#and none of the coming out stuff and education stuff

[blackfilmmakers]

So communities of color just don’t have gay people, teachers, and artists now I guess

Anyways, pick your poison

[bendgineer]

I think one of the reasons the Harris / Walz ticket has so much momentum is because the campaign is genuinely trying to put out this vibe of fun. Like that's all the "brat" thing is, the coconut jokes, just being kind of silly and fun.

And I think it's working, because let's be real, we are all exhausted. It's been all about preserving democracy, defeating fascism, the past eight years. The message has been "vote for us because the country is literally on the line". The vibes are not good when we are stuck back at that fight, and not even discussing trying to make progress on things like housing, healthcare, education, etc. And the fight to just stop fascism? All still true. Project 2025 is real and is extremely scary. We can't let that man back into office.

But the vibe was "vote for us otherwise we're all fucked :(" and now has shifted to "get in, we're making popcorn and then bullying fascists." Like a lot of the issues conservatives bring up, the Harris / Walz is just not engaging them in good faith, as they shouldn't. Republicans bring up abortion, and the Dems are just like, "you want 14 year old to give birth? Weirdo" and just leave it at that. Like YES, that's what you should do. Because it SHOULDNT be a debate. And it's working. This is how you defeat the identify politics thing Republicans have been trying to push for a while. Just mocking them for the stupidity of it all. "Like seriously? You think a book can make someone gay??? Hahaha." None of the Republicans are reacting well. They can't stand it. Vance even complained about bullying!!! Like do you KNOW who picked you as vp??? It's actually laughable, because they have no room to stand on when it comes to bullying.

And a huge part of the mocking and dismissing of Republicans is that the message is clear - were done debating all this stupid stuff. We've won the last two elections' popular vote - most Americans do NOT want christo-facism. It's time to move on. And that's what gives me hope, and the feeling of hope I think a lot of people have picked up on. It's time to address all the issues we've all wished we've been addressing the past decade. It's important we move onto that, and that's the message I'm getting from this campaign (We're not going back). I think it will resonate with a lot of people, because plainly, we're all just sick of this same old news cycle and fake rage bait over things like "should women have rights?", "Should gay people be allowed to exist?" The general populace have answered YES to both these multiple times, and it is time to move on. Maybe I'm being naive, but I am genuinely excited at the idea of putting to bed these debates (it's exhausting trying to fend your very existence) and moving on to actual economic and social policies that could fix a lot of deterioration over the last 2 decades.

[p2ii]

religious trauma/PIMO vent again !!!

feel like ill be doing it more often now so i'll come up w a tag for it but for now #ex muslim tag (<- what im using if you wanna filter)

[les4elliewilliams]

If you don’t mind can you please do Ellie x black reader who takes her to the hair store?

IMSOSOSOSORRY IT TOOK ME FOREVER BUT HERE IT IS :3 i added a little extra because its such a cute idea and we all need to touch grass and more ellie fluff sooo!! (sorry if its shit :p)

◌ warnings... none??? cutie patootie gaymer ellie, that's it, that's the warning.

౨ৎ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ellie x black reader .ᐟ

Ellie loves your hair. Like, she’s obsessed with it. But just because she’s your girlfriend of four years doesn’t mean she’s allowed to touch it. No matter what you two are doing. Kissing? You had to swat her hand away as she sneakily tried to tangle her slender fingers in your coiled hair. Going down on her? You’d push her hand away before she could even think about ruining the curls you spent hours perfecting the day before.

When you first started dating, she took you to the store after your car broke down. You’d desperately begged her to take you—not that you really had to beg—Ellie loved spending time with you.

Barely two minutes in the store, and you were already out of sight.

“Okay, babe, what did you say we—” the auburnette started, but when she looked around, she realized you were no longer by her side. After wandering around like a lost soul for a few minutes, she finally found you scanning the shelves for your favorite products.

“There you are.”

“Needed to get conditioner, and—” Your eyes darted across the aisle, searching for that one product in particular.

“Alright, do your thing. I’m gonna take a look around.” she walked off, running her fingers along the shelves, touching everything she saw. It got to the point where even the cashier started eyeing her like she was about to steal something—redhead behavior.

When it was your turn to search for her lost ass, you surprisingly found her by the hair products as well—maybe it was your dedication to hair care that made her want to try something new with hers and take better care of it.

“El, you done?” Her head snapped up immediately, and she put the bottle down but kept the other one lazily trapped under her arm.

She glanced at the shampoo she’d chosen, then back at you. “Yeah, I’m done.”

You stood there, barely managing to keep all the products you’d gathered from falling—you didn't know why you hadn’t grabbed a basket, it would’ve made your life so much easier—and then there was her, standing there with a 2-in-1 shampoo...

Despite you being the one with way more in your arms, Ellie still insisted on paying for everything. She's a gentleman like that.

You’d been educating Ellie on your hair ever since you first started dating, and she even watched videos to help you out whenever you stood in front of the mirror, cussing everything out because your stubborn curls simply decided not to cooperate that day.

She even went out of her way to do her research on which shampoo, conditioner, oil, and styling products were best. She bought them for you and kept them in her bathroom for whenever you stayed over and had to wash your hair. She wanted to have everything you needed. From hair care products to basic skincare stuff—and by that, I mean makeup remover. The first few times you spent the night there, you nearly ripped your hair out when she told you she had no makeup remover. Not even a fucking cleanser, just regular soap. Your only options were to use baby wipes or wash your face until the soap melted off your lash glue and mascara. It was pure torture.

But she got better, luckily.

Face cleansers, La Roche-Posay moisturizers, hair products, body lotions—Ellie practically spent a fortune on it all. And it was all for you because she loved you that much.

The first time you found all this stuff at her place, you lost it. Your brain jumped straight to one conclusion: she was cheating on you. Cause why the fuck would Ellie Williams own all this stuff? She never had before, so where was it coming from?

You went off on her immediately, accusing her of having other hoes while she was playing a game with Jesse—who heard everything.

She had to quit mid-game and pull up her Amazon orders to calm you down. Drama queen much? Ellie liked ’em a little crazy, as she always said, so she didn’t mind.

Recently you’d seen this salon on TikTok that looked like the go-to place for curly hair. The videos were mostly about girls with different curl patterns, textures, and lengths—basically a curly hair paradise.

Only one little problem… it was two hours away from where you lived. Eventually, your sweet girlfriend got tired of your constant yapping about it and decided to do something about it.

The salon wasn’t just far—it was popular, too. People came from all over to get their hair done, just like you were about to. Ellie, being the amazing girlfriend she is, somehow managed to book you an appointment that fit into your ridiculously busy schedule.

Between one game and another, the auburnette kept her phone on her black desk, just within reach. Every time she finished a round of COD, she’d check her phone, obsessively refreshing the booking page over and over. This went on for a whole week before she finally snagged you an appointment.

And that wasn’t all—she drove you there, two and a half hours round trip. By the time you got there, her ass was so sore she couldn’t even sit in the waiting area. Instead, she restlessly stood the whole time, sipping on a juice box one of the hairstylists handed her after hearing how far she’d driven to surprise you.

She stood there like a nosy toddler the entire time, either munching on something or hovering close enough that you could see her reflection in the mirror.

And honestly? She was more anxious about your hair than you had ever been in your life.

“Don’t cut it.”

“No, no—dude, that’s too much!”

“You sure that won’t damage her hair?”

Your poor hairstylist was about this close to losing it with her. But when your hair was done, Ellie just stood there, staring at you with wide eyes, totally speechless and blushing like the awkward loser she was.

Of course, she ended up paying for it—after putting up a bit of a fight.

“How much is it?” she asked the girl behind the counter, both of you already reaching for your wallets.

“$280.”

“Nuh-uh, I’m paying,” Ellie said, her voice firm as she shot you the look.

“Ellie, just wait outside,” you rolled your eyes, trying to brush her off, quickly pulling out your wallet. But she was faster—nearly slamming her card down on the marble counter.

“No, you wait outside,” she echoed your words back at you, swiping her card while the girl at the counter giggled at her antics.

“Fine.” 

[micahulrichdraws]

i was saving up for a tattoo but ur answer to that ask where u mention the stuff that goes into ink made me go down a rabbit hole and now i think i wont be getting a tattoo until ink is regulated... aside from the ink being full of stuff i know im allergic to my family is very cancer prone and im reading that tattoo ink may have a correlation with increased skin cancer risk. i feel like this should be talked about more. feeling sad about it but im glad u mentioned something about it otherwise i wouldnt have known

Yeah, as someone who's allergic to everything, has eczema, and a family history of cancer, I feel that. If you have a good artist whom is open to using inks that are either carcinogen-free or at least better tolerated it's not the end of the world, and I never want to discourage someone from doing something they want to do, especially art-related! That being said, I had some similar asks so I'm gonna use yours as a quick info-dump, so I apologize in advance!

I do want to be VERY clear: this is NOT a 'tattoos bad' wall of text, it's a 'art good but hold businesses and individuals accountable because right now everything is a trust system' wall of text. Everyone I know and love has tattoos, I just happen to be an artist who was pulled into the industry fairly out-of-the-blue 8 years ago, and have gotten to learn the intimate ins-and-outs of it because of that. This isn't ragebait, and it is strictly my reasons as to why I feel that the industry could benefit from some regulation and standardized education now that it is a very, very mainstream industry that the majority of individuals in my age range engage with but aren't privy to the details on. If you love tattoos, great! If you don't love tattoos, great! If you're an experienced professional in the industry, this is all stuff you've probably bounced off of once or twice, and can understand why it's frustrating.

The tattoo industry sorta has had one foot in the super lax, counterculture boat while also having the other one solidly in the corporate, capitalist yacht. While the studies that come out of the industry relating cancer risk to the ink content always stick strictly to skin cancer risk being 'negligible', it's important to note that the ink isn't going into your skin - it's going into the fatty tissue below the skin. The ink breaks down in that tissue over time, and gets filtered out by your body - the contents of the ink aren't on the top of the skin, they're being filtered through your other organs or pushed up to your skin. (I know this is an ultra-super-simplified version of what happens, but I don't want to give everyone a migraine with details.) I work with a ton of inks, paints, and pigments, and the pigments that are used in some inks aren't stuff I'd willingly handle with my bare hands, but I'm paranoid about that stuff. However,I absolutely wouldn't eat any of the pigments that are used in the creation of the ink used for tattoos, and none of it is stuff that I'd want in my liver or kidneys. I have a parent who's had cancer for 10+ years, so it's a pet topic of mine that I've had the opportunity to discuss with professionals whom work in the industry. The few times I've gotten to chat about inks used in tattoos, the response is the same as the public PR team's response. The standard on-record response is to cite skin cancer risks, and when asked about other types of cancer, specifically liver/kidney/reproductive, often it is deflected to some version of 'our customers are risk takers who live life on the edge, and don't conform to societal norms, and that demographic always has a higher rate of cancer.' The reality is that they intentionally don't test for that, because best case is the optics that they were selling something that they weren't that confident in, and the worst case response is a wall of lawsuits. Obviously, all that sounds ominous and shit, and while I doubt there's anything massive hidden there, my problem is that the corporate side regulates itself, which in the history of everything has never ended in ethical decisions and only ones that increase profit margins. When pressured, however, companies will lean into the 'it's tattoos man, don't be a downer' - but these are large, industrial corporations, not the dude down the street making art out of their garage. They have the money to test their own products and choose not to.

The other half of the problem is that foot in the pseudo-counterculture, lax, independent artist culture. There's no barriers to entry, minimal qualifications required, and so you can have people who have no business putting permanent ink on folks doing just that, en masse. Tattoos became a major fashion thing in the last 10 years, so we saw an explosion of tattoo studios with literally no experience in the industry kicking out tattoos. These same folks don't have experience in the arts (in a lot of cases) so they'll lift someone else's work as theirs to get a sale, which leads to someone having a design that may be associated with a group they do not wish to be associated with (IE: ultra-nationalist found out that his reaper design was from some ACAB shit I made, and he was not thrilled, even though I thought it was hilarious.) Additionally, a lot of the more questionable studios engage in super controversial sales tactics pressuring clients to move forward on projects when they aren't 100% comfortable (ie: you don't get to see the tattoo until you're in the chair, strictly to save time as to maximize profit on a permanent work of art, and to avoid your client changing their mind.) Back when I was starting out, a lot of the freelance work I received was coming up with designs to help fix those botched jobs, while sending folks to a credible artist, so I had the unfortunate experience of hearing every nightmare story ever. However, like any market that was opening up to big mainstream cashflow, the market ended up flooded so the skill of the average tattoo artist fell like a brick. Only in the last 6 months has the bubble popped with a ton of studios have had trouble staying afloat because the industry reached critical mass. I literally have more options in tattoo studio within a 10 block radius than grocery stores. Mind you, I'm talking about the large group of studios that engage with these practices, and that does in no way mean that I am specifically talking about your studio or your artist. If you work in the industry, you know the folks I'm talking about, and I'm so sorry they make your job so much harder.

This all comes together into a major shitstorm: under-qualified individuals offering a subpar product driving down prices, shoving out the actual qualified professionals, while operating in a legal gray area. Combined with the industrial ink companies that aren't keen on giving straight answers about the contents of their product leaves the entire industry in an absolutely dogwater spot, getting the worst of both worlds. This is not touching on the disgusting potential abuse of power that some individuals choose to take advantage of within these situations. With literally any small amount of regulation, the entire art form would be infinitely easier to get for individuals without having to do a background check on the entire operation. I hope that answers some questions, and I apologize for any typos in my incomprehensible wall of text!

[flamingo-writes]

A/N: i am back from the dead after months. And it should’ve come as a surprise that I absolutely loved Hobie. Looks like a rockstar and is an absolute punk. My type in a nutshell.

I’m gonna be using some of these headcanon for future

Gal in The Chair — Hobie Brown x Artist!Reader

I think Hobie would be the kind of guy to fall for someone who he’s known for a long while, that being said, you’d perhaps known him all of your life

Having grown together, the two of you shaped a lot of each other’s beliefs. So no wonder the two of you were so compatible.

After the spider bite, you saw the whole journey from Hobie freaking out at first, to him figuring out how to use his new abilities.

He designed his web shooters, being the genius he is with technology. You helped him with his suit, specially his mask.

You became his Gal in the Chair

You liked to fix up and personalise clothes. All of your pieces of clothings came from second hand shops and you gave them a make over doing all sorts of stuff on them to make them unique and yours.

You also did this with a lot of Hobie’s clothes. As well as teaching him how to use your sewing machine.

After graduating high school, you opened a small alternative clothing shop in with unique pieces, doing the same thing you did for your clothes on this one. As well as doing hand made jewerly like bracelets, necklaces and earrings. You also had a talent with plants, managing to almost magically bring plants back to life and reproduce them like crazy, you added selling plants into your small business.

As Spider-Man gained traction, he low key promoted your work to his followers and people who agreed with him. This in order to keep negative attention from falling on you, and keep bad guys from thinking and theorising that maybe you knew Spider-Man.

As a side gig, you educated yourself on coffee making, and learned about the different processes and types of coffee beans there were. It started as a hobby, but soon you also implemented that into your shop.

The fact that you were so versatile, made Hobie feel incredibly proud of you. You seemed to be so independent, and creative and that never ending curiosity and passion made him harvest feelings for you.

Eventually, the close friendship, and companionship grew into affectionate and romantic feelings.

Hobie was always flirty, but it wasn’t until now that you started behaving differently. Normally he played his electric guitar but now you found him playing his acoustic guitar more.

He showed you a song he wrote. And while it was unusual —however, not imposible— to hear a romantic song coming from him, it wasn’t until the first minute that you realised the song was about you.

That’s how he chose to tell you about his feelings.

He didn’t intend for it to be this romantic, he simply one day word vomited the song and used one free afternoon to add the music.

After hearing his song, it was actually you who grabbed him and kissed him.

More than satisfied with the outcome, he kissed you back, put his guitar down and pulled you over his lap.

You two became inseparable since. You already were, but now it was more evident.

You worked at home, doing all the creative things you did, selling them, helping Spider-Man with art shows and gigs.

Those who paid close attention, they were able to determine you were some sort of associate to Spider-Man. However, all of them were also punks and anarchist so of course they kept their mouths shut. Spider-Man was always looking out for those in need. They were going to help a brother back and not tell anyone whenever any authority or weird-looking threat asked if anyone knew Spider-Man, or someone close to him.

You became widely known between Spider-Man supporters, although none of them would ever dare to snitch on you.

After Hobie met Gwen, she brought her over, you two became close friends right away. Letting Gwen crash at your place more often than not. She even offered to help you with the dishes and the groceries as thanks for letting her stay.

“You’re Hobie’s friend, you’re welcome whenever you want,” You’d told her.

Pav was also a frequent visitor. He loved your coffee, he taught you how to make chai. And you had chai ready for whenever Hobie told you Pav was going to be there.

Pav also bought plants from you all the time. Most of them for his mom. He once asked you if you could make a set of earrings and a necklace for his mom.

The set was a success and Pav always told you how much she loved them,

Eventually Miles also came around. And it wasn’t until Miles met you that his suspicions of Hobie and Gwen dating dissappeared.

Miles saw the absolute pure love with which Hobie looked at you. He still made the same sarcastic and cheeky jokes while talking to you. But the way he looked at you was completely different to the way he looked at anyone else.

Hobie convinced Miles to buy a plant and some earrings for his mother.

“Listen mate, this is what my girl does for a living. Plus the world needs to learn to appreciate the handiwork of an artisan,”

Miles was even surprised at how Hobie still looked cool while being mushy and cheesy with you as he hugged you, kissed your head, or played with your hands or hair.

Hobie had zero fucks to give about what people think about him, he doesn’t give a shit about PDA. Gwen thinks it’s gross, Pav thinks it’s adorable, Miles is simply puzzled as to how he is still cool when seeing his parents doing the same thing would make him cringe so hard.

Hobie is amused by the different reactions he gets. Especially Gwen’s grossed out face.

He still loves kissing you every chance he gets. Whether if it’s kissing you passionately. A subtle peck. Sweet kissed on your cheek or your forehead.

[missmarveledsblog]

A kind of sex education ( platonic cas x winchesters x reader)

summary : when castiel curious nature after watching adult movies leads to a strange string of questions and learning of their sex lives . 

warnings well there is really none just awkward sex talk . this is more a drabble   

What was supposed to be a normal ass day of research ended up more strange then any hunt well it definitely up there . She wanted to prove dean wrong but walked in on castiel doing his own research . eyes locked on the screen , while head tilted in confusion and a woman's moans filled the room making the two freeze to their spot. 

" is he watching..." her voice trailed off .

" porn yeah , we've got an angel watching porn " dean shook his  head .

" erm cas buddy that stuff is not for the communional area's more privacy of your own room " she winced as the sound of skin slapping got louder.

" if the pizza man truly loves the babysitter why does he keep  slapping her rear ?"  he turned to the red faced  hunters standing before him .  " perhap she has done something wrong" he added. 

" cas turn it off please" she asked quicker and louder ,making cas stand and her to gasp . " oh my ,dean does he have " she turned to the man .

" A boner yep " he snorted .

" Cas why are you watching this " she asked sitting across from him noticing his eyes trail to her chest.

" You can't watch porn in a room filled with dude's and Y/N " the older winchester chuckled wondering would sam believe him .

" I was bored and bobby told me to borrow a video out of his room" he looked even more confused what was wrong .

" Well good to know i can never look bobby in the eyes again " she felt her cheeks heating up giving the situation.

" Is sex like this in real life " he asked making her wishing she went on the supply run .

" no never , i mean the girls finish for one  and those moanS so fake " she snorted making dean shoot her alook .

" A Man never made you finish " he asked curiously.

" Cas you can't ask a chick that ... but yeah what "he said  turning to Y/N for some help .

