#not sure if it was clear but 'sir' is used in a gender neutral context here

[floral-comet-whump]

hiiii I got inspired :3

Content warnings: Captivity whump, implied past torture, execution via slitting throat, captive whumpee, whumper pov, minor/child whumper, child abuse, institutionalized whump (hardly noted), fantasy whump (hardly noted)

taglist (I forgot I have one soz): @lordcatwich @chiswhumpcorner

The senior investigator skims the report a final time, nodding. They make a spinning motion with their free hand, and Walenty scurries to get a pen from the counter, walking on their toes to negate the limp. They look away as the other writes something, trying not to fidget or look at the captive.

It's not difficult. The muffled screaming has grown into background noise, just as normal as the scratching of steel on paper or the humming of magic.

The stench of misery haunts the air.

“Alright,” their instructor starts, and Walenty nearly squeaks, quickly remembering to place their hands behind their back. “Kill him.”

They blink, looking up. The older’s gaze doesn't waver. Walenty feels like a dumb child. Why? They want to ask so, so bad. They still hesitate, looking at the floor, then at the still captive, at their eyes, practically frozen. They hear the nigh-silence occupying the chamber now, a stark contrast to the prior white noise.

“You’re not questioning my orders, are you?”

“No-!” The apprentice speaks before they think, racking their brain for an excuse. Lesson, strict teacher, mistakes. “I, um.. I just wanted to ask how! So that I don’t do it wrong. Sir.”

Their teacher raises an eyebrow, fully aware it’s a lie. They hum, deeming it acceptable.

“Whichever is most efficient, then.”

Walenty nods, taking back the dagger they’d used. It’s already plenty dirty and none of the other tools are suitable. It might splash, but the floor is bloodied anyway.

“Is slitting the throat fine, sir?”

“Sure.”

And so they walk up to the ruined human, ignore the muffled screams and squirming as they tilt the head upwards with a firm grip, and slash. They’re fast with it as to not hesitate, immediately ducking away to avoid the blood spray. It doesn’t come, only oozing out. Huh.

Walenty flinches at the touch on their head. They don't dare reject it, though. “You minimized cleanup. Good job, Walenty.”

“...Thank you, sir.”

“Kill him.”

“…Wh—what?”

The young man stared at the kneeling criminal before him, his specific crimes forgotten. He couldn’t do that, not him, he—

The king interrupted his thoughts, carefully and gently setting the knife in the young man’s hand, even curling his fingers around the handle.

“Was I unclear? Kill him.”

[mr-ribbit]

gonna rant again bc im seeing a lot of trans women on my dash having to carry the heavy lifting to argue for their basic respect and a lot of other queer people who want to ??? get mad about that apparently. for the record as usual: im tme, im not speaking for anyone besides myself and my perspectives, but I am trying to reach out to fellow tme people to level with y'all from inside the house.

i thought we all got past the 'calling people gendered terms when theyve asked you to stop' thing in like. 2012. i swear we were allllll on board with not calling women dude anymore, nerfing sir and ma'am, neutralizing collective terms for groups, and all of that was like, during the onceler era. that's how we got off-putting shit like folx into the mix - remember???? why are we here again.

to those who I've seen claiming that they REALLY genuinely don't want to offend anyone, and that theyre trying to understand the dude thing, and they don't want to be seen as transmisogynistic when they aren't: ok. let's talk about it. step one, stop sending that really loaded anon to a trans woman you don't know, and close that in-group hatepost with 100 replies from people name-dropping trans bloggers they don't like. try to open your mind and assume for the duration of this post that I am not cynically trying manipulate thousands of tumblr users into making Bro the next big swear word, but a fellow queer human being who thinks you're all being pretty intentionally obtuse about an upsetting trend in our community

to be clear: this post is about the issue of trans women being called bro, dude, man, etc., particularly in recent tumblr discourse about transmisogyny, and the backlash they face if they get upset about it. this is also maybe moreso about the shitty ass excuses I see tme people make for why they supposedly can't stop doing this.

so let's go through some of the things I've been seeing people say they don't understand, supposedly in earnest, about this issue

"I DIDNT USE DUDE AS A MASCULINE TERM. I CALL EVERYONE BRO. MAN IS A GENDER NEUTRAL TERM"

I'm not actually going to exhaust my list of reasons why dude/bro/man are not strictly neutral, but you should be pretty aware that all words have context. Dude might be seen as neutral in many contexts, sure, but 'woman who is frequently called a man by others' is a situation where the context adds extra meaning to your words, just like calling someone "sweetie" might be neutral in some cases, but if you've got the context of knowing that's your coworker who's half your age, it's a bit less neutral. If you're not capable of reading that context and being tasteful about when you say dude, then you need to at least be ready to respond gracefully when someone asks you to stop. This is the part I'd rather focus on.

"BUT I DIDNT MEAN IT THAT WAY. IM NOT TRANSPHOBIC"

I think you should consider broadening your perspective *beyond* your intention behind the word. people may already understand that you meant the word neutrally and therefore didn't have transmisogynistic intent, but that's not really the entire scope of what people are saying. if that's your only concern, you're just trying to clear your record, not actually listen to what they're saying.

there are lots of words people don't enjoy being called, and in most cases, when they say 'pls don't call me that', people respect that and move on. even if the word isn't a slur, if it hurts someone's feelings, we all as a society have agreed that it's pretty shitty to keep calling them that. if your friend asked you not to call them 'buddy' anymore because their dead grandparent called them that, or something equivalently personal, you'd probably respect that instead of telling them 'but I call everyone buddy!!' right? even if you didn't really understand why it bothered them so much?

there is a prominent tendency for trans women to be denied this privilege, and when they ask not to be called dude or bro, people don't seem to respect this request as much as they would in other situations. when I accidentally use a gendered word and someone tells me they don't like it, I try to respond with something like "my bad, I didn't mean it as misgendering but I can see you were still bothered by it, so I'll try not to keep saying it. sorry!" and most people are willing to accept that. when trans women ask people this favor, a lot of people get VERY defensive, and treat the request as inane or unfair, instead of just apologizing and moving on. this is why people are upset when this happens, and it's why people are calling your actions transmisogynistic

also like you might not be doing this, but a lot of people DO use dude and bro in an intentionally gendered way to make trans women uncomfortable. it's a power play bigots use to talk down to them or otherwise maliciously harass them. do you know what arguments they use to defend that behavior when called out on it? 'oh I call everyone that' 'dude is gender neutral calm down' 'dont overreact its just a word'. by acting like this, youre all just giving credence to those same arguments.

"WELL THEY SHOULDNT GET SO MAD AT ME WHEN I DIDNT MEAN ANY HARM"

they can get as mad as they want!! also, are you sure they're 'mad'? or are they just expressing their feelings about a negative topic to you, and it makes you feel bad, so you have to make them out to be unreasonably emotional? how do you think they should have phrased 'dont call me that' to better spare *your* feelings?

also like, in most cases, these women do not knowww you. if your main response to someone saying you disrespected them is to say "I didnt mean it that way, I meant it in a friendly neutral way", well that's NOT YOUR FRIEND! she has no idea what your opinions are or what you think of her!!! she has no reason to assume you only upset her in a friendly way and not a bad unfriendly way! but she did get upset, and she did the one thing she can do which is *tell you what upset her* and your response is to say "well actually you shouldn't be upset at all"??????

and another thing:

it's not just the issue of using the word 'dude', it's because you're coming off extremely dismissive of women who have asked you to stop doing something that harms them, and because your argument is basically that they just shouldn't be so bothered by it. or that they're stupid, irrational, or otherwise crazy for telling you that it bothered them at all, just because you Technically used a gender neutral word according to Your Rules. be honest, does that seem fair? If people were calling you something that bothered you enough to ask them to stop, and they responded like this, how would it make you feel?

focusing solely on your intent and what the words mean when you use them is the same thing as saying "just get over it". no woman should need to Prove to you that 'dude' is gendered for you to care about what she's saying. the fact that you're asking people to do that sucks and makes you look bad, which is why people are arguing with you and calling you a misogynist.

especially those of you who are only doing this with trans women who are actively arguing with. you're wielding misgendering as a cudgel and we can all see it, grow up please.

[winterscaptain]

spoiled.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: happy valentine’s day! 

words: 2.1k warnings: language, over-the-top valentine’s day shenanigans

summary: “the best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds.” - nicholas sparks. au!february 2012

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

Aaron leaves rather early in the morning, leaving you in bed complaining with only a kiss for your trouble. 

When you eventually get up, on track to be about fifteen minutes late to the federal building, you find a pair of post-its on the fridge. 

Always the romantic. 

+++

The evening rolls around and finds you on the couch with Jess and Jack. 

“You gonna start getting ready?” Jess asks. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you.” 

You look over at her. “Wait. He told you what we’re doing?”

She nods. “Yeah. You have no idea. He hasn’t done a big Valentine’s Day thing since he surprised Haley in her senior year of college. He’s been looking for an excuse.” 

That’s terrifying. 

“Guess I better get ready then.” 

Jack’s got a funny little smile on his face, but you ignore it. You’re sure the Hotchner boys are in cahoots, but it’s not really worth it to try and wiggle anything out of him. 

You head to the master bedroom to get dressed, throwing off your slouchy day-off clothes in favor of something that can take you to a fancy dinner and whatever else Aaron has planned for your evening.

+++

You walk out of the apartment, hearing Jess lock the door behind you. When you reach the front of the apartment complex, Aaron closes the car door as he hops out, meeting you halfway to the sidewalk. 

“Hello, gorgeous,” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

He’s wearing a black button-up, black slacks, and his favorite pair of black oxfords. It’s a sharp look and one he knows you love. 

“You’re looking quite dapper yourself, sir.” 

The boyish grin on his face melts your heart and you take the arm he offers. Like a real gentleman, he opens the door for you and makes sure you’re inside before closing you in.

+++

The drive is quiet. You ask about the office once or twice, but it’s clear there’s nothing significant to report. 

“So...what are we doing tonight?” 

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “Dinner. And a few other things.” 

+++

When he says ‘dinner,’ he’s not joking. The restaurant is a high-end, no-prices-on-the-menu type of place. The lighting is low, the environment cozy and quiet. 

He must have planned this months ago. Reservations are like gold on Valentine’s Day. 

Aaron’s squinting at the menu across from you. It makes you laugh. 

“Need a flashlight and your reading glasses?”

“Shut up.” It comes with his own laugh, but he’s still squinting. 

You finally decide on something and order, trusting Aaron’s taste in wine. When the waiter leaves, Aaron reaches across the table for your hand. 

“Okay,” he says. You recognize his tone - it’s professional, like he’s starting a press conference. “No work, no kids, no serial killers.” 

You smile, waiting for him to give you a little more context. 

“How are you?” 

What a question. 

How often does the answer to that question not include work, kids, or serial killers? 

Not very. 

“I’m good.” You mean it. “I’m really good.” 

There’s a small smile on his face. “Why?”

Are you profiling me now, Hotch? 

Deciding to give him shit, you ask, “Why am I good, or is that a more general existential question?” 

He rolls his eyes and you relent. 

“Alright. Well…” You take a breath. “There are a lot of things to be happy about. You, for one thing.” 

“Me?” He asks. He looks genuinely surprised. 

Fool. 

“Yes, you.” You squeeze his hand. “You are my best friend and somehow - somehow - I’ve landed you as my partner. I am living out everything I dreamed of at twenty-five.” 

That pulls another smile from him. “Really?” Again, he looks genuinely surprised. 

Can’t believe I’ve never told this to him. 

Ridiculous

“Oh yeah. I can’t believe you never noticed. I had a huge crush on you - instantly. Derek gave me nothing but hell once he figured it out.” You pause. “Do you remember that time on the plane, really early on, when I woke up and everyone thought I had a nightmare?” 

Looking a little confused by your change in direction, and you don’t blame him. 

“I think so? I remember we all felt so bad.” He shrugs. “We all get them, of course - still do - but we were worried about you.”

“Right. So -” 

Aaron’s head tilts to the left as he interrupts you. “Did you say ‘everyone thought’ it was a nightmare?” 

Your face gets hot and you suddenly regret bringing this up at all. “Yeah. I’m getting to that.” 

With an embarrassed huff, you continue. “So, it wasn’t a nightmare.” 

“No?” The question comes accompanied by a frown. 

“No. It was a sex dream. About you.” 

You can tell he’s doing his best to hide his smile for your benefit, but there’s a threatening dimple that gives him away and you’ve simply known him too long for him to get away with anything. 

“Really?” His tone is neutral, polite, but you can hear the humor behind the apparently bland interest. 

“Yep.” 

“What - if I may ask - was it about? Specifically?” 

You take a breath and adopt the same kind of ironic professionalism as Aaron. “Well, now it doesn’t seem so notable, because i’m more than familiar with your, um, technique.” 

And it’s true. Though you hardly remember the details of the dream anymore - it's been years - you know that real life doesn’t even come close. 

Aaron pulls his hand from yours and steeples his fingers under his chin. He’s the picture of interest, so you continue. 

“The key points are as follows -” 

He holds up a finger, and you stop. “On second thought,” he says. “I think this recollection would be better served by a demonstration.”

You nod. “You’re probably right.” 

“I’ll pencil it in.” 

You grin at each other for a moment, the back-and-forth of it so deeply on brand you can’t help but steep in it for a second. 

“So,” he says, “as you were saying before…?” 

“Right.” 

Back to business. 

“I had a huge crush on you and could swear you were the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.” 

Never one to forgo an opportunity to compliment him when he’s not actively swatting at you, you continue. 

“In the lecture you gave with Gideon and Derek, I knew you were in charge before you said anything. Even though Gideon had the years and experience on you, it was clear that everything came through you.” You attempt to explain the inarticulable. “There’s a kind of steadiness - one you still have - that radiates off of you.” 

The two of you sit in that for a moment. 

You continue. “And then, of course, when we met again I had to really focus on not making an ass of myself in front of Strauss.” 

He laughs. His laughter makes you laugh, of course. It’s so much higher than his speaking register, so delightful in its unexpectedness. 

“Okay, okay.” You stop, covering your face with your hands. “Okay this is cheesy. Promise not to laugh.” 

His eyebrows rise and he forces his mouth into something that only threatens a dimple once more. 

“When you shook my hand in Radner’s office, there was this crazy jolt of energy or something that just flew up my arm. It was wild. I’ve never been able to forget it, almost like a flashbulb memory.”

As promised, he doesn’t laugh. There is, however, a kind of wonder in his eyes when he replies, “You felt that, too?”

+++

After dinner (and dessert), Aaron takes your hand and ushers you into the car when you leave the lod. He doesn’t turn the way you expect. 

“Where are we going?” 

The dashboard casts a glow on his face. You can still spot a dimple in the dark. “You’ll see.” 

+++

Your disbelief only grows when you go deeper into the city and pull up to the Hay-Adams. The valet opens the door for you, while Aaron hands over the keys to his SUV. Once all the details are covered, you take his arm again and let him guide you into the lobby. 

It’s expansive. The Hay-Adams is, of course, one of the most historic buildings in the district and considered one of the best hotels on the East Coast by people who know of these things. 

Aaron confirms the reservation and gets the room cards before promptly finding the elevator and swiping in for the seventh floor. You look down, remembering your attire at the last minute. 

“Aaron, I don’t have my go bag.” 

He shakes his head, still looking forward. “Don’t need it.” 

You scoff. 

He doubles down. “Do you trust me?”

Stupid question. 

“Of course.” 

“Go with it. I’m trying to spoil you.” He turns and presses his lips to yours, taking your face in his hand. Against your mouth, he says, “Let me.” 

+++

The room is gorgeous - a one bedroom suite with a living room, balcony, and kitchenette, a huge couch dominates the center of the open living area, opposite an impressive television. Through the open door, you catch a glimpse of a king-sized bed. 

