platonic roof dates also left no room for doubt, as making out under your usual tent became a hard-to-break habit. In fact, that was how your family found out about your relationship. You were eighteen, with graduation just around the corner, when your mother caught Minho kissing you as tears welled up in your eyes at the thought of having to be apart from him during college (although you both knew that would never be the case, as you always moved mountains simply to stay together).

Everything was slow-paced, and neither of you had any desire to rush anything. Once, Minho told you he had waited eight years to finally kiss you, and somehow, that anticipation was what had made it all the more special.

And so, your first proper date only happened six months after your first kiss, and your first fight only happened a year and a half into your relationship. Not to mention your first I love you, which had been a slip-up that happened only in your first year of college after a drunken night with Chan and Minho. Your head on his lap, your tulip nestled among his daisies in a pretty vase on the coffee table as Chan hummed along to some song that came from his phone. You felt as if your entire being was filled with pure gratitude at that moment, and the liquid courage that flowed through your veins only helped you mutter out how much you loved Minho.

He looked down at you, hands cupping your cheeks with a silly smile adorning his face, and simply answered, “Well, I love you more.”

Your carefree attitude toward your relationship was almost a contrast to the one you had with your friendship. You and Minho had met so young that you could never truly pinpoint when you had become such close friends. You always wondered if that was what led you two to be so easygoing with what most people rush into. Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

You remember one of Minho’s new friends, Changbin, asking something about your sex life at some party during freshman year, and you two nonchalantly answering that you didn’t really have one. Your friends’ shock was understandable, but you and Minho only laughed.

Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

It was Minho’s 21st birthday, when your flowers were no longer in bloom, but your love remained blossoming like it was mid-spring. He had, as always, vetoed any and every plan of a celebration suggested by your friends. He opted to stay in with you, cuddling under a blanket fort like you had been doing for so many years. Chan graciously offered to sleep at a friend’s dorm, leaving your small shared apartment just for you and Minho.

He hadn’t planned for anything to happen, and neither had you. You were simply lying together, watching the flickering of the candles you had set up around the coffee table, recounting the innumerable memories you shared when you suddenly felt the earnest, all-consuming need to have Minho as close as possible.

It was clumsy, both of you inexperienced and nervous. Your teeth crashed together and your hands gripped each other tightly, the realization of the intensity of your yearning becoming undeniable. At some point, the entire tent collapsed on top of you, and laughter filled the room for a brief moment before being replaced by your sighs and whispered moans.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was you and Minho.

Graduation day was a blur in your mind.

It had all started with Minho and Chan drunk at eleven a.m., offering you the awful-tasting omelet they had cooked in your cramped kitchen. They then went on to zone out for most of the ceremony after stumbling out of your apartment.

You approached Minho after he was done taking pictures and getting scolded by his family for being drunk on his graduation day, his mother giving you an apologetic look as you whisked him away.

“You’re stressed,” you pointed out.

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” you replied with a sigh, resting against a large tree far enough away from the hustle and bustle of recently graduated students and crying families. “So is Chan. Don’t think I’ve seen him this drunk since Jisung’s birthday party last year.”

Minho chuckled, shifting on his feet and toying with the fabric of his gown. You furrowed your brows; he only ever got fidgety when hiding something. You learned that for the first time when you were thirteen and he had to wait until your birthday to tell you he’d gotten you two tickets to see your favorite band, and again when he had to keep Chan’s then-girlfriend’s plans of asking him to move in together a secret.

“You’re not nervous ‘cause of graduation, are you?”

You remember the way he stilled almost immediately.

“We always tell each other the truth, right?” He asked.

You remember the way your whole world spun as he pulled out a small box from his pocket and how everything seemed to fade into a white mist that surrounded Minho like a spotlight as he proposed to you.

Your wedding was small — both because that was how you had wanted it to be and because of your lack of money for a proper party.

After graduating, Minho became a dance teacher at the academy he attended as a teen, teaching little kids who he said always reminded him of you two. You used the money your parents had saved for you to travel after college to buy the old flower shop that held so many memories from your childhood. Neither of you used your degrees, and neither of you made a lot of money, but you were overflowing with an infatuation for life and a love for each other so great that it made up for any silly inconvenience that dared to come up.

The ceremony was held at a local church — although neither of you was particularly religious, that was the cheapest place available. You opted to walk down the aisle together; hands clasped the way you used to do for many years while walking home from school. Minho held onto a daisy bouquet you made, while you held the single tulip he had picked out for you that day.

“I’m not good with words,” was how Minho began his vows, the glow of the fairy lights and candles adorning the church rendering his attempt at hiding his tears futile. That was the first time you had ever seen him cry in the twenty-one years you’d known him. “But I think that never mattered with you. You know me better than I know myself. Most times, I don’t even have to say a word, and you’ll still understand me. It’s been this way since we were four, and you understood why I was so quiet, and you still chose to be my friend. Thank you for understanding me, and thank you for allowing me to love you. Loving you is what I do best and look how lucky I am; I’ve been able to do it for my whole life.” He then shot you a grin, the back of his hand wiping away your tears. He ended his speech with a line that was so very Minho, thought up with sincerity but spoken primarily to make you smile. “You’ve always felt like home, and I can’t wait to feel that way until we’re both food for the worms to eat.”

You had never cried so much as you did on the day of your wedding — which was remarkable, seeing as you’d been a crier your whole life. You remember the irony of it all; Minho, who had never been good with words, telling you about his love with words that came from his heart and spilled from his lips without any rehearsal, while you were rendered speechless and too emotional to even attempt to form a coherent sentence.

Your wedding vow was a simple, choked-up, “Thank you for being my best friend, Minho.”

Minho carried you home from the church, with your cheeks flushing pink and his smile beaming as your friends made rice cascade around the two of you like snow. It turned out the boy who hated attention didn’t mind the spotlight so long as it meant showing off his love for you.

Your honeymoon was spent in your small house above your flower shop — which you named Daisy’s Tulips — where you cuddled under a blanket fort the entire day, only leaving the comfort of the pillows and fluffy covers well after midnight to adorn the sidewalk in front of your house in a brand new chalk drawing.

“Can you imagine if we never said anything?” Minho suddenly wondered aloud, his chuckle echoing through the quiet street. “We were both pretty good at hiding our feelings for so long.”

And you simply shook your head, painting a daisy with white chalk on the sidewalk. “Minho, I know you. You wouldn’t have let me keep pretending after finding out I liked you too.”

“Who says I would have found out?”

“You said it yourself,” you explained, “I know you better than you know yourself, and that’s reciprocal. You would’ve found out ‘cause I can never hide anything from you.”

And Minho smiled, taking your hand in his just as you were done with your drawing. Your gaze shifted toward him, and you admired the man he had become. From the shy little boy who sat beside you to the quiet teenager with thick glasses to the man he had grown into; you loved every version of Minho you had the privilege to meet throughout your life, and you were certain you would love every new version of him you came to know in the future as well.

“Of course you can’t,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I’m your best friend, aren’t I?” He asked with a grin, and you nodded. He then added, “Thank you for being my best friend.”

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist

[rederiswrites]

Okay so I'm giving @corseque 's super-important audio of all Solas' comments about the Blight a second (or fifteenth, whatever) listen and taking notes as I go.

Solas doesn't think for a second that once the archdemons are gone the Blight will be gone. Which really makes sense because it's the Blight that makes them an archdemon, not the other way around. Supposedly, they're blighted when the darkspawn reach and corrupt them. But of course that begs the question of why it's only darkspawn (and uh, honorary darkspawn like the Wardens) that hear their call. Anyway, the way he says it, it sounds more like the archdemons are a limiting factor than a driving factor.

Varric: "What's so confusing about endless darkspawn?" Solas: "A great deal!" So yeah, whatever the plan was, he didn't foresee darkspawn as a consequence. So did he not foresee them existing at all, or not foresee them being free to cause problems? Worth noting that it's really clear both in general and in Descent that dwarves as a whole were a huge blind spot for him.

He is really really surprised that the Western Approach ever recovered from the Blight. Pretty clear he didn't think that was possible.

He thinks that everything the Wardens have done up til now is a deeply misguided effort that's served (mostly accidentally) as a delaying tactic. Gotta say, with the information we have at hand, this point pairs about as well with the last as a nice dry red with spicy pickles. If the Wardens shouldn't have done what they've done, but he didn't think recovery from the Blight was possible, I'd love to hear what he thought the alternative was.

Same dialogue as above, but when Solas talks about stopping the Blight and when Blackwall and Varric talk about it, one gets the distinct impression that they're talking at cross purposes, because Varric and Blackwall are talking about the experience of Blights, as in, periodic events, whereas I think Solas is talking about THE Blight, that is, its true nature, which is yet untouched.

He thinks Erimond is dumb as shit, which is fair and valid. "That's madness! For all we know, killing the Old Gods could make things even worse!" he says. Well, he knows a lot more than "we" know, but it's entirely possible that he doesn't for sure know this. Increasingly clear that he thinks it, though.

I'd forgotten just how pissed off he was about the Grey Warden plan to kill the Old Gods before they were corrupted. It really doesn't give "hey you're killing my relatives" energy. It really gives "wow that would fuck us all" vibes.

Of course, with a side of my remembering that Solas' besetting flaw was always thinking people should know better even though they don't have access to the knowledge he has. That flaw I WILL grant. He displays it repeatedly--you could even say the writers went out of their way to make the point.

"The Blight is the real problem"

"The fools who first unleashed the Blight on this world thought they were unlocking ultimate power." Anyway yeah those are the absolute core of everything here. The Blight is the real problem and the Blight was deliberate. Deliberately made or deliberately freed.

Even during the events of Inquisition, Solas obviously sees Corypheus as secondary to the Blight as a danger.

Cassandra suggests that the archdemons were really just dragons--"Pets to those who no longer exist", by which she probably means the Old Gods, not specifically the gods of Elvhen, just because of her cultural background. Solas finds this suggestion amusingly wrong--a quiet snort, and "I would not go so far as that."

Last notes: he doesn't sound like he thinks the Blight can be stopped, and he's adamant that it can't be controlled. Which is presumably why he broke the world in an attempt to contain it, assuming I'm right that that was the underlying reason for the Veil. That it didn't quite work the way he'd hoped is also pretty evident, though I wanna be clear that I assume he was working from a place of desperation, and that not knowing every possible outcome of an action is not a condemnation of having taken it.

[finelinevogue]

brat

summary - you’re being a brat but there’s a valid reason

pairing - longterm-ceo-boyfriend!harry x reader

word count - +1.5k

Harry grabbed on your arm, leading out of the packed kitchen and down a corridor.

It wasn’t until he had pushed you both into the bathroom and locked the door that you shrugged his hand off of you and huffed at him.

“You going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

The way he looked in his black shirt with his tanned arms was making it really difficult for you to concentrate on being mad - well, more jealous than anything.

“Don’t wanna talk.”

“Oh you don’t? Well tough.”

You huffed again, crossing your own arms to match his stance.

It was now a stand-off between who would cave first. Harry knew it would be him, since you were so defiant, so he cracked immediately instead of prolonging this.

“Y/N, you’ve been a right brat all evening. What the hell is going on?”

“Oh, so, because I’m behaving like a brat suddenly means you hate me?” You scoffed.

“Hate you— what?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” Harry threw his hands up in the air, before they fell down to his sides.

You had to gulp back the stone feeing at the back of your throat. This wasn’t a situation that you felt justified getting upset over, but it was getting close to it.

“I don’t want to have this conversation right now.”

“Well we sure as hell aren’t leaving until you’ve talked to me.” Harry said sternly, clearly getting frustrated with your mood.

“Harry, I’ve told you…”

“Yes and I would like to know what’s wrong, please.”

“I don’t…”

“Y/N!”

“Do you love me?” You cut him off before he could get any more shots in.

“W-what? Of course I love you.” Harry’s facial expression showed he was really confused as he took a step towards you slowly.

“Okay.” You nodded your head tightly.

“Okay? What does that mean? What just happened?”

You looked at Harry as he stepped closer again. You slowly started shaking your head, the tears starting to fall from your eyes and down your cheeks.

“Sweetheart?”

Harry tried to step towards you, but you held out your arm so he couldn’t close the distance. You allowed yourself to sob then, holding a hand over your mouth to conceal the noise.

You shut your eyes and turned slightly away from Harry so he didn’t have to see you, but also because you were really embarrassed all of a sudden.

As if the timing couldn’t have gotten any worse, someone knocked on the bathroom door.

“Hey! I need the toilet, open up!” It was a girl - kind of sounded like Sadie.

“Occupied!” Harry shouted back, not taking his eyes off you.

Whoever it was on the other-side loudly groaned before stomping away with force.

There was more than one bathroom in this house so you didn’t feel entirely bad for taking up this one.

“Hey, c’mon now.” Harry urged you to let him hold you.

You only grew smaller, backing yourself into a corner that you couldn’t escape from. Your sobs kept coming and the tears melted away the mascara you’d spent a lot of time on this morning.

“Y/N/N, baby, you’re breaking my heart.” Harry said sadly, watching you cave in on yourself, “M’sorry for pushing you to talk. I won’t push you again. I just hate to see you so worked up about something I don’t know.”

Your hand slowly lowered its guard and you looked at him carefully looking at you.

You instantly ran to him, locking your arms around his waist and letting the tears fall onto his chest and shirt. At least the leaking mascara blended in.

“There’s my best girl.” Harry said, wasting no time in rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back.

The other hand cupped the back of your head, so you felt less exposed and more protected against him. He knew you liked to be held like this - especially when you were like this.

“I’m sorry.”

“Can’t accept your apology if I don’t know what it’s before, my love.”

“I’m just sorry.” You hiccuped, keeping your arms tight around him. “Sorry for being a bitch. Sorry for causing a fuss. Sorry for ruining your evening. I’m just so sorry.”

“Still not accepting the apology, because none of that is true. You’ve not ruined anything and you’re not a bitch, baby. You’re my sweet girl and I love you.”

He kissed the top of your head and it only made you latch onto him tighter.

You held onto him and him to you for a while.

“I was a brat though.” You managed to let out a small chuckle.

“You were, but I’m okay with that. But only if you communicate with me why, you know that.”

“I know.”

Harry took charge and cupped his hands onto your thighs to scoop you up, before immediately placing you down on the bathroom counter.