" No they have not anyway's  cas sex is nothing like these movies their just fantasized version  that people mainly watch to well get off " she explained awkwardly again wanting to leave the room as soon as she could. 

" Alone so don't whip it out " dean added seeing the angel looking down at his crotch .

" Do you watch it " cas asked looking straight at her.

"  i mean yeah i do sometimes " she smiled weakly seeing deans face light up .

" That's hot sweet girl " he winked .

" that made it move " Cas looked down at his crotch .

" Oh kill me now " she cried as dean doubled over laughing .

" Do you like your rear slapped " Cas asked still filled with questions.

" ok ok why is this aimed at me " she stood.

" I mean trench coat baby has valid questions so sweetheart does spanking get you going " dean teased finding the whole thing amazing . 

" wouldn't you like to know " she winked before leaving the room before the angel curiosity killed her . 

" Hey i wanted to know " dean yelled just as sam walked in almost dropping the bag of groceries  when he had seen what was on the screen .

" Why are you and cas watching porn " he arched his brows .

" Cause he found it in bobbies room  and was curious and just to clarify he was watching it not me " dean snorted.

" Does Y/N like her rear smacked she wasn't clear on her answer " castiel asked standing and to full attention still .

" Ithink i'm going to go back to the store , maybe never come back " sam walked back out the door.

"damn it cas go fix that or have a cold shower" dean huffed leaving the angel standing confused to what was going on  and why everyone was so uncomfortable .

...........

To say dinner time in the bunker was filled with tension was an understatement . all eyes on their plates to bobby's confusion , hell Y/N hasn't looked at him once .

" Ok what the hell happened here  did you walk in on those too having sex or something " he gestured to dean and Y/N .

" No Y/N has never finished in sex " cas said easily .

" someone seriously just shoot me " she groaned.

" i'd let you finish princess " dean winked.

" Erm cas may have gotten his hands on a special movie from your room and it lead to some interesting question mainly aimed at our female hunter " sam explain.

" Pizza boy and babysitter really man " dean asked as bobby's eyes found his plate really interesting all of a sudden.

" I'm going to eat in my room and never talk to you guys again except sam " she ran out the room with her plate.

" Hey want me to join you for dessert" dean called .

"  Fuck off " she yelled back .

" Thank god we don't have a HR department " sam muttered. 

" She never gonna talk to any of us again " bobby face was beet red knowing his niece now knew what he had in his room .

" Who even has porn  dvds anymore " .

" I fixed my boner earlier alone like you said " cas said as the other  dropped their forks . 

" I'm joining Y/N , you guys deal with this " sam ran down the hall . 

" is he going to smack her rear ?  ".

" Ok no more porn questions ever watch it in your room in private and never tell us again and stop asking y/n sex questions before she  leaves us altogether" dean deadpanned.

" We're definitely going to hell for getting an angel hooked on porn " bobby mumbled. 

part two

[anthonsgi]

★’･ﾟ:｡･:*:HSR Men random bf!headcanons:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

【Note: Hello! I have decided to write short headcanons for a few men in this game [playable only, sorry Oleg simps (*_ _)人], excuse any fluency errors, English isn't my first language, and I am still learning as I go! Please enjoy, and don't hesitate to request anything; I'm open to suggestions!】

【Pairings: Dan Heng, Gepard, Jing Yuan x GN!READER】

【CW: none!】

☆〜DAN HENG〜☆

He enjoys your company even if you two aren't speaking; simply being aware of your presence near him when he's focused on something insignificant, like reading a book, relaxes him.

Definitely has a soft spot for you and lets go of his usual cold and reserved demeanor when you two are alone.

There have been a few instances of him unconsciously beaming at you as he got lost in thought, looking at your excited face while you rambled about something you're passionate about. He'd never admit to it, though, if you called him out on it.

Prefers to be the big spoon mainly because he loves the feeling of your back pressing against his chest when your breathing slows as you fall asleep.

However, he appreciates it if you ask to be the big spoon whenever he has a nightmare or one of his visions.

He has little relationship experience [renheng ＼(º □ º l|l)/], so as committed as he is to making you feel loved and appreciated, he searches the data bank in the archives for information on romantic gestures and comes across a book about the significance of pet names. After "educating" himself more, he may refer to you as "my love," "darling," or even "baby" if he's feeling particularly lovey-dovey.

Dan Heng isn't a jealous boyfriend; nevertheless, if something bothers him, he becomes touchy! Always holding your arm or wrapping his hand around your waist.

Haven only just awakened, he's such a sleepy cutie! He'd try to kiss you but miss and peck your chin instead.

☆〜GEPARD〜☆

He's an exceptionally blushy guy, and it's pretty simple to make him flustered. Just hold his hand, and he'll melt.

No matter how long you've been together, Gepard loves to kiss but will never do it without getting your consent first. His kisses are short and gentle, but they are also tender and reassuring, given that he frequently cups your face in his hands.

Even though this guy evidently struggles to keep his plants alive, he will make every effort to grow a lovely flower as a gift for you.

He attracts kids like a magnet; some of them aspire to be captains like him, and it's the cutest thing ever to see him grow nervous as they shower him with compliments and questions.

Sometimes he'd find you asleep on the couch, and he'd pick you up bridal style and carry you to bed carefully so as not to wake you.

Oftentimes, Gepard's responsibilities prevent him from spending time with you, but he always strives to make up for it.

Used a cheesy pickup line once and never tried it again after feeling the second-hand embarrassment.

He always looks for a way to impress you with his strength.

☆〜JING YUAN〜☆

His duty as General usually keeps him occupied with work stuff, so when you pay him a visit during the day, he'll light up almost instantly and he'll be in a good mood.

You have to constantly kick him (gently or with force depending on how much sleep he has robbed you of) so he can turn to the other side and stop snoring.

When writing about his day in his diary, he always mentions the instances where something reminded him of you. (Spoiler alert: the majority of his day description is him adoring your facial features).

Jing Yuan's kisses are typically quick, although if he's feeling exceptionally touch-deprived, he prefers deeper, longer kisses.

If you decide to move in with him, it will be incredibly domestic; you would prepare each other's favorite drinks and meals just the way you like them without needing to ask, and you will share each other's clothes and accessories on a daily basis.

Routine, even if secure, can be exhausting, and he finds himself trapped in one. Therefore, Jing Yuan appreciates it when you try new things with him and make him feel like he can breathe freely again. Without worrying about any boring responsibilities, just you and him spending time together. Those are his most treasured moments.

He's very protective of you. Secretly that is. It might seem that he's not that bothered by the times you may have spent a while longer on an errand or went exploring, but he's actually worried! Sometimes to the point of sending someone to go look for you, just to be sure you're all safe and sound.

Has asked you to massage his back on multiple ocassions after a particularly tiring day.

[bcdwhcre]

heyy can you write some fluff headcannons stuff about L x fem reader? Whatever you have in mind, thank uuu

“Gently,” L x Fem!Reader

Summary: Some cute gentle headcannons of L and the reader <3

Warnings: None

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.

.

.

Neither of you could explain how you both ended up in the position you were currently in right now but it just randomly happened.

You both sat in your living room, enjoying each other’s company and talked about whatever flowed from each of your mouths. That is until L ended up on the floor before you, his back facing you and his body sitting between your legs as you sat at the edge of the couch.

Your fingers combing through his long dark hair. The tv playing some comedy movie you had put on a while ago but began to talk and focus on each other instead.

Hair ties and hair clips rested on your lap as you started to comb and braid pieces of his hair a specific way. It was a dumb idea that you had brought up but it was a shock when L agreed to let you do it.

The smile on your face, the fits of giggles that escaped your mouth made it all worth it to him. Your laughter filling his ears, making the smile grow on his face.

He could feel your fingers tugging at his hair and doing whatever you wanted with it, making him a little nervous but also excited to see what you ended up coming up with.

The relationship you two shared have only been going on for a little less than a year. It randomly happened one day when you both met inside of a library, seeing you sit in a chair and read a thriller book.

It intrigued him and although he wasn’t the best at talking, he surprisingly had enough courage to walk up and make the first move.

After that the two of you bonded over books and over movies. Then you both found out that even though you were the same, you were also very different.

He was into sweets, you were into salty treats. He was into educational and detective books while you were into thriller and romance books.

Now here you both were.

“Ouch.” L mumbled, feeling the tug on his hair as you continued to braid the small pieces.

“Sorry.” You laughed slightly, the concentration on your face evident as you tried to work with what you were given.

After some time you finished, watching him stand up and the amount of laughter that left your lips as you watched him walk towards the mirror was a great amount.

He stared at himself in the mirror for what seemed like forever. Not only was he in shock with what you had done but he also found it hilarious. Some laughter escaped his mouth at the bright pink hair clips and the fact his hair was brush back from his forehead, exposing his entire face.

“I look ridiculous.” He spoke, turning to face you with a flushed face as if he was almost embarrassed at how funny he looked.

“I think you look like a pretty princess.” You admitted, crossing your arms over your chest in almost a pouty way.

“Thank you.” He stepped over, planting a quick kiss to your forehead.

After that, without much thought of how you got there, you both were in the kitchen. His hair still braided and full of bright hair clips while you both started to make cupcakes, a treat he had been asking for all day.

You finally gave in, the both of you making quite a mess on the counters while trying to teach him how to make his own cupcakes so he can stop asking you to make them everyday.

“I know how to make them! I just like it when you make it.” He scoffed, cracking the egg open and letting the insides fall right into the bowl on top of the cupcake mix.

“So you’ve been pretending to not know?” You asked, the memories of him telling you he didn’t know how to make him so you can.

“Maybe.” He shrugged, a cheesy smile appearing on his lips.

“What a little shit.” You laughed, mixing the mix together and sticking your finger in it before rubbing off the mix onto the tip of his nose.

His nose began to scrunch up at the feeling of it while also in shock at the fact you decided to waste some mix just to put on his face.

“What a waste.” He muttered, making you roll your eyes and put another wipe of mix onto his cheek this time.

A sudden dramatic gasp fell from his lips at you wasting even more that could have gone to his precious cupcakes. L decided to lean forehead, pressing a kiss on your lips but only because the mix on his nose smeared against yours.

When he pulled back, he turned his head to rub his cheek on yours, once again smearing the mix on both of your faces. You let out a grunt, trying to pry yourself away from his body.

“Jesus, L!” You said out loud, hearing his small fits of laughter leave his lips.

“Don’t worry, I won’t waste it like you. I’ll lick it off.”

.

.

.

.

.

A/N:

Wondering if this is the fluff I had envisioned in my head but we’ll see how it does. It’s also somewhat short so I’m sorry :(

• DEATH NOTE MASTERLIST •

• MAIN MASTERLIST •

[utilitycaster]

You've mentioned a few times about Matt making this the Moon Plot Campaign and the cast not realizing it was the Moon Plot Campaign and how the characters aren't necessarily the best for a Moon Plot Campaign and I'm just curious: if you could pick what type of character build the cast played to best fit a Moon Plot how might that look?

Oh man I think I've answered this before but I will always answer it again because my answer is evolving.

The first two things are just general advice:

In retrospect I think Matt should have treated this campaign as sort of a semi-module format. If you will be playing a module (eg: Curse of Strahd, Call of the Netherdeep, etc), your DM should tell you this and essentially say "you can have your own character struggles - in fact you should - but they should be largely internal/things that can be addressed without you going on an extended quest." For example, you can (and should) play a character in Curse of Strahd who is struggling with self-esteem, or religious faith, or cowardice; but you can't have a character who, to address these things, must confront their father, because they're going to be in Barovia and he's not going to be there. I recommend checking out the rivals in Call of the Netherdeep, because their throughlines are great examples - they' develop and engage with the story, but it's very much driven by the plot of the story and not a delving into their backstory. So essentially, have simpler backstories or backstories that inherently tie into the quest, and let the players come up with that by giving them the most spoiler free outline. I think Matt tried to do all that tying up himself, and at times it made things a little too pat; or those characters who had elements that couldn't be woven in as gracefully (Chetney and the Gorgynei; Laudna with Delilah; some of Ashton's stuff) got very brief arcs so we could get back to the main moon plot.

Do not dump intelligence. DO NOT DUMP INTELLIGENCE. Have at least one PC in your party who is not just intelligent but like, educated. Percy, Beau, and Caleb all fit this. Chetney's pretty smart but not terribly educated so he's great at investigation but he's not going to do very well on religion checks. This party should have had a fucking wizard or artificer or cobalt soul monk or knowledge cleric, but also every party should unless you're going full murder hobo. I think it's valid to be into actual play (or d&d itself) for the character moments and the romance but you know what makes that possible? FIGURING OUT WHAT'S FUCKING HAPPENING INSTEAD OF DICKING AROUND CLUELESSLY. My one true house rule for myself as a DM is that one person in the party has to have high intelligence (or like, be a bard or rogue with decent intelligence but expertise/jack of all trades in everything). Play a high int character for the sake of your DM, PLEASE.

On a more specific note:

would have been good to have more Marquesian characters, but also someone from the Empire would have added a significant dimension. I do love Chetney, and I think Travis is the player who pivoted fastest to fit better within this campaign and has a good understanding of what it could have been with a bit more commitment, but yeah I think if Matt had told them a bit more of what was going on he'd have made like, a more serious werewolf member of the Gorgynei who had noticed lycanthropes becoming susceptible to Ruidus and decided to investigate, for example.

I think having more divinely aligned characters would have just made for much more fun interactions. The issue with the god debates wasn't that they were having them, for all I think that anyone who wants to kill the gods is a fucking idiot. It was that none of them knew jack shit about what they were talking about so it turned into an unending Emperor's Nose discussion. Having either someone who was actually trained (a la Braius, who is a welcome addition for this reason, among others) or again just. a person with religion proficiency and a decent INT score would have made it an actual compelling argument of different perspectives, and not a bunch of idiots yelling out nonsense.

It honestly wouldn't have looked much different. In fact, I think you could have kept the bottom table mostly as is with just tiny alterations, and done the following:

Make Chetney a Marquesian member of the Gorgynei with a mission tied to investigating what's going on with Ruidus. He could still be a weird woodworker.

Entirely rework Laudna's premise. You could have kept her creepy and undead, even, but get rid of Delilah and make her a wizard instead. Make her tied to the Grim Verity or an archaeologist who got kicked off the Tishtan site. You could even keep her aligned with Imogen although I'd have made it a more recent meet up of her being on the run and having gone through Gelvaan in trying to avoid the Grey Assassins

I like what happened with FCG ultimately but I think a different subclass would have still helped; make them a knowledge cleric and more intelligent.

Make Imogen and Ashton much more aware of the Apex War and Otohan's history from the get go. Also give Laura a heads up that her character's going to be super central and she will be in the hot seat for much of the campaign.

[songmingisthighs]

[12:24] dad!hongjoong × baby!minjae (ft. mom!reader)

⇀ having a big family, natural or chosen, could be a blessing or a curse. or both. this time ? hongjoong would rather not choose and just work. his son however, has another idea in mind

⇁ another installment of the baby xikers series finally written after an impromptu discussion about the children and their uncle wooyoung with @starlitmark LMAO LOOKIE I FINALLY WROTE THIS

wc : 1.2 k

genre : fluff ? slice of life ?? baby!xikers, dad!ateez

warning : none

It had been weeks since the big incident and Hongjoong feared his son had started to catch on the situation the parents put Wooyoung in. Or something along the line.

Two and a half weeks ago, Wooyoung took the children to the Seodaemun Museum of Natural History for an educational day. Or so he claimed because not two hours since Wooyoung sent a selfie of him and the kids at the museum entrance to the friend group chat did all of them receive a call to come collect their children (in which Wooyoung's wife was told to collect all three of hers; Junghoon, Hunter, and of course, Wooyoung). Apparently, Wooyoung had told them that they couldn't play with any of the displays which the children took as a challenge rather than a warning. Seeun, Yujun, Minjae, and Sumin tried to get on the Acrocanthosaurus display while Hyunwoo and Hunter took off their shoes and dipped their toes in the Han River section of the Nature Hall to play with the fishies and Junmin, Jinsik, Junghoon, and Yechan somehow got inside the forest ecosystem display. It would have been an easy issue to handle and even let slide had Wooyoung not stood by and taken a video of everything whilst cackling rather than trying to get everyone to stop. After that, the parents rounded together and agreed that Wooyoung was to be put under an indefinite playdate hosting and attendance ban.

Unfortunately, the children were not told of this development as some were still grounded by their parents and some were known to love their Uncle Wooyoung so they'd probably get upset. It took them a while to even notice that suddenly they were not being taken to their Uncle Wooyoung's for playdates nor did their Uncle Wooyoung show up to chaperone.

The first to be told was Jinsik because his dad, Yunho, had given up trying to cover up the issue (literally 20 minutes after Jinsik started asking) and by the time the children were being picked up from playdate at Uncle Jongho's, they were all informed and began protesting in their own ways.

It was safe to say that for the past three days Hongjoong was stuck with Minjae who turned into melted cheese as a form of protest.

"Kim Minjae," Hongjoong called out sternly towards his son who sprawled himself on top of his work bag on his bed. Hongjoong had taken a short shower when he got home only to be met with Minjae groaning and moaning like a stranded starfish on top of his work stuff. Despite being called, Minjae didn't answer and just continued moaning like an injured cat. "Kim Minjae," Hongjoong huffed again, "Please get off my work bag, you'll crush my laptop," he walked closer to his son and stood over him with his arms on his hips. For a moment, Minjae stopped his moaning and looked over to Hongjoong, "Will you take me to Uncle Wooyoung?" Hongjoong raised an eyebrow at his son trying to bargain with him, "I'll take you to the doctor to get a shot instead, how's that?" And with that, Minjae dropped his head back and resumed moaning and groaning.

Minjae kept doing so, even following his dad around who managed to get his things from under Minjae by throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes (and Minjae slid right off his dad's shoulder... like a sack of potatoes). When Hongjoong was setting up his laptop in his home office, Minjae laid on the rug, when Hongjoong took a break to eat the dinner you cooked, Minjae laid across his lap and grumbled despite you trying to get him to sit up and behave when people are eating, then Minjae laid in front of the bathroom like a speed bump which almost caused Hongjoong to trip and fall.

With a sigh, Hongjoong crouched down and stared at his little boy, "Kim Minjae, if you don't cut this out right now I'm going to take you to my room," he threatened. But Minjae blinked and tilted his head, "Can we go to Uncle Wooyoung's room instead?" He asked, trying to bargain yet again. Hongjoong felt the corner of his left eye twitched and firmly stated, "No," then, Hongjoong stood up and tried walking away. Unfortunately, Minjae immediately latched onto his dad's leg and let his body be dagged away. Not even when you ran over screaming, trying to unlatch his grip on Hongjoong's leg did he relent. In fact, Minjae screeched and dug his nails into Hongjoong's leg, leaving the man soundlessly screaming and almost falling on his face. It was quite a sight to behold. Kim Minjae, your usually calm and reserved son, let out a banshee-like screech that managed to surprise the heck out of you, causing you to jump back and stare wide-eyed and as if nothing had happened, Minjae returned to his moaning and groaning while still being attached to his dad's legs.

To say that both you and Hongjoong gave up on trying to get Minjae to stop was an understatement because Hongjoong was now stuck in his home office with his son on the rug behind him moaning and groaning, causing him to lose focus which means that the situation was that bad because Kim Hongjoong doesn't lose focus on his goals. Apparently neither does Kim Minjae. Every 20 minutes or so, Minjae stopped his moaning and groaning to ask Hongjoong if he could go to Uncle Wooyoung's in all sorts of ways. As much as Hongjoong felt annoyed with the incessant behaviour, he had to admit that his favourite was when Minjae offered to prank Wooyoung on his dad's behalf as a form of revenge for the museum chaos.