This must have cost a small fortune. 

As if reading your mind, Aaron takes your hand and tugs you forward. You land against his chest and he smiles at you. “Don’t think too hard. Come with me.” 

You follow him out to the balcony and the view takes your breath away. The White House, well-lit in the D.C. nighttime, sits right across the street. From here, you can see Lafayette Square - beyond it, almost the whole city. 

When you come back to yourself, you realize there’s an outdoor loveseat and a small table, holding champagne (on ice) and chocolate-covered fruit. 

Champagne, chocolate, fancy dinner… The whole nine. 

Spoiled indeed. 

Aaron sits, pulling you down beside him. He pours two glasses of champagne - mostly for show, and moves the bucket to the ground. The fruit goes off to the side table and his feet go up on the small table, crossing at the ankles. You curl up against him, tucking under his arm. 

“Do you like it? Too much?” 

You can hear the genuine insecurity behind his cheeky question. You press a kiss to the back of his hand. “I love it. It is too much, but it’s very thoughtful. You twist to kiss the underside of his jaw. “Thank you.” 

With that, the two of you settle in, quietly enjoying the company and the quiet. It’s cold, but with the outdoor heater, it’s comfortable enough that you don’t need your coat. 

“Okay.” 

Aaron sits up. “Yes?” 

“You asked, so it’s only fair. No work, no kids, no serial killers. How are you?” 

He pulls you over so you’re sitting across his lap. You rest your head on his shoulder, your hand smoothing over the soft fabric of his button-up before placing it over his heart. 

“I’m good,” he says. “I’m really good.” 

“Why?” You feel a little like a parrot, but you’re sure that’s what he’s going for. 

“I can’t...quite articulate how lucky I feel.” 

That’s relatable. 

“I’m happy to be here with you.” He shakes his head - a pensive gesture. “I never thought I could make it here again.” 

“Where?” You ask. 

“In love, happy, facing a future that doesn’t scare me. My son is happy, safe...I wasn’t sure I'd ever have any of that again after losing Haley.” 

He pauses and you can feel a little sardonic smile. You don’t have to see it to know it’s there. His next admission, though, surprises you. 

“I accepted that I would be a bystander in your life a long time ago. I accepted that I would likely remain a widower, a single father. I knew you’d be around and that I would be your friend, but I made peace with the idea that I’d never have you right here.” He squeezes you twice, in time with his words. It makes you smile. 

He shakes his head and lets out a little laugh. “I’m not sure it’ll ever sink in.” 

You feel much the same, but it's kind of at once alarming and amusing to hear him so beautifully articulate feelings that so closely resemble your own. 

You lean back to look at him. “I’m glad you were wrong.”

He places a gentle finger under your chin and kisses you, long and languid. It’s a promise. After a little while, he leans back, brushing the back of his fingers over your cheek. 

“Me too.”

+++

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[farmerlan]

A guide to commonly used honorifics in 魔道祖师/The Untamed

OK - so, I’ve actually seen some confusion floating around on specific honorifics commonly used in 魔道祖师 and I figured I will put a post up to address some of this - especially the situations when they get used. Hopefully it’ll be helpful for fic writers or whoever else out there that’s getting turned around by the various translations.

As with most of Chinese vernacular, there’s a TON of similar, but different situations in which it may be permissible to use certain titles/honorifics, so bear in mind this is not an exhaustive guide. Also, I don’t have a PhD in Chinese honorifics or anything, I’m just a Chinese person that watches/reads a fair amount of historical dramas. So if I missed anything/if there was anything that was kind of unclear in the novel or drama, feel free to let me know!

公子 / gongzi/ master

Let’s start with the hardest so I can get this out of the way. You will see this translated in a variety of different ways - master, young master, sir...and they are all correct! Congratulations, you’ve hit the jackpot - depending on the situation, gongzi can be a whole hodgepodge of things.

Master: The most commonly used version in MDZS. This is a separate meaning of master from some of the honorifics discussed below - it is specifically used to address either:

Your literal master if you are a servant in the household

A somebody from a distinguished household in a polite way

General honorific: Gongzi can also be used between strangers/acquaintances as a respectful term. Gongzi is, in some ways, an indicator of respect of the other person’s status. So oftentimes you’ll find two young masters from different sects referring to each other as gongzi politely, but you wouldn’t find two beggars on the street calling each other that. and it’s usually used to address someone younger or a similar age as you. If you‘re talking to someone who is clearly your senior, use 前辈 or 先生.

Because it has the connotation of youth and aristocracy associated with it, oftentimes innkeepers/sellers may use gongzi to address male customers  (particularly youthful men) because it’s a bit more flattering. Kind of like how the modern day shopkeeper calls you ‘美女’ (beauty) or even ‘亲爱的’（my dear - IDK when this started becoming a thing but if you do any online shopping on Taobao you know what I’m talking about) in China. They don’t actually think you’re beautiful/feel affection for you, it’s just a way of addressing the customer to make you feel good about yourself HA. It’s nice to be called gongzi even if you’re not actually a noble.

There’s variants of this - 小公子/ xiaogongzi is typically young master, although I think some translations just directly use the young master for gongzi. It can also mean the younger master if there is an older sibling in question here (e.g. Wen Chao was referred to as 温小公子 as he was the younger son), although you can also use 二公子 （second master), as many do when referring to Lan Wangji. It sounds a little less juvenile.

This term is used for guys - I would say the female equivalent could be 千金/ qianjin or 小姐 /xiaojie.

宗主 / zongzhu/ sect leader

This can only refer to the sect leader - it is a title, and it is passed down. There is typically only one sect leader at any one time, and his eldest male heir will be the successive leader of the sect. I’m going to take this chance to clear up some misconceptions:

Unless Lan Xichen bears no male heirs before his death, Lan Wangji will not succeed him. Lan Sizhui, given that he is not a Lan by birth, will likely never be the Lan sect leader. Yes yes, we all know he’s the adoptive son, but adoptive means literally nothing in the progenical world of Chinese history. Plus, he’s not even the adoptive son of Lan Xichen, so he is a long, long way down from ever being sect leader unless he forms his own, which he would likely never because that’s kind of like betraying your family.

On that same topic, Nie Huaisang succeeded Nie Mingjue because Nie Mingjue died without an heir and Nie Huaisang was the closest blood relative.

For the Jin sect, the succession would have been Jin Guangshan -> Jin Zixuan -> Jin Ling. (y’all I wrote here that it was Jin Zixun first in line but I totally blanked that he was actually a cousin and NOT the son of JGS so ignore that LOL) Since Jin Zixuan died, it became Jin Guangyao - Jin Ling is next in line as he is of the next generation and too young at that time to rule. Honestly, if Jin Ling was older at the time of Jin Zixuan’s death and if this was a Chinese historical palace drama, there would probably be some serious internal political intrigue going on as Jin Guangyao’s claim over the seat would arguably be weaker than Jin Ling’s since he is illegitimate.

For the Jiang sect, Jiang Cheng is the heir even though Jiang Yanli is older because he is male. The question of who will inherit his seat (a very valid question given his luck with dating, although I am sure someone somewhere will eventually warm the prickly cockles of his heart) remains open. IMO there is a less than zero chance that Jin Ling succeeds him unless Jiang Cheng specifically demands for it, but he likely wouldn’t because he is all about decorum and also it would put Jin Ling in an incredibly difficult situation, which is the last thing he would want for his nephew. If he doesn’t end up producing heirs, the seat will likely go to whomever he names as successor, even if non-blood related - maybe the current head disciple.

With that said, although there were generally established rules for succession, actual Chinese history (like all of history) often played out very differently (e.g. Emperor Kangxi stripped crown prince Yinreng of his right to succeed and appointed Yinzhen (Yongzheng), who was the fourth surviving prince, as his successor) so really, even if you were to base sect succession off imperial succession traditions, you could still make the argument that anything goes as long as you have the right people in your corner. HA.

老祖/ laozu/ grandmaster/forefather

I mean, I think grandmaster is probably a fair translation of laozu, which, to be honest, is a harder honorific to translate. It’s definitely influenced by Taoism and not very common at all, but it’s likely derived from Hongjun Laozu (鸿钧老祖), who was a deity and teacher. It does NOT only stand for a senior teacher/master however, because 祖 itself has ancestral connotations, so I think I would personally translate this as forefather. IMO, it’s really only fair to use this on Wei Wuxian and/or originators of a certain branch of study in the MDZS universe - I would consider laozu as the term of respect afforded to people who were pioneers in their fields/sects.

In that sense, Lan Qiren is NOT the grandmaster of the Lan sect. He is an elder - a very respected elder that was basically interim sect leader, but in terms of official title, technically, Lan Xichen could pull rank on him, but he likely wouldn’t unless pressed to because he is also Lan Xichen’s elder.

前辈 / qianbei/ senior/elder

This is kind of an in-between term to politely refer to someone who is your senior, but with whom you really have no formal affiliation with. Unlike 先生, it’s also unisex. A related term is 长辈 /zhangbei, but that is used for people whom you have familial/closer ties with - like an uncle, or someone within your own sect.

师父/师尊/ shifu/shizun / master

Your teacher/master, but not in the servant-master context. Someone who mentors you for years - in the xianxia/wuxia culture, this is a pretty special term because most disciples will only ever belong to one sect and will only ever have one master, and everyone else is a qianbei. The disciple has to ‘拜师’ (to formally request this relationship) and the master also has to ‘收徒’ (to formally accept disciples). So a lot of people went to Yiling in an attempt to 拜师, but Wei Wuxian never did 收徒.

In the wuxia/xianxia context, shifu is technically unisex even though 父 in itself is a male-centric term, although female masters might be more commonly referred to by the gender-neutral shizun instead.

Now that I think about it, shifu doesn’t actually appear in MDZS. Lan Wangji calls Lan Qiren 叔父 /shufu, which is completely different. It means uncle (father’s younger brother, to be exact lol), since that is their relationship.

老头/ laotou/ old man

Wei Wuxian uses this to address Lan Qiren behind his back. It literally just means old man, haha. It’s informal but not a term you would use to refer to someone who is close to you/whom you like, but not exactly a term that is insulting or derogatory, although in Lan Qiren’s case, it is irreverent because it is ill-fitting for the relationship that Wei Wuxian and Lan Qiren have. Meant to be used on men, usually for women it would be 老婆婆/ laopopo (NOT THE SAME as 老婆/ laopo, which means wife. Welcome to the weird wonderful world of the Chinese language!)

师弟/哥/兄/姐/妹/ shi di/ge/xiong/jie/mei/ younger brother/ older brother/ another variant of older brother/ older sister/ younger sister

NOT TO BE USED FOR YOUR ACTUAL FAMILY. This is in the context of the sect only. Your fellow disciples, but with varying levels of seniority. Familial honorifics are a whole different thing.

In the context of the sect, who you call your shidi/ge etc. is usually NOT based on age - it is based on someone’s seniority within the sect. If you have been in the sect/under your master’s tutelage for longer, you are the senior, even if you are younger in age.

With that, I think the novel states that both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng are similar in age, so it is actually incredibly hard to determine if the author deliberately went against this convention and Wei Wuxian calls Jiang Cheng shidi because he is genuinely younger than Wei Wuxian, or if it is simply because Wei Wuxian is the head disciple of the sect (and therefore, technically, everyone is his shidi). I actually think it might be the former because he refers to Jiang Yanli as shijie, although now that I think about it, it might be the latter...as a reflection of the level of admiration Wei Wuxian has for Jiang Yanli WOAH.

(Fun fact: there’s a scene in the novel in Yi city where Wei Wuxian was silently weirded out that Xiao Xingchen referred to him as ‘qianbei’ - because Xiao Xingchen is his mother’s shidi, which makes him Wei Wuxian’s senior, but then he quickly realizes it’s because he’s talking to Xue Yang and not Xiao Xingchen.)

先生 /xiansheng/ mister/sir/teacher

In present day, this is literally the most vanilla term you can use to politely address a guy. Can be a stranger, or an acquaintance you want to politely address. Usually older than you, although if you’re both similar in age and you’re not really familiar with each other, you might still use it just to err on the side of caution. In xianxia/ancient China, this is usually used more like ‘teacher/sir’ to address an elder. It’s more scholastic in its implication and less generic than qianbei.

In the Lan sect, by crowd definition, 先生 refers to Lan Qiren unless otherwise stated, which makes sense and shows the amount of respect he is afforded in the sect.

夫人 / furen/ wife/madam

A term of respect for typically older women, or can also be used to refer to one’s wife.

Lastly, let me just add that this is just something that’s meant to be helpful for people as they work through the series - at the end of the day, it’s all fictional/xianxia itself as a genre is fantasy so if you need to subvert any one of the generally held succession traditions or whatnot in order to make your fic work, go!!! Do it!!!

[tundrainafrica]

hi! i just wanted ask how can you not be so pressured to change hange’s gender to your fics (she to they/them) despite that many twitter users are saying that “au authors must use they/them to hange because they are canonically NB” . because to be honest, as an aspiring writer who is working on her first levihan fic, i feel so pressure or maybe obligied to use they/them pronouns for hange.

Hello Anon,

Thanks for the ask!

To be honest, I actually was pressured to use ‘they’ tbh. In fact, I was so pressured I actually did a lot of research on this and put a lot of thought into my decision to use ‘she’ as my chosen pronoun for Hange.

But tbh, I think I am pretty confident with the amount of research and the amount of thought I put into it that I don’t think I will be using ‘they’ in my fics anytime soon. 

Disclaimer: This doesn’t mean at all that I don’t like reading ‘they’ fics nor that I don’t like seeing people use ‘they.’ Tbh I don’t really mind whatever people use? I can enjoy a fic with either pronoun, I can enjoy a good meta with either pronoun. I have my own personal reasons for using they. 

Some of the reasons why: 

Personal HC 

Personal HC but I’m still gonna drop this here. 

To make things clear, I headcanon Hange as gender fluid. I headcanon her as sexuality fluid that personally, I’m not too much a fan either of fics that portray Hange as overly feminine either. So I have seen people who request that we do not use overly female or feminine words with Hange. Which yes, I don’t do them. But was a peer pressured into not using them? 

No, not really. I just personally think Levi would prefer the word partner if he was with Hange. I personally think that Hange would not have liked to fall into traditional female roles either. 

At the same time, I thought about the concept of using ‘they’ as a pronoun with Hange then I couldn’t help but think, it just isn’t in my personal interpretation of Hange to correct people. Hange is too much of a free bird to actually care what people use. Hange would probably respond to he, she, they or whatever and she probably wouldn’t correct anyone calling her mr., mrs. etc.

And in the context of Filo soc med AUs, Hange would probably respond to ate, kuya. (And besides, what is the gender neutral form of ate or kuya??? Mamsir)

And generally the default for most people is to look at someone and think okay, she’s a girl, I think I’ll use ‘she’ first. Or okay, that’s a guy, I think I’ll use ‘he’ first and what usually happens is if anyone is particularly conscious about the pronoun used on them, they will correct the other person. 

But there are people out there, who don’t care whether someone uses she, he, they, mr., mrs, ma’am, sir. For example, personally for me, I wouldn’t bother to correct anyone. And I headcanon that Levi and Hange wouldn’t have cared either. 

I’m sure people who read my fics would notice, I do put a lot of research when I write because I like to make things as realistic and as in character as possible.  So to get into the spirit of my fic and whatever setting I’m writing, I try to capture everything to a T and given the overall landscape and setting I’m writing about and given my own headcanons of Levi and Hange I decided on she.

Because in my headcanon, if someone were to ask Hange what pronoun she preferred? Hange probably would have said any. 

Likewise, if anyone asked Hange what her gender was, Hange probably would have said ‘any’ also.