Now you were closer in height to him and he wasn’t intimidatingly taller than you - especially when you were feeling vulnerable.

You matched him.

“My sweet girl.” He smiled at you, using his thumb to wipe away the smudged mascara.

“Bet I look crazy. Like a deranged ex-girlfriend.”

Harry frowned at that, making you question why.

“Don’t like the thought of you ever being my ex.”

Harry focused on clearing your makeup, but stopped when he noticed you’d taken a sad look on your face again with your tears welling up.

He titled your face up and looked at you with concern. “Do.. do you want to breakup? Is that why—.”

“God no!” You rushed out, licking your lips clear of the salty tears, “Never, please.”

“Never.” Harry agreed.

“But that is why I was upset.” You pouted, trying your best not to start crying again as you began to explain to Harry the issue.

Harry just nodded, letting you take your time. Letting you know that he was here and he wasn’t going anywhere until you were ready.

“I saw you talking with Sadie and Rachel - you know, those two pretty blondes - and… God it sounds so shallow saying it out loud…��� You had to choke back c a sob from erupting.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Harry kissed your forehead in encouragement.

“I was so fucking jealous, Harry. I felt genuinely crazy. I mean, you look so good and I know that hasn’t got anything to do with the situation but I think seeing you with those young, and beautiful, girls just got me really insecure. This is nothing to do with you, like you constantly show me love and in that situation you never even gave me a reason to be concerned about anything, yet my stupid…” You let out a teary cry, “My stupid fucking head was telling me that you would leave me for someone better. Someone like them.”

You let out a few more cries, reaching for a tissue to blow your nose.

“That sounded so pathetic, but I just got so in my head about it that I went a little overly bratty about it.”

“It’s not pathetic.” Harry started by saying.

You gave him a look.

“It’s not!” He urged.

“H, honey…”

“Baby. I would never think you feeling this way would be pathetic. It’s how you feel - I’m not going to shame you for that. That would make me a pathetic human being. Okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Thank you for telling me how you felt. I’m sorry that you felt that way - no, listen - I know you don’t want my apology but let me just tell you anyways. I can’t pretend I understand how you felt in that moment, but sometimes I get a bit overwhelmed and jealous when I see you with other people too.”

“Really?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Yeah.”

“I would never. I wouldn’t, Harry…”

“I know, baby. Just like I know I would never do that to you.”

You nodded.

“Think maybe we need to talk this through in more detail, but do you want to go home first?”

“Yes, please.” You nodded.

“Always my most polite girl.” Harry smiled, giving you a kiss on the lips that felt like a sweet rewards. “Before we go, though, I love you.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you even more.”

“I love you even when I’m a crazy brat.”

“I love you when you’re a brat, too.” He kissed you then. “My brat.”

[lackadaisycats]

I tried to answer this succinctly, but it turned into an essay. (Sorry.)

The Princess and the Frog was not accurate, strictly speaking, but dinging it for that would be like criticizing the Lion King for not being a realistic wildlife documentary. Accuracy wasn't really the point. Given the fantastical elements and fictional nations like “Maldonia”, I suppose we're meant to understand this as a bit removed from the real New Orleans. It's more a a jazz-flavored fairy tale than a historical fiction.

But for discussion's sake....

Is it fashion-accurate to its 1926 timeframe? Ehhh, sort of. It pays homage to 20s fashion trends with cloche hats, furs and feathery headpieces, but without fully committing to it. The waistline on almost all of Tiana's clothing is too high for the 20s, and the the shapes of her fancier costumes take a lot of liberties, or deviate wildly from the style of the period.

In the 20s, dresses (including workaday stuff) tended to have a straight up-and-down shape to it - kind of a low-waisted rectangle that de-emphasized curves instead of highlighting them. There are valid reasons to play fast and loose with that, though (something I’m definitely guilty of as well). One of those reasons is communication. 

For instance, speculatively, the filmmakers wrote Tiana as a hard-working waitress and wanted her to look the part, so they made the choice to clothe her in something familiar - that gingham dress of mid-century shape that we broadly associate with diner waitresses. Actual waitress uniforms of the 20s had a fair bit of overlap with maid uniforms at the time too, and I can see why they wouldn't want to risk the confusion. It's more important to communicate clearly with the larger audience than to appease a small faction of fashion nerds who'd notice or care about the precision.

I don't think it's a case of the designers failing to do their research - I'm sure they had piles of references, and maybe even consultants - but they also had to have priorities.

With her hat and coat on, she looks a lot more 1920s-shaped.

Pretty consistently, the indication of the characteristic 1920s drop waist is there, but the approach otherwise ignores the 20s silhouette. The clothes hug the body too much. This may be about appealing to a 2000s audience, visually speaking, but also could be an animation thing. Maybe both. For practical reasons, clothes in 2d animation are usually more a sort of second skin than something that wears or behaves like realistic fabric.

These are not in the 1920s ballpark at all. Tiana's blue gown looks like your basic Disney brand invention. Strapless things would have been extremely unusual and the overall shape is far out of step. Excusable, I guess, because it's a costume in context. Charlotte looks like she’s heading for a mimosa brunch in a modern maxi dress.

Charlotte's princess dress did seem to be calling back to the ultra-wide pannier side hoops of the 18th century - something that made a reappearance for part of the 20s, albeit in much milder form called robe de style. I'm not sure if the filmmakers were alluding to that at all, really, but either way, her dress is hilarious.

They only went about halfway with the cloche hats. The 1920s cloche really encapsulated the cranium, almost entirely covered bobbed hair, and obscured much of the face from certain angles, so it's easy to see why they've been somewhat reined in for the film. Still, it ends up looking more 1930s, where the hats started to recede away from the face, evolving in the direction of the pillbox.

Similarly, Tiana's hair is not very reminiscent of the bobbed, close-to-the-cranium style of the period, but I think that could legitimately be written off as characterization. She's not at all the type of person who'd fuss about going à la mode. Not everyone bobbed and finger-waved their hair.

The clothes Prince Naveen is introduced in are very 1920s collegiate in spirit - the wide-leg oxford bags, the sleeveless pullover sweater, the flat cap, and high, stiff collar. The ukulele and banjolele were pretty trendy instruments at the time too.

Definitely some Josephine Baker vibes here. Also, the look of this whole fantasy sequence was reportedly inspired by the works of Aaron Douglas, a luminary painter of the Harlem Renaissance known for his depictions of the lives of African-Americans. (The mural is in Topeka, Kansas.)

They pretty much nailed the Art Deco. It's gorgeous. Looks somewhat inspired by the interiors of some of the Ralph Walker-designed NYC architecture, plus some French Quarter balcony flair for the final manifestation of Tiana's Place. Her dress here does resemble some gauzy mid-1920s looks, too.

------------------------------------------------

Culturally speaking...

New Orleans is an unusual place. Because some of the colonial Spanish and French laws and conventions that New Orleans evolved under persisted even after its inception into the United States; because it was such a heterogeneous hub of indigenous and immigrant peoples; and because it had a considerable population of free people of color (mostly Creole), it did not function quite like the rest of the South leading up to the Civil War, nor for a while after. Its particular coalescence of cultures made it its own unique sort of culture within the country, within the region, within the state of Louisiana even. By the early 20th century, though, regardless of the not-very-binary nature of New Orleans, Jim Crow laws were enforcing a literal black-and-white distinction, and not an evenhanded one, by far. In that aspect, the city had begun to resemble the rest of the South.

The film nods at the wealth disparity, but goes on to paint a pretty rosy picture of race and class relations at the time. Still it's not unbelievable that some people were exceptions to the rules. You could probably find a few compartments of old New Orleans society that resisted segregation or certain prejudicial norms, preferring to do things their own way. That aside, the film wasn't trying to confront these topics. Not every piece of media should have to. Sometimes breaking away from miserable period piece stereotypes is refreshing. I'm not sure it could have handled that meaningfully given the running time, narrow story focus, and intended audience, anyhow. (But you could perhaps also make a case that family films habitually underestimate younger audiences in this way.)

------------------------------------------------

Raymond the firefly I guess is the film's Cajun representation. There's not much to say about it, except perhaps to note that Evangeline is a reference to the heroine of a Longfellow poem of the same name. The poem is an epic romance set during the expulsion of the Acadians from the eastern provinces of Canada and the northernmost reaches of the American colonies (now Maine) by the British in the mid-1700s. Many exiled Acadians gradually migrated south to francophone-friendly Louisiana, settling into the prairies and bayous, where 'Acadian' truncated into the pronunciation 'Cajun'. Evangeline - who is only finally reunited with her love when he’s on his deathbed - has become an emblem of the heartbreak, separation and faithful hope of that cultural history, and there are parishes, statues and other landmarks named after the her throughout Louisiana.

------------------------------------------------

Voodoo does have a very historical presence in New Orleans, having arrived both directly from West Africa and by way of the Haitian diaspora (where it would more properly be called Vodou). While I don't think Disney's treatment of it was especially sensitive or serious, it also wasn't the grotesquely off-base sort of thing that media of the past has been known to do. It was largely whittled down to a magical plot component, but it wasn't so fully repurposed that it didn't resemble Voodoo at all either - and that's mostly owing to the characters, because it does appear the writers pulled from history there.

It’s apparently widely held that Dr. Facilier is a Baron Samedi caricature - and likely that's true, in part - but I have the impression he's also influenced by Doctor John. Not the 20th century funk musician, but the antebellum “Voodoo King” of New Orleans. Doctor John (also called Bayou John, Jean La Ficelle, and other aliases) claimed to be a Senegalese prince. He became well known as a potion man and romance-focused prognosticator to people from all corners of society. Though highly celebrated and financially successful at his peak, he seems ultimately remembered as an exploitative villain.

To my recollection, the film sort of gingerly avoids referring to Facilier as a Voodoo practitioner directly (I think he's more generically called a witch doctor in the script?) but it does seem to imply his 'friends on the other side' are a consortium of loa. It's mostly abbreviated into nebulously evil-seeming special FX, glazing over any specificity or dimensionality, but it does also loop back around as a vehicle of moral justice. Loa are all very individualistic and multi-faceted, but they do have reciprocal rules for asking favors of them.

There's also the benevolent counterpart in Mama Odie's character. Her wearing ritual whites has a definite basis in Voodoo/Vodou practice, and her depiction as a fairy godmother-like figure isn't entirely out of step with how a mambo may have been perceived...in a very general sense. They were/are ceremonial leaders and community bastions who people would seek out for help, advice and spiritual guidance. More than just emanating matronly good vibes, though, some have wielded considerable political and economic power.

(Just my opinions here. I've done a lot of reading on the subject for research but I'm no authority with any special insider understanding of Voodoo, and I really shouldn't be relied upon as an arbiter of who has or hasn't done it justice in fiction.)

------------------------------------------------

In summary--

Culturally, I think the film is respectably informed but paints a superficially genteel picture. The set pieces are gorgeous, but the story mostly delivers a sort of veneer of New Orleanishness. And as for fashion, well, it’s the 1920s run through a Disney filter. It’s very pretty, but it’s only as proximally accurate as seemed practical.

I don’t know that any of that really matters so much as whether or not it achieved what it intended, though. As a charming yarn and as a tribute to New Orleans and the Jazz age, I think it’s mostly successful. It’s also really beautifully animated!

[solar-wing]

⚣ Protective Lover 🥰

⚣✋🏻 A/N → Another idea partly inspired off one of my previous Jason posts. Dude is the definition of scary dog privilege. "and my man, thank you to my man." WARNINGS: Jealous/Possessive Behavior. Minor Swearing and Threats of Violence. Cute Fluff.

⚣✋🏻 Summary → It's no secret: Jason is a jealous and possessive boyfriend. But, many don't think about the benefit that comes along with that. He's hella protective. Sometimes it's overbearing, other times, it's very helpful.

⚣✋🏻 Words → 1.4k

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🥰

At some point, Y/N had gotten used to it. Was it annoying? Yes. Did it feel overbearing at times? Countless. Did he secretly love it and felt the world’s most (concerning) validation from it? Absolutely.

But, when looking at the situation and its circumstances as a whole, it made sense.

When he and Jason first started dating, there was definitely a vibe of him being a gruff but soft teddy bear who was clingy and needy for love and attention when with his chosen lover. But, when around literally anyone else who was not said lover or other people were in the same room as his chosen mate, he’d turn into the world’s scariest guard dog.

It was the general rule of Scary Boyfriend Privilege. Only the designated boyfriend could see their boyfriend’s soft and needy side. Anyone outside that got the ‘murderous if you get too close’ grizzly bear side.

Extremely hot and sexy, but it could be a bit (a lot) much at times. 

Y/N tried to get Jason to calm down, always showing that he could take care of himself and there was no reason for him to worry. But, living in a city like Gotham and given the vigilante’s past (hence the aforementioned situation and circumstances), there really was no calming him down.

But let’s look on the bright side here. With said privilege and the kind of boyfriend Jason was, Y/N never felt more safe and secure in his life. It was like walking around a video game world with the most overpowered gear on. He was basically untouchable.

Examples? Why, of course!

When it came to school, Y/N always preferred studying and doing his homework with Jason since he would help him stay focused and assist him with subjects that he struggled with. 

Y/N was not the first but certainly the loudest to say that Jason did not get enough credit for how smart he was. Yeah, he typically lived by street smarts, but he was big on book smarts as well. He just had to learn how to communicate the information in ways where it wasn’t confusing for both him and his boyfriend.

Plus, in dating Y/N, he learned the art and benefits of positive reinforcement which anyone could probably imagine taking a magnifying glass to their relationship, it was something the Y/N had to use a lot for Jason. Now, the vigilante was doing the same for his boyfriend by giving him little rewards for finishing his work and getting good grades like take-out dates, letting him play in his hair, and more often than not, a good dic-

PAUSE

Oh for fucks sake, are we doing this again? Why does it have to be PG-13? Well, no one said– Ugh…Fine.

A good fitness workout that involved lots of cardio, sweating, and soreness, but the good kind.

Happy?

But, the week of midterms turned out to be an equally busy week for Jason as well. He was knee-deep in a big crime plot and was getting closer and closer to solving the case. Y/N understood and didn’t want to get in the way of his boyfriend's duties. It still sucked though because it meant he wouldn’t be able to study in his apartment as he’d find way too many ways to get distracted. So, he had no choice but to study on campus, and figured what better place than the library?