The moment Hongjoong realized that the moans and groans had stopped was when Minjae finally fell asleep. It was well over 10 pm which means it was past the boy's bedtime. Knowing his relationship with sleep, Hongjoong was not at all surprised that his circadian clock had automatically shut him up. After saving his progress, Hongjoong stretched his body out slightly before getting out of his chair and crouching down next to Minjae who was creating a puddle on the rug ironically enough Wooyoung bought for Hongjoong. The way that they don't even live together anymore but Wooyoung still effectively has his grip on Hongjoong's life.

Gently, Hongjoong moved Minjae's bangs out of his face but as gentle as he was, Minjae still managed to stir and he suddenly opened his eyes. "Daddy going?" he groggily asked, lifting his head up slightly, "It's past your bedtime sir, what do you think?" Hongjoong sarcastically answered, scoffing slightly and shaking his head before scooping the barely conscious boy into his arms without much issue. "Are we going to Uncle Wooyoung's?" Minjae still managed to ask despite the fact that he was already closing his eyes again and resting his cheek on Hongjoong's shoulder. The question sent Hongjoong in disbelief but he simply shook his head, "Not tonight buddy." Thankfully, Minjae nodded and even nuzzled his face deeper, "I'll try again tomorrow," he mumbled in finality before falling back asleep.

As much as Hongjoong wanted to complain and even tell his son no, he knew there was no point. The issue was reserved for the next day. All he could hope for was that Minjae would forget or get distracted.

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[yoongihan]

We're Friends - Jeongin/I.N

for the blossoming love event by @skzwritingcafe

pairing: jeongin x femreader

genre: angst, fluff, light smut, friends to lovers

rating: M

word count: ~11k (don't ask)

warnings: light smut (heavy making out, mention of erection, wanting to have sex, etc.), language (f word mostly), underage drinking, reader is a year and a month older than jeongin (so 'noona' is used, she calls him 'agi'), he is taller than reader, actual romantic things happen between them when he's 17 and she's 18, as well as when she's just turned 20 and he's days away from 19 (if you have any issue with that, please ignore my story and move on), school is a weird mix of American and Korean education, mentions of Seungmin & Changbin, Jisung and Hyunjin make one major appearance, this is hella self-indulgent so you've been warned.

a/n: to my jeongin anon, this is so long in coming...I'm sorry. It took ages and it's ridiculously long. i hope you like it! to @jl-micasea-fics who told me it wasn't terrible, thank you. to any reader out there, it's a bunch of vignettes chronicling when they met to when feelings are finally realized, so about five years. this occurs in the same universe as I Adore You (though timeline-wise, this is earlier than Jisung's story) and A Big Neon Sign. you do not have to have read either of those though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In truth, the only thing you and Jeongin had in common was an older, athletic brother.

His brother was on the high school baseball team and so was yours. 

While your brother, Changbin was a senior, mentoring all the younger teammates, Jeongin’s brother Seungmin was your age, a sophomore; making Jeongin a freshman when you met him.

It sucks to be the younger sibling, stuck in the same high school as your older, much more appreciated sibling. 

You had your driver’s permit, but your brother was loathed to let you ever use the car, even when you promised that you’d just run home and come to pick him back up when practice was over. It was a clear and vehement ‘no.’ 

Illegal too, but still. 

You had Seungmin in a few classes. Not only was he good at hitting a ball with a stick, but he also kicked ass at Chemistry. Which was only good for you as he had gotten stuck as your lab partner for the year. You two worked well enough together (he did the hard stuff and you just listened to his instructions because none of Chemistry made sense to you; it was your parents’ stubborn insistence that had you in Honors), but you wouldn’t say you and Seungmin were close, or even friends. 

Just amiable classmates. 

Baseball pre-season started once basketball was in playoffs, and you were relegated to attempting to study while planted on a set of bleachers in the still-chilly weather. 

Unlike last year though, this time you have company.

In the late winter sun, his dark hair has an auburn tinge as he rests his chin on his hand, making his lips purse in pout. When your footsteps are audible above the last cars leaving the school parking lot, his head turns toward you so fast, you worry about his neck. 

You give a twist of your hand to say hi.

He sits up, eyes big behind his black-rimmed glasses and you can see him swallow as he waves back.

“Hi.” 

He has braces. 

You point toward the baseball field. “You have a brother out there, too?”

He relaxes slightly in the shoulders but tenses up again when you plop down on the same bleacher. 

“Yeah. Seungmin.”

“Oh.” You vaguely remember Seungmin saying he had a brother. “I have a couple classes with him.”

The younger boy blinks at you. “Yeah?”

You introduce yourself and gesture toward the field again, naming your brother. 

“Jeongin. I mean, I’m Jeongin.”

He seems jumpy, his hands gripping his knees. It’s surprising because you don’t think you look the least bit intimidating

You stare at the outfield, the hazy silhouettes in white and red before turning to Jeongin.

“I keep telling myself I can’t wait until I can drive myself, but then I remember I have to share a car with my brother which really isn’t  the freedom I was hoping for.”

He blinks a few times as though he needs a moment or two to process your words then he smiles. 

Okay, for a little freshman with braces, he’s cute. 

“I just got my permit, but Min-hyung barely lets me practice.”

You roll your eyes in solidarity. “Older brothers are the worst.”

He nods then shakes his head. “I mean, he’s not all bad.”

You laugh. “You can’t go back now, Jeongin. Older brothers, even when they are nice, are the worst. Especially athletes.”

The smile appears again. “A little.” 

“So, you don’t play?” You gesture back to the field.

He shakes his head adamantly. “Not my thing.”

“What is your thing?”

He shrugs again.

“Still figuring it out?”

He meets your eyes and you don’t know why you’ve spoken this much to a freshman boy, but you have and you think he seems nice. But when your eyes meet, you realize that it’s more than that.

You want to be friends. It’s a weird, deep-in-your-gut feeling that honestly terrifies you a little bit. 

“Yeah,” he says softly, “still figuring it out.”

—

It continues like that. Four days a week after school. You and Jeongin stuck together while waiting for your more impressive siblings to finish their impressive voluntary physical exertion. Sometimes you wave to him at the games, when he’s stuck between his parents, looking miserable. You stopped doing that when he told you his parents wanted to know if you were his girlfriend.

“I didn’t know how to explain that we were just friends.” He’s pouting at his science textbook.

“Just saying ‘we’re friends’ seems to be plenty explanatory.”

He snorts. “You’d think.”

You smile at him before looking over at his textbook. “Need help?”

By the time you can drive without supervision and baseball season is over you (his parents and your parents’ approval given eventually) give him rides home as Seungmin transitions into travel ball and private lessons. Jeongin doesn’t seem to mind having you as a chauffeur. You still have to get the car back to Changbin as he now does Track & Field (discus throwing, of course), so sometimes you just study with Jeongin; at his house, or the closest coffeehouse or diner. 

Your classmates (kinda friends if you think that just hanging out at lunch and sharing notes in class makes a friendship) ask you the same thing his parents do.

You iterate that you and Jeongin are friends. 

No one believes you, but you can’t be bothered with the suppositions. It’s nice to have a guy friend who is unrelated to any other part of your school life. 

Changbin’s graduation is around the corner, and you wonder if perhaps that’s the end of your brief, but nice thing with Jeongin. 

So, you ask him.

“I won’t be forced to stay after school next year,” you begin.

Jeongin looks up from his history textbook, his eyes glazed over behind his glasses. 

“No older brother.”

“Exactly,” you point at him with your milkshake straw. A little drips onto the plastic table, but you ignore it. “However, you are not so lucky. And won’t have your license till February, right?”

He nods then blinks a few times as he puts it all together. “Wait…would you…I mean, do you still want to hang out?”

You don’t know how to feel about his expression. It’s more shock than anything else. Is he unaware that he’s your friend? Is this something you have to explain clearly and overtly to boys? 

Changbin did tell you once that guys were idiots (it had been a ‘don’t ever date’ kind of convo, but you suppose it still applies). 

“Yes.” You refrain from saying ‘obviously’ at the end of it.

He smiles (and you will never tell a soul how much you like his smile, braces and all). “Okay.”

“However, once you can drive too…you have to drive me around sometimes, agi”

He nods emphatically after making a face at the nickname (you’ll always call him that). “Of course, yes, absolutely.” He takes a fry from the plate of them you have in between you on the table. “Good.”

“Good?” 

You see his face turn pink, and he quickly busies himself with history again. You let it go, but that moment still lodges itself in your brain; ready to be pondered over much much later down the road. 

–

High school is a drudgery, and you get through it with little to no permanent damage. You date once during your junior year, and your time with Jeongin decreases. It’s logistics, but you find you miss him. 

When you break up with him, you even mention that.

“Huh?” Jeongin is this time indulging in a milkshake.

“I didn’t have as much time to hang out with you. Since we don’t have classes together, it’s like maybe I saw you once or twice a month. For six months of dating him.” You make a face. “Didn’t like it.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you look up from your notebook to see that ever-familiar blush warming his cheeks. 

“What?” you say.

“Missed you too, noona.”

You graduate somewhere in the middle of your class and start the ever-exciting process of prepping for dorm life in the city two hours away, Jeongin comes along to help you pick out bedding and various other items.

“No.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “No?”

He shakes his head. “You cannot continue to only wear guys’ jeans in college.”

“And why not?”

“Just…trust me?” He drags you toward the women’s section, and starts picking out jeans, and tops; piling them into your arms. “They actually have ‘boyfriend fit’ for girls, you know.”

“That seems stupid.”

He looks at you. “Don’t you want to up your fashion game a bit?”

“Jeongin, just cause you care about it, doesn’t mean I do.”

He says your name in a very disappointed way, his bright expression turning toward pouting. 

He knows you’re a pushover.

“Fine, fine. You get free rein for now. But know I’ll just end up in pajamas for most of college anyway. That’s the brilliance of college.”

He lights up immediately. “So we can get you some cute pjs too.”

You have created a monster.

–

When you say goodbye to him the day before you leave to move into the dorms, you realize something. As you hug him (which surprises you both because he’s not real physically affectionate, and you tend to respect that), you feel his hands at your back and the brief contact of his cheek on top of your head (when did he get taller than you?). He’s grown up a lot.

Which makes you feel a little weird.

You two break apart awkwardly and you have to force yourself to look at him. He’s glancing at the ground.

“I won’t be far.”

“I know, noona.” 

You swallow, feeling dumb for feeling as much as you do. 

“Don’t get too cool as a senior to talk to me.”

He meets your eyes then, making a face. “I don’t expect to be cool, ever.”

Maybe it’s the fact that you’re a little older, or maybe because you like to observe your peers almost like a zoologist in the wilds of high school, but you think that Jeongin very easily could be cool by current standards. 

He’s pretty enough. And interesting enough though that might be why he can’t be. High schoolers don’t seem to appreciate actually interesting humans. 

What if he gets popular and doesn’t need you anymore?

“Noona…” he begins, his hands deep in his jeans pockets. “Thanks.”

You feel your forehead furrow in confusion. “For?”

There’s the blush that he wears all too often. “Just…high school was better cause we were friends.”

Oh jeez. You better get back home or you might hug him again. 

“Yeah. Same.” You nod and take a step back. “I’ll text you when I’m unpacked okay? You want to visit the school anyway, right?”

“Yeah.” He also walks backward. “I’ll see you?”

Why do you kind of want to cry, too?

“Absolutely.”

When you get into your car, you linger before driving away, watching him walk back to his house. 

– 

Freshman year in college is a lot. Not with studies because you’ve always been pretty decent at that, but everything else. There’s so much more time available and that overwhelms you a bit. Classes take only a percentage of your day and then there’s new people, living-on-your-own assimilation, and well…parties.

You never went to parties in high school. You weren’t invited (no big deal) because your brother was Changbin and he was invited, but not the little sister. Again, it wasn’t a big deal as you didn’t know that you wanted to go.

But now, you could. Changbin’s at a different university entirely and no one (well, maybe one or two former classmates) knows who you are and there’s a lot of freedom in that.

So when you get invited to one, you decide to go.

But you ask Jeongin to come with. 

You both lie to his parents (you’re pretty sure you’re going to hell for lying to the Yangs because they’ve never been anything but nice to you) that he’s doing a college visit overnight. And yes, he’s visiting, but there’s no class you’ll be going to, even if the party is a Thursday night and technically you could have class on Friday (you usually do, but your Everyday Biology professor canceled class for something he won’t reveal (you suspect a convention for other science nerds), neither you nor Jeongin will be attending.

Your roommate spends 90% of her sleeping hours at her boyfriend’s place, so you know that Jeongin can crash with you. 

Though he seems a little nervous about it. 

“I washed and changed her sheets, okay?” you say. “I even asked her if it’s fine.”

Jeongin is staring at the bed (there are a lot of pillows for one person to be sure). “And she said it was okay?”

“She hasn’t technically answered, but it’s been two days. If she had a major issue, I would have received a text.” You walk over to him, take his overnight bag, and toss it on the bed. “See, you’re good.” 

Between his arrival and party time, you guys camp out in your room, catching up on everything and nothing. His senior year and he’s taking four advanced placement classes (he’s just as smart as his brother, though far more subtle about it), a girl he’s thinking about dating, but feels a bit unsure.

“Why?” You give up on the behemoth of Paradise Lost for your literature class in favor of this discussion. You know he’s gone on dates, but he doesn’t talk about it. Occasionally he asks ‘hypothetical’ questions about girls, but Jeongin’s always been pretty private about romance. 

“She’s not…” Jeongin presses his lips together, thinking. “We don’t have much in common. Like she’s a cheerleader.”

You know not all cheerleaders are the stereotype, but it’s hard not to make a face at that reveal of information. 

“It’s not like it’s a lifetime commitment, agi.”

He lets out a sigh. “I know. And it’s our last year, so it can’t go anywhere, so should I even start it?”

You shrug. “I’m not gonna tell you yes or no, but I think seeing the potential end before even beginning is on a level of cynicism not even I have.”

He laughs. “Fair.” He’s quiet again and you look back at the stupid epic poem you have to read and understand. “I’m nervous about kissing her.”

It’s mumbled, his words, but for whatever reason, you hear it clearly.

“Wait, what? Why?” You scoot to the edge of your bed. “You’ve kissed before…?” Again, not an oft-discussed topic for you both, but still, you’re pretty sure he has. 

This is definitely new territory for your friendship.

You also realize that you’ve missed seeing his blush.

“Yeah, but not like…kissing.” He emphasizes the last word, face pink. 

“No tongue?”

“Jeez, noona.”

“You brought it up,” you say quickly so you don’t blush in embarrassment.

He covers his face with his hands. “I know. And no. I haven’t. And it’s dumb and everyone has and I should be an expert at my age and–”

“Hey…there’s not ‘should be,’ okay?” you interrupt and move to sit next to him on your roommate’s bed. You pat his knee. “Your path is your path. Whatever speed you move is fine.” 

He turns to look at you and even a month apart has changed him. His face seems so much sharper; cheekbones, nose, and jawline. Even his eyes seem more mature. 

Your cute friend has become handsome. 

“If she likes you, she’s not gonna care about whether you kiss perfectly or not.” You pause, wondering if you should share, but you decide might as well. “Less tongue is always better, especially when kissing someone new.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, knowing you didn’t avoid your face heating from the convo, but he’s your friend. He should benefit from your experiences. 

“Hey, find someone to kiss tonight at the party,” you suggest even as your stomach twists oddly. “Risk-free, you know? Unlikely you’ll ever see them again and you can get the first-time nerves out of the way.”

He stares at you for a few seconds, almost long enough for you to call him on it, but then drops his gaze to his lap. “Yeah, maybe.” 

You lose Jeongin about a half hour after showing up to the party. You don’t mean to; in fact, you worry a lot when you can’t find him immediately. You work through the crowd (you had no idea your school had this many people honestly), searching for him (he’s decently tall, you should be able to spot him). He’s not in the kitchen with the drinks, nor, on the patio with the stoners, nor in the living area with the dancers…did he go upstairs?

Your heart is thumping so hard right now as you imagine someone drugging your dearest friend and harvesting his kidneys (which you can fix because he can just have yours) when you squeeze behind some couple making out by the stairs. You grab the rail to steady yourself (you had two shots, but you are very much a lightweight) before you run right into him.

“Noona!”

You don’t hear that all that well (wow parties are loud), but you see his mouth form the word and everything in you just calms down. You grab him by the sleeve of his very nice pullover and drag him away from the stairs and main crowd, toward a mostly isolated corner. 

“Fuck sakes, Jeongin, I nearly had a heart attack when I couldn’t find you,” you begin before stopping to turn toward him. As you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, you sort of lose your train of thought. 

He’s looking at you differently. 

“Are you…are you okay?” you manage to get out. Maybe it’s the dim lighting, or the alcohol, or even the pulse of the music that seems to sound all the same, but your heart isn’t returning to normal rate despite finding him. 

His eyes are so dark. 

He moves into your personal space, which is hella unusual because the boy loves his own space, his head dropping just a touch. You back up a few steps, but there’s a wall that stops you. You watch, wide-eyed, as he rests his arm on the wall just above you, bracing himself.

Oh god, he’s leaning.

“Noona…” he says and now you can hear it, even though it’s mostly just breath. He’s a lot closer than he was a second ago. “Didn’t mean to worry you.”

You should reassure him, but you don’t think you can speak. Not when his mouth is inches away. 

He has a really nice mouth.

“So…did you find someone to kiss?” you squeak. You’d reminded him of that right before entering the fraternity house. He’d still looked nervous but had agreed.

He nods before cupping your cheek in his hand. 

“Oh yeah?” you might start babbling in a second. “Point ‘em out to me and maybe I–”

It’s quiet all of a sudden. All the noise mutes when his lips touch yours, soft and seeking. You haven’t kissed anyone since your boyfriend of six months in your junior year, and it’s like you forgot how nice that simple pressure can be. 

For a second or two, his mouth is still, but then you feel his tongue graze your lips and you let him in without a single thought (pretty sure your brain no longer works) and he sweeps in. 

He’s had a few drinks himself. You can taste the sweet and bitter, and it’s intoxicating. His hand wanders from your face down your neck. Light touches that make you shiver and reach out to pull him close. Your hands catch him by the hips and you pull until he’s pressed against you. 

You had forgotten how good this can feel. And he feels especially good when he breaks away to press kisses to the corner of your lips. 

“Okay?” he murmurs. “Not too much tongue?”

Your body tightens at the low timbre of his voice. God, you want all his weight heavy on you, to feel every slant, plane, curve, and angle of his body. 

“Noona?” he prompts, already pulling away when you don’t answer. Your eyes open in panic and you slide your hands into his hair and don’t let him get too far. You can see he looks surprised, but you barely think about it, returning his mouth to yours. This time it’s your tongue that gains entrance, stroking his. You feel his moan, his hands sliding down your torso to your hips and behind. His grip pushes you against him so both of you can feel exactly how hard he is.

You wiggle, trying to find the friction that might release some of the tension that has taken you over. He gasps, his breath short; he turns his head to get oxygen, but you continue to taste him, your mouth along his jawline to his neck. You tug at the collar of his pullover to you can nip around his collarbone. His fingers dig into your ass when you bite a little hard. 

Fuck, you actually want to fuck your friend.

He whimpers your name and that’s when your brain starts to work again.

Fuck, you want to fuck your friend. 

You jerk back so hard that your head hits the wall, but it barely affects you. You can see the mottled red of his skin, from your mouth and teeth.

He just wanted to kiss someone and you just took that to a whole other level. 

“Jeongin…” you try to speak, though your panting is a bit much and your body is not happy at all with such an unsatisfactory ending. 

You crave.

His gaze is back on you, and there’s trepidation in those sinfully dark eyes and you hate yourself so much in this moment.