And the setting of the show is practically medieval and gender identity is a relatively new concept. I don’t think many people would have spent too much time pondering ideas like individualism and  gender identity when they’re literally facing death everyday.  Actually a lot of the great thinking happened after the war, and when there was actually food on the table. Because people weren’t actually hungry everyday anymore so they had time to think about more modern thoughts. 

‘She’ is still an NB pronoun 

I answered this in another ask already. But the point behind this, is although ‘they’ is the go to non binary pronoun, there are NB people who go by she too. And creating this idea that all gender fluid characters HAVE to go by ‘they’ is dangerous in itself because the reason we had gender discrimination in the first place is because we had these boxes to fit ourselves into. So if a NB person wants to go by ‘she’ or ‘he’ or ‘they’ who are we to stop them? 

And I said it many times myself. We will never know which pronoun Hange would have preferred for herself. 

I get confused. 

This is a shallow reason but I’m gonna drop this here anyway. I get confused when I see ‘they.’ I read a lot of content which uses ‘they’ for Hange and I get confused a lot of the time that I have to read the sentences like three times because I end up thinking ‘Hange and who?’

I know I should have gotten used to it by now, but I still get confused because english is the only language I use on a regular basis that actually has such strict rules for how to navigate gendered pronouns.

I don’t wanna be peer pressured into doing shit just coz. 

Tbh, for me, as long as I did my research, as long as I can argue both sides as to why and as long as I am confident in the fact that I have thought about this enough before deciding on this, I will not change it. 

I am pretty convinced that a lot of people who actually go all the way as to attack someone on twitter and to cancel them (over a lot of topics tbh) haven’t done their due research. 

Because most of the people I know who have done their due research wouldn’t be fighting (on Twitter OF ALL PLACES) in the first place. 

Because doing actual research (which means reading articles which support both sides of the argument) will only make people realize that the world is too grey and too complex to ever make pushing their own agenda, ‘cancelling’ someone and calling them transphobic, homophobic, racist etc ect  or as they like to call ‘educating’ someone the right thing to do. Believe me, if people genuinely wanted to educate someone, they would slide into their DMs and calmly tell them their own opinion, ask why the other person believes a certiain way and you know, be ready to learn something too because education is a two way street. And if the conversation isn’t going anywhere, I think any level headed person would probbaly just give up and do something more worth while with their time than cancel some stranger on social media.

Regardless though, I respect either decision and I recognize the fact that a lot of Hange stans are very much more comfortable with the pronoun ‘they’ My general practice when navigating this sensitive topic is to use ‘they’ for Hange when talking to someone who prefers ‘they’ because it’s a conversation and in conversation, the space becomes something shared between me and the other person so I would do my part to make it as comfortable for them as possible. 

But here’s the thing, my fic is my space. It’s a house I built for myself and the readers are the visitors that come in and out as they please. No one is forced to read my fic and never have I and never will I tie someone down on a chair and not free them until they read my work. 

It’s my fic. It’s my work and I can do whatever I want with it.

People tend to forget that in the end this is a fandom space and people should be free to headcanon things however they want. They should be free to explore whatever themes they want. And I like to do my part to promote this type of environment by sticking to a few iron clad rules.

I write what I want to write.

Don’t like, don’t read.

Content is free. There’s a back button and if you do not appreciate the themes someone is exploring or the headcanons someone is applying to their fic, you may click the back button and look for something that doesn’t offend you. 

(I’m gonna end up digressing a bit here so feel free not to read the rant below)

There are an infinite number of headcanons and ideas which ideally should be able to exist. Yet because of this constant need to be politically correct and this constant fear that we might be offending someone and we might end up cancelled, a lot of people have been watching their own creative works more than necessary. 

I actually fear that there are a lot of good ideas and there are a lot of themes that could have been explored but weren’t. 

And this is why I love ao3 a lot. Ao3 is free from societal pressure, corporate synergy and I appreciate the fact that in that space, I’m free to explore whatever themes I want. I can read something pro-rape, I can read something anti-rape. I can read something pro abuse, I can read something anti-abuse etc etc. 

I personally have very liberal views and obviously I am not for rape or abuse in ANY situation.

But I am also the type of person who will read things that celebrate a controversial topic and things that will attack that same topic because I just generally want a more nuanced opinion on a lot of things. Because when I have seen both sides of the spectrum, then it’s just easier for me to proudly say ‘Yes, I believe this’ or ‘No, I don’t believe that.’

And I think these pieces should be available for other people to explore so that they can for themselves form more nuanced opinions on whatever topics come their way and the more sides people are aware of that exist, the less likely we’re going to end up with groupthink or hivemind situations which have fucked people over countless times in history already.

Should questionable content be widely available? Personally no but I don’t think it should be completely unavailable.

Regardless these potentially offensive pieces should exist and  I’m saying this for both controversial topics such as rape and abuse and something as relatively harmless as Hange being referred to as ‘she’ on a fic. All stories exploring every facet and every side regardless of how controversial should exist in this space because these promote discourse and they promote thinking. These pieces of work that explore taboo and offensive topics and the discourse these create only serve to make our opinions more nuanced so at least we aren’t blinded or we don’t have these half assed opinions only fueled by having read material created by people who are biased to one particular side. At least we have enough fuel for ourselves to say ‘Yes I have read this and now I can more proudly say I believe this more.’  

Whatever opinions I have made for myself about social issues are only how they are because I listen to both sides of the argument. I like to play devil’s advocate. I like to listen to people even if I don’t agree with what they’re saying. 

And I like finding compromises so that people can co-exist and I like tweaking my opinions everyday based on new information I learn.

And personally, there are so many views I hate and there are types of topics I personally would prefer not to explore but I still believe in the back of my mind they should exist. And if we do whitewash or try to force everyone to adjust their works to whatever side we deem is more ‘politically correct,’ then we will lose facets of the fandom that could have existed, that could have promoted a more colorful discourse and that could have sprouted new ideas and new ways of thinking which may be even more creative if people weren’t so scared to be cancelled or wrong.

It’s different in a conversation. I will adjust the way I speak, the way I navigate interactions with people in a shared space. 

But no one is forced to read my works no one is forced to read fanfiction so cancelling someone over how they go about their creative works will always be worse in my book than someone who is exploring problematic themes. (As long as that person tags their trigger material properly and isn’t forcing anyone to read it or forcing their own personal beliefs on anyone or attacking them)

Anyway, sorry for the long ass rant again but I hope you get the courage to use whatever pronouns you want for Hange. 

I hope this makes you realize that there really isn’t a black and white to this. And this is a fandom space. Do whatever you want. Headcanon whatever you want. Just be respectful and kind.

[mallowstep]

kitty cat pronouns

today in: matthew slowly goes feral

anyway, yeah! i made up my mind about this...ages ago, really, and i made a off-hand comment about it but didn't explain it so here goes.

i don't think mml (meow meow language / catlang) has gendered pronouns. or more accurately, mmml (as in, my mml) does not. (i'm memeing about acronyms we're sticking with mml.)

anyway while one third person pronoun would be fine (or one for each number w/e but this isn't about plurals and number, that's different), but while that would be fine, i have better answer:

relative age based pronouns.

so cats have four pronouns: same age, older, younger, unknown.

but because age is a part of the cat social hierarchy, these also all have a bit of nuance.

i'm going to speak Generally here but even within the clans there's a lot of variation

same age is usually within a season. equal status. it's pretty reserved, in that sense, because most cats can only talk about their maara with the same age term, so there's some implication of growing up together, being close, etc. (else how do you know you're the same age?) altho elders tend to use it with each other, even cross-clan, unless someone is clearly younger bc at that point you're all old and on the same level.

older is respectful. kind of like sir/ma'am but also not really and it's built into the language. there's an element of status to it, an apprentice is always going to use older with a warrior. (if u read ashes yes there's definitely drama between hollypaw and jaypaw and lionclaw when this happens.) i'm not sure how far i want to push that, how it interacts with medicine cats, queens, etc., but anything that's a clear status increase is going to warrant older. so like, i think leaders probably always get this, unless they're talking to one another, but maybe during like? leadership challenges (i.e. when the clan makes a decision a leader would typically make), maybe not? i'm not sure.

younger is not Disrespectful unless you're talking down. which does happen. (again lionclaw definitely uses this with hollypaw and jaypaw and they're like "bro wtf".) but mostly it's Fairly neutral like. ig it implies they should be respectful to you but at the same time hm, it is perfectly possible for two cats to refer to each other with older or younger pronouns. for example an apprentice who's training for extra long (like whitepaw) will refer to a young warrior with older pronouns (rank), but the warrior will use older to refer to the apprentice. i haven't thought out enough of these scenarios but it happens. it can also b a little affectionate like. "little bro" vibes.

unknown which is. the Main connotation it carries is not close to this cat. it says "i don't know them well enough to know how old they are" and like tbf cats can't do math so determining the age of a cat you don't know is hard but like. outside of the context of the clans, cats might use same age as like. i know and care about them and the exact timing is not important.

anyway at the end of the day these r pronouns and like. cats don't think about it any more than people think about a t/v distinction.

(informal/formal you)

i'm probably never touching this in writing as much as i love the potential for drama it creates because there's no "painless" way to introduce a reader to it. i am expecting them to learn four new words/whatever tool i use to indiciate it, understand the general ideas, and be able to read into the nuance, which is more than i am willing to do.

i believe firmly that fics should carry their own worldbuilding. sometimes i go and write a fic like wcte where i just. hope you pick up on the nuance as you read. but even that, which uses seim, maach, and maara, i think you get the idea of what each word means in context. poppy defines seim, maara is used in contrast with maach, etc.

so bc i can't do that with this, don't expect it to come up in my fics. just know that i'm thinking about it sometimes.

[make-me-imagine]

Lost

🕸13 Days of Halloween: Day 12

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

Prompt: “I’m calling it, we are lost in the woods”

Pairing: Sir Percival (BBC Merlin) x Reader

Requested by: Anonymous

Gender: Neutral            Triggers: 

Theme: A little angst, little fluff, little humor.

Note 1: Surprise surprise, it’s not Halloween themed, of course. Almost none of them have been lol, mostly just angsty and/or spooky.  Note 2: The creature described in this story is similar to that of the Barghest, a mythological dog-like creature from English folklore.

You smiled as you approached Percival. He was standing tall, though he didn’t necessarily have to try and do that, he was a giant after all. He brushed off some mud from the armor on his shoulders as he looked around, nodding to a group of people who wandered by as he gripped the horse bridles in his hands. You took the moment to watch him. Ever since you had met Percival you felt something for him, and you felt as though he returned that feeling. But the two of you were relatively shy, which was not a great combination in this kind of thing. You were friends, you joked with each other and teased each other, but neither of you could admit what you felt. 

When you told Merlin and Arthur that you needed an escort through the forest to the next town to pick up some trade items, they both volunteered Percival. You knew that if you had asked him, which you wanted too, that he would say yes, but you didn’t want to inconvenience him. But fortunately for you, Merlin and Arthur did it for you.

“Percival” you finally greeted him gently, gaining his attention immediately. 

You smiled widely at him in greeting, he returned it. Looking down at the basket you were carrying he frowned “I thought you were picking up items there, not taking them?”

“Oh, no, this is for us” you smiled, opening the lid “I made us some pastries with fruit, and sandwiches for the journey, since it’s quite a lengthy journey”

His smile widened “That’s very kind of you Y/n”

You smiled at each other for a moment before he cleared his throat “All ready then?” you nodded as he helped you safely onto your horse. You spared one more glance at the castle, seeing Merlin and Arthur peaking from the windows. You waved at them before heading towards the castle gates.

After travelling for a couple of hours you decided to take a break, mostly for the horses sake. Stopping next to creek you tied the horses and wandered over to the water. Stretching, you sighed “I’m glad it’s a nice day, it would have been horrible if it was raining, though it does appear to be clouding up”

Percival sat down on a large boulder near by as he looked to the sky “I don’t think it will rain on us”

“Don’t jinx us Percival” you walked over to him, crouching down to get some food from the basket.

“Do you believe in jinxes?” he asked amused, as you handed him a pastry.

“It depends on the context, but in this case, yes.” You sat next to him “Every time I have announced that something bad will definitely not happen, it does”

He chuckled “Well noting bad is going to happen”

You smacked him lightly on the arm “You did it again!”

He laughed this time, shaking his head “I’m sorry” he apologized, though not wholeheartedly.

“I know you think I’m being silly, but there’s nothing wrong with being cautious”

“Or paranoid?” he mocked, causing you to glare at him as the two of you broke into giggles.

After eating and resting, you began your journey again, not travelling for much longer before you came across a road block of Camelot guards. “What happened here?” Percival interrogated as you approached.

“There was a death up ahead, we believe it too have been an animal attack, we are searching the area” You and Percival shared a look as the guard continued “I suggest not going this way Sir, if you have to pass, you can take that last path left and go around, though it is sure to lengthen your journey”

Percival knew how important this shipment was for your job so he nodded at the man and turned “How late can you be to take the shipment”

“At least five hours, I told them in my last message the road was long, I am sure they would not mind holding it for much longer”

“Alright, then we will go around”

Another hour had passed before you started to loose track of the path, the terrain getting rougher “Have you been this way before Percival?”

He shook his head “No, but I assume the path should pick up again soon”

“Or we’re lost?”

“We are definitely not lost” he concluded, though you could hear the doubt in his tone at the statement.

Another couple of miles and the path hadn’t appeared again “Okay, sorry Percival but I am calling it, we are lost in the woods”

You heard him sight “I know” he admitted “I’m sorry”

You trotted up next to him “Don’t worry, I’m sure we will run into someone soon, and get back on our way. I don’t blame you, things just happen”

He smiled lightly at you “It’s just another adventure right?” he quoted you, something you said a few months ago when you went with the knights on a quest, mostly because you held hopefully information, of course, as usual, something went wrong.

“Exactly” you smiled. In the distance you heard a rumble of thunder, making you and Percival share another look “If it starts raining, that, I will definitely blame you for” 

He chuckled as you entered a small clearing “Lets take a quick break, the horses are beginning to slow down”

Agreeing, you let the horses rest, and gave them some water before you and Percival sat on the ground. You watched the incoming dark clouds, trying not to give into the thought that you might end up lost in a rain storm. Though, you would admit, you could be with worse company. 

You glanced over at Percival seeing him lost in thought, a frown on his face “You’re not still blaming yourself are you?”

“Hmm? Oh, no” he sighed “It’s just...there was something I intended to do on this trip, but with us getting lost, I’m not sure I can now”

“What was it you wanted to do?”

Looking over at you, you saw him contemplating for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak “I wanted to-”

Suddenly a loud noise came from within the woods behind you, almost a growl or a grunt, animalistic in nature. You spun around as Percival stood quickly, unsheathing his sword. You stood and moved behind him, having come unarmed. The horses began to trot around nervously, sensing whatever it was in the woods.

“What was that?” you spoke quietly, your eyes searching the dense woods for any movement. 

“I don’t know” his voice was equally as low “It sounded like some sort of creature”

“Do you think it’s the thing that killed that man back towards Camelot?”

“Possibly” he looked around “We should go, get away from here”

You nodded as you moved to untie the horses. They moved incessantly as you tried to mount them. After you had, you and Percival moved quietly out of the clearing before riding faster in the opposite direction.

After riding for a short while you slowed down, reaching what appeared to be an old path “I think we may have found the path again” you said encouragingly.

Percival looked behind you, back in the forest before eyeing the path “Good” he muttered as the two of you began to move along again.

Only a short moment passed before you heard an echoing noise throughout the forest, causing the horses to jump and whinny in fear. It was a howl, deep and long, louder than any you had heard from any wolf.

You and Percival shared a look of shock before immediately began riding down the path, headed in whichever direction took you away from the creature. Not long passed before another howl was heard, this one sharper, combined with a noise similar to a growl.

As you headed down a slope, you felt rain drops hitting your hair. Glancing up, you saw the dark clouds building over head as the once distance thunder boomed above you.