Turns out there could have been better places.

Y/N was sitting at a large table by himself with various books in front of him along with his tablet and laptop reviewing his notes for a huge test he had the next morning. He wasn’t the only one who had the idea of going to the library to study as it was packed full of students trying to do last-minute cramming and studying.

Jason, as usual, called him to make sure he was okay and that he had gotten to the library safely even though Y/N was well aware his boyfriend had many different ways of tracking him and making sure he was where he was supposed to be. At first, he found it creepy, but when he got to know Jason’s family, he understood.

When Jason didn’t hang up the phone long after Y/N had already sat down and began reviewing, he decided he wasn’t going to hang up either, feeling more relaxed and calm while hearing his boyfriend’s voice and breathing through his earphones.

Now and then, Jason would call his name and check to make sure he was focusing and not slacking off or scrolling on social media and Y/N would turn and scold him for trying to check him when he should have been focused on fighting criminals.

“That’s the thing, babe. I can focus on more than two tasks at the same time. You, on the other hand, still can’t manage to focus on one task for more than 10 minutes without getting distracted by something else like your favorite song and flooding our apartment.”

“I told you to let the bathtub thing go!” Y/N whispered loudly into his earbud mic with a goofy smile on his face still.

“I will never let the bathtub thing go.”

They continued their playful back and forth while Y/N continued studying until he was interrupted by another student, a guy from one of his history classes. This guy was more or less a bit annoying and creepy and had been bothering Y/N for a while with his persistent quest to ask him out.

No matter how many times he rejected him, the guy always tried again and again. He never got forceful, or at least he never had the chance since Y/N always made sure there were people around or that he got to an area where other people were nearby just in case he tried something.

He wasn’t judging him, but he took Jason’s words and lessons very seriously when it came to his safety. He’d seen enough of his boyfriend’s cases where people didn’t take the necessary steps to keep themselves protected and safe because they didn’t imagine it would ‘go that far.’

The creep only left him alone when he saw Jason was with him. Truthfully, many people tended to steer clear of Y/N and his massively scary boyfriend whenever he was with them on campus besides his friends. They were even put off by Jason at times whenever they hung out with their friend cause they’d catch him at times giving them weird looks and glares if they touched or just got too close to his boyfriend for his liking.

Plus, after the one incident of the guy who tried to pick a fight with Y/N and pushed him, thus having to deal with Jason in the aftermath, everyone learned it was just better to steer clear.

So, when Jason wasn’t anywhere in sight, Y/N’s creepy stalker saw it as a perfect moment for him to try and make a move on his classmate, not expecting the very person he was hoping to avoid being on the phone the entire time.

It wasn’t until he saw Y/N unplug his earphones and hand him his phone that he realized he was indeed on a call, and after receiving possibly the most violently worded threat he had ever heard he decided there were plenty of other fish in the sea.

He handed the phone over to its owner before scurrying off like a scared mouse, Y/N watching with a confused but also amused and relieved look.

“Hi baby,” Jason immediately responded to Y/N’s ‘hello’ in his little delightful and excited tone whenever he heard his boyfriend’s voice.

“Jason, what did you say to him?” Y/N immediately asked.

“Hey! It’s babe, baby, sexy, honey, or Jay at the slightest to you, mister. Only my family calls me that.”

“Jason…”

“Babeee, stop it! I don’t consent to this treatment. No means no!” Jason protested in a whiny voice.

“You’re such a baby,” Y/N chuckled.

“Only for you, hot stuff. But we’ll be having a long talk when I get home about you not telling me about creepy guys bothering you.”

“How did you know?”

“Babe, you know who you’re dating, right? There never will be something that bothers you that I won’t know about. I’m always gonna protect you, even if it annoys the hell out of you.”

Y/N couldn’t stop the big smile spreading across his face at his boyfriend’s words, knowing he meant every single one. Jason would always be his protective lover.

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[mtkay13]

Working hard on the business!!

I had a lot of fun working on this piece that fits well as a companion to this one! I really, really enjoy Wuxi and Zishu's side hustle and think about it a lot.

More musings on this piece below!

I have been thinking a lot about Wuxi and Zishu's relationship for the past few months--working on the translation of Qiye has given me a fresh look and new perspective on it which I feel like elaborating on for a bit.

While they come from very different place and are 5 years apart in age, Wuxi and Zishu seem to rather quickly relate to each other due to both being outsiders--to the capital and its codes. It's very sweet to see how quickly Wuxi seems intrigued and interested in Zishu, wanting to know more about him and quick to react when he's around.

Beiyuan is Wuxi's only friend so far, and I think it's very refreshing for Wuxi to find another person with whom he may be able to relate more on some regards, and whom he can look up to in terms of martial arts skills and craftiness. This is a personal HC of mine, but I sort of see Wuxi as having this sort of (fully platonic) "cool older guy crush" on Zishu.

Because of that, I feel like Zishu showing interest in Wuxi and going as far as to offer him to collaborate must have been incredibly validating and exciting. It was a way for Wuxi to be more independent, do something for himself aside from his own training, aside from his role as the young shaman of Nanjiang. Something for his own experimentation and profit--be useful, but also be shown respect and interest by someone he himself is interested in and respects.

I like to imagine that Zishu was already interested in poisons given his field of work and potentially learned a thing or two about that back in Siji manor--even potentially worked on some of his own, and was therefore more than excited to be able to figure out new things with Wuxi's help. On top of that, it must have been pretty fun and gratifying to work on this side hustle which in turn also helped gain some more control over the population (welp).

So yeah! It's nice to think more about what lead to the bond they have, and I can't help but think of how affected Wuxi must have been in TYK when he discovers Zishu's state several years later. Regardless of how helpful Zishu was when Wuxi worked to get Beiyuan out of the capital, he was a friend first and foremost and that alone must be a big reason why Wuxi is so determined to find a way to save him.

(that aside, the illustration was more fun to make than I initially feared. I usually don't like having to work on a ton of tiny details LOL but somehow the atmosphere here made it entertaining!)

(btw! I don't know if I mentioned it before, but in case I didn't: I transliterate "Wuxi" as such ((in one word)) because, him not being han, it feels more right to transliterate his name in a non-han fashion as well. It's unlikely that his family name is Wu and first name is Xi--rather, Nanjiang/Wasa names seem to work differently ((same for Axinlai and Nuaha)) than the typically han family name-first name model. Many thanks to Lianzi and the other members of the 7.0 team for bringing that up! That's it!)

[arcan3-reliquary]

VERITAS RATIO HEADCANONS (because we need more content of him that's him-centric)

And because you guys asked. Most of these headcanons are purely based on my readings of him or have 0 basis in canon, so if you don’t like them, feel free to scroll past them!!

fighting the war on autism on the side of autism. As a neurodivergent he's very nd coded to me, especially with the fact that he's a very caring person but terrible with emotions and words. He's losing the idgaf war so badly like there's no way a neurotypical person has a temper that short over the most (seemingly) inane shit

Kind of pasty. not just like porcelain skin, like clay-sickly-victorian-boy type palor. He tries to go outside more often, but by the nature of his job he's rather sedentary and inside alooot. He's perfectly healthy, he just looks like that. Same complexion as Freminet in my head, with fewer freckles and a tooth gap he likes to deny he has.

Wears the alabaster headpiece not just to deal with idiots, but to self regulate out in public. It blocks out smells, and dampens sound and light enough for him to tolerate some of the veeery overstimulating environments he visits.

For a man that values creativity explicitly, not enough people seem to believe he’d have an interest in the arts. So I think he's into sculpting. A chisel and hammer are very comforting weights in his hand, and while he doesn't particularly care for pottery or wet clay, he gets why it's so well liked. He uses himself as reference mostly because he's most familiar with his own body and asking others can be awkward or seen as weird.

The dude has extremely obscure taste in sci-fi novels. Like he will yap on and on about why he can't stand most sci-fi and recommend the most odd shit out there if asked.

Not really a hc, but he has very brittle self-esteem. It simply comes with the territory of being labeled “gifted” or “a child genius.” For years, a lot of his perceived worth came from the quality of his work or academic validation, and now his big reason for staying in academics isn't the knowledge itself, but rather the joy of teaching and sharing the things he knows.

Somehow both touch starved and touch averse. Contact must be initiated by him on his terms, or a shutdown will happen. But when someone he trusts does this, it's the funniest thing because he thinks he's being so subtle about his enjoyment of it. (Aven played w his hair once and Veritas passed tf out like that and Aven couldn't move for an hour.)

Chronic over-explainer. Either he misreads someone's tone and thinks they need the detail, or past conflict was caused by him thinking he didn't explain enough (it was usually just people being purposefully obtuse or daft.)

Unsurprisingly terrible to deal with when sick. Non-verbal, sits under a mountain of weighted blankets, and only communicates via the notes app on his phone or having Aventurine help him.

Ratio is terribly farsighted - just genetics. Lasic surgery fixed most of it, but he still needs reading glasses and contacts.

Intimacy issues alert. Vulnerability is scary and being put on a pedestal your whole life tends to make letting down pretenses a lil nauseating. Mortifying ordeal of being known and all that.

Girl Anachronism by the Dresden Dolls makes me think of him. I can't explain it. I think it's a combo of him being hella self aware of his issues but also just kinda treating them like something of a character flaw or moral failing rather than something he can ask for help with. Just a thought

AND THATS ITS IVE YAPPED ENOUGH ABOUT RATIO. The Aveenturine and Golden Ratio posts will come soon but for now have these. He makes me insane.

[viviennevermillion]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀʙᴇᴛ

✧ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: yayyy my first commission! 7.2k words of pure jing yuan fluff. want the entire fluff alphabet for your fave too or just a very long fic for any character of your choice? check my commission info! this took me 6 hours so reblogs would be appreciated! 👍

✧ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: this jing yuan song

✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: none

A = Affection

(How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) 

Jing Yuan first and foremost is someone who easily adapts to you. If you’re a rather reserved person who doesn’t initiate affection a lot, Jing Yuan is more likely to give you space and show his affection more subtly through quality time spent together, doing things you enjoy, or just idle moments spent in each other’s presence whilst doing your own stuff and him reaching for your hand every once in a while to show you how much he enjoys his bonding time with you and that he’s thinking of you even when he looks busy.

If you’re a very affectionate person, Jing Yuan definitely indulges you and makes sure to initiate affection equally as much as you do. He’ll often reach for you, wrapping his arms around your waist while pressing little affectionate kisses to your neck or your cheek. Jing Yuan also likes to make your day a little easier, surprising you after a long day of work with a nice meal he made for you. He lets you sit on his lap if you want to while he works, because he loves having you this close to him even when he can’t focus all of his attention on you. 

Sometimes you’ll enter his office hesitantly, not wanting to bother or distract the busy general from his duty; but the doubts fade away as soon as he notices you and turns his head to look at you, greeting you with the warmest smile only reserved for you. Jing Yuan doesn’t hesitate to open his arms to you, letting out a relaxed sigh when you’re finally in his embrace. “These little visits are always the best part of my day”, he hums quietly and presses a soft kiss to your lips. You know then, he’s been missing your affections as much as you missed his.

B = Best friend

(What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) 

Jing Yuan’s friendship with you is a wild card. It could start with the two of you working together, just as a lot of his relationships with other people started. Or it could be something totally unexpected; like both of you reaching for the last copy of a book you were looking forward to read in a shop and deciding that you could just share it. Jing Yuan is a gentle soul and somehow, even after all he’s been through or perhaps because of it, he never closes the gate to his heart. 

Where Dan Heng and Blade became reserved and distant after everything that transpired with the High Cloud Quintet, Jing Yuan found the resolve to value the people in his life even more and treasure his time with them, even if it might not last. Similarly, Jing Yuan as your best friend is attentive and selfless; he’s hyper-aware of what you add to his life and what he learns from you, something he believes is the essence of what we gain from social relationships, and he’s grateful for it. You could show up on his doorstep at 2am in the pouring rain, unsure of where else to go, and he would smile at you gently and invite you in; ready to give you the sense of safety and care you deserve. Jing Yuan is always trying his best to be kind and understanding but he will also definitely be the voice of reason whenever you need a reality check. He’s really good at finding the balance between validating your feelings and simultaneously disagreeing with you. Jing Yuan is easy to befriend and easy to get along with. He’s a good friend and you can be glad to have him by your side. 

C = Cuddles

(Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) 

Jing Yuan loves cuddles! His favorites definitely are when both of you have cleared your schedules and can just lay down in bed and cuddle for a while. He loves being the big spoon and hugging you from behind. His fingertips would run up and down your arm and he’d end up playing with your fingers or massaging your hands. He’ll often press a kiss to your neck or the shell of your ear. Sometimes he asks you to turn your head to him a little more so he can reach your cheek with his lips. 

Jing Yuan also enjoys when you rest your head against his chest. He sleeps with his shirt off and he enjoys the feeling of your cheek resting against his skin. Jing Yuan always has a comfortable warmth to him. He also gets very clingy in his sleep. You’d already be cuddling when he falls asleep but once he’s off in deep sleep, he’ll drape his leg over yours and try to pull you even closer into his chest. You had to wake him up from time to time to time to tell him to stop squishing you so much. He’ll have a bashful expression on his face and will apologize. “I’m sorry… seems I got a little carried away in my dreams”, he chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “As cute as you are when you get clingy, unfortunately I can’t fall asleep if you squeeze me in your arms like that”, you sigh with a smile on your face, running a hand through his messy hair. 

D = Domestic

(Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

If Jing Yuan starts a relationship with you, it’s with the intention to make it last. He has been the General for a very long time now and he knows he’ll retire from this job eventually. And when he does, he wants you to still be there by his side to spend the rest of his days with him. 

Fu Xuan has definitely jokingly referred to Jing Yuan as a househusband before because that’s how he acts around you, despite having a job and responsibilities. Jing Yuan is very good at cooking and you always love it when he makes something for you. You’re definitely looking forward to being able to eat his food for the rest of your life. 

He does clean but that’s something he’d rather do together with you. He’ll often feel unmotivated to do it, although he gets up to clean anyway if it needs to be done, but he’ll prefer to take some time with you to throw on a nice song both of you like and clean together whilst conversing about whatever comes to mind. It can make an activity he usually dislikes actually fun for him. 