“I’m sorry.” Because what else can you say?

His lips part and you want to kiss them so badly, but apparently, your self-control has returned. 

“You’re sorry?”

You nod quickly, emphatically. “You were just practicing and I just…I’m so sorry.” You drop your head, the euphoria of what just happened morphing into absolute shame and misery. “You’re a very good kisser and I just got caught up. I shouldn’t have. I’m sor–”

“I get it.”

You peer back up at him. His hands have left you cold, returning to the pockets of his pants. He smiles at you, but you can tell it’s uncomfortable. 

You’ve made your friend uncomfortable. 

“I’m–”

His hand covers your mouth immediately. “Don’t say it again. I get it.” He meets your eyes before dropping his hand. “I think I want another drink.” And he walks away as you slump against the wall, your head hazy and confused and your heart aching. 

–

You don’t talk about it. He finds you sometime later that night, hand on your shoulder before he asks if you’re ready to head back. As you’ve been worried sick most of the night, you agree. You walk back to your dorm, shivering in the early fall wind. 

You don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything. 

He sleeps in your roommate’s bed, several feet away from you, and your body hums at knowing he’s there. Despite the alcohol (now effectively out of your system as you didn’t drink anything but water after that ‘incident’), you seem to remember everything about him in perfect detail, your senses overwhelmed. 

It takes you forever to fall asleep. 

The next day is awkward, but neither of you comments on it, going to breakfast in the student union. You laugh actually when you see how happy all the food choices make him and though he grumbles at you making fun of him (you’re not at all…you just really like his smile and his joy), it feels like maybe it’ll all be okay. 

Never mind that when he gets into his family’s car to head back home, you don’t hug and though that’s not that unusual, it feels like you should do something and what you really want to do is kiss him again. 

It’s like you’ve opened up Pandora’s box and it’s full of Jeongin.

–

You don’t see Jeongin during winter holidays. You and your family travel to see relatives, and he disappears during the second half of the break to go with friends on a ski trip.

With his girlfriend.

His kissing apparently worked because you’ve seen a few photos posted with him and her. He gets tagged in a lot more of her posts than him posting, but yeah. The cheerleader and he seem to have worked out.

Which is good.

Even if you feel weird about it. 

You two still message each other from time to time. He often contacts you with a question about his college application or one of the teachers he currently has (you had them all before), but he doesn’t say much about his social life. Or his romantic life.

The day of the party seems to have been a one-off. 

So, when you see him right before classes start, it’s for all of ten minutes as he has to head to his girlfriend’s party. 

“I’m so sorry,” he huffs out as he jogs to where you are, leaning on your car in the high school parking lot. It’s a good meeting point, about halfway between your homes and you’re feeling weirdly nostalgic about the place. “I thought I could hang out for maybe an hour or two, but there’s this list of things I have to pick up and–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt him, smiling. It’s so good to see him in person. Even if his appearance seems to be improving (not that it needed to) each time you do. His hair is wavy right now, still with auburn hints and though he could wear a puffer jacket and look more put together than you, he’s wearing a beige overcoat and looks like he belongs in a fashion magazine. “You look good.”

The compliment stops him from speaking for a second. The tell-tale blush showing up on his cheeks, the little tug on his ear. 

“Uh. Thanks.” He moves to stand next to you, also leaning on your car. “Did you have a good holiday?”

You shrug. “Mostly stuck with relatives who can’t remember my name let alone what I actually care about. But it was fine.” You cross your arms as the winter wind bites through your scarf. “Yours?” You look over him. “Doesn’t look like skiing ended too badly.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “No, though I stuck mostly to the beginners’ slopes. I’ll leave the physical prowess to Min.” He stares ahead at the empty outdoor lunch tables. “I had fun.”

You nod. “Good. that’s good. And…I mean, I see the posts. Stuff is going good with your…girlfriend?”

He looks down at you. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Never mind that you sounded the awkwardest you’ve ever sounded. “Good.”

“You don’t tell me much about uni, noona. Just the occasional, ‘this happened to someone I know’.” He gently elbows you. “Do you do anything other than study and go to class?”

“I sleep and eat too.”

“Noona.”

You shrug. “This coming from you, who never ventured out unless I made you…”

“Times change.”

His words hit you in the gut, almost like you can’t breathe for half a second. Times do change. The fact that talking to him makes you a little nervous, that you try not to stare at him, the twist in your stomach remembering that he has a girlfriend…all of it tells you that the friendship you cherished the most has changed. 

And seems unlikely to ever go back to the way it was. 

You hear a vibrating sound, deduce that it isn’t yours but his and keep your very melancholy thoughts to yourself. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and glances at the screen. 

“You need to go.”

He sighs. “I’m sorry.”

You force a smile to your lips. “It’s okay. Go drink and be merry. I’m glad I got to see you. Even if just for a little bit.”

He turns toward you, in so doing blocking some of the wind, and cocks his head in thought. “You sound sad.”

“Aren’t you? We have to go back to school tomorrow.” 

He chuckles and tugs on your coat sleeve. “Give me a hug and I’ll see you later.”

You don’t question that he asks for a hug, you’re not going to question any semblance of physical affection from him. You just wrap your arms around his middle and hold him tight. He’s so very warm and solid. 

You feel his chin rest on top of your head for a brief second before he draws back. 

“Take care, noona.”

“You too, agi.” 

–

Spring semester seems like a whirlwind. It’s all dead and grey in January and February, then everything speeds up like a roller coaster on its way down. You are grateful you focused on getting all the gen ed classes out of the way, but it makes for a chaotic focus during those months. 

The only time you actually talk to Jeongin is right after his birthday.

“Noona.”

You answer the phone without thinking, assuming your parents’ have called because no one from your generation calls on the phone. 

You pause at his voice. “Jeongin.”

“This gift.”

You wrack your brain about the present you gave him. It’s a mere 40000 won gift card because you aren’t exactly rolling it in at your part-time job on campus. You’re hoping he uses the gift card when he starts to get stuff for dormitory life because, honestly, back-to-school shopping for university (not counting overpriced textbooks) is the best thing ever. 

“That gift.” You wonder if you should apologize because it’s so small, but you know Jeongin. He is not obsessed with money any more than any young person is: wishing to have more, but unable to make it yet, wondering if it will bring all happiness like the world tells you so. 

“Noona,” he is not impressed with your cluelessness. “The attachment.”

Oh.

So one of the few friends you’ve made at uni, who you feel pretty comfortable with, is Jisung. You met him in freshman composition, and though your majors are massively and diametrically opposed, you two keep up. He’s in computer science and you’re in the social sciences (possibly anthropology, but who knows). He is constantly working on new ideas for apps, software, games; often starting one project one day and then abandoning it for another the next. 

The only reason you know this is because you often crash at their (he and his roommate Hyunjin) off-campus apartment. It’s quieter and less…well, dorm-y. Because of that, you see and hear about the constant line of projects come and go for Jisung. One of the projects that stuck around for a bit was what you sent Jeongin.

A digital fashion book (more like an online photo album, but the appearance was pretty slick, as was the way the pages turned, annotating photo captions and linking to original sites) entitled “What I’d Get Jeongin If I Had Money…And Fashion Sense.” 

You’d done your research, looking at recent trends and articles (okay headlines because you cannot read an entire article on fashion) and perused the interwebs for clothing pieces you thought might look nice on Jeongin, inputting it into Jisung’s program (with his help - only with the computery stuff…he was about as helpless as you about fashion) to create the final product. It was both a gift and help for Jisung with an assignment as he needed some example of what he’d been working on for one of his computer classes, you just changed Jeongin’s name for him to turn in.

“So you liked it?” you ask tentatively. You had second-guessed yourself a million times since sending it. Was it too much? Did it look like you paid way too much attention? Was it stupid? Was it a really bad representation of what his friendship meant to you? Were the pieces you picked all horrible?

There is a pause on the other end of the phone call. “It’s brilliant.”

You slump in relief, your head landing on your pillow. “Yeah?”

“No, really. This is cool. I like everything you picked out.” He chuckles. “Maybe my fashion has rubbed off on you.”

“We can only hope.”

He laughs again. “Really. This is…this is nice.”

You hear beyond his words. What you sent matters to him. And maybe in knowing that, he knows that he matters to you. 

The phone call doesn’t last much longer after that. You ask about how his birthday went, and he tells you about going out with his girlfriend and friends even though he kinda wanted to stay in. But it was fun and he doesn’t feel any different being eighteen. You promise to tell Jisung that he liked his gift (you’ve mentioned Jisung and his roommates a time or two) and that you’d be at graduation to see Jeongin in cap and gown. 

“And I’ll see you on campus next year,” he says as the call wraps up. 

“I know. I had no idea the film department here was something that interested you.”

“We’ll see. I like movies…and thinking too much about movies sometimes. Maybe it’s a good idea. Maybe it’s a bad one.”

“It’s just a choice, Jeongin. You can always change it if you want to.”

He sighs. “Yeah. Choices still have to be made though.”

You wonder if he has other choices on his mind and you want to ask, but you are still a bit reticent regarding what you can and can’t talk to him about. 

You wonder if his girlfriend knows enough about him to understand that he hadn’t wanted to go out for his birthday.

“I better go…” he continues. “Talk later?”

“Yeah. Talk later.”

“Thanks again for this…both gifts.”

You hang up soon after that and though you were in the middle of reading for class, you stare at your ceiling for a few minutes, wondering if having Jeongin on campus will either get you two back to the friendship you used to have or just spiral this crush even more.

–

You survive your freshman year. No flying colors on grades or anything, but acceptable passes, even a few above averages.  There isn’t much fanfare on completing your first year of college, but there is when you graduate high school, so you make plans to slip into the high school gymnasium on that Saturday after you move home to see Jeongin walk across the stage. 

He looks so tall.

You clap as enthusiastically as you can without bringing attention to yourself, though it doesn’t matter because quite a few students cheer for him (he did get popular). The whole ceremony is a weird thing to sit through once you’re on the other side, but the nostalgia is nice. 

Almost makes you think high school was a pleasant thing (it wasn’t, anyone who says it was you will never trust). 

When it’s over, you start to head toward the parking lot thinking that you’ll message him later, but you hear your name shouted. You turn to see him, graduation robe unzipped and flying behind him a bit like a superhero cape.

He bounds up to you, all smiles and joy. 

God. Look at him.

“Hi,” you say when he stops in front of you.

“You came.”

Now you’re the one blushing and embarrassed. You drop your gaze. “Of course. You came to mine.”

He makes an unimpressed sound. “Seungmin.”

You laugh and look back up. “Okay. You came because of Seungmin, but fair is fair.”

He hugs you. No warning at all. He’s as warm as the day is, right on the verge of too hot. 

“Congrats for surviving, agi,” you mutter into his shoulder before he draws back.

“Thanks.” He beams at you, clearly on a high of finally being done. “There’s a party tonight. Wanna come?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Of graduates?”

He nods.

“I…hmmm…”

He laughs at your reluctance. “Okay, noona. But soon. We’ll hang out?”

You nod. “Yeah. Go back to your family.” You ‘shoo’ him away. He laughs again before squeezing your hand. 

“Thank you for coming.” And he disappears back into the crowd of family and students. 

You walk back to your car, shaking your head at how much damn fluttering your heart did during that five minutes of interaction. 

–

The summer post-freshman year has been…normal. You work to get some extra money, catch up with a few high school friends who are home as well. 

But you spend most of your time with Jeongin. 

“Your girlfriend…doesn’t mind?” You ask him late in June after realizing that you have seen him three days in a row (he’s also gotten a job at the mall you work at; though he’s at a clothing store and you avidly blend smoothies for people).

You’re both on break (you and he may have tried to get your shifts at similar times so you can have lunch together) and he’s scrolling through his phone after finishing a box of fried chicken. 

“Doesn’t mind what?”

You poke at your pasta with your fork. “Us hanging out so much?”

He cocks his head to the side as he looks up from his phone. “Well…it’s not really a thing.”

“What’s not a thing?”

“She and I aren’t… a thing.”

“You’re not?” You’re so confused right now.

He shrugs. “She’s traveling all this summer and wanted not to be ‘tied down’ and I guess…” He trails off. “I guess it didn’t bother me that she felt that way. Which seems like maybe I didn’t want to be tied down either.” 

“Oh.”

He smirks. “We never talk about this, noona. Why are you so interested?”

You poke at your pasta again. “I just thought it was weird that you hadn’t said anything about her. That’s a big part of your life…a significant other.” You swallow. “I am trying to be a good friend here.” You lift your chin, daring him to argue.

He laughs and steals your fork to take a bite of your food. “Don’t try so hard. It’s weird.” 

“Thanks.”

He chews slowly before speaking again. “It’s okay, you know? I liked her, but it wasn’t…we weren’t…” he shrugs again. “We just weren’t.”

He meets your gaze.

“I’m okay.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He glances at his phone. “But you’re not because you only have a minute left.”

You curse and jump out of your seat, moving to clean up, but he waves you off.

“I got it, noona.” He smiles again at you and you just want to hug him. 

–

Life at university with Jeongin is something. You’re happy to have him near again. Neither of you has a single class together, but you never did in high school, so that’s not new. Whether by happenstance or an unconscious intention on both your parts, you make sure to have lunch or coffee with each other at least once a week; though usually twice. There’s something enjoyable about hearing his new experiences with classes and classmates, and dorm life. He shares things with you via messages but it’s much more fun to see his facial expressions and hear his voice intonations when he imitates a certain professor or classmate. 

You introduce him to Jisung (and subsequently Hyunjin) and they all click like they’ve known each other forever. They baby Jeongin a little bit and you know it gets on his nerves (you’re pretty good at reading his subtle tics when he’s with others), but he also seems to enjoy having big brothers nearby (you know he misses Seungmin because you miss Changbin even if neither of you wants to admit how much you love your older brothers). Sometimes you find out later that he’s been hanging out with them, without you, and though it’s annoying for him to steal your friends, you also don’t mind much because well…it’s Jeongin.

Who you might be a little in love with.

Perhaps that isn’t a revelation to anyone if they’d been inside your mind for the last year or so, but to you, it’s kind of a smack in the face. This is Jeongin, your best friend since he was fourteen and you were fifteen. You don’t believe in stories about childhood best friends to lovers as they always seemed a bit too idealistic to be real. You know that he can smell gross when he comes in from mowing his parents’ yard. You’ve seen him when he gets out of bed in the morning (nope, never mind that’s not a bad image and you need to stop thinking immediately). 

He’s just Jeongin, your friend who can be a little quiet, a lot savage, who loves fashion and movies and often looks at you like you’ve grown another head when you start talking about how eastern culture deals with death in healthier ways than western culture. 

You deal with this epiphany like you deal with most things: acknowledge it, but don’t do anything about it.

Winter break comes and goes with little fanfare. Jeongin tells you that he’s moving in with Jisung and Hyunjin and you make a face at him because why does he get to live off campus as a freshman when you’re still stuck on campus as a sophomore. You send a message to Jisung saying basically the same thing, and both of them assure you that you can crash there any time you need to get away and that they are protecting you by not letting you move in because they’re boys and are gross.

You’re somewhat appeased.

–

“A party?” 

Jeongin is nodding as Jisung spins in his office chair for no reason other than the fact that he has an office chair that rolls and spins. You’re on Jisung’s bed with Jeongin, avoiding your research work for an hour or so by listening to Jisung ramble on about some anime that he and the rest of the apartment have gotten into. 

You make a note to consider studying why animes capture teen and 20-something boys the way they do.

“We’re having a party,” Jisung repeats, like his mentioning it wasn’t out of the blue. “A welcome party for Innie, for the new semester, for the fact that none of us ever go to parties which shows just how pathetic we are in our college lives.”

“I’ve been to college parties,” you say before the weight of those words hits you. You try to glance at Jeongin without too much obviousness. He meets your gaze and you can’t hear Jisung’s words for at least a minute.

You look away, the memory of that party flooding your brain, your senses. You’ve kissed since then, haven’t you? A kiss isn’t that big a deal…even if you have feelings…it’s just a kiss. 

Jisung stops spinning in his chair and looks at the both of you. “What?”

You clear your throat. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” He points at Jeongin. “Spill.”

Jeongin has never been easily intimidated by anyone, especially Jisung. He points back. “No.” 

That doesn’t stop your hyperactive friend. “Ohhhhhh.”

Which annoys the shit out of you.

“Oh god, it’s nothing, okay?” You throw up your hands, frustrated that this event still holds so much sway over you. “He came out to visit last year, and came to a party with me, we both were drunk and kissed. That’s it. Just a drunk, dumb thing.”

Jisung starts cackling at your confession, but in your peripheral, you see Jeongin focus on you. 

“It wasn’t that dumb,” he says so softly that you don’t think Jisung hears, before getting up off the bed. “I have to finish watching two more silent films for class.” He cuffs Jisung on the head as he leaves the bedroom. Jisung rubs his head before looking at you. 

“So…you coming to the party?”

–

You’re in the corner of the hallway and living area of the guys’ apartment. You’re nursing a red solo cup of some concoction that Hyunjin handed you when you walked into the kitchen. You don’t know what you expected from this party, but this many people was not it. You apparently had blocked out the idea that anyone existed outside the bubble of the four of you though you recognize a fair amount of people milling about. 

So you could go talk to them.

But you stay where you are, watching. 

Your eyes find Jeongin more often than not (the radar you have for him is hella annoying). Currently, he’s talking to two girls you don’t know…maybe freshmen like him. They’re pretty; smiling and gazing at him like they see exactly how stupidly attractive your friend is.

You begrudgingly admire them for actually making their interest known. Even if you seethe just a little.

“Talking to people is not the worst thing, you know.”

“Go away, Sung.” You reply without looking over at him. You can see him sway slightly from drink, which explains why the introvert is telling you to go talk to people. 

He bumps shoulders with you. “But you’re one of my favorites.”

You smile and glance at him. “But I rank below Jeongin?”

“Everyone ranks below Innie,” he tells you. “You’re above Hyunjin, though. If that helps.”

You laugh and lean back in your little corner, glancing back at Jeongin and his two admirers. 

You can feel Jisung watching you, then at where you’re watching. He says your name quietly and you know, you just know that he sees exactly what you hope no one sees because he can be really perceptive. 

You shake your head, wondering if maybe what you’ve been drinking has had more of an effect than you realized. 

“I think I just want to kiss someone,” you say, knowing deep down that that isn’t the damn problem, but you can be stubborn and you could use a distraction. You finish up what’s left in the cup and meet Jisung’s gaze. “Ever thought about kissing me?”

His eyebrows shoot straight up, eyes go wide. “Um…yes?”

“Really?”

He shrugs. “I mean, I kinda think that about anyone I find hot. At some point.”

“That’s reasonable.” You tilt your head up. “Want to?”

“Just cause?” 

You nod. He shrugs again and leans in to press his lips against yours. Your eyes close and you can smell that he’s been drinking tequila. His fingers settle on your waist before his mouth parts and his tongue meets yours tentatively. 

Okay, he’s pretty good at this. 

“What is going on here?”

Hyunjin’s voice breaks the two of you apart, which is both a relief and an annoyance. Jisung mumbles something, face pink with embarrassment as you glare at Hyunjin. 

“You’re not that stupid, are you?” you ask him. He smirks at you. 

“Why are you kissing Sungie?”

“I kissed her,” Jisung protests weakly. “She asked me too.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Kinda missed kissing someone,” you say, rolling your eyes before looking back to where Jeongin still was. One less girl, but they are a lot closer to each other. “Want to?”

As different as Hyunjin and Jisung are, they have both the same surprised expression when you proposition them like this. Eyebrows up, widened eyes. 

You reach out to grab the open collar of his shirt, tugging him a little. 

“Scared?”