“Keep going!” Percival called as you encouraged the horses to keep running, though you knew they would not stop either way, they were just as frightened as you were.

Finding a clearer road you began following it, ended up against the cliff side of a mountain. As you rode, alongside of you to the left of the path, you saw small rocks rolling down the hill. Looking up, through the deepening rainfall and trees, you saw a large black creature running above you along the cliffs edge. 

“Percival!” you called out to him.

Following your line of sight, he saw the creature as well, it was hunting you, if it got in front of you it would cut you off. Looking ahead, he saw that the road branched off “Take the right path!” he called.

You egged the horses on, faster, the two of you taking the right road, hearing another howl come from the creature, the aggravation of its prey getting further evident in the deep guttural sound. 

The rain was harsh and thick, soaking you to the core as you kept riding, as you rounded a corner you saw a town in the distance, looking at Percival you two shared a knowing look as you made your way closer to the town.

Just as you began to feel a sense of relief, the creature jumped out in the road in front of you. Your horse reared itself up whinnying in fear as you fell from it’s back, landing harshly on the ground. Your horse bolted from the area, into the woods towards the town. The creature looked from the horse back to you, as it stood it’s ground.

It was a large hound like creature, with a short, tangled mane gliding from its head down it’s back. It’s fur was as dark as obsidian, it’s eyes only visible due to the glare they emitted. It bared it’s teeth at you, emitting a deep growl.

You heard Percival cry out as he swung his sword at the creature, it jumped back in defense before clawing at him. Percival lunged his sword again, the hound only moved away further, not backing down, he needed a clear shot.

Standing, you picked up a large rock and threw it at the creature with all your might. Sticking the hound in it’s head it yelped slightly before drawing it’s attention to you. Throwing another stone you hit it in the face again, giving Percival enough time to lunge his sword once again, this time striking the creature in the neck. It yelped again as it yanked away before running off into the woods, deciding that it could not handle the two of you at once. 

Taking no time, you moved towards Percival. He reached down and grabbed your arm and pulled you onto the back of his horse. Wrapping your arms securely around him you rode off as fast as you could towards the town.

It only took you a few more moments before you made it into the gates of the town and to safety. The rain had almost stopped completely, only existing in a light sprinkle. Entering the town, and stopping in front of an inn, you dismounted, leaning against a fence you took a few deep breaths, Percival doing the same. Moving in front of you he placed his hands gently on your shoulders as you looked up at him “Are you alright?”

You nodded “Just glad to be safe” you gave him a weak smile before your eyes were drawn behind him.

Following your gaze he sees a man waving at the two of you, standing by some bags, the shipment you came to get “I almost forgot why we came” you admitted. Pausing you looked at Percival “I don’t want to go back out there”

“We wont” he answered quickly “At least not today, it’s already getting dark out” he looked around at the slowly darkening sky “We will stay here tonight. Tonight I will ask around about a travel party, perhaps there are hunters or guards here that can guide us back, possibly go after the creature. Once we get back to Camelot, I will tell Arthur about what happened, maybe we will come back to hunt the creature ourselves.” You nodded, relived at the idea. There was no way you were going out there again with that thing lurking around the town. “Lets pick up your shipment and then find a place to stay alright?”

“Sounds good to me” you stood taking a breath before the two of you walked over to the man you came to meet. 

After settling in at the nearby inn, and after Percival warned the towns guards of the creature, he made a deal with them to escort the two of you back to Camelot, and to form a guard with Camelots guards to hunt the creature down. 

The two of you now stood outside, the air was brisk from the rain. You leaned against the wall of the inn before taking a deep breath and looking over at Percival “Have you ever seen a creature like that?”

He shook his head “No. I’ve heard of countless hound like animals in stories, but never thought any of them existed. Then again, Griffins do, so why not large black hounds?”

You smiled lightly, pausing for a moment “Well, this certainly did turn into an adventure after all didn’t it?”

He chuckled at the comment “Not necessarily a good one. Though we did make it out alright”

Another moment of comfortable silence passed before a thought entered your mind, the creature interrupted you and Percival in the clearing “You never finished telling me what it was you originally wanted to do on this trip”

This comment caught him off guard as he twisted his mug of mead around with his hands “It was nothing”

You eyed him for a moment “It couldn’t have been nothing. I could see it in your face that you were disappointed” He adjusted his stance nervously “What is it Percival?”

“I-” he hesitated “I was going to ask you something”

“What?” you faced him, giving him your full attention.

He looked down at you, your eyes locking for only a moment before he looked nervously down at his feet “I know I don’t hide it very well, and I know that you know...that I have feelings for you. And I have hoped that you felt the same...and, I wanted to ask...” he finally looked up, seeing your expression, a small smile crossing your face, not judging or confused, nor was it shocked or disgusted “If I could court you”

Your smile widened at the confession, relief ran through him at the sight of your reaction. You stood on your tip-toes and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek “I thought you’d never ask”

-

End.

I don’t know why, but I always have to end things with fluff lol. Hope you liked it.

[sunmisgirl]

Reader Catches EXO Member Checking Them Out (OT12)

For anon: Hi! If you're still doing reactions can I have exo's to the reader catching them checking them out? Thanks!

Nina’s Note: None of the members are idols and I’m keeping it gender neutral! :)

Xiumin:

A few knocks on the door draw your attention from the email on your computer screen. “Don’t forget there’s a staff meeting in five minutes,” Minseok says appearing at the doorway of your office. “Thanks for the heads up!” you shoot back and resume typing a response to the client. Consumed by the context of the email, you don’t acknowledge him still lingering by the door. 

He silently admires your professionalism, but can’t deny his growing crush on you, contemplating whether to ask you out now or later that day. Being the diligent employee you are, you click send and hastily clear up the desk before standing up and spotting Minseok. 

Casting him an inquisitive look, you ask, “Were you standing there the whole time?” His eyes slightly widen in fear of being caught staring at you, but he manages to think of a lie. “I figured I should wait for you since we’re going in the same direction,” he responds nonchalantly, hoping you don’t see past his bluff. “How kind of you,” you reply while smiling and walk out the office with him.

Luhan:

Today is your first day starting a new job at the daycare center. Naturally, you never thought about working with kids, but they always gravitate to you and everyone compliments your caring personality, so this was the perfect opportunity. About twenty minutes pass after drop-off time and a parent comes storming in the hallway carrying their child in their arms. 

Luhan sets down his daughter and kisses her forehead before apologizing for the lateness. “I’m so sorry; the traffic was hectic and the passing rainstorm didn’t help either.” Greeting his daughter and holding her hand, you look up and shrug casually, “It’s okay. Life is unpredictable.” 

He instantly calms down and realizes he hasn’t seen you in the daycare before. “Are you a new teacher?” “Yes, it’s my first day here,” you confirm and stand up from your crouching position. “How wonderful,” Luhan nods and hums in approval, totally zoning out on what you’re saying while staring at you. You clear your throat attempting to snap him out of his daze. 

“You can return in a few hours, sir,” you mention and let his daughter roam the classroom freely, the crayons on a nearby table catching her attention. “Oh, of course!” he replies before walking backwards into a tower of small blocks on the floor. You stifle a laugh and wave him off before walking over to clean the small mess.

Kris:

It’s your first time as a model for the Burberry fashion show. The agency selected you along with a few others to display Kris Wu’s debut collection, an artist quickly rising in stardom. The bustle backstage prevents you from meeting the young artist and you’re whisked away to the makeup chair. Kris sits closely to the runway, his watchful gaze studying every detail on the models’ clothing. 

It’s your turn to walk and you maintain composure, staring straight ahead and moving at a steady pace. The clothing adorning your body is one of Kris’s favorite pieces and his eyes stay glued to your form as you approach the end of the runway. You feel him observing you from the sidelines, but ignore the butterflies in your stomach and perfectly execute the walk to backstage.

The interviewer for Vogue stops Kris for a few minutes after the show asking about his collaboration with the fashion line. He passionately describes the process and his input in designing the clothing. However, he spots you in his peripheral vision and watches you walk through a small gathering of people.

Feeling someone’s burning stare, you turn and lock eyes with him, flashing a bright smile before disappearing into the crowd. His words start faltering as he stares at you walking further away. Instead of focusing on his response to the interview, he thinks about ways to bump into you tonight. “What was the question again?” Kris stumbles out and shifts his eyes back to the interviewer.

Suho:

*this gif doesn’t pertain to the reaction; I’m just thirsty (sorry not sorry)

Junmyeon is on another trip exploring as many parts of the world as possible. His tour guide leads the group through a picturesque town, explaining the architecture and history of the area. The group eventually breaks for lunch and he strolls to a cafe nearby reading over the menu before deciding to dine outside.

Coincidentally, you’re also seated with a friend outside sipping on a cold drink to relieve your thirst from the warm weather. Thankfully, the cafe provides some shade to the outside seating area so you can enjoy the scenery while staying cool. Your friend shows you a funny video on their phone causing you to laugh loudly. 

This catches Junmyeon’s attention and he glances at you without realizing he’s starting to stare in your direction. He can’t help feeling drawn to your boisterous laugh and bright smile. Your eyes drift around the outdoor seating area before meeting his gaze across the way. He sheepishly smiles and raises his glass towards you, resulting in you raising your own as well with a smile on your lips.

Lay:

Yixing is one of the best dancers in class, quickly becoming the instructor’s favorite and even taking their place sometimes teaching everyone the chosen choreography for the week. Your moves aren’t terrible but you could use some extra help. He notices your struggle one day and decides to stay behind after class going over the choreography with you. 

It’s slightly intimidating at first feeling Yixing’s sharp gaze watching every turn and step you make. After a few more tries, you improve and confidently perform the choreography in front of him. However, you miss a step once you see him start checking you out during the routine. 

You try to hide the mistake and continue the routine without saying anything, but Yixing already knows you caught him. Finishing the routine with a perfect ending pose, you patiently await his feedback and drink a bottle of water. He’s rendered speechless at this point after witnessing your grand improvement (and the fact you saw him checking you out so openly). “You have great...balance,” he stumbles out, not completely impressed with his own response. 

Baekhyun:

Baekhyun and you have been neighbors for a while, always bumping into each other at random times during the week. Lately he carries around a camera telling you he plans to start a vlogging channel. Sometimes you spot him in the neighborhood walking with his camera in hand, talking animatedly about who knows what.     

You decide to go for a jog one day before grabbing lunch with friends. Suddenly, you turn the corner and see Baekhyun crossing the street and strolling down the sidewalk towards you. He ruffles his hair and peers into the camera in hand making sure his appearance is presentable. 

Once you approach him, his eyes slowly scan over your figure before meeting your eyes. “Looking good today,” he flirts and continues walking past, not flustered one bit at being caught staring at you. 

Chen:

After aligning your busy schedules, Jongdae and you find time to grab dinner and catch up. “I finally get to see my best friend!” you yell once he enters the apartment with his own spare key. He beams at you and makes himself comfortable on the couch while you tread back into the bedroom and finish getting ready for the night. 

A few minutes pass before you beckon him in your room needing a second opinion on a pair of shoes. Once you tie up the laces, you stand in front of the floor length mirror and adjust your shirt, catching Jongdae checking you out.

With a gasp of surprise, you teasingly ask through the reflection, “Jongdae, were you just giving me the look?” He quickly realizes he can’t lie his way out of this one. Fumbling out an incoherent answer, he nervously runs a hand through his hair. You turn around and walk up to him in the doorway. “It’s not a big deal. I know I’m a great catch,” you wink and playfully bump his shoulder before leading the way out the door.

Chanyeol:

Your university is hosting its monthly star gazing event. Unfortunately, your friends don’t take astronomy class or are booked with other plans so you’re stuck solo tonight. Greeting your professor upon arrival, you wander around the rooftop waiting for more classmates to show up. 

It’s a chilly night so you find yourself slightly shivering in a lightweight jacket and sipping on a hot chocolate you ended up buying on the way over. In the meantime, you admire the midnight blue expanse of the sky without noticing someone else admiring you as well. 

Your classmate Chanyeol arrived a few minutes before you dressed in a dark gray sweater and eager to search for constellations in the sky. Right now, however, you’re way more interesting to look at. Setting your hot chocolate down on the ledge, you walk up to a telescope and peer through the lens determined to spot a constellation on your own.

After a few minutes of no luck, you huff in frustration and turn to see Chanyeol still staring at you. He coughs awkwardly and looks away obviously flustered about being caught. He never expects to feel a light tap on his shoulder and hear your voice asking for assistance in finding the constellation Cygnus.

D.O.:

Parties are a common scene for Kyungsoo and you to cross paths. Being socialites, the two of you hardly have time to converse, far too busy meeting other important individuals. However, Kyungsoo is determined to speak to you tonight at the company party. 

A few hours into the party, neither of you acknowledge each other’s presence because everyone swarms around you two in your respective circles. The conversation shifts to another guest and he uses the opportunity to admire the outfit you chose for tonight’s event. 

Zoning out of the conversation in your circle, your eyes drift across the room and meet Kyungsoo’s. Shockingly, he doesn’t look away and sweeps his eyes over your figure. You blink a few times wondering if you’re seeing things correctly, watching him tilt his head towards the bar. Nodding in agreement, you step away from the stuffy environment and get to know each other more.

Tao:

Tao had no idea what was in store once you two decided to sign up as camp counselors for the summer. Your assigned group was a wild bunch that tired you out from relay races to arts and crafts to campfire songs. Everyone finally settles down for the night lounging around the campfire making s’mores. 

The group quickly runs out of chocolate and graham crackers so you race off to get extra. Tao watches you from a distance when the kids are all distracted toasting their marshmallows over the open fire (or so he thought). After cleaning up the site, a girl walks up to you with a scratch on her knee claiming a branch snagged at her skin. Kneeling down, you take out a smiley face band-aid and apply it to her knee gingerly while Tao looks on lovingly.

The other kids gather around and look between you and Tao before singing aloud, “Tao and Y/N sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” Their singing makes you turn around and look at Tao surprisingly. He flusters at their boisterous singing and signals them to cut it out. This only encourages them to sing louder and he ends up chasing after them, laughter and rapid footsteps filling the night air. 

Kai:

Your breakup was eight months ago, but it’s still okay to mope over it, right? Not to your best friends. They’re tired of seeing you hung up on your ex and plan a blind date. After constant bickering about them meddling in your love life, you finally dress for the date and sit in the restaurant.

Jongin enters the restaurant with a few friends and settles at a table nearby. He notices you sitting alone scrolling through your phone and assumes you’re waiting for someone. He ogles at you from afar and ignores his friends’ conversation. One of them sees Jongin checking you out and nudges the others to look at the scene unfolding before them. 

“Why don’t you go and say hello instead of staring at them?” his friend asks loudly, calling your attention and causing you to look at Jongin. He quickly picks up the menu and averts his eyes to the different meal selections, slightly elbowing his friend and scolding him in a low tone. Laughing to yourself, you continue scrolling on social media and fail to notice him sneak glances at you over the menu.

Sehun:

“Sehun’s crush is here,” snickers one of the employees once their eyes scan the line in the coffee shop and spot you. Sehun is completely unaware that you’re in line today, keeping himself occupied with fulfilling other customers’ orders. Once he finishes making two Americanos, he passes them onto a co-worker and walks up to the counter finding you in front of the line. 

“You’re dressed up today,” he says with a small smile after jotting down your order. “I’m going for a job interview pretty soon,” you reply while taking out cash to pay for the coffee. After you step aside to wait for the order and look down at your phone, Sehun gawks at your appearance as he pours coffee into a disposable cup. 

You abruptly look up to read the sign for any specials and meet eyes across the work station, resulting in Sehun pouring hot coffee over his hand. Utterly embarrassed yet hissing from the pain, he hurriedly finishes the order and passes it onto a co-worker. You accept it with a gracious smile and peek to wave goodbye at Sehun, but he has his back turned wiping up the spill. Walking out the door, you look at your cup and notice “good luck :)” written on the side.