There are a lot of domestic moments with Jing Yuan throughout your daily life that you definitely would not want to miss out on, be it keeping him company while he cooks; wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning your head against his back; or cleaning sessions being randomly interrupted by Jing Yuan asking you for a dance in the living room. 

E = Ending

(If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) 

If he breaks up with you, it would always be for your own good; either because your safety is compromised by associating with him or because he notices he’s no longer good for you. If he does plan to break up with you, Jing Yuan definitely spends a couple of sleepless nights trying to find the method that would hurt you the least; because even if he no longer sees a future for the two, you’ve still been an important part of his life for so long and it breaks his heart to see you cry. 

He’d definitely do it during a time where neither of you have any plans for the rest of the day or even the next day. He’d sit you down and tells you there’s something he needs to talk about with you. He tries to keep it together but he can’t help tearing up when he tries to actually get the words out. He only hopes you will still be on good terms even after the breakup and that you will be happy again.

That aside, Jing Yuan handles breakups terribly. Not as horrible as some other characters (i.e. Blade), but everytime he meets you now, he’ll accidentally end up saying something sentimental that’s reminiscent of your time together and just makes both of you sad again or makes the whole situation awkward. Jing Yuan definitely wants to continue being your friend after you break up but he’s very bad at moving on so that might not be possible, leaving you with no choice but to keep him at a distance if you really want to move on. 

F = Fiance(e)

(How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) 

Jing Yuan is all for commitment. If there’s anything Jing Yuan is good at, it’s commitment, so you have nothing to worry about in that department. He adores you with all his heart and he wants to keep you by his side for as long as possible.

So for a member of a long-life species, Jing Yuan doesn’t take very long to propose to you if he’s really sure about his future with you. His proposal is super sweet too. The ring he gets for you has so much symbolism and detail in it that you have to raise an eyebrow and ask him if he designed it personally at that point. Jing Yuan just chuckles and pats your head; telling you he just has a tendency to get carried away when it comes to you, especially when it’s about something as wonderful as marrying you. 

He’d probably propose like 2-3 years into the relationship if there aren’t any outside matters that could prove to be an obstacle to your happily ever after. And he plans the proposal for weeks. He rents a location that means something to both of you and puts a lot of effort into the decorations to make sure the whole thing feels romantic. Think: swimming candles, fairy lights and lots of beautiful flowers. You know what’s coming the moment you see him standing there with a bouquet of white roses in his hands, smiling at you like you’re his whole world (you are) and just immediately pulling you into such a slow and loving kiss. But you decide to indulge and act surprised. 

G = Gentle

(How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Very. In fact, he’s so gentle that you could yell at him and point a pitchfork at him and his first attempt at handling the situation would probably be to ask you what he has done to anger you this much and whether you’d like to sit down and talk about it. From the moment he met you he’s always been so polite and understanding towards you, that you couldn’t help but be draw to his gentle nature. Jing Yuan in general is very hard to hate and very easy to love. 

Emotionally, his gentleness comes out the most when you’re feeling down. Everything about how he treats you then, from the feeling of his arm wrapped around you and his hand softly rubbing your shoulder to his quiet whispers about how everything is going to be okay are so soothing to you that it’s really hard to be with Jing Yuan and still feel devastated at the end of the day. Even if he can’t get rid of your pain or fear, he always manages to ease it enough to calm you down and have you get your well-deserved rest in his arms.

Physically, there’s very few moments where Jing Yuan isn’t gentle. Of course he has his times where his kisses become more passionate and eager, especially when he missed you or when he was worried about you and is relieved to see you alright; but most of the time Jing Yuan’s gestures are just really soft. He’s the type for littering your skin in butterfly kisses and holding you like you’re made of porcelain.

H = Hugs

(Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) 

He loves hugs. He definitely always hugs you as a greeting. Sometimes he playfully lifts you up and spins you around, pressing a kiss to your lips when he puts you down again. “Someone’s excited”, you smirk as he wraps his arms around you once more from behind and sways lightly with you to the movement of the wind, pressing his cheek against yours. 

He also adores when you sit on his lap and wrap your legs and arms around him or hold his face in your hands and keep pressing kisses to his lips the way he does so often. Jing Yuan will then bury his face in your neck, gently nuzzling your skin or just close his eyes and bask in your love. 

When you need his support, he also won’t hesitate to pull you into his embrace. He’ll rest his head on top of yours and rubs your back, letting you cry into his shoulder if you need to. He’ll hold you the whole night if you need him to.

Jing Yuan adores your hugs especially when you initiate them. The more excited you are about it, the better. He’s absolutely whipped if you just run towards him and jump into his arms because you’re just that happy to be reunited with him. It makes his heart flutter and he makes sure to let you know that. Another thing he’s weak for is when he sits at his desk and works and you hug him from behind while you’re standing behind him, your cheek leaned against his soft hair. Work can wait for a while then…

I = I love you

(How fast do they say the L-word?) 

Fast. In fact, right when he confesses, because he only lets you know about his intent to date you if he’s sure he’s in love with you and wants you to stay by his side. Once he is, there’s nothing holding him back from telling you. He wants you to know how he feels about you and he feels like there’s a more stable foundation for your relationship if you’re certain that he’s serious about you and loves you with all his heart. Jing Yuan is not someone who lets worries or fear of rejection hold him back from being honest with you about his feelings.

He also tells you that he loves you whenever he feels like it. There’s many moments throughout the day where he just looks at you and is reminded exactly what it was about you that made him want to stay around for the rest of his life, and the words slip from his lips without even thinking; even if it’s about something super mundane or even silly. He also always says it back when you tell him you love him. 

If he has what you have started to refer to as “Jing Yuan’s clingy 5 minutes”, he’ll just pull you into his lap and kiss you over and over again, whispering those 3 words you love to hear so much against your lips before he pulls you in for another kiss. He smiles against your lips and tells you he loves you more with every day that passes. If you ever doubt his love for you, he makes sure to really drive the point home and reassure you that you have his whole heart.

J = Jealousy

(How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) 

Jing Yuan isn’t really a jealous person. He trusts you and he expects you to do the same. If he does get jealous it’s usually because there’s actually something wrong; either because his suspicions are correct or because you’ve been keeping him at a distance because of issues you haven’t addressed with him all whilst growing closer with someone else; even if there’s 0 romantic intent behind it. 

Jing Yuan is mature enough not to let jealousy get the better of him. The only thing that’s different is that he looks after you with a worried and sad expression when you head off to meet the person he’s jealous of or sees you talking to him. He usually just needs some reassurance that everything is alright between you, which is why in the rare moments he does notice jealousy rising up within him, he seeks you out when you’re alone to talk to you about your feelings.

Usually it ends with an open discussion about the underlying problem, for example that something has happened in your life that made you worried about the future or that he has accidentally said something that hurt your feelings and you haven’t found out how to bring it up with him yet. Jing Yuan can talk everything out with you if you let him and once the problem is resolved, his feelings of jealousy are gone too. Overall, Jing Yuan getting actually jealous is super rare and when he does, he handles it really well and it doesn’t present a cause for relationship drama if you don’t let it. 

K = Kisses

(What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) 

As said before, Jing Yuan’s kisses are usually gentle and very loving. A lot of times they’re the typical lazy morning kisses but all throughout the day. And he often prefers a lot of small butterfly kisses over straight up making out. He feels like that conveys the way you make his heart flutter a lot better. Jing Yuan always pulls you close when he kisses you. 

His favorite places to kiss you include your lips and your neck. When he’s feeling playful, he often presses kisses to the corner of your mouth or picks at your lower lip with his, while he has a soft smile on his face. Jing Yuan’s lips are super soft and they always make you swoon. He loves to bury his face in your neck which often comes with repeatedly kissing the skin there and spoiling you with his affection. Another spot he often kisses are your fingers when he holds them in his hands like they’re the most delicate thing ever.

Jing Yuan himself loves kisses to his cheek. Just all of the idle moments of you passing him by and pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek or telling him that you think he’s cute before doing this. Additionally, he’s a bit weak for when you sleep in his arms and wake up and you press a kiss to his chest before even opening your eyes because it’s right next to your face. He thinks you’re adorable. He instantly wraps his arms around you tighter and lets you wake up to his affections. 

L = Little ones

(How are they around children?) 

Jing Yuan would totally be up for having children with you if that’s something you want; whether it’s adopting them or having them yourself. I mean, at this point you’re practically already Yanqing’s parents. I always imagine Jing Yuan as a father to be kind of like Mufasa (without the tragic death). Like “Your son is awake”; “Before sunrise he’s your son”. And he’d definitely teach his kid a lot of life lessons that will make people say “Your father is a very wise man” if they ever tell it to someone else. Jing Yuan has a lot more wisdom than he realizes and when he passes it on, it tends to stay with his child until way into adulthood. 

He also is totally the type to indulge and support his kid’s imagination. Like, they’d pull out their dolls or figurines and make up little stories with them and Jing Yuan would listen attentively and join them in playing; offering his own ideas. You’d observe them sitting on the floor of your kid’s bedroom, playing with the figurines. “Aw, this one fell into the mud and I can’t get it clean anymore… and it was brand new too, I haven’t even named it yet”, your child would say about the newest addition to their collection. “How about ‘Mr. Clean’ then?”, Jing Yuan suggests ironically. “That’s a horrible name”, you butt in before moving on with whatever you were doing before. “It’s not”, Jing Yuan insists, “they just don’t have taste.” “I heard that”, you call out from the other room, “don’t forget I picked you.” 

M = Morning

(How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with Jing Yuan are a long endeavor and yet he always makes them feel way too short. Usually one of you wakes up slowly and is already kissing the other before even opening their eyes. Either it’s you turning your head to plant kisses on his chest or Jing Yuan searching for your lips in the dark. He loves when you wake up before him and kiss him awake. You’ll be pressing soft kisses to his lips and he comes to his senses and opens his mouth to get a taste of you first thing in the morning. 

Jing Yuan’s mornings are lazy. He’s the type you have to pull out of bed by his arm because he keeps saying “just 10 more minutes” whilst trying to convince you to stay in his arms even if you need to get up for work. “How have you had this position for this long if you’re this irresponsible?”, you sigh and Jing Yuan stretches like a lion cub before dozing back off to sleep. You shake your head. He’s a hopeless case, you think. What eventually motivates him to get up is the fact that he misses your warmth so while you’re brushing your teeth or preparing breakfast, your sleepy boyfriend is slouching over you, clinging to you with his head resting against yours. “Jing Yuan, could you not put your entire weight on me? Jing Yuan?”, you sigh as you notice the dozing general had already fallen asleep again. You play with the thought of just shaking him awake but how could you when he mumbles how much he loves you and that he wants more kisses in his sleep?

N = Night

(How are nights spent with them?)

As I said, Jing Yuan has a habit of getting clingy while he’s asleep. Sometimes you’ll wake up to him squishing you in his embrace. He’ll try and fail to press kisses to your skin wherever he can reach; oftentimes just pressing his lips against your skin without the actual kissing. You think it’s the most adorable thing ever. It always makes you smile even though you have to push him away sometimes to be able to sleep yourself. 

Sometimes, especially on the weekend, you and Jing Yuan stay up late and take a walk through the city or have a nice dinner at a restaurant together. He enjoys walking across the plazas with you when it’s so late that there’s hardly anyone on the street anymore and it’s just you, him, the stars above you and the idle sound of the water in the fountains or the trees swaying in the wind. Sometimes you’ll sit down on a bench reminiscing about some old memories you shared together or watching the constellations above. Or rather, you’re watching the constellations and halfway through Jing Yuan just starts looking at you instead. He has lived a long life and he has seen the stars over and over again but he could never get tired of seeing the love of his life and reaching out to hold your hand. 

O = Open

(When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) 

It’s not so much the fact that he doesn’t trust you with his past or feels doubtful you’ll see him the same way afterwards; it’s just that there’s a lot of things Jing Yuan hasn’t talked about with anyone in a long, long time. He needs to warm up to the idea of confiding in you and putting all cards on the table. In the beginning of the relationship, questions about his past will often be answered with very vague statements before Jing Yuan switches the topic to make it less awkward, which can be frustrating for you and may feel like he isn’t being truthful with you or purposefully withholding things.

But as time goes on he eventually notices he’s ready to share the whole truth with you and he finds that talking about it with you actually helps him make peace with the past. You’re relieved to know that his reserved demeanor when it came to topics he didn’t want to talk about had nothing to do with you personally and more with Jing Yuan needing time to speak about it at all. The deep conversations where you learn more about Jing Yuan’s past and his feelings in response to that usually happen when you’re cuddling at night. There comes a point in time where Jing Yuan feels comfortable enough that if you want to know something about him that’s still unclear to you, you only have to ask. Things get a lot easier from there on out.

P = Patience

(How easily angered are they?) 

Jing Yuan is the most patient person you've ever met, which can actually be counterproductive in situations where you’re genuinely upset or angry. It’s very difficult to get an emotionally charged response out of him. Jing Yuan thinks distressing situations are best approached with a calm demeanor and civil conversations so he actually chooses to remain calm and practice restraint even if he ends up being angry or sad. Depending on your perspective on the whole thing, this has the potential to feel like he’s simply not as affected by the situation or doesn’t really care about an emotional outburst if you ever have one; but Jing Yuan is really just trying to calm you down and reassure you, which would be hard to do if he started impulsively responding to his emotions. 

So even when Jing Yuan gets angry, it’s usually not visible unless he straight up, calmly, tells you he’s mad at you and he’ll need some time to sort this out. In general, Jing Yuan is someone who responds with sadness rather than anger to an upsetting situation. He doesn’t like himself when he gets angry and he understands that you’re upset too and he first and foremost wants both of you to be happy again. He does not want to make you feel worse. 

As for things that do make him angry, even if he doesn’t show it on his face; it’s either you being reckless and putting yourself in a dangerous situation despite his pleas not to or when he can tell something is wrong and you have a problem with him but refuse to communicate with him about it. This can be frustrating for him and cause him to feel a little burnt out from the whole thing, which might make him withdraw for a while. Even though Jing Yuan’s seemingly never-ending patience can feel a little invalidating when you’re expecting an emotional reaction from him, most of the time it works in your favor and Jing Yuan is very good at keeping the peace in your relationship.