He scoffs and braces his arm next to your head (kudos to him for that classic move) before meeting you halfway. You hear Jisung make some sort of nonsensical exclamation when Hyunjin immediately slips his tongue in your mouth. 

It’s good. Of course it’s good. Especially when your brain is a little hazy from drink and your body more than touch-starved. Hyunjin’s hand sneaks up under the hem of your top and you shiver.

“Noona?”

You jerk back to see Jeongin approaching this weird set-up with bewilderment all over his face. 

Hyunjin glances at his roommate and gestures toward you. “Your turn.”

Jeongin shoots a look at Hyunjin, then you, then at Jisung. Then you again. 

“What is going on?”

Your heart is pounding with his eyes on you. Even in your intoxication, you know that despite the talent Jisung and Hyunjin have at kissing, if Jeongin kisses you…

You brush it off, shaking away your hyperawareness of the tiny peek of collarbone you can see because of the wide collar of Jeongin’s t-shirt. 

Your teeth ache.

“Just wanted a kiss.” 

He doesn’t look away from you or the defiant lift of your chin. He moves close as Hyunjin draws back to let him and wraps an arm around Jisung’s shoulder, utterly amused. You can’t take your eyes off Jeongin’s mouth as he gets nearer. 

He doesn’t touch you. His hands stay in his jeans pockets as his lips brush your cheek so lightly that you aren’t even sure if it’s real. 

You ball up your hands into fists in a conscious effort not to grab him and pull him to you. Because as little as it is, his touch unravels you.

When your eyes open, he’s not looking at you, but pushing away Jisung who is attempting to kiss him. 

“Come on, if you’d kissed her lips it would have been an indirect kiss…Finally, baby boy!!” Jisung reaches out for the younger as Hyunjin snickers, trying to keep Jisung from mauling Jeongin. It’s playful tussling and it’s enough of a distraction for you to slip away. 

You toss your empty cup into the kitchen trash, avoiding bumping any of the party attendees as your heart tries to return to a normal speed. 

You find another quiet corner, this time on the balcony of their apartment. It’s chilly out there, so people only come out to grab a quick smoke or get a gulp of fresh air. You’re so quiet and unobtrusive that you’re only noticed about half the time. 

Leaving the party immediately after kissing three different guys seems too obvious, so you’re going to wait until it’s nearly one am before you make your respectable departure. You had planned to stay and help clean up while crashing on their couch but you can’t do that now. 

You can’t be near him when all your feelings just want to burst out. Burst out singing and dancing on the kitchen counter like a poorly-made musical.

You let your head rest on the brick wall behind you, the railing of the balcony digging into your hip. You don’t adjust away from the slight pain. The pain feels a bit deserved for your stupidity and it keeps the fogginess at bay. 

Maybe you need some space. Maybe seeing him multiple times a week is making this worse. Maybe distance would help you move on. 

Maybe falling for your best friend is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.

The sliding glass door opens and closes. You don’t look over, not wanting whatever random person to think that you want to engage in interaction. You glance at your phone for the time, thinking that you can probably make your exit now. You don’t even have to say goodbye. The guys will be too wrapped up in socialization to worry about you. 

You know it’s him when he leans against the wall next to you. He smells like his cologne and coconut rum. 

Your heart responds accordingly.

He doesn’t say anything for several seconds. Nor do you. You haven’t processed through everything yet. You haven’t gotten back to your usual self around him and if you speak, you know he’ll know.

And he can’t know. Because if he does, everything is irreparable and you can’t handle that.

He takes a deep breath before shivering. 

“You should put on a jacket, agi,” you say quietly. 

“You should too.”

You’re in a long-sleeve thin sweater, so it’s not as ridiculous as Jeongin in a t-shirt in February weather. 

“You don’t want to get sick before your birthday.”

You can feel his eyes on you then and it takes all your self-control not to look back. Because you know, you know that if you do you’ll just want to take his mouth, let your hands explore the planes of his body, feel his hair between your fingers, hear his sighs and groans, breathe in all of him so the alcohol you’ve consumed has nothing on the mere intoxication of him. 

Seconds pass. He shivers again.

“Go in,” you say casually. “I’m gonna head back to the dorm anyway.” You force your eyes up to make eye contact. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His thumb is at your bottom lip before you have time to register that he’s moved. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip then the top as he leaves his spot to stand facing you. 

“Jeongin…”

He’s staring at you, eyes so clear in the night, not even glassy with tipsiness. He cups your chin with his hand, long fingers grazing your cheek. His other hand takes yours, fingers lacing together as the space between your bodies lessens centimeter by centimeter. 

“Don’t go,” he whispers with his lips mere breaths away from yours. “Stay.” He gently wipes your lips again. “I am not kissing Jisung-hyung or Hyunjin-hyung.” There is a petulance in his voice that makes you half-laugh despite feeling like you can’t move. “Why did you?” His gaze slides from your mouth back to your eyes. 

“I just…” How do you explain any of this to him? How do you put into words your feelings that you know you shouldn’t share? “I thought it would help.”

His hand tightens around yours. “Help what?”

“Not wanting to kiss you.” It pours out of you, like a dam that could never be held back. 

You see the curve of the edge of his mouth, the self-satisfaction. “Did it work?”

Words are pointless. He knows; you’ve basically admitted everything. Why is he asking? You can feel your entire body lean toward him as though he’s some sort of human version of gravity, pulling you. 

So you don’t use words. You just kiss his fingertips that are still lingering near. You hear the slight catch in his breath before he removes his fingers and covers your lips with his. His arm wraps around you, pressing you against him so tightly you think you can feel his heart beat against yours. His mouth opens, his kisses wet and hot and you can only cling to his shoulders, on your toes to meet this surge of want. 

Your brain shuts down and you can’t think. You can only focus on how he feels under your fingers, how he tastes (that coconut rum), the sound of his sharp pants of breath. When he draws away to gasp, you open your eyes to stare at his swollen lips. 

He is so pretty. 

You stumble closer, lips pressing along his jawline. He turns to kiss you again, letting go of your hand to slide under your thigh, lifting so your leg is at his hip. He rocks into you, making you break the kiss, and your head falls back against the brick. It doesn’t deter him, his mouth skimming down your neck, letting his teeth graze your skin. 

You bite your lower lip to keep from making a sound, though he must hear something because he looks up at you. 

With a smirk so damn knowing, he tugs you closer against him by your leg, pressing firm enough to make you squirm and he laughs.

He laughs.

It’s breathless, but you can’t help but scowl at him for laughing. He kisses your unhappy expression; your forehead, nose, and lips. He lets go of your leg, framing your face in his hands. 

“I changed my mind,” he speaks so softly. 

Your heart freezes.

“You did?”

He nods, his eyes darting back and forth over your features. 

“Don’t stay here. Let’s leave. Your roommate isn’t there?”

You shake your head (she’s never there) but it takes several seconds for what he’s saying to actually sink in. He’s asking. He’s wanting.

Oh. Oh wow.

“You want to–”

He straightens, his hands leaving your face and you grab one, afraid for him to be too far away. 

“I thought…” He swallows. “I thought you wanted to.”

He apparently cannot perceive how your body is thrumming.

“Jeongin…” You attempt to catch your breath. “We…we’ve been drinking.”

He rolls his eyes, though he doesn’t pull away from your grasp. “I’m not drunk. You aren’t drunk. I’ve seen you drunk.” He watches you for a second. “Do you want to?”

“Yes.” You close your eyes as what feels like the second confession comes out. “Yes. So much. But you…we…”

The balcony door opens then and several party-goers fall out onto the small space. He gets closer to you, as though you need a buffer between you and them. He drops his head so he can speak in your ear. 

“Let me walk you back?”

–

He grabs a jacket before leading you out of their apartment. He even grabs an extra of his hoodies to wrap you in before you even hit the outside. 

“Jeongin, I’m fine. It’s not that far.”

He doesn’t argue but zips up the hoodie for you and you just make a face at him. His answering smile is innocent, but then he takes your hand in his and starts to walk. You nearly trip after him, thrown by the ease with which he holds your hand. Like it’s nothing and everything all at once. 

You want to say something, the cold air is making any intoxication excuse for your blatant honesty about your feelings pretty null and void, but you can’t. You don’t know what to say. 

“At that party,” he begins slowly, looking over at you once. The streetlight is behind him so you can’t see his expression which doesn’t help your low-level panic at everything that has happened this night at all. “Last year. The party.” You see him swallow. 

He didn’t seem nervous five minutes ago, his teeth on your skin. 

“Yeah?” 

“You said you were sorry.” He pauses at the intersection, looking both ways before leading you along. “I thought that you didn’t like it. That you regretted it.” He takes a deep breath. “That you didn’t want me.”

You stop immediately so he is almost jerked back by your linked hands. You can see his face better now, more streetlights to illuminate. His features look sharper with the shadows cast under his cheekbones and along his jaw and neck. 

“Noona?” he prompts you because you’ve definitely forgotten what you meant to say in your staring at his unearthly face. 

“Oh. No. Um…” Now it’s your turn to take a big breath. “Fuck, Jeongin, this is…we’re friends and I don’t want to–”

“It’s way too late for that,” he answers, the same note of frustration in his words as in yours. “I can’t pretend that didn’t happen.” He gestures back toward their apartment. “That I didn’t want that.” 

Something tight in your chest loosens just slightly at his words. Maybe, just maybe.

“I said I was sorry because I felt bad. That I took advantage. That you were just trying to get some practice or experience and I like…mauled you.” You decide to stare at the sidewalk as it seems safer. “You were drunk and I just near assaulted you.”

You hear a snort, a laugh and that makes you look up at him. He’s covered his mouth as though that will lessen the fact that he’s laughing. Again.

You try and pull your hand away from his, but he’s stronger than you and just tightens his grip.

“I had no idea you were an asshole.”

He shakes his head, the laughing dying too. He tugs you close, arm wrapping around you in a hug. 

“You didn’t assault me,” he murmurs in your hair before pressing a kiss on top of your head. “I wanted you just as much as I hope…I hope you wanted me.”

That same knot in your chest loosens even more. “Really?”

He draws back so you can actually see him. “You didn’t know? You didn’t know that I’ve had a crush on you pretty much since we met?”

“What?”

He laughs again, but it’s embarrassed now, shy. 

“This pretty, older girl just starts talking to me and becomes my friend despite having no classes together, just two brothers on the same baseball team. Of course, I liked you.”

“But…” You try and wrap your brain around this information. “Your girlfriend.”

His smile saddens. “I figured, you know,…there was no way you’d ever like me back. Should try and move on.”

“I’m sorry.” The very idea that you could and did hurt his feelings makes you want to throw bean bags at past you. “I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t tell you. How could you know? I thought it was obvious.” He stares at you for a few moments. “Jisung-hyung and Hyunjin-hyung figured it out like four months ago.”

Were you that stupid?

“Come on,” he picks up leading you back to your dorm, which is a good thing because you don’t know if you could find anything with the way your brain is currently unable to compute. 

It’s really not that far and by the time both of you enter your dorm room, your brain is running again, but this time it’s on the entire ‘no roommate…you brought a boy home’ train. 

“Do…you want…uh…I think I have coke?” You undo his hoodie from your frame and set it on the small sofa that you have set under your lofted bed. You open the mini fridge, trying to remember if you actually have coke?

“Noona, I’m okay.” You can hear him sttle on the sofa, rustling of clothes as he takes off his jacket. “You okay?”

You shut the minifridge door and look over at him. His head is tilted to the side in question. 

“I’m…processing.”

He laughs and pats the spot next to him. “Process next to me.”

You do sit next to him, though it’s tentative. He gazes at you for several seconds before leaning in to kiss you softly, his hand coming to cup your chin. 

“Why are you still processing?” he asks, his lips not far. 

“I’ve kinda spent over a year trying to not think about you like that.” You kiss him back and he manuevers you carefully so you’re sitting in his lap, facing him. “Smooth,” you comment, feeling your face heat.

He smirks at you before resting his hands at your hips, squeezing them gently. You touch his hair, watching his face as his eyes close. You card your fingers through the strands, messing up whatever style he had going on this evening. He hums contentedly before opening his eyes again. 

“So…this is a thing.”

He laughs again and sits up, hands sliding to your lower back, eyes alight with mischief. 

“Use your college vocabulary, noona.”

“I hate you.”

“No. You don’t.” There’s a hint of bafflement in his voice as he leans in to kiss you. 

Your mock-annoyance melts. “No I don’t.” You let your lips linger on his. “I guess I can’t call you ‘agi’ anymore.”

He makes a face. “I don’t mind, but it’s a little weird?” You feel his fingers slip under the top of your jeans, fire against your skin. 

“Jagiya?”

You feel him tremble just slightly. “Yeah, that’s good.” His hand slides farther down and this time you tremble. “Are you still noona?” You can feel his smug grin against your mouth.

“Um…” Never mind that you can barely concentrate to speak with his hands on your ass. “Sure? Sure.”

“Good.” He squeezes, making you yelp. With that irrepressible smile, carefully turns and lays you down on the sofa, settling on top of you. 

Your eyes flutter close at his weight. 

“Do you have a condom?”

You feel him still and you open your eyes.

“Um.”

The blush, despite the mere fact he’s on top of you, is beyond endearing. 

“No,” he replies. “You?” He glances around your dorm room.

“Nope.”

“Why not?” he asks, eyes bright despite the fact you only have your fairy lights turned on in the room. 

“I didn’t…It’s been awhile, Yang Jeongin. Don’t judge.” 

He chuckles and kisses you softly, tongue meeting yours just enough to make you want before he draws back.

“I’m sure my roommate does somewhere, but…”

He waits, one hand tracing your ear and the other bracing himself against the couch. 

“I’m not saying I don’t want to. I just…I swear an hour ago I was telling myself that I needed to get over you.”

He nods, meeting your lips again. “And I haven’t even taken you out on a proper date.”

“Jeongin…that’s beside–” He interrupts your incoherent words, kissing you deeper.

“It’s okay, noona. I like kissing you.”

You cover your face with your hands. “That’s my line.”

He kisses the back of your hands before you peer through your fingers to look at him. He’s staring at you fondly, thoughtful. 

“Can I stay with you?”

You lean up to kiss him, hands sliding through his hair. He doesn’t pull away, sliding one hand under your top and along your side. You twitch a little at the ticklishness and you can feel his smile. 

“You can stay, jagiya.”

--

© yoongihan 2023. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

how are men victims when men are straight up so powerful, women feel inferior next to them

Well, first off, thanks for the compliment.

What you describe is actually part of how we got where we are today, because just as men evolved to be bigger and stronger than women, so we too evolved to put the safety of women (and children) before men. That's just how the human race adapted to best survive.

But women did not evolve to put the safety and well-being of men before their own. This turns out to be very important, so keep that in mind, because we'll be coming back to it later.

Once (a minority of) women began demanding the vote, more than a hundred years ago now, men - seeking to aid women in whatever way they could - gave into their demands, and women became more and more involved in political changes and lawmaking over the following decades. This resulted in laws that favored and gave special provisions and protections to women, all in the name of "equality", and usually at the expense of men, who, as before, went along with it because we are hardwired to want to aid and protect women over men.

With the rise of the second wave of feminists, around the turn of the 1970s, this massively intensified, leading to a relentless demonizing of one half of the human race as a class of, well... demons, essentially, and perpetual demands for more aid and special advantages for women. Any man who pointed out that this was not in any way "equal" treatment was tarred and feathered as a "misogynist" and never heard from again. The Marxists infiltrated feminism and the feminists infiltrated the courts, the media and the political and education system, and they all promoted the hell out of this agenda, and women en masse went along with it because of all the free stuff it promised them, and felt no innate drive to see that the other half of humanity was being cared for and treated as well and fairly as themselves.

So now, 50 years on, we live in an age in which 80% of the homeless are men, 80% of the suicides are men, and 94% of all workplace deaths are men. And no-one cares. Universities all across the western world are now 60/40 female/male, and it's common corporate business practice to refuse to hire people for a job simply on the grounds of them being white-skinned and/or male.

So, while I would not want to label men as a class "victims" (the pursuit of victimhood as a political goal and path to success and popularity is another of the biggest problems of today, and another one which likely attained such prominence due to women's increased involvement in political discourse), it's certainly true that men are now systemically disadvantaged in many ways that women are not, and women as a class have many rights, privileges and special protections written into law to advantage them, while men have none.

[spiderm444rk]

hi guys, i didn’t really have the strength to come here and speak up about the taeil issue yesterday, but it’s extremely important to address this so i definitely have something to say about it.

i was at work yesterday, and i found out about the whole scandal during my 30 minute break, and i was half convinced it’s not real and he didn’t really get kicked out for like the first half of it - it was a shock, to randomly find out a person i stanned and supported for 4 years would be capable of doing something like this. once i realized it’s actually happening and sm kicked him out without a second thought, i understood how serious the scandal is and that no one is exaggerating.

i understand the whole situation makes us all feel disappointed and disgusted, and that it’s a sensitive topic, but i think it’s very important to educate ourselves about this and hold taeil accountable. let’s go over it together.

i saw too many kpop stans spreading misinformation, which in the end negatively affects the victim of this case the most . by making up fake stuff for clout, you only take away the attention from the actual victim who is trying to tell her story and get her justice. we don’t do that over here.

first of all, i hope everyone is aware that this is a REAL issue and that it actually happened. this isn’t a rumour, he’s an actual criminal. the police literally charged him with a sex related crime. sm, who is known for giving problematic people a second choice kicked him out IMMEDIATELY. no hiatus, no nothing. he’s just out of the picture. his bubble got terminated today. he’s being removed from nct zone. all of his album photocards are getting replaced by group photocards as we speak. sm is working hard to separate him from the group image asap. if this doesn’t speak volumes about how serious this scandal is, i don’t know what does. i hope NO ONE supports that man anymore. unfollowing him isn’t something to brag about, it’s just common sense. rapists deserve to rot behind the bars.

i saw a lot of people say they won’t believe it until it’s proven, but what more do you need? it already is proven. the whole group unfollowed him - not only 127, but dream and wayv too. taeyong deleted every picture with him while being in the military. this isn’t sm kicking him out because it will make the group look bad, they kicked him out because he’s a confirmed criminal. “i’m gonna wait until he’s proven guilty” he already is. hold that pathetic mistake of a man accountable.

but what i wanted to talk about the most - for the sake of the victim. let’s not blindly believe every lie we see on the internet and disregard the victim’s story.

- THE ONLY THING CONFIRMED IS THAT TAEIL IS CHARGED WITH A SEX RELATED CRIME. they didn’t specify anything. we don’t know what exactly it is, but i think we can all picture how terrible it needs to be for sm to kick him out of the company without a second thought.

- the investigation has been going on since june, but no one except the police and the victim who reported him knew. taeil of course knew he’s guilty, but he didn’t know he’s under investigation, and neither did sm or the rest of the nct members. they all learned about it - according to sm - in the middle of august, AFTER the last 127 fan meeting. so no, it’s not like they knew and included him anyway. it’s not like taeil knew he’s being investigated and went there to meet fans with a big smile on his face.

i’m obviously not saying this to protect him, but let’s not make it seem like all of the neos already knew and just kept being best friends with a rapist, especially in front of people who support them and love them. they didn’t know, and neither did the company. as soon as sm found out (from the police), he was out of the group.