[omegasupremeconservative]

Fake News Watch: CNN Says Trump Is Leading A Hate Movement Against The Media

CNN never ceases to amaze me at just how dedicated they are to putting out fake news. Sure you may find some truth “somewhere” in their reporting but they have such a blatant disregard for the principles of journalism and reporting it should be clear to everyone their agenda isn’t for the betterment of the American public.

It’s time we properly categorized what CNN largely is which is Opinion Journalism. As Wikipedia states this is the type of journalism that “makes no claim of objectivity”. “Unlike advocacy journalism, opinion journalism has a reduced focus on facts or research and its perspective is often of a more personalized variety. Its product may be only one component of a generally objective news outlet, rather than the dominant feature of an entire publication or broadcast network.”

At the same time most of the media in my analysis engages in Advocacy Journalism or a combination of advocacy journalism and opinion journalism.

“Advocacy journalism is a genre of journalism that intentionally and transparently adopts a non-objective viewpoint, usually for some social or political purpose. Because it is intended to be factual, it is distinguished from propaganda. It is also distinct from instances of media bias and failures of objectivity in media outlets, since the bias is intended. ”

I’m not sure there are any journalistic standards that CNN follows but the Canadian Association of Journalists offered some advice for advocacy journalists to follow:

Acknowledge your perspective up front.

Be truthful, accurate, and credible. Don’t spread propaganda, don’t take quotes or facts out of context, “don’t fabricate or falsify”, and “don’t judge or suppress vital facts or present half-truths”

Don’t give your opponents equal time, but don’t ignore them, either.

Explore arguments that challenge your perspective, and report embarrassing facts that support the opposition. Ask critical questions of people who agree with you.

Avoid slogans, ranting, and polemics. Instead, “articulate complex issues clearly and carefully.”

Be fair and thorough.

Make use of neutral sources to establish facts.

Let’s look at the latest claims from Brian Stetler a news anchor on CNN.

Stelter makes the connection that a Trump Tweet at 3:14am instigated and encouraged someone to stick a pipe bomb in the mail and send it to CNN.

Funny how lowly rated CNN, and others, can criticize me at will, even blaming me for the current spate of Bombs and ridiculously comparing this to September 11th and the Oklahoma City bombing, yet when I criticize them they go wild and scream, “it’s just not Presidential!”

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) October 26, 2018

Then we see Brian Stelter attempt to research more into Trump and his rallies by asking the question WHAT IS TRUMP ACCOMPLISHING WITH HIS RALLIES?

Notable quotes from his commentary:

“when your in that pen you really do feel like a zoo animal” he is referring to the area the press uses to record, shoot video and report on the event at the Trump rally.

“before the rally people are gawking at you, saying your fake news, enemy of the people”.

“parts of the crowd are primed to chant CNN sucks, but then after they did that one of the men walked over and said hey nothing personal”.

“Trump is leading a hate movement against the media” he does acknowledge that “not everyone in his crowd believes it but some do and that is dangerous”.

What is a hate movement? There is no common definition for a hate movement but Wikipedia defines a hate group as this “A hate group is a social group that advocates and practices hatred, hostility, or violence towards members of a race, ethnicity, nation, religion, gender, gender identity, sexual orientation or any other designated sector of society. According to the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), a hate group’s “primary purpose is to promote animosity, hostility, and malice against persons belonging to a race, religion, disability, sexual orientation, or ethnicity/national origin which differs from that of the members of the organization.”

If you analyze the MAGA Make America Great Again movement you would find out that MAGA people love their country, they are very patriotic, they could be religious but not always, they believe in helping America First but they don’t hate or dislike our friends around the globe. Conservatives have been treated very unfairly in the media and yes many conservatives and Republicans HATE the media but in a way that someone would hate their in-laws or hate rush our traffic or hate their boss, or hate it when their taxes go up.

There is anger and resentment towards the mainstream media and cable news outlets like CNN and rightly so. CNN tries to be slick and suggest that Trumps creating a hate movement and the result is what we saw last week with various pipe bombs mailed to prominent critics of Donald Trump which CNN called TRUMPS TARGETS.

CNN needs to frame Trump and his supporters as a hate movement to subjugate MAGA. To remove any credibility of it being a peaceful movement. This is why CNN and other media outlets will be quick to highlight and use anything they can to point out that Trump is riling up his followers and making people hate the media.

The Real Problem The Media Has

More and more people everyday are beginning to distrust the media and Donald Trump has been very effective at challenging the ruling class in the press who aren’t used to being challenged. CNN can write a fake story and within an instance one of Trump’s tweets can vaporize the impact of it. Trump has shown that he is light years ahead of the mainstream media in terms of persuading and attracting loyal followers. PERSUATION IS THE KEY WORD.

Scott Adams does an amazing job of outling and explaining the difference between Trump’s persuasion skills and Hillary’s. Note Scott Adams is a trained hypnotist and persuasion expert along with being the creator of the cartoon Dilbert.

CNN Wants True Leadership

It is an important skill to look at someone whom you want to believe, someone who looks good or talks good, someone personable and likeable and be able to determine when they are telling you the truth or not.

Let’s analyze and summarize what social narrative engineer aka news anchor Anderson Cooper is trying to do here:

He tells us suspicious packages have been sent to very prominent opponents of Donald Trump.

Whoever sent them is still on the loose (not as of the date of writing this blog)

He tells us we are learning far more about the “pieces of this plot” (in other words who is responsible DONALD TRUMP)

He’s “keeping them honest” by focusing on what those “pieces add up to”. Insert the word circumstance for pieces.

He tells us that the President of the United States can’t seem to see what these “pieces add up to”. In other words why can’t Trump see HE is the problem.

He proceeds to engage his scare tactic by telling us to remember IF those devices had exploded the country would be making funeral arrangements right now for 2 MURDERED ex presidents, a former vice president, a former secretary of state, a sitting Congresswomen, a former head of the CIA, a renowned actor and the people we work alongside of everyday. Not to mention potentially postal workers, and police or any number of bystanders. The phrase 2 murdered ex presidents was included in his prewritten monologue to heighten the emotional response that the viewers would have.

Cooper then introduces an authority figure into his routine “as Presidential Historian Douglass Brinkley pointed out earlier today the sheer number of targets and devices is unprecendented and given who was being targeted this is the kind of event when Presidents traditionally might become aware of the awesome responsibility they have to all Americans of all political stripes. It is a moment that traditionally inspires deep humility, its a moment of leadership. I am reminded that Donald Trump is not a traditional President, nor right now is he acting like a traditional leader.

This is a play on words, Anderson Cooper suggests that in moments of crisis or events a leader is supposed to have deep humility. What he really means is this event happened to your critics why don’t you stop attacking them politically because something bad almost happened to them.

Watch the rest of the video and play it extra slow so you can begin to see he is artfully using language as a weapon to influence you in a calm sympathetic tone. CNN spends very little time discussing the actual culprit who has now been caught, the culprit in their eyes is Donald Trump.

Mark Levin Goes Postal On Left-Wing Caller

This is another instructive video, just listen to this short 7 minute video or you can read the transcript below. The liberal caller believes that the influence of the President is much greater than any senators, congress person, or anyone else in our society as such his rhetoric has triggered someone to commit acts of violence against his enemies. His example is when Donald Trump talked about punching someone in the face at one of his rallies. Yes it’s true. Barack Obama also talked about bringing a gun to a knife fight. Neither of these comments disturb me by the way.

Audio Transcript Courtesy of Trump Fan Network YouTube Channel

Robert Garland Texas the great WBA PA liberal GO.

Hello Marc I listen to your show often I don’t agree with you almost ever but I have up until now respected you greatly because I think that everything you said is sincere.

Okay right sir now don’t psychoanalyze me go ahead and make your point you don’t know me you know nothing about me I don’t know you just make your point.

My point is that you are trying to say that others in America whether they’re senators or whatever have the same amount of weight in what they say as the President of the United States.

I absolutely didn’t say that but I will say that the president of the United States has said nothing nothing that would trigger somebody to do something like this nothing.

At his rallies he has literally called and said I wish it was the time where we could just punch people in the face.

Yeah he mentioned once punching but let me ask you a question sir do you know who Oscar Lopez Rivera is?

Let me ask you question I want to have a discussion with you if you will allow it, do you know who Oscare Lopez Rivera is?

I’m gonna ask you one more time do you know who Oscar Lopez Rivera is it’s not a trick yes or no?

Yes but that is not what we are talking about.

Who is he who is he? Get him off the air he’s a liar.

He was the head of the FALN bombers in this country that resulted in the death of a police officer two police officers and several bombings and Barak Obama commuted his sentence and all the rest of them that were involved in that gang Bill Clinton pardoned them.

Now you want to talk about presidential responsibility let’s talk about presidential responsibility.

Barack Obama best buddies with Ayers another bomber Bernardine Dohrn another bomber commutes the sentence of Oscar Lopez Rivera who never recant who never backed off what he did even Clinton wouldn’t commute his sentence while commuting all the others.

I don’t need lectures from you people on the left and neither does the President of the United States you are full of it.

“The Presidents said punch somebody in the mouth” these guys were bombing the country! Civilians police officers and you elected Obama president and you reelected Clinton president shocking.

Absolutely shocking and I have to listen to the moral outrage of the left the moral outrage of the media it’s preposterous it’s disgusting it’s like this khashoggi matter you’ve this Iran that slaughters journalists left and right slaughters gay people left and right slaughters Christians left and right the second highest execution rate in the world behind China Obama facilitates a deal in which he gives them a hundred and fifty billion dollars and one and a half billion dollars in the cover of darkness what foreign currency they killed American soldiers and suddenly the left is upset with Trump’s rhetoric.

They’re not upset with their own rhetoric I never get a caller here from the left complaining about Antifa it is a violent left-wing militia group a Marxist militia group and we had individuals on CNN like Don Lemon people on MSNBC who downplayed their violence.

They train they come armed, excuses are made for them but Trump’s rhetoric you see is what’s pushing the country over the edge.

One of the biggest animals in human history is Adolf Hitler they call him Hitler they call American citizens who voted for him Nazis racists.

But it’s Trump you see if the left and the Democrats and the media had accepted the results of this last election in 2016 criticized a president of course but try to destroy him come up with Russian conspiracy theories.

Act like they’re the National Enquirer with every allegation try and force him from office talk about his mental illness and on and on and on.

If they accepted his legitimacy as president and criticized his policies or what he was saying that’s one thing but that’s not what’s going on in this country that’s not what’s going on in this country and we all know it.

So don’t call your little whiny ass to me and sayyes but Trump said you had no idea who Oscar Lopez Rivera was none and you don’t give a damn you didn’t care about Bill Ayers you didn’t care about Bernardine Dohrn Khalidi another one you don’t care about any of them.

Incredible really incredible really and what exactly has Trump said that would cause somebody to try and blow up 12 other people or threatened 12 other people.

What does he say? He says punch somebody in the face?

So when Obama said get in the face when holder said kick them when they’re down and I go on and on and on did that spark some Republican? No.

When Bernie Sanders goes on and on about how horrible America how about how unjust it is how people are discriminated against how racist we are on and on and on what kind of support does that build for a society or does it cause some nut to go to a baseball field in Alexandria Virginia with a sniper rifle and start shooting Republicans with a list in his pocket. We don’t need any lectures from you leftist that’s for sure or you clowns in the media I’ll be right back.

Not many people can go off like Mark Levin. CNN is going to lose this information battle. This battle for the minds of good Patriotic people. They will lose because the truth will always prevail.

The post Fake News Watch: CNN Says Trump Is Leading A Hate Movement Against The Media appeared first on Alternative News Source, Research and Analysis.

source http://ugetinformed.com/politics/fake-news-watch-cnn-says-trump-is-leading-a-hate-movement-against-the-media

[winterscaptain]

berry hill.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: i am so excited to share this one with you. the tropes are PACKED in here, and it was a blast to write. i also realized some time ago that i keep forgetting summaries on my works, so i’m gonna do my best to add those from now on. as always, let me know if there are any mistakes in here! thanks to @writefasttalkevenfaster for helping me today <3  intended for the ‘a joyful future universe,’ but does not require context. takes place in 2011, early season six, prior to the valhalla arc.  words: 12k warnings: language, some vague mention of aaron’s anatomy, alcohol use, when i say slow burn i mean s l o w burn. 

summary: "...and there was only one bed."  - old fanfiction proverb

waldosia (part 2) | absence (part 3) | mean it (part 4)

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed! updated: january 5th, 2021

It’s way too late and you know it, but Jack is still on his annual winter vacation with Aunt Jess and the rest of the Brooks clan, so there’s simply no incentive to leave. You’re with Hotch at his desk, kicked back like you own the place, while he sits back in his chair with his hands laced behind his head.

The Montana case wrapped up neatly, and any remaining or incoming paperwork this week is light. Though it is admittedly weird without JJ, Seaver seems to be settling in alright. You’re glad that the team decided to take a chance on her like they did with you. 

“What do you mean he drew on the wall?” You say through a laugh, popping a grape in your mouth. “Are we talking like a crayon mark here and there or a full-on mural.”

“Multi-media mural - glue, paper mache, markers, crayons, you name it and it was there.” He laughs and he takes a grape from your bowl, kicking his feet up on the desk - mirroring you. “I have no idea how he managed it. I was in the house the whole time.”

“Oh my God, he’s a terror!” Before Aaron can agree, your phone starts ringing. You pick it up, smiling as you see the caller ID. 

“Hey Dean!” You stand and give Aaron a ‘sorry, just a second’ finger and step out of the office, leaving the door open behind you. You stay where Aaron can see you, leaning on the rail next to the stairs. You don’t really mean to stay within his eyeline, but it’s habit at this point. 

“Hey babe, I hope I’m not calling too late.” 

“Oh not at all. I’m still in the office with Hotch getting some work done.” 

You catch Hotch’s eye and he mouths ‘Work?’ and you shrug as if to say ‘It’s a loose term.’ He rolls his eyes and steals another one of your grapes. 

“Ah, I see. Late-night work with the hot boss-man.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. “So what’s up?”

He sighs, and you already know what’s coming before he says it. “Something came up at work and I won’t be able to make it to the wedding next week. We’re closing on this huge property in Georgetown and it’s really big for the firm and -“

“It’s okay. I get work stuff, trust me.” And you do. It just fucking sucks. 

“I’m so so sorry to leave you hanging. I know it’s going to be super rough. Maybe one of your work friends can go with you? Maybe boss man? His name’s Aaron, right? Hopscotch or something?” His humor doesn’t make you feel any better, but you promise to keep ‘Hopscotch’ for later.  

You tip your head up to stare at the ceiling and will the tears away from your eyes, blinking them back. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out. None of them knew to ask off work, so if we have a case I’ll be on my own regardless.” 

“I’m so sorry.” 

Two tears fall out of the corner of your eyes, and you turn around, wiping them away. “It’s okay.” 

“I’ll call you day-of to check in, okay?”

Hotch watches you carefully, doing your best to hide your tears from him. Bad news, certainly, but he wishes you wouldn’t hide from him like you do. Or rather, he wishes you wouldn’t try to hide from him like you do. 

He can’t hear the entire conversation, obviously, but he resolves to do what he can to return at least a little of the care you always show him without hesitation, 

“Okay.” You heave an uneven sigh. “I’ll talk to you then... Really - don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” You hang up before he can respond and rest your forearms on the railing. You let your head hang for a second, collecting yourself before you have to face Hotch again. 

You take a deep breath and turn, sitting across from him again. Attempting to restore your good spirits, you kick your feet back up and have another grape. 

Hotch’s voice is quiet. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” but your voice breaks. You clear your throat and blink a few more times. 

You can feel him squint at you. “What’s wrong?” 