Q = Quizzes

(How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) 

Jing Yuan is a good listener and he’s attentive. He remembers a lot of details about you. Given how long he lives, he’s bound to have some of them slip out of his memory but they’re never truly gone. A century could pass and then he sees something that reminds him about a random detail you told him about yourself; something he would have expected himself to have forgotten long ago, and he can imagine the conversation that led to him learning this fact as vividly as if it was yesterday.

You’re often surprised when you witness this happening because sometimes Jing Yuan will bring up things even you forgot you ever told him. “You remembered this?”, you raise an eyebrow with a smile on your face. “Honestly, I’m as surprised as you are”, Jing Yuan shrugs and takes your hand into his, “then again, I’m also not. It’s a memory I share with you after all. So no wonder it stayed somewhere in my subconscious, waiting for the right time to emerge again.” “You’re so cheesy sometimes”, you laugh and ruffle his hair. “Isn’t that what made you fall for me?”, he teases and pulls you onto his lap; placing soft kisses on your neck again.

Oftentimes when Jing Yuan remembers things you told him you liked or enjoyed doing a while ago, this sparks gift ideas and date ideas in his head and he can’t wait to surprise you with the fact that he not only remembered this casual bit of information you told him, but he also went out of this way to get you a comfort food you didn’t have in a while or set up a nice afternoon for you based on something trivial you forgot you even mentioned.

R = Remember

(What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

There’s so many moments in your relationship that Jing Yuan wouldn’t trade for the world and they’re memories he deeply values and treasures. But if he had to pick; it’d probably be a moment that recurs every now and then. He can’t possibly pick a single memory as a favorite for one of the most important bonds he’s ever had, so what truly are his favorite moments in your relationship are seeing each other again; whether it was after being apart for days or just a couple of hours. Having you jump into his arms or cupping his cheeks to press your lips to his, telling him that you missed him and that you just had to come see him.

They’re the moments you reunite after battle, the moments you slip into bed with him for cuddles and kisses after both of you have been stressed for the past few days and the moments when he’s supposed to be working and you visit him because you just craved his affection that much. They’re the moments after arguments, when everything has been forgiven and forgotten and he’s back in your arms, kissing you deeply as if he’s been starving from your lack of affection and they’re the moments when he thought he might have lost you and there you are; kissing him breathless like you’ve been apart for a thousand years.

S = Security

(How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) 

Jing Yuan is very protective of you. He understands if you want to fight alongside him but he’s a General and most of the time his mindset is that he can handle these things himself. Losing you would be the worst thing he could imagine, so the urge to keep you safe is what pushes him beyond his limits on the battlefield. It doesn’t make him careless but it does make you worry that he’ll compromise his own safety for yours. Jing Yuan would never leave you behind even if it seemed like he couldn’t win a battle at all odds. He’d protect you even if he’d have to pay with his life.

Additionally, Jing Yuan gets protective when someone else tries to hurt you with words or rain on your parade or when you’re uncomfortable in a situation. He doesn’t hesitate to stand up for you and give someone a piece of his mind if they dare to bother you. If a situation is distressing for you, he makes sure to lead you away to a place where you feel safer and can gather yourself in the comfort of his arms. 

Jing Yuan absolutely loves when you’re protective of him. The whole situation could have the vibe of an angry chihuahua trying to defend godzilla from a drunk man with a gun and Jing Yuan would still think you’re a dream come true. He might not be in danger at all and perfectly capable of handling the situation himself but seeing you so serious about keeping him safe and comfortable gets his heart to beat faster. He makes a mental note to pay you back for that with his affection later.

T = Try

(How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

The answer is; a lot of effort. After you’ve been together for a long time it’s a little lost on you how in the world Jing Yuan still manages to come up with so many meaningful dates and gifts for you but you’re certainly not complaining. He loves you with all his heart and love has the tendency to make Jing Yuan surprisingly creative.

He makes sure to take you out on a date at least once a month even if you’ve been married for a hundred years, he always celebrates your anniversary every year and gives you gifts. And all of this is so well thought out that sometimes you feel a little bad for not having as many ideas like that to surprise him with. But Jing Yuan is more of a giver in a committed relationship. He’s at his happiest not when he receives affection from you but when he sees your reactions to the things he does for you. When he buys a gift or plans an anniversary, he’s already imagining your smile or your grateful kisses or the compliments that slip from your lips between them when he surprises you with the final result and it makes his heart beat faster and makes him giddy and excited internally even if you’ve been together for years.

For Jing Yuan, all of that is worth every bit of effort. He loves making you feel loved and happy. He doesn’t feel like any gift or gesture could ever convey the full extent of his feelings for you and your importance in his life but he will try nonetheless. 

U = Ugly

(What would be some bad habits of theirs?) 

For one, Jing Yuan worries too much. He doesn’t restrict you in any of your choices but he doesn’t work well with a reckless person. He has lost so many people as the centuries went by and he feels so deeply for you that he can’t sleep without knowing you’re home or at least in a safe place. If you go out late in the evening and you don’t text him when you’re back home or back at the hotel etc.; Jing Yuan does not sleep. If this is a regular occurrence, the man might ironically end up with insomnia. Instead of settling on the fact that you probably just forgot to tell him and or passed out in bed from exhaustion and are sleeping soundly, his mind sometimes tends to catastrophize which is detrimental to his psychological well-being if it carries on for long enough. Jing Yuan needs a person who will tell him everything is alright before they go to sleep at night and takes the time to inform him when they’re late.

Additionally, Jing Yuan often fails to realize when you need your space. Arguments are something that stress him a lot and continuously for as long as they last, so he’s the type of person who’d rather resolve them immediately. Jing Yuan doesn’t need space when you’re fighting, he needs to solve the problem and make sure he’s back on good terms with you. Sometimes the fact that you might be someone who doesn’t approach conflict like that flies over his head. He thinks he can talk everything out with you immediately and sometimes he unintentionally makes it worse with that.

V = Vanity

(How concerned are they with their looks?) 

The man has birds in his hair. I think this is all you need to know to answer that question. He cares enough to look presentable at his job but other than that, looks don’t matter to him.

However, he does remember when he wears an outfit that makes you want to kiss him over and over again or tries out a hairstyle that gets you to swoon over him and he will try to do this more often because he loves your reaction to it. Having you call him pretty or stunning is an added bonus to the affection he already gets from you but it certainly boosts his mood and makes him soft.

W = Whole

(Would they feel incomplete without you?) 

Oh, definitely. Once you’re a part of Jing Yuan’s life and have been this close to him, he’s very emotionally over-attached. Not to an unhealthy degree and he doesn’t really act on it, but emotionally he definitely pines for you long after your relationship has ended. You know those people who keep having an inkling of feelings for someone even after not talking to them in a decade which can re-ignite into a flame just by seeing you again? That’s Jing Yuan. That’s what he’s like.

That’s why despite the fact that he doesn’t feel like he has to hide his feelings from you before getting together with you, he waits to actively approach you or initiate anything until he’s certain that what you have can last because he is aware that he has these tendencies and he knows it’s not good for himself if it turns out that your relationship won’t work out. So that’s why it can still take quite some time to finally make things official with Jing Yuan. 

He’d absolutely feel incomplete without you and that’s an experience he dreads if your relationship ever threatens to fail, because he knows he’ll be stuck with it for a long, long time.

X = Xtra

(A random headcanon for them.) 

This is another flaw to him when it comes to romance, but if he’s not dating you yet, he has a tendency to delude himself a little bit. For example, imagine you’re traveling for two months and you promise to go on a date with him once you’re back to the Xianzhou. In those two months Jing Yuan will probably have played every single scenario about how this date could potentially go in his head without even realizing and sometimes that makes him lose touch with reality a little bit. Not to an extent where the way he now behaves towards you drives you away from him but rather there’s a sudden change in the way he interacts with you from your perspective.

He’s not overbearing but he may surprise you with suddenly being a lot more comfortable and open with you than you expected him to be at this point in time. Like, you’ll be on polite speaking terms and occasionally flirt a bit when you leave and you come back to Jing Yuan having gained the comfort and feeling of closeness with you that he now talks to you like you’re his good friend he’s been through hell with and it’s a shift that catches you off-guard. This might actually work in your favor if you have a huge crush on him but if it feels too weird, you might need to ask him to take things slow. He’ll listen and apologize for getting a little too ahead of himself. 

Y = Yuck

(What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) 

Aside from the obvious things like cheating or the recklessness I previously talked about, I feel like one thing Jing Yuan would really struggle with is someone who does not communicate properly with him or sends him mixed signals. He’d rather have you yelling at him or venting your frustrations to him in an emotional outburst, because that is something he can actually approach, than for you to just not tell him what’s bothering you even though something clearly is or you not being truthful with him about things in your relationship. Jing Yuan wants a relationship where you two can be comfortable and fully open with one another and that does not work if he has to play guessing games all the time about what’s going on in your head even after he asks you about it. Jing Yuan is a “let’s talk it out” kind of guy and that’s his first approach to resolving conflict so when that’s not an option he doesn’t really know how to deal with it and he feels a little unsteady about what’s supposed to happen next. Jing Yuan is always open to correcting his mistakes or meeting you halfway when anything he did hurt your feelings but he absolutely cannot deal with someone who does not bring these things up to him until they essentially blow up in his face. 

He’d also hate feeling like a trophy boyfriend. Yes he’s probably pretty popular and has quite a few admirers since he’s also such an important public figure and he’s undeniably handsome; and he’s happy and feels honored when you are genuinely proud to be with him and hype him up, but if he finds himself in a social situation where he feels like he’s just there to for you to impress people with your relationship or he hears you talk about how handsome he is to someone else and brag about it like you won him in the lottery, that’s something that would make him really uncomfortable.

Z = Zzz

(What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

A lot of these I’ve already touched upon. Mostly getting very clingy while he’s asleep and squeezing you in his arms, prompting you to push him off you a little bit so you can sleep comfortably as well. When he’s just in a light state of sleep he tends to mumble about how much he loves you and that he wants cuddles and kisses. 

Sometimes sleeping next to Jing Yuan can be challenging because he has his clingy times but he also has times where he suddenly takes up all the space in the bed and hogs all the blankets and pillows and you have to pull them out of his grabby hands, cursing him internally for still having so much strength even whilst being sound asleep. He does not wake up from that. Surprisingly, however, he wakes up immediately when you leave the room. It’s like he senses you’re not there with him any more and his eyes open to see light in the bathroom or the kitchen. He knows you’ll be right back so he waits for you to return before going back to sleep. You’re surprised to find him awake every time this happens. As soon as you’re back in bed, Jing Yuan wraps his arms around you again and nuzzles your neck affectionately. “I missed you”, he mumbles with a sleepy voice. “I’ve been gone for 5 minutes”, you whisper back and chuckle. He doesn’t reply as he has already dozed off again but he does smile when you press a good night kiss to his forehead.

[missmeinyourbones]

hi!!! can i request megumi + "it's okay, we're the best of friends." congrats on the big milestone!! 🤍🤍

IT'S OKAY, WE'RE THE BEST OF FRIENDS (m. fushiguro)

L's MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

The only sound in your room is the cat clock ticking away on your wall, and you can't even hear it over the obnoxious thumping of your heart inside your throat.

Megumi sits like a statue on the corner of your neatly made bed, as awkward and out of place as he always does.

As if he isn't constantly coming over to your place. Like he doesn’t fall asleep on your couch at least once a week and knows that your shower’s water pressure sucks. That your shampoo is on the left and your conditioner on the right. 

He hasn't said anything, and you know he won't unless you do first, so you brace yourself to be the bigger person—even if you are mentally praying for a satellite to crash into your tiny two-bedroom apartment so you can avoid this stupidly awkward conversation. 

When it's apparent that there's no outside mishap (miracle) coming to interfere, you swallow your pride and open your mouth.

Fuck.  

"Look," you begin weakly, before clearing your throat and trying again, "I'm really sorry about… that."

That being your roommate referring to a blushing Megumi as your boyfriend when he showed up at your place for this week’s movie night.

And in your roommate's defense, it’s not even an unreasonable mistake on her end. You two don't really know much about one another's personal lives outside of work and the occasional passing kitchen conversation. And sure, Megumi visits a lot, and when he's not at your place, you're at his or out somewhere together. You suppose it’s not terribly out of left field for her to assume the two of you are an item.

But you’re not, and it feels like a pretty fucking big deal right now, as the two of you sit in the silence of your bedroom afraid to so much as swallow too loudly in fear of the other fleeing like a deer in headlights.

Megumi shrugs like he doesn’t care, but you both know he does by the way he fiddles with the hem of his sweatshirt sleeve. 

The action is halfhearted and his silence is so terribly loud that you have the sudden urge to overexplain yourself, so you do. 

"I think she just assumed since we're so close, and you’re always coming over, y’know? Not that that’s a valid reason to assume anything, or that there even is a valid reason at all, but I guess since you're a guy and—"

"It's fine," Megumi answers a bit too quickly. "I mean, we're best friends. People are bound to make that assumption sometimes, right?"

Though clearly flustered, his response is almost automatic, as if he's rehearsed his lines in his mirror for this very moment. It breaks your heart and somehow makes you feel special at the same time. Because sure, he’s letting you down gently, but he’s letting you down, gently. 

Shakily, you exhale and play it cool with a (totally not disappointed) nod, "Right." 

Wrong, your heart aches. It’s not often in your daily lives that people assume the two of you are together.

Or maybe they do, and you don't notice it anymore. Maybe you've become accustomed to the way the waitress at the diner you two go to on the weekend no longer asks if you want separate checks, but instead automatically hands the bill to Megumi and shoots you a wink. You're now immune to the way older couples coo when you two walk the streets, Megumi pushing you to the inner side away from the street. The way guys don’t really flirt with you at bars anymore, the way women no longer ask to pet Megumi’s dogs when you're by his side.

Maybe.

After a moment or two of you being lost in thought, Megumi clears his throat.

He speaks softly and casually, "Gojo does it, too."

His words confuse you, "What?"

Megumi second-guesses his nonchalant tone when he needs to repeat himself. He trips over his own tongue when clarifying, "He thinks—that we're like… together." 

Your throat suddenly feels like you've swallowed sand.

Gojo? The same Gojo who knows Megumi inside out? Who’s known you since you were sixteen years old, who pretended to ignore you sneaking in through Megumi's window and let you steal his cheap alcohol on Friday nights? Gojo thinks the two of you are together? 