- none of the rumours are confirmed. i’m not saying they can’t be real, but since it’s not confirmed, let’s focus on what we know (let me repeat myself) - taeil is guilty, sm and nct learned about it in the middle of august, he got kicked almost immediately. the police also confirmed the victim A is an adult woman, and no underage victim of the same gender is involved in this case. they said they won’t reveal any information about the progress of the case so the victim’s identity stays anonymous.

that’s it.

but what does it really mean ? there was a rumour about taeil raping an 11 year old girl to the point where she’s now permanently disabled, and abusing her for 6 years and hacking her phone so she couldn’t report him- NOT CONFIRMED. this case also isn’t about her. the victim who reported him is an adult woman. this doesn’t mean it can’t be real, or that there aren’t more victims out there, but it’s not the case that is being investigated right now.

people are also saying that taeil’s car accident didn’t actually happen, and that it was this girl’s grandpa/family member who broke his leg when they went to beat him up for what he did to the girl and that the car accident was just a cover up - also not confirmed. people are probably just trying to gain clout.

the @ agnes_121430 instagram account has been commenting on taeils ig posts since june, but she also posted about her case getting closed today, so she isn’t the actual victim in this case. she also said she never actually met taeil face to face (?).

taeil also isn’t involved in the burning sun scandal (yet, because once again, it’s not confirmed by any relevant platform) but this doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t bring it up again, because the chance that he or other male idols are involved is still there. korean women are suffering, we need to keep bringing this up.

same thing is with the Nth room, or any other similar telegram group chat. the Nth room is a group chat where you need to PAY a high fee to even get in, and the members of this group chat literally record women without their consent and even without them knowing and then sell the videos in that gc. random women, but even their FAMILY MEMBERS. they also make deepfakes of women - their sisters, mothers, they don’t care. they also target schools and the girl students in there. they threaten the girls to record themselves doing really fucked up stuff and then send it to the group chat, or just straight up drug them, touch them without consent, rape them… you can look this up. this scandal is about taeil, but this is also about what do the korean women have to go through, the mentality in south korea is insane. it’s not only a kpop issue, but also a human rights issue, and we need to address it.

also, there’s a rumour the Nth room members are getting exposed tomorrow. this isn’t true. if you see anything, it will be 99% made up, and bored kpop stans will just drag idols without any proof.

everyone needs to understand that we don’t really know these people and we never know who else is involved in stuff like this - i really hope no one in nct knew about this and that they aren’t involved, but this is such an unexpected reality check that it’s still hard for me to grasp it and decide what to believe or not. in no way i support taeil, but wow. it’s crazy what men are capable of, while acting like they’re the biggest sweethearts in front of other people.

let’s hold all rapists and people who SA people of any gender and in any way accountable, and expose all celebrities if they ever did something like this. no one wants to support criminals. taeil needs to pay for what he did.

please spread the word and don’t believe everything you see. if anyone wants the source of what i’m saying, i can dm it to you. i hope everything will get better with time and this isn’t the definitive downfall of nct 127, but i guess we’ll have to wait and see. i know this is difficult to deal with. i hope the victim will get her justice, and everyone please take care. i’m with every nctzen out there. stay strong.

[diamondcitydarlin]

'time for round two of making teenagers uncomfortable on the internet'

Listen. No one is shipping beetlebabes for the sole purpose of 'making teenagers uncomfortable on the internet'. Unless the adults in question are your parents/guardians, none of them are responsible for the stuff you might see while being 'on the internet'. None of them are responsible for your discomfort from what you might see. None of them are obligated to stop having fun in their own fandom spaces simply because a teenager exists 'on the internet' who doesn't like it (who is also perfectly capable of staying out of places they don't want to see, I PRESUME) no more than adults at a bar are obligated to not drink because there are people under the age who can't (fittingly, most bars in the US don't admit people under the age at all). You know who is responsible? Depending on your age of teenagedom, it's either to some extent your parents/guardians, but also you. Yeah, sweetie, you. I've been on the internet since the late 90's when I was NINE and I'm here to tell you right now that learning how to cultivate your own experience online is an extremely important tool. If you don't learn now how to keep your nose out of things that you don't like, you're going to have a very hard time filled with round-about arguments and constant drama and maybe worse when you could just be having fun with the things you do like and ignoring the stuff you don't. You see, my sweet summer child, feeling 'discomfort' about something benign does not inherently give you the right to shit all over whatever it is that made you uncomfortable or make up insinuations about the consenting adults participating in it. Unless there are people dropping shipping art into your inbox against your will or something (there aren't) it actually is none of your business at all, and doesn't concern you in the least. Like my goodness, you kids have ALL kinds of protections you can use to weed out things you don't want to see that we didn't have back when I was a 'teenager on the internet', blocking, blacklisting, browser extensions that can help with that, etc, and yet somehow we seem to have better understood back then how to mind our own business and stay out of fandom spaces we didn't want to be in. Nowadays all I see are children running into the devil's sacrament uninvited and claiming to be personally affected by said sacrament when all of us are wondering what the fuck they're doing there in the first place when there are clear signs denoting what sacrament this is. You don't have to see the movie, you don't have to see shipping content, you don't have to be 'exposed' to any of this at all; in this day and age, you choose to be, which makes any discomfort you feel as a result of that your own responsibility. The only person making 'teenagers uncomfortable on the internet' in this specific instance are the teens themselves.

And again, a little crash course in history here since the education system probably failed you, but using simply the existence of children as an excuse for why adults can't do consenting adult activities with each other has historically been used as a way to demonize and weaponize violence against marginalized groups. Yall are literally just stealing pages from homophobic/misogynistic/racist/transphobic conservative playbooks. That may not be your ultimate goal in coming after fandom spaces, but it's where that kind of behavior and thinking always ends up in the end. If you think alt-right entities won't harness that sense of youthful moral outrage for their own ends then I have a bridge to sell you.

Anyway, point being, no random adult on the internet or IRL is responsible for you. Random adults on the internet or IRL are not your parents/guardians. They have no obligation to eschew their own interests just because kids are wandering into places where they shouldn't. I honestly worry for any child on the internet who thinks this way, because there are absolutely predators out there that will abuse this sense of 'every adult is responsible for my comfort'. They aren't, and I'm sorry the adults in your life that actually are responsible for you failed you so much as to not teach you otherwise. Unlearn this now before you get hurt, please.

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Teacher's Pet [Aaron x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@littlecarmine) Center (@penandpaper-love) Right (@f4iryesss)

Prompt: When the reader, Jack’s teacher gets injured during the school day keeping her students safe, Aaron goes to check on her that evening. The unlikely pair get closer, but it's up to both of them if they want to make whatever they have more. 

Pairing: Aaron x Non-BAU!reader, teacher!reader,  ally!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns

Category: hurt/comfort 

Word Count: 12K

Content Warnings: Homophobic phrases [from anti-LGBTQ+ protesters (the bad guys)], brief mention of religion, mention of being hit in the face and body and a split lip (reader) distress, mention of food and drinking alcohol, mention of an accident [not specified what (reader)], Haley’s death is brought up. If I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi all! I hope you are all doing very well! This fic is for amazing @imagining-in-the-margins's Pride writing challenge! I made up my own prompt for this one which is: The reader puts herself in danger to keep her students away from anti-LBGTQ+ protesters. Aaron finds out about this and makes sure she’s fine (aka protective Hotch.) I hope you like this more fluffy and cute style of fic. It’s a bit different from the angst I write. It takes me back to my early Aaron writing style! I want to note that I know that not all school districts deal with this kind of stuff, but as I live in the South, and my sister and I are both in Education, I get to hear about this kind of thing more often than I’d like. Anyhow, please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love, you are so special. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

y/l/n = your last name 

a/r = age range 

a/d/r = any dietary restrictions (if none, please ignore) 

Aaron got the call from the school shortly after he’d finished an early lunch. He was seated at his desk, the soft glow of the lap lighting his space which was covered by the team’s files. He was going to do the boring parts of the files for them, as he always did, but his phone ringing had disrupted his workflow. He glanced at the caller ID and quickly picked up, saying, “This is Mr. Hotchner.” There was a brief pause before the woman on the phone said, “Good afternoon, Mr. Hotchner. This is Rachel Jenkins, the school receptionist.” Hotch nodded his head; he knew the woman well, as he had gone to the school multiple times this year already because Jack had gotten into some kind of trouble, or needed him. Rachel continued, stating “Sorry to disturb you during the work day, but there’s been an incident with Jack, and the nurse thinks it’s best that you come and pick him up as soon as possible.” Aaron stifled a sigh. He wasn’t angry at Jack. He didn’t blame him for acting out, a trait that had started once his son had started processing his mother’s death. The family counselor said that was a natural part of grieving for a child, and Aaron was sympathetic to his son’s pain and emotions. Sometimes he wanted to scream or lash out too, but he had more faculty over his emotions. Even with all that being said, Hotch did find it a bit troublesome that Jack got into scuffles on days that would have been easy for him. But that was neither here nor there, life, nor emotions waited for anyone’s schedule -- Aaron knew this like all parents did. 

Hotch asked a follow-up question: “Was this Jack dealing with bullies, or was this him doing something he shouldn’t be?” Aaron liked to know these things heading into the Principal or Nurse’s office beforehand, so he could set his tone appropriately. There was a pause on the line which made Hotch nervous. The silence was broken as Jessica replied, “No, Mr. Hotchner, it’s not that. I… I think it’s best that you just come down to the school.” This response made Aaron even more tense. 

What could have happened that the woman would hesitate like that? He sensed that an answer had been on the tip of her tongue, and she’d stopped herself from speaking because she thought it was better. Hotch furrowed his brows, got out of his chair quickly, and grabbed his suit jacket. He flipped the screen of his laptop down, then grabbed his shoulder bag from the couch. No matter what Jack might have gotten up to, not knowing if something bad had happened to his son, nothing would stop him from getting to Jack. 

Hotch hurriedly locked his office door behind him and as he started striding toward the stairs that would get him to the elevators, Rossi exited his office and offered a quizzical look at his friend. It was unlike Aaron to flee the office, even on days that felt like they were drawing on for an eternity. Hotch beat Dave to the question forming on his lips, someone would need to know where he was in case something serious came up in his absence. “Jack had some trouble at school and they said I should head over there.” Rossi frowned and said, “The bullies again? Remember my offer of teaching Jack how to punch is still on the table.” The worried look on Aaron’s face prevented Dave from joking further. Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “I don’t think so, I hope to be back in a half hour or so. Look after the team while I’m gone, please?” 

Rossi nodded his head in understanding and watched as Aaron took the stairs quickly down to the bullpen and out of sight. Dave closed his eyes for a second. He knew things had been hard for Aaron and Jack after Haley. There was no avoiding the hurt that lingered like a shroud around the two of them. He knew that Hotch had done his best to help and support Jack, but that didn’t make Aaron’s pain any less. If anything it made it worse because the guilt still haunted Aaron like a spector. Jack’s anger had grown and manifested at anything that it could get its teeth into, and often its victim was Aaron, who was trying his best. Dave bowed his head and saw the grief with Aaron. Rossi knew grief, it had been his companion for many years. And it hurt to see it on Hotch, but there was little he could do but support Aaron to the best of his ability and let time do its healing. And healing was a slow seamstress. Dave looked over the bullpen at the team working and smiling and turned back to his office, he felt like he needed a drink, but for now, bitter coffee would have to do. 

Aaron drove at a speed that was technically street-legal. The churning of his stomach and the constant red lights had him worried and agitated at the same time. Jack’s school wasn’t too far away, but he’d hit the lunch-hour traffic which made the drive at least twenty-five minutes long. Hotch jacked up the air conditioner to silence his stressed-out thoughts. If something very bad had happened, then he would have been told. And there was nothing on the news, no lockdowns, or active shooter drills. However, sending Jack off to school every morning knowing that that was a possibility didn’t make him feel good. 

It was the fear of the unknown that made Aaron press his foot down on the accelerator further. Hotch arrived at the school and everything looked normal from the outside. With hurried footsteps, he made it to the front office to check in. Jessica could see how nervous he was and the intensity of his expression. Aaron’s eyes, when they were dark and worried, had opened many doors for him, and broken many unsubs in the interrogation room. The receptionist swallowed and said, “Just grab a visitor badge and you can head to the nurse’s office, Mr. Hotchner. I’ll sign you in. The Vice Principal is already there.” 

Aaron grabbed one of the laminated passes and said, “Thank you,” as he headed out of the glass office and toward the nurse’s office which was located at the end of the central hall adjacent to the janitor’s closet. Knowing the Vice-Principal was present with Jack told Aaron more information, but not enough to know exactly what had happened. If he found out that his son was being bullied again, he was going to send some strongly worded emails to those boy’s parent’s this evening. As he was drafting the letters in this mind, he made it to the nurse and opened the door. As soon as he saw Jack’s tear-stained face, and that he was clutching a Kleenex in his hands, Hotch stepped further in the door and the nurse and Vice Principal moved aside and let him go to his son. Aaron knelt next to the bed that Jack was sitting on and embraced him firmly. Jack let out some sniffles and Aaron reassured him before asking for any information, “It’s okay, Jack. It’s okay.” 

After a few moments, Hotch attempted to move away, but Jack’s hands gripped the fabric of his shirt. Aaron moved his right hand from Jack’s soft hair that reminded him of Haley to under Jack’s legs as he stood. Unamused at how he’d been kept waiting, Aaron asked in a cool tone, “Would you tell me what’s going on, Vice Principal Westbrook?” The silence that stayed in the room as the Vice Principal picked at the hangnails on his fingers and looked at the floor had Aaron hot under the collar. Jack didn’t look bruised or hurt in any way, just very upset. Upset enough that he had wanted him. Before Dr. Westbrook could come up with a scripted answer, Jack said, “They hurt her, Dad.” Aaron frowned, pulled Jack back from his chest a bit, and asked, “Hurt who, bud?” Jack sniffled and replied, “Ms. y/l/n. He punched her in the face and her shoulder.” The words tumbled out of the boy's mouth and only had Aaron more concerned. Jack was crying again, and Aaron handed him back his crumpled tissue and pressed Jack to his broad chest again. Jack set his head on his dad’s shoulder and took comfort in the solid presence and scent that was always there for him when he needed it. 

Jack had done a lot of growing up in his short years. He’d discovered a few things about life that he wished he hadn’t. How people you loved sometimes went away, maybe just for a bit, or sometimes forever, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still there loving him. His dad was a prime example of this -- and even if Jack couldn’t articulate this, or might change his mind later, it was still true in the moment. As his little fingers clutched at Aaron’s shirt collar, Hotch turned to face Dr. Westbrook again. 

The slim man seemed to be trying his hardest to avoid eye contact with Aaron, and giving a straight answer to anything, but Hotch wouldn’t let him get away with this. Ms. y/l/n was someone who had become very special to Jack this year when he got into her class. Aaron also had a kind of parasocial relationship with y/n, as she had been very helpful with Jack and dealing with his grief and the bullying he’d been dealing with that year. Jack had brought her up early in the year and when Aaron had met with Ms. y/l/n for the Meet-The-Teacher night, Hotch could tell why. She was so bright. Her presence illuminated her cozy room which she had decorated with bright posters and lights. It seemed even the sharp corners of the room were softened by y/n’s presence. She had given Jack such praise for his manners, his reading skills, and how he treated his classmates with kindness. Aaron had almost felt like a lost that night, as he could only listen and nod. He had to really pay attention when some of the other parents started asking questions. Apart from the fact that y/n was clearly an adept teacher and classroom manager for her age, she was also pretty. Pretty in a quaint way. He’d left the school that night feeling oddly lighter than he had in months. 

The next time they met was at the first parent-teacher conference. That was where Aaron had learned that Jack was dealing with bullies. The administration hadn’t even informed him of this issue. y/n was very kind about it and wanted to make sure that Aaron had the right support for something like this. y/n hadn’t meant to question his parenting skills, but as a single dad, she wanted to get a better feel of how emotions were handled around the Hotchner household. Not just sad feelings, but anger and resentment too. It wasn’t until a month later when the bullying had gotten really bad, that Aaron realized, thanks to y/n, that he wasn’t equipped to handle this alone and had brought in the help of a family counselor. He had more contact with y/n after that, as she checked up on Jack and kept Aaron informed about his son’s grades and other issues that popped up in the classroom. 

Hotch could understand why Jack would be upset that y/n had been hurt somehow. He was also angry, and asked in a firm voice, “What happened to Ms. y/l/n?” The VP sighed and said, “Well it was just an unfortunate situation, Mr. Hotchner, but no one was seriously hurt and we’re launching an investigation into the situation that happened.” This evasive answer didn’t satisfy Aaron and he replied, “Great, but what happened to Ms. y/l/n, and why is my son so distraught about it? What happened?” 

Dr. Westbrook realized that he couldn’t talk his way out of not answering Aaron as he had with the other parents he’d had to have had this conversation with. The man relented and said, “Well this morning a group of Anti-LGBTQ+ protesters amassed at the front of the school and held up degrading signs and shouted at anyone coming into the building through the front entrance.” Hotch already didn’t like where this was headed. The political climate had many up in arms due to the acceptance of others, and they made it their goal to try and complain and intimidate those who didn’t agree with them and their views. The VP continued, “Well they were blocking the flow of traffic and harassing the faculty, so we had some city police move them off campus. Unfortunately, they set up on DeGhatty Street on the sidewalk by the area for recess.” Hotch nodded, getting a better picture of what had happened. But there were still missing pieces. The next bit Dr. Westbrook rushed through, but Aaron caught the story even if the VP was trying to make it hard to. “Well it was the second shift of recess, the time that Jack has, and the protesters became more agitated. They weren’t getting the engagement they wanted, and they started yelling at the kids. Ms. y/l/n was on recess shift and tried calling the school’s two SROs, but they were dealing with an incident in the cafeteria. The screaming was distressing to some of the students and one student started moving toward the group by the fence…” 

Hotch stopped the man and asked, “Was it Jack?” The Vice Principal nodded his head no and replied, “No Mr. Hotchner. It was another student, but other monitors and students did say that your son was watching from a pretty close distance.” Hotch narrowed his eyes but didn’t detect that the man was lying. Dr. Westbrook swallowed thickly under Aaron’s gaze and shaky continued, “Well Ms. y/l/n saw the student moving toward the protesters, and she moved forward to cut the student off. The group was unhappy about that, and they accosted her and made some false statements and allegations about her. She did her best to verbally defend herself and move back to protect the students and get them all inside, but one of the men in the group, allegedly, grabbed her shoulder, screamed at her, and then lost his composure and hit Ms. y/l/n in the face and chest.”

The image that the man was painting made Aaron feel his anger flash up in him. Not only was the VP using protective language for the protesters, he, nor the school had done a proper job of protecting their students or teachers. No wonder Jack was distraught. Thinking of Jack, his son had settled and Aaron knew they would have to leave in a bit. This was still a school and there were other things that had to be done, but Aaron asked, “Are the protestors gone now? I drove down DeGhatty to get here, and I didn’t see anyone. Also, how is Ms. y/n? Is she alright?” 

Dr. Westbrook nodded and seemed relieved that the conversation had turned away from the events of that afternoon. He cleared his throat and straightened his blue striped tie which didn’t match his grey suit before replying, “The local police came down and dispersed the crowd and told them they didn’t have a right to protest on the school’s block without a permit, which is true. As for Ms. y/l/n, Nurse Patty here looked her over and we decided it was for the best to send her home for the day. Ms. y/l/n seemed shaken up.” Aaron refrained from letting out a long sigh. Now was not the time nor the place. But the feelings and questions that flooded Aaron were that he wondered why the police hadn’t been called earlier, why the school didn’t seem up on its legal code, and the utter condescension that came with having to send y/n home for the rest of the day. What did the Vice Principal expect from her after being punched in the face? y/n had “appeared shaken up?” How the hell would he have reacted in that circumstance? 

Aaron didn’t want any of this frustration at this situation to make Jack feel like he was angry at him, but he would have a conversation with his son later about when to step back in a situation. But he’d worry about that later. For now, Hotch said, “Okay. Thank you for explaining. May I take Jack home now?” Dr. Westbrook seemed to deflate and nodded his head yes. The nurse moved over to Jack and gave him a pat on the head and handed him a lollipop. The older woman said, “Have a good rest of your day, Jack. If you’re at school tomorrow and you feel bad at any time in the day you can come and see me, okay?” Jack nodded softly and Aaron shot her a thankful smile before tightening his grip on his son and moving out of the door and back toward the front office. Hotch quickly signed out with Jessica and returned his visitor badge to the counter. 