“Oh, you know.” You sniff, and gesture vaguely as you continue. “My best friend from college was supposed to be my date to a friend’s wedding next week, and the friend getting married also happens to be someone I dated in college so I was really hoping Dean could come with me, and now…” You trail off, realizing you’re rambling.

He’s quiet for a little while, and you shove some more grapes in your mouth to make up for the silence. You know each other so well, but it still feels a little weird to explicitly talk about your personal life in the office. Sure, you spend a fair few weekends together with Jack, but the whole thing is a little embarrassing - and you’re not sure if the worst part is admitting you have an ex-boyfriend from college or you now have to go stag to his wedding. 

“Do you want someone to go with you?” He watches you chew on your lower lip. A long time ago, he decided there was nothing worse than seeing you upset. 

This is the least you can do, Hotchner. First personal weekend in nearly four years, you can at least do what you can to make it suck less. He reasons with himself, but he can’t help the sly thought that sneaks in on the tail end. Being a backup is better than being nothing at all. 

That’s enough. 

You scoff. “Well, yeah. Obviously.” 

He smiles a little, knowing you completely missed his point. “If you wanted…” He clears his throat and looks out the window, and you reply before he can continue. 

“Oh, God, Hotch.” You cover your face with your hands. “Please don’t feel like I’m trying to guilt you into anything. I’ll be fine.” You try to laugh it off, but can’t hide the anxiety in your voice. 

His laugh warms you. “You’re not guilting me into anything. I’m offering.” 

You remove your hands from your face and look at him. There’s an earnest sort of kindness in his eyes, and you find yourself a little short of breath. “Really?”

“Really. I can get the weekend off - things are pretty slow around here. Where is it?” You had trouble reading his tone. Really, he’s just treading carefully. He doesn’t want you to feel pressured, or give away his own selfish motivations.

“It’s, ah,” you stutter for a second, getting your metaphorical feet back under you. “It’s down at Berry Hill Resort, right by the North Carolina border.” Your lip disappears between your teeth again. “It’s about a three and a half hour drive.” 

He opens his phone, and you know he’s checking the map. “It’d be easy enough if we left early and switched in Richmond. I’ll start, if you’d like.” 

You smile at him, wide and genuine. “Hotch, you’re the best.” 

+++

Hotch calls you up to his office, and you swing in, your hand gripping the doorframe. You bite back your greeting as you find him on the phone. 

He beckons you in and you step inside, closing the door behind you.

“...Thank you, sir. I’ll be sure to pass that along to the rest of the unit...You too, sir.” He hangs up and laces his fingers, addressing you. “Question.”

You sit, resting your elbows on his desk. “Answer.” 

“Funny.”

You smirk, and he continues. “I’m not sure if it matters to you, but I have an absurd number of ties. Color preference?”

A huff of laughter leaves you in disbelief. “You called me in here to ask whether or not I want to have a color scheme?”

“Yes,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “A united front, or at least a coordinated one, seems like the best strategy, right?”

+++

Aaron walks down from his office, his phone to his ear. You’re helping Ashley with a consult, walking her through your process just like Emily used to do with you. 

“Hotch usually likes to approach the profile starting with a demographic consideration, but I usually start from physical evidence and -”

A hand falls onto your shoulder, and you look up. “Yeah?”

He pulls the receiver away from his mouth. “Jack wants to talk to you.”

With a shake of your head and a fond smile for Hotch and an apologetic one for Ashley, you put the phone to your ear. “Hey, bud! How’s Grandpa’s house?”

“So fun,” Jack says, almost yelling into the phone. “Aunt Jess has let me play in the snow every day.”

You laugh. “I am so glad.” 

“Dad says you’re busy at work, but I miss you.” 

“Aw, bubba, I miss you, too. You’ll be home really soon, and when you get back we’ll go out to ice cream and you can tell me all about your visit.” You, for just a moment, forget where you are, and you lean back in your seat as if you’re leaning into Jack himself. “Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I love you.” 

Your breath catches, and you keep our eyes firmly planted on your consult as you reply. “I love you too, bub. Here’s your dad.” Placing the phone in Hotch’s hand, you return your attention to Ashley and do your best not to acknowledge Aaron as he walks back up the stairs. “So, like I said, Hotch prefers to -”

“Hey.” Ashley stops you with a hand on your arm. “You’re really good at your job.” 

A confused smile pulls at your lips. There’s a question in your eyes, and she answers it. 

“Oh, I just...You’re a good teacher and a good friend, that’s all.” 

“Thanks, Seaver.”

+++

On a rare weeknight off, Emily and you gather at Penelope’s apartment. You’re all sitting on the floor, bottles of wine making an occasional rotation, and a pile of snacks on the floor taking up the space in the loose circle you’ve created. 

“You’re taking time off this weekend?” Penelope sounds almost insultingly surprised, as if the concept never occurred to her. 

You nod. “Yep. First time in four years, so I think I’m about due.” 

Emily laughs and asks. “Where are you going?” 

“I’ve been inexplicably invited to an ex-boyfriends wedding - he’s a friend from college and we were friends before we dated etc. etc.” You wave your hand as you speak, outlining the tedium of it all. “His mom loves me, and I suspect she was the one who added me to the list.” 

“Are you going with anyone? Penelope’s concern is touching. 

“Yeah. One of my college friends was supposed to be my date, but he bailed for a work thing.” All the girls roll their eyes and nod. They get it. “So, Ho - someone else - is going with me.” 

“Who?” Emily narrows her eyes and searches you. 

“Oh come on, profiling is against the rules.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay, sure.” 

“Spill it.” Penelope throws a goldfish cracker at you to emphasize her point. 

You take a deep, long-suffering breath, suddenly missing JJ and her powers of redirection. “Fine. Hotch is coming with me -” you intercept their eager questions “- only as a favor.” 

“That’s very...thoughtful of him.” Emily’s chin tips up suggestively, and you throw Penelope’s goldfish at her. “Who’s idea was that?”

There’s a moment here somewhere, where you realize you’ve just dug yourself a hole you’ll be hard-pressed to get out of. “He overheard Dean bail, and offered. I’m sure he’s just doing it because he feels bad and -”

“Oh, don’t be stupid!” Penelope nearly falls into Emily, giggling. “I can’t believe you two.” 

You throw your hands in the air. “What?”

Both women share a look before looking back at you with identical disbelief. Emily speaks first. “You can’t be serious.” 

Take a deep breath. You’re not that obvious. 

Maybe you are. You’ve only been half-or-completely in love with him for five years. 

Shut up. 

“Serious about what?”

Emily rolls her eyes and finishes her second glass of wine, reaching to refill it immediately. “Nevermind. You’ll figure it out eventually.” 

+++

You’re finishing your last bit of packing, leaving your toothbrush and toothpaste out for the morning, when your phone rings. 

“Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s Aaron.” 

“Ah, my saving grace,” you say with a laugh. “Calling to cancel on me, after all?”

His laugh just isn’t as good over the phone, but it’ll do. “Not even close. Is 6am still good to come get you?” 

“It’s so early.” There’s absolutely no shame in your whine, and you’re rewarded with another laugh. “But yes, that’s fine. That gives us enough time even if we hit some traffic out of the District and into Richmond.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

You look at your suitcase, resting open on your bed. “You’re still okay with this, right? I know I couldn’t grab that extra hotel room for you and I don’t want you to feel pressured or -”

He cuts you off, calling you out by name. “Enough. I offered, remember? I’ll see you at 6. Bring a pillow so you can sleep in the car.”

Your lips pinch, holding back a smile. “Thanks, Aaron.” And he knows you don’t just mean it for the pillow reminder. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Of course. Sleep well.” 

You don’t, but are nevertheless ready with bells on, pillow tucked under your arm, and coffee in-hand at 5:55am the following morning. He looks surprised when he pulls into the driveway and sees you standing on your porch, looking only a little worse for wear. At least your teeth are brushed.  

“Thought you might want this.” You hold out the travel mug to him as he approaches, and he takes it (and your suitcase) from you. 

“Thank you. Jump in.” 

You follow instructions and immediately stuff your pillow between your head and the window as he throws your suitcase in the trunk. You’re forever grateful Aaron drives the same SUVs you all have at the bureau. He claims it’s easier to not think about different car specs, but at this moment you only care about the temperature control and familiar, soft leather seats. Your eyes shut on their own accord, still heavy even after your abbreviated morning routine. 

He slips into the driver’s seat and, with your eyes closed, you miss the way he looks over at you with a barely-there, fond smile. Your sweatshirt is too big for you and your face is adorably smushed into the pillow. 

With a sigh and shake of his head, he places his hand on the back of your seat, backs out of the driveway, and gets on the road. 

The silence gives him plenty of time to think about things he’d rather not address. This favor, for one, is something he’s still trying to reconcile. 

Would I have offered to Emily? JJ? Hell, Dave? 

If any other member of the team had a friend bail out of their role as a wedding date, he’d like to think he’d drop everything and take the weekend to make them feel better, but he knows that probably wouldn’t be the case in reality. He knew you were different, and it frustrated and confused him. 

As often as he acknowledges his love for you - he wishes it would just stop.  

Only a year and change had passed since Haley’s death, and there were still some mornings where he woke up and couldn’t breathe. Jack still had some nightmares too. Those broke his heart more than anything in the world, but he knew you would always pick up if he called - no matter the hour. 

It happened more often than he’d like to admit. 

“Hotch? Aaron? What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to wake you.” 

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.” 

You’d always talk to him about something or nothing at all, sometimes turning on your bedside lamp and reading from whatever book you were perusing before bed. 

He knows you understand. You were the only one there with him, when he found her body. You were there to take his son out of his bloodied hands. You were there when he was afraid of himself. 

The nightmares still come for you, too, sometimes. There are nights where Haley’s dark blue eyes stare into you, whether your eyes are open or closed. You told him that, once, and he was grateful - grateful that he wasn’t the only one. 

You murmur something in your sleep, about twenty minutes outside of the city. You’re still an hour or more away from Richmond, and Hotch figures he’ll let you sleep if you don’t wake up between now and then. It’s not a hard drive to Berry Hill, and you need the rest. 

Might be good to pick up some food on the way...

He turns the music off, letting the sounds of your breathing and the road wash over him. 

“Aaron.”

He turns, expecting your watchful eyes, but finds you burrowing further into the pillow, a little smile on your face as you remain blissfully unaware of your surroundings. Something warm starts to radiate in his chest as he looks back out at the road, the Virginia countryside stretching out in front of him, around him, and in every direction he can see. The warmth vibrates into his fingertips. He flexes his hands around the wheel, trying to shake it.

He fails. 

You’re not sure how you manage to sleep so soundly in the car. You had tossed and turned all night, thinking only of facing a part of your life you hoped you’d never address head-on ever again. Why you accepted the invitation at all (or why you even received one) was beyond you. 

It must be his mother’s doing. She always loved you, and she did her best to keep your friendship alive much longer than its natural death. 

Exercising control over her child’s life due to an exceptional lack of control and consistency during her upbringing. Relating to her son’s partners to achieve some semblance of intimacy without facing the root of her insecurity that she’s failed as a parent.

The profiling never stopped, it seemed. 

It wasn’t just the wedding keeping you up last night. The thought of spending the weekend with Aaron in an environment where you will inevitably feel (if not look and act) distraught close to the whole time still wears on you. Spending weekends at home, where you sit together with a glass of wine and leftover popcorn after Jack gets tucked in feels different. 

That’s comfortable. That’s safe. This? This is scary. Vulnerable. Burdensome.

Even then, there’s nobody you’d rather have at your side while you face friends you haven’t seen in ages. He’s charismatic, almost entirely unapproachable (when he wants to be), and tall. All those factors should be enough to keep anyone from trifling with you for the duration of the weekend. 

But now, in the car, all those thoughts are far from your mind. Your mind is blissfully dark and blank, your body soothed by the low hum of the car and the smell that follows Hotch wherever he goes - spicy, earthy, and something that reminds you of the air right before lightning strikes. 

The car slows, and the subtle change in ambiance wakes you. You lift your head, finding Hotch turning on an offramp. 

“Are we in Richmond already?” You ask, bleary. 

He smiles. His sunglasses are resting on his nose to combat the rapidly-rising morning sun. “Not yet, but I figured you hadn’t eaten yet.”

You tip your head. He’s right. “I could eat.” 

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “You should eat.” 

+++

After food and a top-off for the gas tank, you offer to drive. 

Aaron refuses. “If you drive, I don’t get to pick the music.” 

“I thought shotgun picks the music.” You frown at him, admittedly still a little tired. You’ve shoved your pillow behind your seat and start to sit like an actual human being for the first time that morning. 

“Those are Morgan’s house rules, not mine.” 

“Ah,” you say, sagely. “I see. What are your house rules?”

There’s a smile behind his sunglasses. “Driver picks the music and critically considers any suggestions made by shotgun.” 

Thus, the Beatles’ White Album starts from the top. You can’t say you’re surprised - it is his favorite. You’ve grown rather fond of it yourself, if you’re honest, Though, you’re not sure if you fondness for the album has anything to do with the man beside you - the one who’s hair is soft and floppy in the morning light, the one wearing an uncharacteristically casual ensemble of jeans, sneakers, and a black t-shirt, the one singing along under his breath.

“Why is this one your favorite?”  You hear yourself ask. 

He’s quiet for a minute, as if you are the first to ask that question. Maybe you are. “I’m...not sure. I think it might have something to do with my mom. She bought the record a couple of weeks after I was born in late ‘68, and made sure I had a copy when I got my own record player in my first college apartment.” He shrugs. “It’s been around just as long as I have, and there’s something a little - I don’t know - comforting about that?”

You nod. “I get that.” You’re quiet for a moment, considering all the things that happened in 1982. “Grease 2 came out the year I was born, so I can’t say I share a similar affinity for the pop culture phenomena of my birth year.” 

Hotch lets out a low whistle and a grimace. “That film really was awful.” He waits for your laugh and is rewarded before continuing. “I saw The Who on their final tour that year.” 

You furrow your brow. “Weren’t you like, barely in high school?”

He nods. “We snuck out, a couple of friends and me. It was really stupid and we got in a lot of trouble, but it was fun.” There’s a nostalgic smile on his face. “I have no idea how we managed to get all the way into the District, let alone find tickets, but everything was a little less complicated back then. Buses ran on time, people read maps, and parents didn’t all have cell phones.” He shrugs and shoots you a smirk. “But of course, that’s before your time.” 

You roll your eyes. “Oh c’mon. I’m not that young. I remember the world before the mainstream internet and 9/11 and all that pre-Patriot Act shit. I remember when the Berlin Wall came down, at least.” 

That gets a laugh out of him. “Fair enough.” 

You lapse into silence for a little while, handing him fries from the drive-thru bag when he puts his open palm over the center console. You notice his left hand shift slightly in time with the music, and you watch a little more carefully. 

And I see it needs sweeping Still my guitar gently weeps

I don’t know why Nobody told you How to unfold your love I don’t know how Someone controlled you They bought and sold you…

“Hotch, do you play guitar?” There’s a touch of disbelief in your tone, but you try to hide it for the sake of his pride. It’s not that you think he doesn’t have a musical or creative bone in his body, but you’re rather surprised by the relaxed subtlety of his movement. It was your impression he never did anything without thinking about it, and to see the slight, almost unconscious action sparks a pleasant little flicker of warmth in your chest. 

He shrugs. “I played a little when I was younger. I guess you could say I know how to play, but I don’t claim to be decent at it in the slightest.” His head tips, and you could swear you see an eye roll. “Sean’s always been better at those kinds of pursuits.” 

As usual, he doesn’t seem thrown or surprised by your question and doesn’t hesitate to answer them. After almost five years, he’s used to your keen observations. He’d never admit it, but he expects them - maybe he’s not able to guess at the content of the questions themselves, but he always knows there will be one eventually.