"Oh," is all you can muster like a fool, before following it up with a meek, "he does?"

"He’s an idiot,” Megumi scoffs but nods. “Always calls you my girl, which I tell him is stupid and sexist when he literally knows your name, but he never listens." 

The words have your heart by the throat and again, all you can muster is a pathetic, "Really?"

"Yeah," he's not sure what possesses him to go on, but Megumi finds himself continuing. "Even just now when I left, he was on the phone with someone like ‘Megumi's leaving to go to his girl's place,’ or whatever."

The words set you on fire, and you think about how stupid that is. How simple words strung together can have such a huge effect on you. Words that if someone else said would mean nothing, might even make your nose scrunch in secondhand embarrassment. But here they come from Megumis lips, about you, and even if they’re from Gojo they still feel like something raw and buzzing with something sweet. 

"Just—don't feel weird about it, okay?” he feels the need to softly clear the air. “She's not the only one who does it." 

His words dance throughout your body like a drug as they play on repeat in your mind. Not the only one who does it.

Random people on the street. Your roommate. Fucking Gojo. People from all areas of your life, all agreeing that you and Megumi are something more than friends. You don’t know why the thought makes your chest tighten, and you don’t know why you kind of love it.  

"Okay," you breathlessly sigh, though you've barely spoken for the last few minutes.

Megumi echoes your breathlessness when he whispers back, "Okay."

“…”

"So... did you pick a movie?"

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I think part of the trouble with reading ML as a magical girl team is that it’s really written to be Marinette as the Lone Hero.

Sticking with Winx Club as an example (which I absolutely loved), even though Bloom was clearly the main character, the other girls got focus and attention and their own narratives unrelated to Bloom’s. Alya doesn’t have that; nearly the entirety of her scenes and focus are still for or related to Marinette’s story, which the writers have outright told us is always meant to come first.

As such, I think the more solid reading of ML is that it’s a poorly written superhero romcom that pretends to be a magical girl team, but only ends up offering crumbs. It’s why we’re shown the extra Miraculous and given a “core four/five,” only for it to be revealed that the new holders aren’t actually permanent team members. A decision I remember thinking at the time made absolutely no sense, but now in hindsight can be perfectly explained by how doing so would necessitate that attention/focus be taken from Marinette, which ML absolutely refuses to do.

In fact, I’d wager that’s the actual reason Chat Noir has a crush on Ladybug before Adrien falls for Marinette: it keeps his attention even as a hero focused on her. There’s plenty of salters who love to deride him for not focusing enough on the “job” and making LB pick up his “slack,” but that fits the show’s intentions perfectly. Chat can’t be written to (as) capable if LB is to shine. Hence why we had the whole Catwalker argument being nonsensically centered around “perfection.” 😭

(Post with the Winx club example for context.)

You're absolutely right. Miraculous is trying to be a loan hero show (or perhaps a serious hero and silly sidekick show) where Marinette is the only important character outside of the villains, a magical girl team show where female friendships are the most important relationships in the show, and a heterosexual rom-com all at the same time which leads to a ton of nonsense choices because those are three genres that really don't mix!

While I never outright said it, the post about rom-coms vs magical girl team shows was spawned by the fandom conflict over Alya's writing in the later seasons. I wanted to take a moment to point out why she keeps being given the roles that people expect Chat Noir to get and why both sides of that fandom conflict have very valid feelings given the way that the show is being written, so I didn't talk about the lone hero thing since that doesn't really play a part in Alya and Adrien's fight for narrative importance. If we're looking at Miraculous as a whole though, then it's 100% a piece of the puzzle when you're trying to figure out where the writing went wrong.

I've mentioned a couple of times that they're putting way too much on Marinette's shoulders. The main reason that I feel that way is because they also decided to give her a full team of heroes to work with which is deeply confusing. If they really wanted to go the Marinette-is-the-only-real-hero route, then we should have never gotten any additional heroes beyond Ladybug and Chat Noir. Keep Chat Noir as the comedy sidekick and let Ladybug use all of the other miraculous as powerups without ever handing them out.

After all, when it comes down to their actual role in the narrative, most of the team feels like nothing more than a powerup since they basically just do whatever Ladybug tells them to do. Outside of Viperion and Bunnyx, there's no reason why Ladybug can't just dual, triple, or quadruple wield. This is extra true because they took the time to tell us that Marinette is able to wield more miraculous than most people and then... never really did anything with that. Why have a line like this one from Kwamibuster if you're never going to have Marinette do more than the occasional dual wield?

Master Fu: No Miraculous owner in all of history has ever been mentally and physically strong enough to use that many Miraculous at the same time. Wayzz: Marinette truly is special, Master.

Switching from a team back to a duo would also fix the awkwardness of Adrien's writing as that really wasn't a problem back in season one. The hero who does all the cool stuff and their wacky comedy sidekick who keeps things fun is a classic setup for a reason!

[rainbowchaox]

Why Pissa Works: Qsmp Analysis Essay

This is more of an analysis of the relationship in general and why it’s so important to understanding both Missa and Phil as characters. And it’s a disgrace if you ignore their relationship as it’s very important to their characters. I already delved into them as characters but I miss them and therefore I want to dissect the dynamic in this essay. And why it works so well. This time I am having some help from friends to give me their thoughts on them as well. As they are as “normal” about them like me.

At the start no one really knew what sort of longing and pining and loyalty that would spawn from what is practically a random lottery. Missa and Phil being together was fate. I think no other pairing would have clicked so well for Missa or Phil. They were sorta destined to be together to be husband’s. But no one could have guessed how important they would be to each other. No one would have guessed how important this random lottery would be.

When they were paired. They immediately clicked. They immediately joked and laughed. They had fun together. And that was the spark for their relationship to blossom from. They were THE couple. Everyone was jealous of them. They were disgustingly happy. And there was always a GREAT something between them from Day 1. There’s reasons why Chayanne and eventually Tallulah are so protective over their marriage. But even then, they were just cute. They didn’t have the extra something that changed us for the better and the worse. What really made Pissa so special. Until……

The four months of utter pain. Of yearning. Of everyone accepting that things might be over before things really could blossom. But it wasn’t the end for someone. It never was the end for Phil. Time is different for someone touched by death. “Phil is patient and doesn’t take breaks between meetings as difficulties. Their relationship will never sour. When Missa is there, he picks up where they left off.” an excerpt from my talks with Ash. And she is completely correct. I have mentioned this plenty of times in my previous essays about their characters. But Phil doesn’t mind he has to wait for Missa. Time passes differently for immortals. But also Missa just being Missa has long acquired his loyalty. Something hard to get but harder to lose.

And it’s because of Phil utter loyalty and willingness to wait that their dynamic really was able to bloom. Missa took his heart. The less Phil can do is wait. Because when Missa does Phil always has so much fun with him. Missa always reminds Phil why he stays loyal to him. Missa is JUST so good. Phil can see that.

Phil always had valid reason to move on from Missa especially during the four months. No one knew he would return. And he almost gave up hope by the end. But throughout the four months he mentioned him, he looked at skulls all sad, and he yearned for him. And when he came back? He was so happy. He never blamed Missa but you can tell he wants to spend time with him more. You can tell he missed him. You can miss someone being gone and not hate him. He just missed his husband.

“Missa also rolls with the punches a lot, when Phil says there's a new kid, Missa takes that and immediately bonds with Tallulah, when something crazy happens, Missa is there to eventually bring a smile to his family faces. They both don't get hung up on the craziness in between.” As quoted directly from my friend Ash. She is right. This right here is what changed the pissa dynamic for the better. Phil notices things and he noticed how kind and wonderful Missa is. Phil remembers others kindness.

Missa is always on his family side. Phil can depend on him always. So of course he is also Tallulah father. Missa was happy to take that responsibility. Missa is there to bring a smile to his family even in the rainiest of days. He is there when they need time to just enjoy living instead of surviving. Which is addicting to a man that only knew how to survive. Theres reasons why Phil fell for Missa.

Phil doesn’t verbalize his emotions. He is always a show not tell type of character. But it’s clear to anyone he adores missa. He stares at skulls missing him. He has his obession with giant Missa. He always has a place for Missa in his home. He collects Missa art like shinnies. He is so darn possessive of him. He loves Missa so much and it’s clear through his actions.

Missa also brings him great comfort in general. Missa is similar to him in the ways that matter but his complete opposite in other ways. Phil is emotionally repressed while Missa emotions bleed out like ink. Phil is skilled in fighting and surviving while Missa is best at music and art. Not skills you really need to survive.

So they always had this sweet dynamic and it grew with patience, with love, and a healthy dose of yearning on both sides. Enjoying each other when they are able. Soaking each other affection and love. But then Purgatory happened.

And they got spilt up. And this caused both to realize they just didn’t love each other. But they needed each other. Flaws and all. And that they definitely couldn’t harm each other. That they always been each other homes. They needed to separate to realize how important the other is. They both had their realizations. And post-purgatory we did see an uptick in very affectionate pissa.

And it was beautiful to see how their relationship has grown. But then Prison happened. And they fully showed everyone how much they care about each other. Phil and the kids just soaking Missa being present. Them being so happy despite in actual prison. Phil being possessive over Missa. Phil and Missa finally kissing (numerous times).

Purgatory may have made them realize they needed each other but prison made them realize they wanted each other. They wanted to be a family. They wanted to be happy. And it made both of them selfish. Which was they always sorta wanted.

They say I love you with every glance. They say I love you with every tired cuddle. They say I love you with every smile. They say I love you when they are watching the kids sleep. They say I love you protecting each other. They say I love you finally letting the others see them vulnerable. They don’t need to use words. They know they love each other. And that’s beautiful. No wonder why we are so “normal” about their sweet relationship.

[cobaltperun]

Lost (13) - Easier to run

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Warning for this chapter: I don't go into details, but the ending might be a bit, uncomfortable.

Word count: 4.8k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-Just washing it aside all of the helplessness inside pretending I don't feel misplaced is so much simpler than change-

Everyone who knew you and Tara for more than a day would likely say Tara was the one exception to your every rule. That all Tara had to do to get something from you would be to simply ask. There were plenty of activities that were only permitted to Tara. From stealing your clothes, in her defense they were comfy, and she felt like you were hugging her whenever she wore them, all the way to interrupting your training for valid, though admittedly silly, reasons. What? She needed her kisses and hugs!

Well, those people had no idea what they were talking about because all the tricks in the books weren't making you give in.

"Come on, Y/N," Tara was getting desperate at this point. Puppy eyes, which she almost never had to resort to in the first place didn't help, and all the other options she used failed just as spectacularly, for there was one thing you didn’t let Tara do, no matter how much you loved her. She pleaded, begged, she bargained, she tried seduction, promised things that made you smile at the mere thought of them, promised things that made you a flustered mess. Yet none of those methods worked. "Please! I'll do anything you want, or let you do anything you want," her pleading went unanswered as you got in your car.

"If you loved me, you'd do this for me," a low blow, but she was getting desperate. She wanted to drive, that looked like so much fun, and it’s been a while since she last drove!

You lowered your window and looked at Tara with the flattest look she had ever seen on your face. "Tara, you're not driving my car, now get in," she had no idea, but both of you had the same thought going through your heads. 'I have the most stubborn girlfriend ever.'

"You let Sam drive it," Tara grumbled when she relented and got in the passenger seat.

"I was injured! You can drive it if I'm dying or high on painkillers!" you exclaimed, clearly getting riled up over Tara's insistence on driving your precious car. Tara couldn't help herself, she grinned at your reaction. There was just something inherently appealing and maybe even a bit exciting in knowing that regardless of how much she pushed your buttons you'd only get annoyed and even then, you'd calm down after a bit of making out. So, while she really wanted to drive to Sacramento, getting you riled up would have to do.

Only... she just realized she couldn't make out with you while you were driving, and driving alone would calm you down. Tara was getting nothing out of half an hour's worth of effort.

Shit.

She guessed she could at least give you silent treatment for a bit. You were driving anyway, and not liking to talk while driving wasn’t limited to just phone, you didn’t like talking at all. You loved listening, and Tara happily talked throughout the entire rides, with you providing minimal verbal response. Honestly, she loved that about you, because you were a really careful driver, and she never had to worry about you as far as that was concerned.

“Come on, surely you’re not still moody over not driving?” you spoke up fifteen minutes after you left Woodsboro.

Tara hummed and turned her head to the side, pretending to ignore you. You huffed and she had to cover her mouth with her hand to hide the smirk on her face.

“Okay, okay, be moody. I guess we aren’t going to stop by that nice place on the side of the road, the one with that kiwi flavored ice cream you loved so much,” you had to be smirking, you absolutely had to be smirking. She heard it in your voice, you tease.

“Fine, fine, I’m not moody anymore,” she raised her hands and turned to look at you, after all, you did promise to stop by for kiwi ice cream.

“That’s my girl!” your smirk shifted into a happy grin causing Tara to blush.

~X~

Ever since choosing Blackmore University as the next step in your education, you made sure you went to Sacramento to visit Susan at least once a month, and Tara made sure she was with you every single time. In a week you'd be leaving Woodsboro so it wouldn't be as easy to travel from New York to Sacramento whenever you wanted to. So, that's how you ended up in Susan's guest bedroom with Tara getting ready to go to bed.

The fact that Tara was the one sleeping closer to the doors was enough proof of how the two of you felt regarding Susan. Right now, you and Tara were sitting on the bed, just about ready to lie down and sleep.

"I'm proud of you two, and yes, I already said that, and I'm going to keep saying that," Susan smiled, it felt good to hear someone say that, especially since it was directed at Tara too.

"Thank you," you glanced at Tara, noticing a small blush dusting her cheeks.

Every time Susan did something that made Tara feel welcomed and loved you couldn't help but like the woman just a bit more than before. "Thanks, mo-" you froze, your eyes wide as you realized what word nearly slipped past your lips.

You could feel your face burning as you wished for the ground to open and swallow you. Or for a bolt of lightning to strike you. Or anything, really, that could save you from embarrassment. Unconsciously you dropped down to the bed, behind Tara, thus hiding at least your face behind her.

A soft chuckle made you reach out and pull Tara closer to you as the bed muffled your embarrassed groan. "Good night," Susan closed the doors behind her.