Once he was back out into the warm, almost, summer sun, Aaron dipped his head down to Jack's ear and said softly, “Hey, Buddy. Would you be okay with hanging you with Dad’s friends for a while while I work in the office? You could camp up with me or you could see Uncle Spencer, Uncle Morgan, or Aunt Penelope?” The prospect of seeing his friends had Jack perk up and his distress diminish as he said, “Hm-hm. I wanna see Aunt Penny and Uncle Derek.” Hotch smiled and replied, “Okay. We’ll just be there for a few hours and then, if you’re good, we can go to ice cream after Daddy’s done with work.” That last piece of information really made Jack happy, and Aaron relaxed for the first time since the school had called him. It didn’t take long for Aaron to get Jack strapped into his car seat and head back to the Quantico Field Office. 

Hotch spent the rest of the afternoon working and looking after Jack; mostly making sure Jack wasn’t getting into too much trouble with the team. Derek showed Jack around the bullpen, and Spencer did some physics magic which the whole BAU oohed and ahhed at, even Aaron and Rossi, from a distance. Then Penelope took Jack into her office and they spent around an hour together laughing and talking. There was something about Garcia’s energy that matched Jack’s so well, and his easily distracted self could be entertained for hours. Hotch made sure to set up a fancy coffee delivery for tomorrow morning for the team out of his pocket. He knew all of their orders by heart now. He did this as a thank you to the team. Not that any one of them would complain about having Jack distract them, however, being a babysitter was very much not in their job description, especially when they were in the office, so wanted to make sure they knew how appreciative he was of their support. Each one of them had been there for him and Jack on numerous occasions when Hotch thought that he couldn’t go on. He realized how lucky he was to be surrounded by this support system. Jack had them too, and also his friends and teachers at school. Ms. y/n came to mind as he finished scheduling the coffee order. The thought of someone laying hands on her gave him a constricting feeling in his chest. 

Aaron let out a breath and looked outside his windows into the bullpen where he watched Prentiss, Morgan, and JJ kneeling next to Jack who was speaking animatedly about what looked like soccer practice. Hotch moved his eyes back to his laptop screen and pulled up his personal email. With a few clicks of his fingers, he had gmail pulled up. He hit ‘new message.’ He typed in y/n’s email into the ‘to’ box. It felt so strange to be the one initiating a conversation, especially a new one, but he cared about Ms. y/n, and he knew his nerves wouldn’t settle down until he’d checked in on her. 

y/n was the one to normally start a conversation either to check up on Jack or let Hotch or Mr. Hotchner, as she called him, what had happened with Jack at school. Aaron had only once emailed y/n for details about Jack’s day when he’d come home upset about something that he couldn’t quite decipher. She responded promptly and told him everything she knew about the situation. Essentially they had only emailed in a professional capacity before, and this felt different. For a moment Aaron wondered if anyone else had called or messaged her. If her friends from school or elsewhere were getting a story about the wild day she’d had, or how she was hurting. The thought made Hotch’s heart clench for some unknown reason. He typed out this message: 

To: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

From: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

Subject: Checking-In 

Good afternoon, Ms. y/n,

 I heard from Jack and the school today that you were hurt today while trying to keep your students safe. I wanted to thank you for putting yourself in that position for the sake of the students, especially Jack. He is very worried about you and keeps asking if you’re okay. He and I both share that sentiment. I hope the school fully supports you in what you need at this time. If there is anything I can do to make your life easier these next few days, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I would be happy to drop off food or just be a support if you need it. Wishing you the best, 

Aaron Hotchner 

Hotch hit the send button and listened to the little swoosh of the sent sound. Although he did feel better after sending the email, it was also odd. He didn’t want to come off as a parental figure to y/n. Not that he wasn’t older than her by a good few years, he was, but the idea of him coming across that way made him uncomfortable. And the fact that that idea made him uncomfortable only made him question what he wanted to come off as instead. Mostly, Aaron didn’t want to seem patronizing. He knew y/n was tough and could handle things, but his concern and care had overrode those thoughts. Hotch pushed those thoughts from his mind; he had good intentions sending the email and if it came off in another way, then at least he’d tried his best. 

Aaron looked at the clock at his wall and it was five minutes to five. Unlike a normal day, where Jack would have an afterschool activity or Jess would pick him up for a few hours before he would swing by and get Jack for the rest of the evening, tonight was different, and he started packing his things up in his briefcase. He took some of the important files and the rest he left for tomorrow. He’d come to the office early if Jack felt up to going to school tomorrow. Once Hotch had most of his things ready, he moved outside of his office. Jack was playing a game with Spencer, and Aaron called out, “Jack, come up here and get your backpack and lunchbox, please. We’re about to go home.” Jack looked up at his dad and said, “Just one sec, Dad.” Aaron gave his son a look, and Jack sighed, got out of his seat, and made it up the stairs to Aaron’s side. As Jack moved past Spencer, Reid gave his head a little pat and once Jack had passed the lithe agent, Aaron gave Spence a smile before turning to his son and moving with him to the office. 

Jack only had one binder and one maths assignment out on Aaron’s office couch. Jack had promised his dad that he would be good in the office, and being good meant doing five minutes of a math worksheet and complaining about how hard it was before the little boy moved out into the bullpen to see the team. Aaron didn’t blame him. Jack had had a hard and stressful day, but he did expect his son to pick up and get ready to go on his own. 

Jack was getting old enough for those things now, but Hotch still packed his lunches every day or made sure his son had money for his lunch account. By the time Aaron had his suit jacket back on and his briefcase and shoulder bag in hand, Jack had put his paper and notebook away and was struggling to zip up his small Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles backpack. Aaron leaned down and helped him close the bag and handed it back to Jack. Aaron led his son out of the room and locked the door behind him for the last time for the day. Hotch nodded to Rossi who was also locking up his office and then followed Jack down the stairs. The pair made it through the bullpen, and Jack waved at the team as he passed them. Aaron said, “Thank you” to each of them as well in his low voice. As Hotch got to the edge of the BAU’s area, turned, and said more loudly, “Thanks for today, everyone. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Morgan, Prentiss, Reid, and JJ nodded and said bye. 

True to his word, Hotch took Jack to get ice cream at a local spot not far from their house. Jack was ecstatic to be having sweets before dinner. Aaron had to remind his son that he still had to eat some other food once they got home and settled. Jack agreed excitedly as they walked into the pastel-colored storefront. There weren’t many people inside and no one in line, so it took only a few moments for Jack to order his chocolate swirl scoop with add-ins of Oreos and strawberries. Aaron got a scoop of brown butter vanilla for himself and then paid as Jack got them spoons and napkins, then found a comfortable table in the corner of the building near the window. After paying, Hotch sat down across from Jack who said, “Thanks, Dad.” Aaron smiled and reached over and patted the top of his head, replying, “Of course, Buddy.” Hotch cherished these moments. There would only be a few more years that ice cream before dinner was a big thing, and time in some things, such as kids growing up, moved so quickly. Not only was this time for them to have a bit of fun, but it was also a teaching moment for Jack. But Aaron was going to enjoy his ice cream first. 

Aaron dipped his plastic spoon into the slightly yellow-colored ice cream. There were specks of vanilla bean in the scoop that was slowly melting in the afternoon sun. Hotch took his spoon and slipped it in his mouth, sucking off the sweetness. Hotch let the cold ice cream sit in his mouth and melt with the body heat inside. The taste was sweet, but not cloyingly so which he enjoyed. The aftertaste of the browned butter hit as he swallowed. Aaron didn’t allow himself to have anything this indulgent very often, so when he did, he tried to enjoy and appreciate it. For many years, Hotch knew that his faster metabolism had gone in his early thirties, and treats were a thing he sought out less and less for himself. However, as he watched Jack enjoy his ice cream and as the soft music played in the space while the cars drifted by outside, he realized that this was something not only Jack needed, but something he needed as well. Aaron was brutal on himself and his body, and maybe he was trying too hard. He wanted and tried to be the best version of himself for the team, but more importantly for Jack, and he might have been taking it too far on his end. He relaxed a bit into his bench seat and took another bite of ice cream, this time just enjoying it for the sake of the experience. 

After their paper bowls were empty, Aaron took a breath and looked at Jack who was playing with his spoon and asked, “Jack, did you know what those people who were at your school today were talking about?” The boy stopped fiddling with his cutlery and made a face that said he was thinking before saying, “I think so. They were mad about gay people and shouting. They were really angry and I don’t know why…” Hotch nodded his head and tried to think about how to best respond. He had talked to Jack about the LGBTQ+ community, not so much like that but in the more simple and kid-friendly way of emphasizing that anyone can love anyone else as long as it’s not hurting anyone. That there could be two moms or two dads, and that not everyone felt like a boy or a girl. Jack looked up at his dad and asked, “Why were they so angry?” 

Aaron swallowed and replied, “Well, sometimes people don’t like something, or don’t believe in something. And they can think that, but the thing is that they try and want to make other people think it too. And when people don’t agree with them, they get angry. Because if you can’t make someone agree with you, then you can at least make them scared. And what do we know about being scared, Jack?” It took a second before Jack replied, “It’s okay to be scared but being different doesn’t mean being scary.” Aaron nodded proudly and Jack added on, “So they were just big bullies?” Hotch knew it was more complex with that but for now, it was a good analogy and he nodded yes. 

This conversation gave Jack a new thought and he asked, “You told me that I shouldn’t give bullies time, but Ms. y/l/n went up to them and tried talking to them.” Aaron nodded and replied, “Yes. You’re right. That’s what I’ve said to you. Things are different with Ms. y/l/n because she’s an adult, and she was trying to keep you and all of the students safe. But you’re right, for you, Jack, I would say to stay away from a situation like that, but there are some other things you can do too.” Aaron knew that Jack was a helper, and always had been. So in a situation where his son might feel helpless, he wanted to give him an option to do something that would give him power in the scenario and to do something that he was good at. 

Aaron stated, “So what you can do, Jack, is to find the other kids like you who might be upset. Because those people were saying upsetting and hurtful things. So you can find those kids who are hurting and make sure they’re doing okay.” Jack nodded along, this was something he could do. Aaron also added, “And if things seem bad, like if you feel unsafe or the other kids feel unsafe, the best thing you can do is get help from an adult. From someone you trust or know. Does that make sense?” Jack nodded and sat forward, mirroring Aaron’s posture as he shook his head yes. Hotch smiled and said, ��Good, If you have more questions about today you can ask me anytime, okay?” 

Just as Aaron and Jack were getting ready to head home, Hotch’s phone pinged with an incoming message, and he checked it. The email was from y/n and he tapped on the screen opening the message which read: 

To: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

From: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

Subject: Re-Checking-In 

Good afternoon, Mr. Hotchner, 

Thank you so much for checking in on me. That is very kind of you. I’m just sorry that Jack or any of the students at recess had to see and hear what they did. As for what the administration thinks about what I did today, I think I’m going to find that out tomorrow, but don’t want to know really, nor should I speculate about it in an email. You are niceto offer your help. I think I’m just going to order a frozen pizza from the store and call it a night. I’m a bit banged up, if it was any more than this I think I’d have to go to the ER (that last bit is hyperbole). Thanks again for checking in Mr. Hotchner. I hope Jack isn’t too upset. Tell him I said hello, and that I’ll see him tomorrow at school! I hope you have a pleasant night, 

Ms. y/n. 

Aaron frowned slightly. There was a hesitancy in y/n’s tone here. Especially with how the school might react to what had happened. That, and the fact that y/n seemed to be in a lot of pain didn’t make Hotch feel good. It made him want to go over and see her even more. He paused to make sure this was still being done with good intentions. That his desire wasn’t just trying to find an opportunity to see y/n again. The feelings in his gut were still one of concern, even if his heart was doing something different. Hotch pushed aside the new feelings in his chest, something for him to contemplate later, and composed a reply to y/n: 

To: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

From: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

Subject: Re-re-Checking-In 

y/n, I’m glad you can bring some humor into this situation. That’s a relief. It sounds like you’re in a good bit of pain. Are you sure you don’t need to go to the ER? Also, would you let me pick you up a pizza? It’s no big deal at all, and that way you can save money on the delivery. Sorry, I don’t mean to overreach, but I am willing to give a helping hand if you want. 

Aaron Hotchner

Hotch really hoped he wasn’t sounding too desperate, or that y/n would think his offering to help her save money made her feel poor. He didn’t mean it that way. He’d tossed a few options out for her to reach out if she needed, or wanted help, or just some company. From what Aaron could tell about y/n was that she was fiercely independent. She’d seemed so put together for someone in their mind a/r. From what he could tell from y/n’s weekly email updates, she made a lot of her own classroom content and tried very hard to connect with each of her students. Not only that but from the two times they’d met at school, there were no indications that she had a partner or parents close by to help her with things. Aaron assumed this mainly because she’d told him how she’d had to learn how to fix the leak in her bathroom faucet from YouTube just so she didn’t have to call in a plumber. That was another time when Aaron had wished he could just whisk himself over to her duplex and lend y/n a hand. Before he could overthink what he’d sent there was another reply: 

To: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

From: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

Subject: Re-re-re-Checking-In 

Ummm, you’d do that, really? I don’t want to be a bother, Mr. Hotchner. I know you have to take care of Jack and everything… 

y/n y/l/n

Now a hint of a smile turned up the corner of Aaron’s mouth. He and Jack had made it to the car at this point and Hotch typed out: 

To: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

From: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

Subject: [Re]-Checking-In 

y/n, 

I’d be happy to take even a small load off of your shoulders. After what you’ve been through today it is the least I can do, and I can get someone to sit with Jack for an hour or so while I come over. To make communication easier, here is my cell Number: (804) 572 - 4459. If you’d like, however, to keep this over email, that’s fine as well. It might be a moment before I get back to you as I have to get Jack home and get him dinner, but I’ll be open after that and talk to you again then. Do you have any allergies or dietary restrictions I should know about before I go grab your pizza? 

Aaron Hotchner 

The drive home was quiet as Jack thought about what his dad had said. The sandy-haired boy had a few more questions which Aaron did his best to explain. When the questions turned toward religion, it had been a church group protesting, Hotch did his best to turn the conversation back to the key points. He rarely talked to Jack about church or religion, wanting his son to be able to make his own choices in faith, or not to have any at all. That hadn’t been a choice for Hotch as a child, and he wanted Jack to not have the burn of guilt that faith could bring unless it was something his son came to on his own terms. Plus religion had become a bit of a sore subject for Aaron after Haley’s passing. How could a fair God take away someone as good and pure as Haley? It didn’t make sense, and he didn’t have the will to study theodicy. So he pushed those thoughts to the background and focused on getting home. 

It didn’t take long for Aaron to get dinner ready for Jack. While he reheated some leftover pasta and veggies, Jack did his homework, and they both had a small dinner. Hotch also texted Jess to see if she was open to swing by for an hour to which she replied, “Yes. I never miss a chance to hang out with my coolest nephew. Are you going on a date or something?” Aaron rolled his eyes at the text, he suspected sarcasm and replied, “Something like that. Making a house call to a friend in need. I’ll tell you more later.” A moment later Jess sent a thumbs-up emoji and said, “I’ll be over in about forty minutes once my boys are settled, probably playing Fortnite or something *sigh*” Hotch liked the text and checked his messages to see a text from a new number which he correctly assumed was y/n. She had sent a simple, “Hello, it’s me, y/n. For your pizza question, I have a/d/r so knock yourself out with that. I’m not a picky eater. Also here’s my address, ________. I’m not doing anything tonight, I couldn’t even if I wanted to, so you can come over anytime, but before nine would be great as I have to wake up early. Thanks so much again. This is very, very nice of you. - y/n.” Aaron liked the text and replied, “Sounds good. I’ll make sure to make it to yours before nine. - Aaron.” 

Jess arrived promptly at 6:30, and Hotch let her know it was the normal bedtime routine that night. A half hour of TV, upstairs, teeth brushed, and in bed by 8:30. Jessica nodded and said, “Gotcha. You owe me a story for this one.” Aaron chuckled and said, “I’ll let you know. There’s an open bottle of Pino in the fridge if you want some. I shouldn’t be gone long.” Jess couldn’t help herself from saying, “That's what she said,” and Hotch flushed crimson. Unlike Haley, Jess had gotten the more crass humor of the Brooks family. 

Aaron left the room, keys in hand before any more jokes could be levied at him. He really didn’t plan on staying at y/n’s long. However thanks to the recent comments, Aaron couldn’t help but feel like he was a teenager sneaking out of the house to see some girl after curfew. Hotch shook his head at the silly notion and reminded himself that he was an adult man, and such thoughts were above him. However, he couldn’t stop the small thrill that ran through him as he entered y/n’s address into his phone. He swung by the local store and picked up two frozen pizzas that he thought y/n would like and matched her allergy and dietary restrictions she’d sent him earlier. He also moved to the pharmacy section and picked up some pain relievers, liniment oil, and cotton pads, just in case y/n didn’t have any of those things at her apartment. After all, she had said she was going to get stuff delivered to her, and he didn’t know if those were things she had planned on getting and then just didn’t tell him because she hadn’t wanted to be a burden. At least, that was how Aaron justified the extra purchases. 

Hotch texted y/n that he was on the way and the closer he got to her place, the more nervous he felt. It was strange. He hadn’t felt this way in ages. He had to keep attempting to suppress the feeling, but it kept creeping up on him like frost on the ground in the morning; an inevitable thing that he knew would change and probably go away with time. It was a week away from summer, there shouldn’t be frost on the ground at all. Hotch felt exasperated at his state and realized that maybe he was just too cold of a person and the frost stuck with him. Outside of y/n’s place, Aaron said, “Get ahold of yourself Hotchner, and be helpful for once, goddammit.” His little pep-talk got him to the door with the groceries. The lights were on inside and Aaron knocked lightly on the front door. There was a very muffled, “I’m coming” and all of a sudden the piercing darkness was broken by a stream of yellow light that poured from y/n’s open door. Aaron blinked for a second as he took in y/n. She seemed pretty relaxed in an oversized t-shirt and shorts that were nearly swallowed by the length of her shirt. She was barefoot and leaning against the door frame taking him in as well. Apart from the angry bruises on y/n’s face and her split lip, she looked comfortable here. ‘This is her home, of course, she’s comfortable’ Aaron reminded himself. 

While Hotch’s eyes had been adjusting to the light, y/n’s eyes were getting used to the dark. Jack’s father had always been an attractive man even though she’d only seen him briefly in the drop-off and pick-up lines and even less for any extended period of time. But Mr. Hotchner had a face, and attitude one didn’t easily forget. There was an intensity about him, a fierceness that could easily draw one in or scare one away. 

y/n wondered why the other teachers didn’t talk about him more. Maybe it was all the things he and Jack had gone through, horrible horrible things that kept people away. It made sense that Mr. Hotchner was in the FBI. He had a high-intensity job. All that energy had to go somewhere, and when he wasn’t being a parent to Jack and doting on his son, he must be doing dangerous and exciting things. Far more exciting than her job at least. y/n noticed his jeans and polo, a new outfit on him, and most certainly not his normal pressed suit and tie. y/n wasn’t complaining. His arms filled out the sleeves and his waist seemed a little less trim. y/n felt like a total fool for just standing there, realizing that he was also waiting to come inside, or maybe just drop off the bag of groceries he’d brought her so kindly using his own money and taking time out of his night. 

y/n snapped back to reality and berated herself and thought, ‘You’re fun little thoughts are getting out of hand. Please like he’d care about you like that.’ It was true, y/n had allowed herself to think, just a bit about the mysterious Mr. Hotchner. It was harmless, just small vignettes of them laughing about a joke, or holding hands -- kid's stuff, or at least it had been until he showed up outside her doorstep. y/n shook her head and said, “I’m so sorry Mr. Hotchner. I get hit in the head and my manners fly out the window. Would you like to come in, or just hand those things over? I can pay you back for them. Do you have PayPal or Venmo?” The words came out quickly, more quickly than y/n had hoped. There was no hope in sounding nonchalant now. A flush started forming on y/n’s face and she wanted to put her face in her palm, but had enough dignity left to not do that in front of the parent of her student. 