“Have you and Sean always butted heads?”

Aaron snorts, and gives you a simple, “Yes.” 

You’d never met the younger Hotchner, but you’d seen photos and heard tell. From what you understand, he’s a little wilder than his older brother, a little more idealistic and far less practical. Sean seems like someone you would like, but you doubt he would rise to the top of your Favorite Hotchners List - a list with only two names so far, tied for first. 

It’s safe to say Jack and Aaron are hard acts to follow. 

+++

You talk about everything and nothing, when finally, he asks. “So, who is this guy?”

“Ugh.” You tip your head against the seat. “You really want to know?”

“Of course. Isn’t it protocol to brief the team before arrival?”

You snort, immediately regretting your decision to make fun of Strauss over drinks last week. “Yes, sir.” 

He laughs, and you tell him. 

You tell him about Austin and how you met in a random general education class and became fast friends and started dating, talked about marriage and kids and the whole nine yards. You told him about your semester abroad, your traveling, and returning home to find he’d been dating someone else while you were away, without your knowledge. 

“It’s kind of cliche, I know, but it broke my heart in half.” You laugh a little to cover the truth of it. Hotch keeps his eyes on the road, letting you go at your own pace the same way you let him the entire time he’s known you. “I was really close to his family, and we did our best to remain civil and friendly for everyone else’s sake, but we’ve only kept in touch through other people the last few years.

“I think his mom sent the invitation. I mostly accepted because I’d love to see her and Austin’s little sister - I miss them the most.” 

“What are they like?”

There’s a smile on your face as you tell him about them - how Allison likes more cream than actual coffee in her mug, how their mom has the best taste in books and still sends you worn copies of her favorites every once and awhile. 

“It’s good of you to keep in touch.” 

You shrug. “I guess. I mean, I know it’s different, but you have Jess.”

The difference, he decides, is that you are kinder, more patient than he is. Jess would hardly be in his life at all if Haley was still here. He had a hard enough time keeping up with Haley’s family when they were married. Keeping up with them after the divorce? 

There was no way to know, but he can’t remember much affection between them even before Haley’s father decided to hold him personally responsible for her death. 

You notice his preoccupation, and reach out. Your thumb traces back and forth over the skin of his bare forearm. “It’s different now, and it would be different then. There’s no right way to do anything.” 

He exhales in a huff, and you bring your hand back into your lap. “I spent almost twenty-five years knowing Haley. You know that?”

“I do. I also know you spent longer than twenty-five loving her, and probably won’t ever stop.” 

There’s a sigh, and then an elbow on the center console. He leans heavily on it, and you do your best to keep your hands to yourself. “How do you know everything?” He asks. 

You rest your head against the seat and adjust so your body is angled toward him. A small smile crosses your face as you take in his profile - relaxed, his wrist hanging loosely on the wheel, sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “I dunno. I guess I just pay attention.” 

+++

You let out an exhausted exhale upon reaching the room you will share with Aaron for the weekend. One king size bed dominates the room, instead of the two doubles you halfway expected. He recovers faster than you do, shrugging and setting his things down on the left side of the bed, closest to the door. 

Instinctively and completely without previous confirmation, you kind of figured he sleeps on the left side. The realization of that fact is a little unsettling, but you follow his lead and set your suitcase on the stand opposite his, unzipping it and unfolding your garment bag. 

There’s a small part of you that’s pleased by this arrangement. Another part of you shames that part. 

He’s going to think you’re taking advantage of him. 

Are you kidding? He’s a SWAT-trained senior FBI agent. And a lawyer. It’s impossible to take advantage of him. 

Yeah, of course that’s what he wants you to think. 

Do you ever shut up?

Your outfits for the cocktail hour and the ceremony day are all set. So are Hotch’s, apparently. You look over to find him hanging a grey pinstripe suit in the closet you’d never seen before. It looks beautifully tailored, and expensive. 

“Mind if I take up some real estate?” You ask, holding up your handful of hangers. He shakes his head and makes some space for you. 

When you’re all settled, you sit on the bed, still tired. It doesn’t make any sense, seeing as Aaron insisted on driving the entire way. 

“What time is our first obligation?”

You huff a laugh at his rhetoric. “5pm. Cocktails at the hotel bar. Rehearsal dinner after that is wedding-party-only, thank God.” Glancing at the clock, you confirm, “We basically have the day to ourselves until then.” 

He nods thoughtfully before meeting your eyes over your shoulder. “How do you feel about a nap?” 

I love you. 

Shut up. 

You can’t imagine how tired he is - working off minimal sleep and coming off a drive just shy of four hours long. “I feel great about a nap.” 

Aaron’s lips quirk up in a smile, and he picks up a pair of flannel pajama pants from his bag and shuts himself into the bathroom. 

Oh my god. Oh my god. 

You quickly shuck your sweatshirt, suddenly too warm. Standing, you cross to the window and draw the blinds, covering the room in a kind of gentle shade that isn’t quite darkness. You toe off your shoes and slip under the covers, thankful you never really changed out of your pajamas. Curling up facing the bathroom door, you try to stay awake until Hotch returns, but your eyes close of their own accord.

Hotch leaves the bathroom to find the room darkened and you under the covers, dead to the world. He takes another moment to look at you, the way your brow sits smooth and relaxed above your closed eyes, your hands curled loosely in front of your face, the way your breath evenly comes and goes past the curve of your lips. 

Taking the risk, he places his jeans back into his duffle bag and gingerly stretches out on top of the covers beside you. His eyes close eventually, but he can’t remember falling asleep - entirely preoccupied by the phenomenon before him. 

+++

When you stir again, your hands are warm. You take a deep breath and your eyes crack open, finding a sight that steals your breath. Hotch is on his side in front of you, ramrod straight, with your hands clasped between his. Your heads are bowed together - not touching, but close. 

There’s no memory of him joining you in the massive bed, nor any recollection of contact, so he either held your hands on his own, or you found each other in sleep. 

You’re not sure which one makes your heart flutter faster.

Resolving to get a little more sleep, you close your eyes. Only moments later, you feel him stir beside you. You know he’s watching you, and you endeavor to keep your breath even and slow, hoping he can’t hear the racing of your heart. 

He releases one of your hands, and you let it drop down to the cover, praying your fingers don’t twitch. 

You’re proud of yourself when you don’t flinch as his fingers brush butterfly-soft against your cheek, tracing from your brow bone, down your nose and across your lips. Impossibly gentle touches find their way down your temple to your jaw before disappearing. 

His hand closes around yours again and it takes everything you have to keep your breath steady as he presses his lips to your fingers before tucking them back to his chest. When his breath evens out again, you know he’s asleep. 

You open your eyes, thinking it's more than high time to study him for a change. 

He looks years younger in his sleep, closer to your age than his. Even awake, he hardly looks the picture of a father in his mid-forties. His graceful aging is more obvious when his face isn’t drawn up in stress or that aching kind of sadness that lingers around him. 

Curious about what he saw and felt on your face, you follow his path, slipping your hand out from under his, tracing his jaw, his cheek and brow bones, his handsome, straight nose. 

Your finger rests lightly on his cupid’s bow for a moment, his breath rushing slow and warm over your hand. The feeling of his breath stalls yours, and you swallow. The next breath you take is almost a sob, and you press your lips into a thin line. Light fingers brush through the hair at his temples, the sparse, soft silver strands seeming to glow in the low light. 

What you don’t know, however, is that he has taken a page out of your book. Though his eyes are closed and his breath even, he is very much awake, heart pounding. He’s sure you can hear it, or even feel it, with your remaining hand still trapped between his. 

The catch in your breath makes his chest ache. Even then, his eyes remain closed, and he’s mindful of his breath. With the route you take, tracing his features, he realizes with a shock of adrenaline and cold panic that you were probably awake, playing at sleep then as he was now. 

If that was the case, you know how he feels about you. He knows how you feel about him. 

But you can’t. You don’t want to take up space in his life he doesn’t have, space better used to heal, space reserved for his son. 

He can’t. It's too soon. He can’t subject you to the ghosts, the baggage, the long journey to wholeness he’s endeavored to embark upon with only his son at his side. 

The new normal, his therapist had told him, is the hardest thing to find. 

He was sure, then, that it would be easier to find the new normal on his own, but he wasn’t so sure, now. 

You slip your hands away from him entirely and roll over, making play at rising. You check the time on your phone, finding the early afternoon awaiting you. 

There’s a deep breath and a stretching noise, and you turn to find Aaron rolled over on his back, his hands laced behind his head. 

“Good afternoon,” you say, and you’re proud of yourself for sounding normal. 

A smile plays at his lips. He looks like he knows something. “Good afternoon.” 

“So, tonight.” You decide it’s best to move on before anyone admits anything they don’t mean to share. “Do you just want to be ‘work friends’ or do we want to lean into the whole ‘let’s ruin Austin’s life’ thing?”

He laughs a little. “I’m comfortable leaning in if you are.” 

+++

The cocktail hour isn’t as horrible as you thought it would be. Aaron sticks to your side like glue, your right hand firmly placed in the crook of his arm while your left babysits a small glass of wine, more for show than for anything else. 

You hear your name from across the room, and you see a huddle of some old friends and their respective dates. Aaron tips his head down to get the briefing, and you tell him names, relationships, and brief histories as you approach. 

As you expected, he’s warm and charming, taking cues from you as you navigate eight years of catch-up with classmates you remember well and alleged classmates you don’t recognize at all. 

“How did you two meet?” The woman asks (You’re certain she’s someone’s sister - Hotch caught her name while you missed it. Oops.). 

You glance up at Aaron for a second before answering. “We’re in the same department at work.” 

The man with her takes a sip of his drink. Him, you kind of recognize. Casey? Carson? Maybe. “Where is that, again? I can’t remember where you landed after your internship.” 

“DoJ, in Quantico.” 

Leslie, who you met in guided research your senior year, rolls her eyes. “They work for the FBI, Carson, keep up.” 

Carson, that’s it. 

“No shit!” 

A small group has gathered around you, and you shuffle closer to Aaron. He wraps his arm around your waist and steps a little behind you, protective and secure. 

“Shit,” you reply, jostling Aaron with your shoulder. “We don’t have our creds on us tonight, so if you get arrested you’ll have to bail yourselves out.” 

“We also don’t have jurisdiction even if we did, so keep it high and tight and we’ll all do just fine.” Aaron’s voice rumbles through you with a laugh, and you take an overlarge sip of wine. 

He really shouldn’t say things like high and tight with his hand where it is. 

And his hand isn’t really in any kind of questionable location, just resting above your hip with his chest to your back, but it's still more contact than you’re used to. He wasn’t joking about leaning in. 

“There he is!” Carson crows, and your head whips around. You almost lose your balance, but Hotch keeps his feet. A warm hand presses to your shoulder. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. You know he can hear you, and he presses a kiss to your temple. 

“Always.” 

It’s just an act. He doesn't mean it. He can’t mean it. 

Austin approaches with his drop-dead gorgeous fiancee and a smile. 

Aaron releases you as Austin gives you a warmer hug than you were expecting, and examines Hotch over your shoulder. He introduces you to his fiancee (Madeline), and you introduce them both to Aaron. 

“Austin, this is my…” you pause, realizing you never actually established a cover story, letting the implication speak for itself. “Aaron.” You recover with a light laugh, and Aaron pulls you to him with one hand while he shakes Austin’s with the other. 

You try not to smirk at the grimace that flashes across Austin’s face when Aaron’s hand closes around his in a very firm and assertive handshake. “Pleasure. Congratulations.” 

Austin laughs, a little uncomfortable, and stretches his hand once it reaches his side again. “Thanks. We’re really glad you both could make it. Mom will be really happy to see you.” 

+++

“That could have been so much worse.” You shuck Aaron’s blazer off your shoulders and hang it in the closet as he passes behind you. He’d passed it to you when you shivered slightly at the bar and it wasn’t even a point of conversation. It had been second nature to him, draping it over you and placing a hand on your back. The memory pulls a smile from your lips. “Thank you for enduring the mayhem down there.” 

Aaron sits on the bed and slips off his boots. “I can’t remember the last time I went to a social event that didn’t directly affect my career trajectory.” He looks up at you, and his grin makes your heart skip around in your chest. 

You shake your head, walking past him to retrieve your pajamas and toothbrush. “Do you ever want to move up the chain at all?”

“Not really. Something big would have to change to get me to leave the BAU.” He looks at you over his shoulder. “We tried that, remember?”

“I do, actually.” At his chuckle, you continue. “I can’t say that’s something I’d like to relive anytime soon.” 

You move easily around each other, changing into pajamas and brushing your teeth and getting otherwise ready for bed. He’s cute at night, with his pajamas and floppy hair and big yawns. It’s not like you haven’t seen this side of him before, what with all the late nights watching movies with Jack, but it is significant that it’s just the two of you. He’s not Jack’s Dad right now, or Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner who won’t go to bed until The Case Is Solved, but Aaron. 

Sleepy, charming, funny Aaron. 

Eventually, you throw back the covers and crawl in without thinking about it too much, while Aaron lingers in the bathroom doorway. 

“I really can take the couch.”

You look at him and pointedly turn off the lamp resting on your side table. “We’re adults. I don’t mind it if you don’t. And for that matter, if either one of us is sleeping on the couch it’s me.” 

“Oh?” He asks. “Why’s that?”

“Because as you so astutely pointed out earlier, I am significantly younger than you, and I think my back will fare better than yours after a night of lumpy cushions.” 

The bathroom light flips off, and you hear a scoff in the dark. “Never once did I say significantly younger.” 

“Well, Aaron, ‘before your time’ is rife with implication.” 

The mattress dips beside you, and his form takes shape in the darkness, facing you. Before he can speak again, you cut him off. 

“You know what? Nevermind. I forgot who I was talking to, and I would hate for you to go full-tilt lawyer on me.” You curl up, bringing the covers to your chin. He laughs, and you can almost pretend that this is your life, that you get to fall asleep beside Aaron every night. 

Don’t get comfortable. 

Why not? He’s here, isn’t he?

He is, but not like that. This is a favor for a friend, nothing more. 

You’re both quiet for a little while, listening to each other breathe in the dark. There’s a sigh, and you belatedly realize it came from you. 

“Are you okay?” Aaron’s voice floats to you in the dark, and you nod. “I know this isn’t easy for you.” 

You think for a moment, trying to articulate your thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just - I really can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re here with me this weekend.” A hand reaches out, and you find it. 

“Of course. I’m glad I can be here for you.” He means it. The trust you’ve placed in him does not go unnoticed or unappreciated. Your willingness to be vulnerable and funny and so yourself is a precious gift to him, and one he’ll never take for granted. “Thank you for letting me come.” 

I’d like to let you come -

Ew, dude. 

What?

Now is not the time. 

“With that in mind,” he continues, his voice gentle in the dark, “I’m really proud of you. And not in a ‘I’m your boss and you’re making significant progress,’ way. As your friend, I’m really proud of you.”

Your friend. 

He is your friend. 

I know but that…sucks. 

It doesn’t have to. 

There’s something in his voice that almost makes you stupid, but you hold your tongue. “Goodnight, Hotch.” 

He takes a deep breath, missing the way his first name fits in your mouth. It sounds safe there, like you’d never use it against him. “Goodnight.” 

+++

You feel warm and feeling somewhat constricted, but not uncomfortable. There’s weight at your back and an arm around your waist, and you lean into it in your state of half-wakefulness. A little noise leaves the body behind you, almost like a sigh with tone. 

Remembering where you are, you resist the instinct to jump. Hotch is wrapped around you like a koala, his knee between yours, one arm under your head and the other around your waist, face buried into the crook of your neck and shoulder. 

His hair smells divine, and he’s so warm. 

Your theory from yesterday morning seems confirmed - you definitely didn’t fall asleep touching each other, so you must have found each other in the night. The thought warms you, and you close your eyes again.