Tara giggled, enjoying your unfortunate slip of the tongue. "Y/N," she pulled away from you, but only so she could lie down next to you and pull your head to her chest. "It's okay," she whispered softly, gently massaging the back of your head. "It was cute," she was enjoying this a bit too much.

"I'll never recover from embarrassment," you complained, even if you felt a bit better now.

"You're adorable when you get embarrassed," Tara actually cooed, only increasing the embarrassment you felt.

"No, I'm not. I'm an MMA fighter," you were a fighter, always ready for a brawl, proven to be one of the strongest female fighters in the world without even reaching your peak. You were not going to take this.

Tara shifted so she was face to face with you. "I don't see how one excludes the other, you're my adorable MMA fighter," the soft kisses were definitely making you just take it.

"You're lucky I love you," you playfully warned when Tara stopped kissing you for a moment.

"Oh, I know," there was a mischievous glint in Tara's eyes. Frankly, any other time this would probably escalate further, but you were at Susan's house and the mere idea of going further than kissing and cuddling felt strange, so, Tara just snuggled up to you and closed her eyes, content and happy to be here with you.

~X~

She made a mistake.

She made a terrible, awful, ridiculously stupid, mistake!

Why did she want to drive so much in the first place? Oh, yeah, because she hasn’t driven in a long time and really wanted to do it. Well, you let her drive on the way back and the car was absolutely, a hundred percent, against her. Shifting gears felt like being tossed back and forth, and why, just why did you have to go for a manual car instead of an automatic one? Sure they were cheaper, but still! Something told her you would still choose a manual car over an automatic even if you had more money.

“I’m so sorry,” Tara narrowed her eyes as she noticed you rubbing the audio system gently as if you were apologizing to your car. Actually, you were apologizing to it. And Tara felt her eye twitch at that.

You’ll see when she gets out of the city. And then she had to stop at a traffic light, on an incline. “Oh, shit,” she muttered, trying to remember what she needed to do. In her defense she didn’t have a car, and the last time she drove was almost three years ago. Maybe you had a point when you didn’t let her drive your car.

“What?” you turned to look at her and noticing her panic you placed a hand on her shoulder. “Easy Tara, you’ve got this,” she nodded, for all the complaints and refusal to let her drive you still had faith in her that she could do this. That calmed her down and she pulled the handbreak and relaxed until the traffic light turned green. She gently released the clutch and pressed the gas and lowered the handbreak, getting the car to move again. She let out a sigh and smiled as you placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly, and she didn’t need to look at you to know you were smiling. And the rest of the ride, well, it wasn’t smooth, but she didn’t feel nervous. You were next to her, and well, Tara would be the first to admit she kinda sucked at the whole driving thing, but everything turned out fine.

She parked like a pro in front of your apartment building. She still remembered getting into trouble with Judy when you were teaching her how to drive. She let you off the hook only if you promised to keep your lessons on the parking lots, and with your patience Tara learnt how to park perfectly. The driving part… well, not so much. You tried, you really did, after she got her driver license, but by that point you were already living in your apartment, working and actively preparing for your first fight, so Tara wanted to spend what time you had together doing something other than driving. “Home sweet home,” she said and stepped out of the car, you could have it back, she drove enough for a while.

~X~

Leaving Woodsboro and coming to New York, was, perhaps, the best decision you could make, especially for Tara. She was happy, relaxed, even excited, it was like she was being completely free for the first time in her life. Free from her mother, her past, from everything negative related to Woodsboro.

Nothing told you Tara was feeling better as well as the way you woke up that morning. It would be an understatement to say it was a surprise to wake up in your new apartment with Tara drawing random shapes on your left forearm with the tip of her finger.

Ever since Tara was attacked when the two of you slept together the two of you either spooned or slept in the same position as you were in this morning, with Tara's head on your chest, and your arms protectively around her. Cradle position, or something like that, Tara once told you.

"Hey, Love," you rasped, still a bit sleepy.

Tara leaned up, kissing the right side of your jaw. "Good morning, Y/N," you felt her smiling as she peppered kisses along your jaw. "We've got a long day ahead of us," she reminded you, though with the way she nuzzled into your neck you figured she wasn't too eager to get up.

"Let's see, we're meeting that girl who answered our ad for a roommate, Sam has a job interview, I have first MMA classes," Thomas really saved your ass with that. He paid well, maybe even too well, it wasn't a full-time job, and you could use it to stay in shape as well. Because of how well he paid Sam would only need to work one job, instead of two that she was planning on. Tara could focus on studying, besides, with her asthma job options were even more limited. If she wanted to get a job eventually neither you nor Sam would stop her, but she deserved to take it easy at least for a year.

You also retired with quite a bit of money from the deal to retire quietly and the two fights you had. You considered investing it in something but figured it would be smarter to wait for a bit and see how things worked out in New York.

"Mhm, and we have to go do some shopping, mostly for our kitchen," Tara reminded you. That would be a bit of an annoyance since Sam just had to insist on getting the top floor, no elevator in the building, apartment.

"I still can't believe there are so many stairs in this building, or that we actually have rooms now. And a kitchen. That isn't connected to the living room and bedroom. And two damn bathrooms. And three bedrooms. We have a separate dining area, Tara, a proper dining area with a table!" having spent almost three years in a cramped apartment made this feel surreal. Even the damn bed you were sleeping in was bigger now!

Tara laughed, tickling you slightly with her breath. "You can actually work out here," she teased you.

"That too!" you eagerly agreed. Finally, you could get rid of any nervous energy without heading to the gym. Granted, you didn’t have to do it that often, but just the fact that you could do it was enough. “And you can’t complain about that. Remember what you did the last time I did push-ups?”

Tara nodded, raising her head, and nibbling on your ear lightly. “Mhm, I sat on your back,” and she sounded so damn proud of that.

A knock on the door got your attention before you could reply to that. "Are you two decent?" Sam's voice came from the other side.

"Yeah!" Tara immediately said as she lowered her head back down and stopped teasing you. And you were decent, clothes on, room clean, you were just still in bed. Still, after Sam barely avoided catching the two of you in a not-quite-decent state she got into a habit of asking before entering. And you were thankful for that, because while you deeply cared about Sam, neither you nor Tara wanted her to walk in on you. And Sam was just as disturbed by the idea, so this was truly the best option.

"I was about to head to the store, do you need anything?" Sam asked, smiling when she saw Tara so happy this early in the morning.

Tara shook her head. "I'm good, thanks Sam."

"Same here, I'll get the breakfast ready when you come back," honestly, you got used to Sam living with you and Tara really quickly. It almost made you sorry someone else, a stranger nonetheless, was about to join the three of you.

"I'll be back soon," Sam left the two of you and you stretched a bit before finally getting up.

"You two are going to spoil me," Tara sat up as well, yawning slightly.

You took the T-shirt you slept in off and went to the wardrobe to get a clean shirt. "Nothing wrong with that, Love," besides, it wasn't like Tara didn't do anything, she had her own chores, it's just that they usually didn’t involve cooking, though she did cook every now and then, or cleaning that could trigger her asthma.

“Mhm, how about I spoil you as well?” she came up behind you, got on her tiptoes and kissed your neck, her hands sliding up your arms.

You turned around, capturing her lips in a quick kiss. “What did you have in mind?” you lifted her up, smirking teasingly as she pulled back and hugged you.

“How about we watch your favorite movie, and I’ll order our favorite snacks and food, so you don’t have to cook tonight?” she asked, and your eyes lit up at that. She could definitely spoil you like that.

~X~

You were late. Thomas took up some of your time to talk about the first classes you taught as well as to catch up a bit. After everything he did you kind of couldn't just leave. Besides, Tara and Sam were meeting this girl, Quinn Bailey if you remembered correctly, in public, far enough from the apartment. Her dad was a cop, so that made it easier to drop your guard a bit.

As long as Tara and Sam were fine with the girl, you were sure you'd be fine with her too. If you were being completely honest, if Quinn managed to convince Sam she was harmless she was almost definitely in.

The bar Sam chose was busy, though not crowded, especially at this hour. People came and went, stopping by to get their coffee or to get out of the heat, but no one really stayed more than necessary. You came inside and looked around until you finally noticed Tara. When you joined Tara, Sam, and who you assumed was Quinn, you quickly leaned down to kiss Tara's cheek, gave Sam a brief one-armed hug, and only then offered your hand to Quinn. "Y/N L/N, sorry I'm late," you said.

Quinn accepted the handshake. "Damn, and I thought Sam was jacked, but look at you," she whistled as you sat down next to Tara.

Well, it wasn't the first time someone noticed your muscles, but the girl in front of you was pretty much ogling you right now. "Right, moving on," not the best first impression, but you could brush it off. Tara, who was frowning, probably wouldn't though.

"Where's the rush? I wouldn't mind having some fun," what was this woman trying to accomplish? You really couldn't figure it out. Was she trying to piss Tara off or something?

"Well, have fun. Without me," you reached down underneath the table to rub circles into Tara's right palm. Feeling the way she squeezed your hand it was the right decision.

"Life, I have found, is about variety, Y/N," she leaned in, reaching over toward your hand.

"Mine is about one person," you pulled your hand back before she could touch it. Tara loosened her hold on your hand, but still leaned a bit closer. You could see she was glaring daggers at Quinn and Sam didn't appreciate it either.

Quinn had a bit of a frown on her face, but it quickly changed and she began laughing. "I'm just joking with you, though I really wouldn't mind taking a closer look," she openly ogled you.

Tara faked a cough. "Well, I'm not. I'm sorry we wasted your time Quinn," there was no need for Tara to finish that sentence.

Quinn had the guts to look shocked. "Are you serious right now?"

"Absolutely," Sam took Tara's side and you just shrugged, as if to tell her 'Well, what did you expect would happen?'

"Unbelievable," Quinn pretty much stormed off.

"Do we really need a roommate? The extra bedroom can be used if Chad or Mindy decide to sleep over," Tara voiced what all three of you were thinking.

"That's probably the best option," Sam agreed, help with rent would have been welcome, but you could manage without it.

"You won't catch me complaining, that's for sure," you were definitely in favor of keeping the apartment to just the three of you. Not to mention it was the safest option.

"Speaking of the apartment, let's go back," Tara was already up and pulling you along. Sam still had her job interview, so it would just be you and Tara.

Kitchen equipment shopping could clearly wait, as you could see she was still pissed off by the time you reached the building, so you picked her up bridal style. "Don't tell me you're jealous," you eventually asked and grinned as Tara placed her arm on your back.

"I'm not," she huffed as she unlocked your apartment.

She locked the doors behind you two and you went right to the bedroom. "What is it then?" you asked and lowered her down on the bed,

"You're mine," okay, that sounded way more possessive than you were used to from Tara. She said you were hers every now and then, usually when you were making love, this time though her tone was different. This wasn't born of passion, or said in the heat of the moment, this was pure jealousy.

"So, you are jealous," you sighed, letting her pull you in until you were pressing against her.

"Of course I am. She, she just-" Tara huffed and let go of you, spreading her arms on the bed. You immediately recognized the mood swings from right after the attack. Your best guess was that this one was caused by Quinn attempting to take you from Tara.

"Tara," you slowly kissed her neck, gradually making your way up to her lips. "I'm yours. The only variety I want to consider is the variety of ways I can make you say my name," you grinned a bit as you heard Tara's breath hitch.

No fourth roommate. Just the three of you. With Woodsboro left behind. It felt like nothing could go wrong. You should have known better. You should have noticed Tara was too focused on ignoring Woodsboro.

You should have realized Tara was running away from what happened the moment you caught her covering the scar on her hand.

You only realized it two months after you came to New York when she first disappeared.

~X~

She may have had a bit too much to drink tonight. That might be a bit difficult to explain in the morning. Where was she anyway? She felt nauseous, but she still drank whatever alcohol was currently in her cup. Who exactly brought her here anyway? She was at one party, then somehow ended up at another one. Maybe. At this point, she was too drunk to know for sure.

How was she going to get home?

Oh well, problems for later.

She felt hands on her waist. The grip was strong. You? No, no, it was too firm, too forceful. She stumbled back, her head clearing enough to vaguely recognize a guy who was at the first party.

"What's wrong? You want this, right?"

She heard the words, but she couldn't quite understand them. The alcohol was making it very hard to stay steady on her feet. Oh, this was a mistake.

"No," she slurred, a lot like how her mother would and for a moment she felt disgusted by her behavior.

The guy laughed, clearly not believing her. "I'll take good care of you, don't worry about it."

Even as drunk as she was she felt her blood run cold. "Y/N," you weren't there, you weren't with her. She imagined your voice, telling her to breathe, angry at her, but more than anything worried about her asthma.

There was a crash and what sounded like wood cracking and then she felt safe. She felt the fresh air against her cheeks, strong arms holding her close, protecting her from anything and anyone. "I got you Tara, I got you," she heard and fell asleep in your arms.

~X~

You came back to the apartment when it was almost midnight, with Tara completely passed out due to who knows how much alcohol she drank. Sam met you at the doors, her legs too shaky to let her meet you outside. You weren't doing much better, you had hundreds of worst-case scenarios running through your head.

Sam reached out to Tara when you stopped at the front door. She shakily touched Tara's cheek, then lowered her hand to wipe a bit of drool coming out of Tara's mouth.

"Y/N...?" there was a silent question in the way Sam said your name. You saw fear in her eyes, and you were sure it was in your eyes as well.

"I think I made it in time," she nodded when you said that, leaving the unspoken question to hang in the air. The terrifying possibility that might happen if Tara doesn’t stop doing this. You didn't say it, and neither did Sam, but when you lowered Tara on the bed as gently as you possibly could Sam stepped out. So, you checked, just in case. Just in case you had to immediately get back to that damned house and murder anyone still there.

Luckily, you don't need to do that. Your hands trembled as you put your shirt on Tara and you released a muffled cry of relief when Tara just curled up, peacefully sleeping in your bed. "God damn it, Tara," you stumbled to the dining room, where Sam is expecting you. "Everything's fine," you fell apart the moment you dropped into the chair.

You pressed your hands against your eyes as you began sobbing uncontrollably. For hours you managed to hold it in, and now it all came crashing down upon you. You tried to keep it down, to be as silent as possible, but all those efforts resulted in coughs and gasps as more sobs tore through your body.

Sam was no different. shaking and crying her heart out and you just stumbled over to her and pulled her closer. And she let you, she clung to you in a way that reminded you of Tara. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, or how long it took for tears to dry up. You just feel lighter when you separated from Sam.