Aaron let out a little sigh of relief knowing that he wasn’t the only one who thought meeting like this was a bit, different. He wondered for a second why y/n had accepted his help, but pushed that aside and said, “Please Ms. y/n, you can just call me Aaron. I’d like to come in for a moment. See if you’re alright if you don’t mind?” y/n nodded and opened the door wider for Hotch. Aaron slid past her into the warm comfort of her space. It was lit mostly by lamps and the furnishings seemed soft and cozy which would match y/n’s personality. It was a bit more sparse and minimal than Hotch would have imagined, but maybe the chaos of a classroom called for order at home. The lights in the kitchen were on and the brightest. Hotch heard the soft click of the door behind him as he looked over the space. 

y/n stepped forward and said, “Well, please just call me y/n. Unless I’m in the classroom, Ms. makes me feel like a 19th-century spencer waiting for Harlod Hill to come into town.” y/n rolled her eyes at her choice of words. ‘Yes y/n, let’s talk about The Music Man in front of Mr. Hotchner, why don’t you?’ In an attempt to recover and hide her embarrassment, y/n stated. “I was just pouring myself a glass of wine when you knocked, um, would you like one? I can also take those groceries from you.” Aaron offered y/n a soft smile that only made her heart beat faster as he extended the bag of groceries and said, “I’m good for now. Thank you. Have you had anything to eat yet tonight?” y/n took the paper bag and their fingers brushed, the warmth of their skin spreading despite the frozen contents inside the bag. y/n cleared her throat and turned toward the kitchen in an attempt to hide how flustered she was. The cool linoleum tile of her kitchen managed to cool her down, and she placed the pizzas in the freezer. She tried to say casually over her shoulder, “I haven’t eaten yet, no. You can sit down anywhere if you like…” y/n didn’t know exactly if Mr. Hotchner wanted to stay long and she felt silly for having offered him a drink in the first place. Maybe he didn’t drink. By the time y/n had situated the food, Aaron had taken a seat in one of the chairs sitting catty corner to her tan couch. Trying to play it cool, y/n moved to her counter and poured herself the glass of wine she had been planning before she’d put her foot in her mouth. y/n contemplated that maybe this was why she was good with kids. The nuances of adulthood could pass over children’s heads so easily. They didn’t feel the awkwardness that y/n did right now. Nor the racing of her heart as Aaron filled one of her seats. 

She moved over to the couch and asked again, “Can I please pay you back for the groceries? It was nice of you to bring them, and for you to check in on me. I got a few angry emails from parents saying that I exposed their children to danger today, so yours was a nice change.” Aaron’s eyebrows pulled together. The comment about payment passed him by. He wasn’t going to let Jack’s favorite teacher pay him back, even if she asked a hundred times. But the more pressing issue was the emails from other parents. If y/n’s actions didn’t look good, then he didn’t know what they were. He asked in a low voice, “Why were they upset?” y/n bit her lower lip and cringed as the pain stung from the split in her mouth. She had forgotten it was there for a moment. Perhaps she shouldn’t have brought up the other emails. Depending on how the district’s admin took her situation, it wouldn’t help her to spread information. 

y/n chose her words carefully as she replied, “Well some were mad that I got hurt in front of their children and some were angry that their kids were exposed to those protestors in the first place.” y/n looked at Aaron and his slightly annoyed and sympathetic gaze made her feel better, safe. She hadn’t really processed what had happened to her yet, and she’d been alone since she’d been sent home. It was good to have someone here, and y/n took a sip of her wine and set her glass down on the table before leaning her head back on the couch and sighing deeply deflating slightly. 

In a smaller voice, a voice that gave away the pain she was feeling y/n said, “Maybe I shouldn’t have done anything. I just didn’t like the things they were saying. Kids are much more cognizant than people like to think and for those who have gay parents, or siblings, or might be part of the community themselves, they shouldn’t have to hear that stuff.” y/n pinched the bridge of her nose and continued, “This had to happen the week before summer break?” As y/n had her eyes closed, Aaron took the chance to give her face a better look. The bruise under her eye was turning a nasty purple that would fade to an even more ugly yellow color in the following days. The split on her lip looked nasty as well. The tender pink skin must hurt as she talked. He got what she was saying about kids knowing more than others expected. Jack was a prime example of that. Of course, Jack had been through more pain and grief than many his age. It would only make sense that he was more perceptive. The claims from the other parents sounded like bullshit to him though. 

y/n turned her face to him and said softly, “Sorry for unloading on you. I haven’t really had anyone to talk to about this yet. I don’t mean to hold you up.” Aaron nodded his head no and said, “You’re not bothering me, and you’re not holding me up. What were the protestors saying exactly, had you seen them before?” y/n’s eyes softened. She hadn’t really allowed herself the opportunity to picture Aaron like this in person, so kind and concerned. She’d just let herself think silly little snippets, but this gentleness hadn’t filtered into the equation. y/n moved her gaze to the ceiling and said, “Oh they were saying all the homophobic classics. Fags go to hell, god hates queers, and they were accusing the teachers on the staff of being groomers and turning the students gay, all that jazz.” Hotch rolled his eyes. These points were so tiring at this point, and he was annoyed with y/n for having to deal with this. y/n looked at Hotch and said, “And I haven’t seen any of those people before. Not like I’d be looking for those types of people on a daily anyway. They must have come down from upstate.” 

Hotch let out a small huff, his lawyer side kicking in as he asked, “You seemed hesitant about the school’s response to what you did today, and some other parents showed concern. Do you think the district might not support your actions?” y/n sat forward and took another drink of wine, more this time. It was helping her calm down. Not that she normally needed wine to unwind, but it had been a long day, and there was a very attractive man unexpectedly sitting in her home. That last fact was still a wonder to y/n. Like a dream. y/n considered that she might have gotten a very bad concussion and was being wheeled right now to a hospital. But she was brought back from her wayward thoughts when Hotch cleared his throat. y/n shook her head. She was letting her brain get away with itself far more than normal. But she blamed it on the pain, painkillers, and stress of the whole situation. That stress was slightly intensified by Mr. Hotchner’s question, but y/n realized it was better to say it out loud instead of keeping it in to eat at her. 

y/n sighed and said, “It really depends. You’ve heard about that Mom’s for Student Purity campaign at the beginning of the school year, I’m sure?” Hotch nodded his head slightly. He had heard of it but hadn’t thought much of it. Only that there had been some issues and poor behavior at the school assemblies. Aaron had assumed that the district had taken care of the situation and that’s why he hadn’t heard more about it. As hard as Hotch tried to be involved in Jack’s academic life, and he did show up to every game, play, and parent-teacher conference, he didn’t have much time for the school board meetings. That had been Haley’s forte and the thought pained him momentarily. Aaron wished he could live up to the expectation that y/n must have had of him as he said, “I’ve heard of them, but not much. I’m sure they’d have something to say about today.” 

y/n let out a little snort and replied, “Tell me about it. The district has been having a constant battle with them. Ever since the president and the vice-president of their organization got elected to the school board it’s been hard to keep them at bay. They’ve tried implementing book bans, vetting curriculum, and getting the librarian fired. Right now they’re not in the majority and their ideas are unfounded and impractical to implement, but they’re making things hard. Every time the district shoots them down, they start a new campaign and it gets more troublesome. I know this will come up in a performance review and if they don’t like it, they’ll find a way to make it hard for me. They’ve done it to others already. I can imagine the comments, ‘Teacher causes brawl in front of students leaving them disturbed.’” 

Hotch took a moment to think about how hard that must be. To have to be so careful that making a choice to do the right thing could get y/n in trouble. How the system was setting her up to have to make hard choices at the expense of her employment possibly. All of these loopholes reminded him of his own work in a way, though he didn’t have to deal with kids all day. Even though some of the police and sheriff’s departments the BAU worked with acted like children. y/n sighed and said, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain. I love my job. I love working with my students. I love to see their joy and to have concepts click in their heads. They bring me so much happiness every day. It’s just the other part of the job, having to tip-toe around people and admin, it kind of dims that excitement I had when I was a new teacher.” y/n finished off her wine as Aaron took a moment to think. y/n had a great way of telling stories, it wasn’t a surprise that Jack was drawn to her tone and humor. It drew him in. He turned his head back to y/n who was now longingly looking between her wine bottle on her counter and her empty glass, as if trying to decide if she should risk another glass. 

Hotch asked carefully, “Have you taken anything for the pain?” He didn’t want to say that she looked rough, but her face looked like it hurt, and from y/n’s small grimaces, it clearly did. y/n nodded and said, “I did. I had some painkillers when I got home. I think I have another hour before I can take another round.” Aaron didn’t make a comment on y/n’s choice to mix alcohol with painkillers, nor the fact that she was drinking on an empty stomach. He’d recommend that she have some dinner in a minute, but for now, he said, “Well, I think if you iced your face for a bit and used some liniment oil on your lip it would reduce the swelling. It’s still going to hurt for a few days, but the bruising should be a little better, and it might tide you over until you can take your next dose of painkillers.” y/n nodded and said, “There’s a bag of ice in the freezer. I was doing that earlier but then fell asleep. I woke up in a nice puddle.” y/n grunted slightly as she got to her feet and made her way toward the kitchen. Aaron followed her with his gaze and he asked, “Can I refill your wine glass, and maybe you can try that oil, it’s pretty soothing. I know from experience.” 

y/n turned her head toward Aaron, he was being so nice to her and she wasn’t sure why. She didn’t come across people who were just nice for the sake of it often, and it filled her with warmth. She nodded her head yes and tried to imagine Aaron, who was always so put-together and composed, not bruised and bloody. The thought sent a pang through her. She wondered how often his getting injured happened, and if he’d let her help him like he was helping her. y/n shook her head. This was already feeling like a fantasy, she couldn’t possibly hope for more than this. Things like this didn’t happen, not to her. y/n grabbed the bag of ice that had refrozen after her nap, and grabbed a towel from the drawer next to the fridge, cradling the cool bag in her hand. y/n moved back to the couch and sat back down. The butterflies in her tummy had fluttered their wings like they did when they stopped to get warmed on the gray pavement outside of her house in summer. She wished she could still them, but at the same time, it was such a rush, they almost made up for the pain in her face. She wished she could get a better read on Mr. Hotchner. She knew about his son, and his circumstances, but even so, he was unpredictable like a comet. Why he’d offered to help her apart from out of kindness was hard to pin down, and she didn’t dare ask him outright. Why she’d accepted was another mystery. Did wanting to be in the company of a good man make her a bad person? Was she sexualizing him, taking advantage? 

Before her thoughts could take her further, y/n pressed the bag to her face, covering her and dimming the flush that was blooming on her cheeks. y/n pressed a little too hard and grimaced at the cold and the pressure. Just as she did this, Aaron sat down with her wine and the grocery bag. Hotch softly said, “Gentle now.” y/n looked up at him, half of her face covered, and smiled. She felt like I might cry, but she didn’t know why. How pathetic she must have looked to him. Not able to take care of herself. But she’d been trying. She’d been trying to prove she could care for herself forever. Now one had trusted her, not after the accident. Not after her life had been turned around. But she didn’t talk about that. She didn’t even talk about it with herself anymore. There was no point in self-pity, she’d lived, externally unscathed. For as perceptive as Mr. Hotchner was, he couldn’t know everything inside her, maybe that was what she was waiting for. Someone who could explain why bad things happened to good people. y/n swallowed back her emotions and wiped away one stray tear, and Hotch sat in silence watching her with concern. Wondering why her mood had shifted so suddenly. 

After a few minutes, y/n pulled the ice pack off her face and set it on the table. She then picked up her fresh wine glass and took a smaller sip, savoring it this time, as she did this, Aaron put his hand into the grocery bag and pulled out the cotton wipes normally used for removing makeup, then the liniment oil which was in a small dropper topped bottle. He opened the bottle and took off the paper cover keeping the clear liquid inside. Hotch screwed on the cap and then dropped a few drops of oil onto the pad. He considered that if this was for Jack, he’d use his hands, and let the warmth of his skin soothe the hurt. But this wasn’t Jack, and Aaron remembered that as he started raising his hand to y/n’s mouth like she was someone he could just tend to like family. Hotch froze mid-movement and turned noticeably red. He cleared his throat and said, “Sorry,” as he set the pad into y/n’s waiting hand. She was as shocked as he was at how he’d reached out for her. y/n murmured a barely audible, “Thanks” as she took the pad and, this time, more carefully pressed it to her split lip. Aaron filled the silence with what he hoped were some helpful reminders. It felt too awkward if he didn’t speak after his slip-up with his hand, plus, he was going to have to leave in a few minutes. He didn’t want to stay out late and the darkness outside was only getting darker. 

“If the school or the district ends up giving you any serious trouble, make sure your union rep is with you when you have to explain the situation. And, heaven forbid, there is some complaint and the union can’t do anything, I have a few lawyer friends I can get you in contact with.” y/n nodded her understanding, Her eyes widened at his lawyer comment. Who doesn’t this man know? Aaron continued, “You should ice your face on and off until you go to bed, and make sure you get some dinner before you sleep. You can also use this oil in other places if you’re aching elsewhere, just make sure not to get it in your eyes.” y/n watched him list off these things so collectedly. Not even having to think about them. She considered that he would make a good teacher if he was inclined toward that profession, but then again, he was the leader of an FBI Unit, how much more of a teacher can you get than that? y/n snapped her head up, realizing Aaron was saying something to her. Hotch smiled and repeated, “Can I see?” He gestured toward her lip and y/n let out a little breath and said, “Okay,” as she removed the pad from her lip and looked into Aaron’s dark, thoughtful eyes.

Hotch sat forward in his chair. y/n’s face was in the light of a lamp and he could see her full-looking lips which were pretty except where they were marred by the scar and scab of dark clotted blood. It didn’t look bad enough to need stitches, but just barely. He’d seen so many scars like these on Morgan, Reid, Emily, and his own mouth that it didn’t bother him. What did bother him was that what was a painful and annoying injury being inflicted on y/n. That would sting for at least a week. Sure it sucked when it happened to him or a member of the team, but they’d signed up for that, the most y/n should have to expect in terms of harm on the job was a paper cut. Clearly, he had been mistaken. 

Since they had both returned to their seats, y/n and Aaron had started drifting closer together like moths drawn to a flame. Hotch was about a foot away from y/n and could feel the ghost of her breath on his face and the hint of her barely touched second glass of rose now forgotten on the table. Without thinking, he moved his large hand up to the side of her face. The warmth of his hand on the side of her face had y/n rest her chin in his palm, and she closed her eyes. Not exactly sure what or why he was doing this, Aaron brushed his thumb over y/n’s top lip and then softly over her bottom lip. She winced as the pad of his thumb brushed over her scab, but didn’t pull away from his touch. y/n opened her eyes and Hotch dropped his hand. He leaned in slightly, entranced by y/n, her presence, just wanting to be a bit closer to her. y/n did the same. 

The moment was shattered when y/n’s phone loudly went off. Aaron dropped his hand like a lead weight, and y/n’s head snapped toward her phone on the side of the table. She turned her gaze back toward Aaron, but the moment had been broken. He looked silly, almost ashamed of himself. He’d pulled back and away and his posturing also made y/n feel like a fool. What had she been thinking? y/n got up grabbed her phone and answered, stepping farther away, but not so far away that Hotch couldn’t hear. What did she have to lose after acting so immature in front of him anyway? She could hardly think how she’d act when she saw him again, especially in the classroom. 

Putting the phone to her ear, she listened as her doctor asked if she’d picked up the refill of the medication that she had needed since her accident. y/n dipped her head. She’d completely forgotten about going to the pharmacy after her day and replied, “No not yet. I’ll pick them up right after work tomorrow.” There was a short reminder that those meds were helping y/n and she shouldn’t go without them. y/n nodded and said, “I know. I’ll pick them up tomorrow. I have enough to make it till then.” Hotch watched y/n cave in on herself as she walked away from him. He hadn’t meant to make her feel bad, or silly. He felt silly. Like someone who hadn’t been thinking about what he was doing. He shouldn’t have put y/n in that position and he was sorry for it. He’d have to find a way to apologize and leave y/n to her night before making some other kind of monumental error in judgment. 

Hotch heard y/n wrap up her call and her footsteps came back toward him. He stood and moved into the open space of the living room. The front door was just a few feet away and he felt like running out of it. But he stayed in discomfort and said, “I’m sorry for what I did earlier, y/n. That was inappropriate. I, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” y/n dropped her eyes again and said, “It’s alright. You were really kind to come over here and listen to me ramble and complain for half an hour. Not even my friends did that, and I’ll make sure to heed your advice. It’s clear you have a lot more practical life experience than I do. You don’t need to apologize for anything.” Aaron nodded, trying to accept her words for a situation he’d created. He wished he could explain what he’d been thinking, but he couldn’t because he hadn’t been thinking. The final nail in the coffin was when y/n said, “I hope you have a good night, Mr. Hotchner.” The change back to his last name, y/n hoped sounded regretful, but to Aaron, it only sounded hollow. Now it was Aaron’s turn to drop his head and he moved toward the door, stopping for one second as his fingertips brushed the cool metal, so unlike y/n’s warm skin. 

y/n didn’t like this. She didn’t like this at all. She hadn’t really known why she’d said yes to him coming over other than she wanted to see Aaron. She had enjoyed feeling his hand on her face. It was fast and strange like a dream, but she’d liked it, and part of her wanted very badly to understand why she’d wanted him here. And she didn’t think she could do it alone. She assumed that Aaron was as lost as she was. It seemed like he was. The words of y/n’s therapist rang in her ears, “Sometimes being strong is letting people in instead of keeping them out.” Just as Hotch’s hand latched onto the door knob y/n said, “Mr. Hotch… Aaron. I can’t exactly tell you why I asked you here, apart from the fact that I wanted you here, and I really enjoyed having you here, for all of it. I mean, like, before the phone call. I don’t know what this is,” she gestured between them, and continued, “But I’d like to understand it more. Maybe when the semester is over we could get coffee or something. Or if you don’t want that, I understand too.” 

There was a moment of silence that felt like an eternity before Aaron turned. His expression looked lighter, and maybe there was a ghost of a smile on his face that said, “I’d like that y/n. I enjoyed tonight too. You have my number now, so you let me know once you have the headspace to come up with a day for our meeting. I look forward to it.” y/n smiled too and raised her hand and waved. Hotch then moved outside and closed the door behind him. As he walked down the drive he felt better. Much better, and happy he’d come, even if he hadn’t been sure why, he had a better picture now, and he felt less guilty about it. He’d have something to tell Jess when the time was right, but for now, he could look forward to getting to know y/n better, and get to know himself too. 

Inside, y/n looked at the door for a second before she moved to it and locked it. She then moved to the couch and dropped into the cushions with a sigh. Once she’d grounded herself, y/n grabbed her glass and took another sip. The bag of ice was once again going unnoticed on the cushions and melting. y/n pulled the glass from her lips and contemplated how her face didn’t hurt so much anymore. Perhaps it was the painkillers, or the wine, or maybe, just maybe, it was the courage to tell Aaron the truth, and the possibility to know more about that feeling between them.

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