"We owe Anika," you finally said, your voice cracking and hoarse, you were tired from all the crying.

Sam nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment.

You realized Tara was gone when, around nine p.m. you called Mindy to see why Tara wasn't answering her phone. And then all hell broke loose because Tara wasn't with Mindy or Chad, and she wasn't answering her phone. So, it turned into an all-out search. Driving from one party to another until Mindy called you an hour and a half later. Anika saw Tara at a party and before Anika could do anything Tara left with all the wrong people.

It took slamming a man into the wall to get the address. Miles away from where you were. Miles away from your apartment. So, you drove even more recklessly than you did when you were trying to catch up to Sam.

And you found Tara.

And you wouldn't be surprised if you broke more than a couple of bones at that house.

And you called Sam to tell her the moment you lowered Tara onto the backseat of your car.

And you brought Tara back home.

And she was fine.

Just so damn drunk she barely even registered you were there.

You'd deal with Tara's recklessness first thing in the morning. Right now, you just needed to go to bed and hold her. So, you did just that, you didn’t even have to pull her closer, because the moment you slipped under the covers, she instinctively moved closer to you.

“Y/N,” she mumbled, still drunk and asleep.

You just sighed and wrapped your arms around her holding her close so you wouldn’t fall apart once again.

~X~

Her head was killing her, and she moved closer to you, hoping that would help her go back to sleep, but it wasn’t working, she had one hell of a hangover and wasn’t feeling that good. Slowly she blinked, adjusting to the light and then she looked at your face. Tara’s eyes widened as she realized you were crying.

You… she never saw you crying before, and yet you cried last night. And then the memories of what happened came back, making her feel nauseous. She drank too much, didn’t answer her phone, went to a party to a part of town she didn’t even know, and she remembered the look on that guy’s face, the realization that she wasn’t safe and then you came and got her out of there. Tara swallowed the lump in her throat and hugged you tighter.

She messed up, she knew that, but the alcohol made her forget about Woodsboro, about everything that happened. She just wanted to be a normal teenager, to go out to parties, to not live in the past and let those three days define her.

And with the freedom she just now found she didn’t know when or how to stop.

A/N: Honestly, I think Tara was mostly fine in Woodsboro, but then New York gives her all the opportunities to pretend nothing wrong happened, and we gradually reach Scream 6 Tara from the party.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

[byemambo]

4Minutes EP. 3 - My Takeaways

I went back and skimmed through the previous episodes 1 and 2 (which I've already posted my takeaways for in the previous weeks) to confirm a few thoughts I have now that I finished episode 3.

Tyme's Temperament (Childhood Trauma)

I found this small exchange between Tyme and Great to be pretty insightful in terms of how Tyme's attitude affects his every day outlook on life. This seems to be a common trope in films and TV (especially in thriller/crime genres) where a main character has motives to avenge the death of their parents, which I'd assume would be the case with Tyme as well as the series goes on and we're given more context to why Tyme is caught up in Great's family organized crime scheme. Given that his motivation for being a surgeon isn't rooted in being a contributing member to society through hospitality but by making ends meet for him and his grandmother, it's no surprise that Tyme's attitude towards his patients is distant and impersonal. This dissociation can also stem from experiencing a huge loss at a young age, and putting the burden of financial responsibility onto himself.

We see this by a shift in Den's disdain for Tyme's lack of empathy towards his patients by going against their wishes for the mere sake of not letting his patient die, which we can already see this dependence Tyme has with being unable to let go and allow the laws of nature to run its course. Given that this seems to be a recurring theme of Tyme's from how Den's attitude was when reminding Tyme of the patient's name, we hope that his story arc will consist of Tyme learning what it means to "let go," especially because he's taught himself for many decades to "hold on."

Win and Tonkla (Your Wish is My Command)

The way these two establish their relationship in this episode isn't surprising to me, but what became evident was the juxtaposition in how Tonkla's treated by Korn and by Win. Korn became someone who shoves Tonkla to the side, someone who he had successfully hid away from his personal life and making a deliberate choice to keep a distance from him. This lack of communication burdens Tonkla to a point of heightening his grief, which we know how corrupted it is for officials to rendezvous with victims of a case assigned to them, but ultimately sparks codependency between Win and Tonkla, which Tonkla relied on Korn for until he became an after thought mourning the death of his younger brother (thank goodness Dome is alive btw). The stark difference between Win's approach versus Korn's is simple: fulfilling the wishes of Tonkla. Although we've only seen this exchange occur during the heat of sex, we see Tonkla ask the same of both people (fuck me raw?), Korn saying nothing while protecting himself while Win speaks up for the sake of their safety. However, this will become a losing game if Tonkla still seeks validation from Korn, pushing him beyond his limits and may contribute to harming the individual that we saw in the opening of episode 2. I also want to know whether or not this will heavily affect Win's desire to help Tonkla with his younger brother's case, revealing his chief to be one who's accepted bribes in the past and has a strong sense of justice.

Great Documents the Timeline

Thank you for Great having a head on his shoulders and taking the time to document his findings on how his visions and powers work, giving us a chance as the audience to continue with our own theories and assumptions. I don't really have any plausible reasons for what each minute in Great's visions represent just yet, but I'm leaning towards each time Great and Tyme make a decision significant in keeping their paths crossed.

When it was 11:00 - Great runs into Tyme in the ward after leaving flowers for the patient. When it was 11:01 - Right after Great and Tyme exchange phone numbers. When it was 11:02 - Great finds Tyme attacking his brother, but is revealed his true identity when confronted outside the lounge.

Foreshadowing

I found the inclusion of the message "Can you forgive me Great?" to be the most interesting in the entire episode: because the message only becomes important once we're revealed that Tyme is connected to Nan, the woman who infiltrated the crime scheme and sending evidence back who we can assume right now is either Tyme or the police investigators. But then it makes me wonder: how is Tyme associated with her, is he more than a regular surgeon at the hospital with a connection to the police or is he actually a part of the police which is already iffy for me because if he's also an undercover investigator AND surgeon good fucking god...? Are both of them individuals who are outside of the police investigation as it seems Win isn't aware of their participation as a potential fellow investigator? Since Win was forced to step down from Tonkla's brother's case (I can only assume it's treated separately from the gambling investigation), does that mean he will invest more into the online gambling case since now not only was there a hacker and shareholder mole involved in episode 2, but now we have Nan being held hostage (which I'm still unsure of whether she's working directly with Tyme or with the investigators as well)?

Honorable Mentions: Meeting Between the Two Visionaries

I'm curious to know how Den will set up his patient with Great, since he's been doing extensive research into their prospects. Will they meet in person beforehand: have they already met in his "gallery" that Great described it as when he wrote down his findings? Will this "gallery" be a recurring setting we will encounter as the series progressed (since it's featured in the trailer and teaser photos prior to the first episode's release?) And I just rewatched the trailer again: I'll still be shocked if Tyme is actually undercover while still doing his doctoral duties cause that'd be a little insane to me...

[yourmomxx]

Hotch X plus size reader? I need some self-representation and don’t have enough energy to write myself yet.

a/n: anon, I got you! I threw in some insecurity/reassurance, because you said you wanted representation and if it’s not about that topic, I always try to angle my writing in a way that it fits for (women) of all body types and races..thank you for your request, I hope you like this!!

Aaron knew that something was wrong when you didn’t throw in commenting remarks while you were curled up by his side, you both slouching on the couch in the living room, watching The Nanny.

He didn’t say anything about it, he let you be, thought you might have just had an exhausting day at work and weren’t currently in the mood or condition to interact with anyone.

He knew those days.

Aaron knew, that if there was something obviously bothering you, you would tell him about it, you always did.

But when Cece and Niles started going at it on the TV screen, verbally slapping each other around without ever so much as raising a finger and even his mouth broke into a slight grin, and you still weren’t reacting to any of it, he wondered.

Without saying anything, Aaron reached for the remote and put the TV on mute. It was only when the continuous background noise suddenly stopped, that you looked up from where you had been intensely focused on fidgeting your fingers, and furrowed your eyebrows in question.

“Why did you turn off the sound?” You asked him, voice smaller than usual, although he was sure you thought you were great at concealing that something was bothering you.

Aaron signed and adjusted himself in-between the cushions. He made sure you stayed tucked into his side, though.

He nudged your head with his nose. “Tell me,” he murmured lowly, “what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

You bit the inside of your cheek and did your best to avoid his eyes.

“I fucking hate profilers, you know that?” You grumbled. Aaron’s chest shivered as he let out a quiet laugh.

“So,” His free hand grabbed for your chin and tilted it to focus on him, his thumb slowly smoothing out your eyebrows. “Tell me. You know I will listen.”

You sighed. Honestly, there was no point in denying it anymore. You knew how your boyfriend valued the subject of communication in your relationship, and also now that he knew that something was plaguing your thoughts, there was really no way to escape.

You had really thought you’d done a good job at hiding it, that something obviously had you troubled.

But apparently not well enough for Aaron.

You always asked yourself if his job was the reason why he was able to see through your facade that easy, or if your facade was simply that easy to see through.

“Look, it’s just-“ You picked up the habit of fidgeting your fingers again, “-I know I shouldn’t even think like that, because it’s childish, and stupid, and pathetic, and -“

“Hey, hey, hey.” Aaron pulled you closer into him. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You hear me? Whatever you feel, it cannot be either of those things, because it is your feeling, and as such, it is valid. Do you understand me?”

You couldn’t do more than nod. The question of how you deserved someone as kind as him made the knot in your throat only grow tighter.

Your hands were much easier to look at than his face. You felt like a sinner confessing.

“It’s just that-“ You started, embarrassment and self-consciousness weighing heavy on your chest, “I’ve been thinking, for a while now. And when we go out, with your friends, and I see someone like Emily Prentiss, who could probably run a ten mile sprint right now if I asked her to, or JJ, who had a child and still looks like she could get hired by every second modeling agency, I-“

You blinked away tears, but even though the hot fluids didn’t run down your cheeks, the way your voice trembled and broke was enough evidence that they were there.

“And when I’m alone with my mind at night, or literally any time, I start to think about it, and I think, I never could be them. And I ask myself, why would you be here, and why would you stay with me, with someone like me, if you had women like them as an option? And I know that’s not fair to you, but even everytime I watch TV, I am reminded that I am not one of those stereotypically pretty women, and it just messes with me so, so much.”

Now, the tears were flowing. Big, salty drops were trickling down your cheeks, taking chunks of mascara down with them.

You didn’t care in that moment.

Aaron just held you closer.

It felt good, to cry, for the first time in a long time. It was cliché, but it felt relieving.

Aaron waited. He was good at doing that, and you appreciated it.

It took a short while for your sniffles to die down, and for you to shakily accept the tissue that your boyfriend was handing you, but you managed.

Aaron brushed a stray tear off your cheek and pressed a barely there kiss on the top of your head.

“Are you ready to listen to me, sweetheart?” He asked.

You took a deep breath.

“Because if you want to continue making points on how Hollywood makes biased casting choices, then I’m fine with that, too.”

You couldn’t help the shaky chuckle escaping your throat at his words.

When you didn’t make a move to say anything, your boyfriend slowly pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and let his thumb trace soft patterns on where it rested on your shoulder.

"I want to reassure you that there is nothing, and I mean nothing, that you have to worry about. Not when it comes to your appearance, my co-workers, women I see on the street, or, most importantly, my feelings for you."

You opened your mouth, but Aaron forestalled you.

"I know that you didn't mean to tell me you doubted me, but I want to tell you anyways. Y/N, what I want is to grow old with you. To spend every last minute of my day coming home to you, having you in my arms. Looks wither, and therefore would never be the reason for me to fall in love with you or perceive you as beautiful merely on them."

“Yes, but the way someone looks is the first way one notices about them, if they want to or not!”

Aaron shook his head.

“No, the first thing I noticed about you was that you ran into me and spilled brewing hot coffee all over my suit,” Aaron corrected you. “And then continued to pay the bill for my coffee for a whole month after that, even though I told you it was fine.”

You dipped your head in thought. It’s true, you had done that. Every time you’d come into the small coffee shop, the barista had already known to bill your coffee, and Aaron’s on top of it.

Until someday, you both walked in at the same time, together.

“Do you hear me?” Aaron continued, “I don’t mean to invalidate the way you feel, but I want you to understand, that, from me, you have nothing to worry about. Because, after a long day, or days, of work with Prentiss, and with JJ, it is you I come home to, and happily so. It is you who I will get down on my knee for at a beautiful, private beach on a day when it’s neither to warm nor to cold, because I know it is exactly what you want. It’s you who I want to fall asleep next to, and wake up next to again, and who I would skip a day of work for just so I could stay longer in bed with you. And I know I said looks don't matter to me, because don't get me wrong, they don't, but you are singlehandedly the most beautiful woman I have ever come across the entire time I have spent in this world. Now maybe call me biased, because I love you so much, but I don't care. Do you understand me?”

You craned your neck the slightest bit to look him in the eye, and his hey held so much sincerity and passion - for you - that you couldn’t do anything else than believe in what he said.

You sniffled slightly and nodded as an answer to him.

“I’m afraid I need to hear you say it,” Aaron said.

Another shaky nod. “I understand.”

“Good.” Aaron leaned closer and pressed a kiss to your lips, and your muscles slumped together at the comfort and the exhaustion, and a sigh escapes from your mouth into his even as he broke away.

“Now please, come on.” Aaron stood up from the couch and rested his hand on your cheek, lips leaned in close to yours as he whispered, “Let me show you how beautiful I think you are.” Another soft kiss.

“Until you believe me.”

—

“Here’s the file about the Colorado murders you wanted me to get you.” Without knocking, David Rossi strutted into Aaron Hotchner’s office, because it’s simply what he always did.

Aaron barely raised his head to shoot him a brief thanks as he dropped a beige folder on his desk.

Rossi was almost out the door, when Hotch spoke up again and stopped him.

“Dave, do you happen to know how far our authority range reaches?”

David Rossi stopped in his tracks, one eyebrow raised suspiciously at his friend’s odd question.

“I don’t think we’ll get the President to destroy his big, red button,” He responded, “But the answer to that question really depends on what you’re asking for.”

Hotch dipped his head slowly. “Well, let’s say, maybe … Hollywood?”