The ceremony isn’t until the early afternoon, so you have all the time in the world to doze and prepare for the hellscape of the day. 

That’s not a fair assessment. You think, and correct yourself. 

If the prior evening was any indication, things would go smoothly. Aaron was the world’s best wingman. He kept conversation flowing and took your cues without a second’s hesitation. Everyone loved him, and people asked you all night how you met, how long you’d known each other, how long you’d been together. The first questions were easy, but the last one was one you hadn’t prepared for. He, of course, had an answer for all three. 

“We work together.” 

“We met, what? Five years ago now? Maybe a little more?”

“We’ve been partners for almost four years.” 

And...he wasn’t lying. You always paired off with him at work, whether naturally or by assignment. His lack of specifics in defining your relationship both settled and raised your blood pressure, depending on the way you decided to approach it. The words accompanied an affectionate squeeze around your waist or a kiss to the back of your hand. 

You know he’s just playing the part for the weekend and everything will go back to normal when you get home. 

But God, he’s good at it. 

You almost believe him.

He’s still sleeping behind you, his breath fanning slow and even across your shoulder. You’re both fully clothed, but there’s something intimate about it. Sleep, you think, is inherently vulnerable, inherently a trusting state. You two not only managed to fall asleep in the same bed, but woke up tangled together. 

You drop your hand to your waist and rest your hand on top of his, falling back into sleep without too much thought. 

When Hotch wakes, it’s thankfully late. He’s far too comfortable to be in a hotel bed, but quickly realizes it’s not the mattress. You’re wrapped in his arms, and for a split second he almost panics, concerned that you’ll wake to find him glommed onto you like some kind of ridiculous backpack. 

But then he remembers the way your fingers traced his face when you were sure he was asleep, the way you leaned into him the night before - taking shelter in his willing arms. 

He feels your fingers pushed between his, your palm warm against the back of his hand, holding him to you.

He’s fucked. He’s totally and completely fucked. He’s even more fucked to even consider the possibility you’re fucked, too. 

How could you possibly want him? A man nearly fifteen years older than you, with one failed marriage under his belt, an inability to tear himself away from his work, and more than enough trauma to drown in is hardly the ideal partner for someone as vibrant as you, with so much life yet to live.

And yet, it’s so hard to imagine a life without you. Whenever he looks into his future, he sees you there with him. It’s far too easy to let himself fall into the fantasy as you peacefully sleep in his arms with your fingers laced together. 

You shift a little in your sleep, and he arches his back a little, definitely trying to keep you away from...certain parts of his anatomy that are a little more awake than the rest of him. 

Quit while you’re ahead, Hotchner. 

He very gingerly disentangles himself from you, and he’s pleased when he only gets a few sleepy protests in return. The shower is calling his name, for more than one reason including but not limited to the uncomfortable tightness of his flannel pajama pants. 

With one last lingering glance at you, he picks up his toiletries and locks himself in the bathroom for a long (very) hot shower, followed by a much shorter (very) cold shower. 

While he’s gone, you stir and stretch your arms over your head. A little disoriented, you find his side of the bed empty but not quite cold before you hear the running water of the shower. 

What if you just - 

Do not finish that thought. 

You are not one iota of fun. 

Reaching for your bag, you pull your laptop out and get started on some emails. You have a couple from Seaver and one from Emily.

You sigh and pull out your phone. 

“Prentiss.”

“Hey, Em. You wanted me to call?”

“Oh, I just wanted to see how things are going down there.” her voice is the picture of forced nonchalance, and you can almost hear Penelope leaning over her shoulder. 

You laugh into the phone and trace patterns on the bedspread. “Things are going well. Hotch was the perfect gentleman last night, and we have the ceremony and reception today. We head home tomorrow morning.” 

“Has anything happened? Where is he right now?”

“He’s in the shower. And no, don’t be ridiculous.” You shove your phone under your chin and answer all of Ashley’s questions in confident keystrokes. “You and I both know he’s just here because he likes to owe me favors.”

Aaron pauses in the bathroom, in the middle of towel-drying his hair. With a smile, he overhears: “...he’s just here because he likes to owe me favors.” 

He can’t hear the response, but he does hear you when you say. “My God, Em. Would you quit?” 

Ah. So it is Emily. 

“I’m not going to do anything about it because there’s nothing to do anything about...Don’t give me that...You have absolutely no proof...I don’t care if you’re a profiler or not, there is no way you can say with any definitive certainty -” You pause, and your voice drops to a low murmur he can’t hear over the hum of the bathroom fan. 

With a frustrated huff, he ties the towel around his waist and ventures out, entirely aware of his state of undress. 

You’re so glad you drop your voice to finish your thought (“- that he’s in love with me. Don’t be stupid.”) because the door opens and you are immediately confronted with Aaron Hotchner in a towel and every single coherent thought flies out of your head. He smiles a little at you, and something in you melts. 

“Are you good?” Emily’s voice is full of laughter. 

The heat rises in your cheeks and you whip your head back to your laptop, typing just for something to do with your hands. “Yeah, for sure.” 

“He just walked out wearing a towel, didn’t he?”

“Emily, you know I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” You roll your eyes, and miss the smirk on Hotch’s face as he grabs his hanging clothes from the closet.

“So that’s a yes.” 

+++

Austin’s family clearly spared no expense for either the ceremony or the reception. You and Aaron had walked in arm-in-arm to find a spot on the groom’s side near the back. It’s still weird - there was a time where you thought for sure Austin was the be-all-end all for you. 

But here you are, sitting next to Aaron. He’s wearing that beautiful suit that looks even better on him than it did on the hanger (and that’s saying something). As promised, his tie matches your outfit, and you’d be lying if you didn’t say it made your heart all warm watching him put it on. 

The ceremony itself is a blur. You stand and sit when you’re supposed to, and spend the vows with your head on Aaron’s shoulder - playing the role, of course. You take a few unsteady breaths, caught off guard by how affected you are by the ritual of it all. 

You don’t love Austin anymore, not by a long shot. That said, the reminder that you’re not married to anybody but work and rapidly approaching thirty is unpleasant. 

“Are you okay?” Hotch’s whisper doesn’t carry far. 

You nod. “Yeah. Just thinking.” 

“About?”

You shake your head, the soft wool of his suit jacket pressing into your temple. “Later.” 

His cheek presses to your hair for just a moment. He’s not worried about you, per se, but he’s never seen you in this existentially forlorn state before. It’s a feeling he recognizes in himself, but to see it on you makes him feel a new kind of helpless. 

+++

You’re at the open bar, snagging a glass of wine for yourself and two fingers of whiskey for Aaron (the good stuff, of course), when Austin’s mother warmly accosts you. 

“Darling!” 

Against your will, a genuine smile breaks out across your face. “Hey, Laurie!” You set the drinks down and embrace her, the familiar smell of her perfume engulfing you. Suddenly, you feel nineteen years old again. “Congratulations.” 

She pulls back and waves off your good wishes. “Oh, please. I haven’t done anything.” 

You laugh and shake your head. “I beg to differ, but alright.” 

She takes you under her arm and holds you close to her. “So.” Her tone is conspiratorial, as if a great plot is to unfold before you. “Who is that devastatingly handsome man you’ve brought with you to shame my son?” 

“I did not bring him to shame your son, he offered to come when my original date bailed. You remember Dean?”

“Of course. Such a sweet boy. Still married to his work?”

You shake your head. “I would be...hypocritical of me to get upset with him for that. My work at the bureau keeps me plenty busy. If I’m honest, this is the first personal time I’ve used in four years.” 

She squeezes you for a half-second. “I’m so glad you’re here with us.” Her lips purse. “But don’t think you can get out of telling me about that fine, fine man over there.” 

“His name is Aaron,” you start, fighting a smile. “We work together at the bureau and he’s just a friend, Laurie, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I always have ideas. Now, introduce me so I can see for myself.” 

With a long-suffering sigh, you grab the drinks off the bar and lead her to the table, where Aaron sits with his fingers pressed thoughtfully to his mouth, his elbow on the table and ankle crossed over his knee. Approaching from behind him, you set the whiskey down where he can’t knock it over and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Aaron.”

He turns, and a broad smile breaks out over his face. You’re sure he’s just being polite - you’ve never seen him smile so much. Offering a hand to Laurie, he stands. “SSA Aaron Hotchner. Thank you for having us. I’ve heard so much about you and your family.”

“Oh no, that can’t be good.” She laughs lightly and takes his hand in both of our own. “Laurie Miller. As I’m sure you know, I have a great amount of love for this one here.” She releases Aaron’s hand and tucks you into her arms again, kissing your cheek. You laugh, tickled by her demonstrative affection designed only to embarrass you. 

“C’mon, Laur. You don’t have to lie for my benefit.”

You try to ignore the fondness in Aaron’s eyes as he watches the two of you, Laurie cooing over you and your successes. She returns her focus back to Aaron. “Sit, sit and tell me what you crazy kids get up to over there in Quantico.” 

Aaron sits and relaxes back into his chair, resting his arm on the back of your seat. You lean forward with your elbows on the table, your hands propping up your head. Aaron’s a great storyteller, of course, and it’s so interesting to watch him talk about work outside of the context itself. He seems to bloom - effusive, charming, and warm - before you. 

When you look at him, it’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time. 

“...Preventing loss of life is always rewarding, and our team is a family.” 

Laurie is clearly enamored, completely drawn into his gentle description of your very-stressful and often-gritty line of work. “It’s so lovely you have so much fondness for each other. I imagine it makes everything much easier.” 

He nods, and glances at you. “It does.” 

Your phone buzzes on the table, and you excuse yourself with a hand on each of their shoulders. 

“Dean, you bastard!” You answer. Hotch’s huff of laughter tells you he overheard it, but he picks up right where he left off with Laurie. 

As you step out onto the banquet hall balcony, almost feel bad leaving him to his own devices, but then you remember all the times he’s been left alone with serial killers and you feel much better. 

“Hey babe! Are you surviving? Are you alone? Tell me everything.” 

You laugh into the phone. “I’m doing alright. Hotch actually offered to come with me. I just stepped out, but he’s in there holding his own well enough.”

“Oh my god. When I said that I didn’t actually think you’d do it!”

“What do you mean?” You look up and out over the property, and the views are simply breathtaking. The moonlight falling across the Virginia landscape almost makes the world look like it’s holding its breath. 

What it’s waiting for... you’re not sure. 

“When I said bring your hot boss to the wedding I was joking. You didn’t ask him, did you?”

You let out a snort and it almost disrupts the peace of the evening. “Of course not. He offered.”

“I have never met a pair of people so fucking stupid in all my life.” 

“You’ve never met Hotch, idiot.” 

“Don’t have to,” Dean says. “I know you are you’re dumb enough for the both of you.” 

+++

When the dancing starts, you’re understandably resistant. The playlist is a playful mix of contemporary and classic music, and you can’t help but laugh when Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours) starts to play. 

Aaron stands and offers you his hand. You take his hand without thinking, belatedly realizing his intentions. 

“Hotch, you can’t be serious.” You stop dead in your tracks, but his grip on your fingers stays firm as he looks back at you with a look of humorous disbelief on his face. 

“When have you ever known me to be otherwise?” He tugs you forward, and you fall into his arms with a huff. “Humor me. Just one and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night.” 

You glare at him, dubious. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because I’m lying.” 

And at the end of the day, you can’t refuse him anything - especially when he smiles at you like that. 

He’s an excellent dancer. Your grip on his shoulder slowly loosens as you grow more comfortable, trusting him to lead you around the dance floor. He holds you tight, his movement playful in a way that’s almost foreign to you. 

You’ve seen him dance exactly once, at Haley’s 39th birthday party, the summer before she died. 

You catch sight of Austin and Madeline on the other side of the dance floor and avert your gaze when you find Austin looking back at you. 

“Hey.” Aaron’s voice is low, almost a laugh.

Your eyes snap to Aaron’s. “What?”

“Relax.” 

“You’re one to talk,” you scoff. 

He rolls his eyes and throws you out by one arm, spinning you so your back is to his chest. “I’m plenty relaxed. You are tense.” 

The feeling of his heartbeat against your back ruins your resolve and you relent. “It just feels weird.”

“What does?” He spins you back out and pulls you close. You try not to be too distracted by the proximity of his face to yours when you land back against his chest, you hand resting over his heart.  

“I just -” you push through your reluctance and admit, “I don’t love him in that way anymore, but it’s super weird to even think that I could have ever thought he was it for me. And now he’s with someone he loves and both of our lives just...kept going after we split, you know?” You shake your head, scattering your thoughts. 

He nods. “I do.”

You believe him. The very concept of his heartbreak with Haley - the separation, the anger, the divorce, her death, the love - is overwhelming. You know he understands. 

The silence that lapses between you is comfortable. 

Yeah, I've done a lot of foolish things That I really didn't mean I could be a broken man Here I am, baby...

When he turns you under his arm, you laugh until you can’t breathe. There’s a smile on his face, too, and there’s something warm and inexplicable about it. You turn the tables on him, turning him under your arm and pulling him back to you.

The song changes to something slower and, true to his word, Aaron keeps you out on the dance floor. You’re exhausted all of a sudden, and your eyes close as you rest your head against his shoulder. 

“Thank you for being here with me.” 

You’re only sure you spoke aloud when Aaron replies, “Of course.”

+++

Your feet ache when you finally call it quits and head upstairs to your room for the night. Aaron’s suit jacket had long since left him, leaving him rolled sleeves and a loose tie with his top two buttons undone. It traveled from the back of his chair to where it now rests, slung over his arm.

You look over your shoulder as you slip your shoes off. “You look positively rumpled, Agent Hotchner.” 

He lets out a laugh, and it makes your breath catch. His laugh always takes you by surprise; it’s much brighter and higher than his speaking register, and frankly, adorable. “It’s past my bedtime.”

“You don’t have a bedtime.” And it was true - you could count on one hand the amount of times you’d known him to actually sleep, especially on a case. You could neither confirm nor deny that he even needed it to function prior to this weekend. 

The thought makes your cheeks a little warm, and you turn away from him, setting aside your pajamas and packing the rest of your items. 

There’s a little chuckle behind you before the bathroom door closes and the shower starts up. 

When Aaron leaves the bathroom, his hair wet and pajamas on, you’re asleep. Curled up on top of the covers, out like a light. 

He flips all the switches, leaving the room in darkness. Creeping to your side of the bed, he reaches over and pulls the covers down, gingerly shuffling your legs underneath, followed by your torso. You stir a little, and catch his hand as he moves to tuck your hands under the covers. 

His eyes close, just for a moment, before slipping his hand out of yours. He’s already dreading going back to his empty apartment tomorrow afternoon. 

That feeling is only amplified when you curl up against his chest as soon as he’s settled under the covers, your leg hooked over his. 

+++

You wake up warm again, and snuggle into the body beside you. Arms tighten around you, and you remember where you are and who you’re with. Unlike yesterday, you can’t pretend to be asleep - when you look up, Hotch is awake, brown eyes looking down at you. 

“Good morning,” he says. 

You tuck your face back into his chest. “I’m sorry - I’m clingy when I sleep.” 

His laugh sings over the crown of your head. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.” 

Don't read into that. 

I’m going to. 

Don’t. 

Fuck. 

“What time is it?” You crane your neck and look at the clock on his bedside table, but you can’t quite see with his arm in the way. 

“Just before nine. We have an hour before checkout. Want to get packed, grab some breakfast, and head out? I’ll drive.”

“You drove here.” You shove at him and sit up. 

He shrugs and you take a moment to admire the tousled, floppy state of his hair. “I like driving.” 

“I won’t argue with that.” 

You sigh, stretch, stand and start rolling. You brush your teeth (twice) and put your clothes back into your suitcase, zipping it up without much trouble. He, of course, takes it off your hands right away and brings the bags to the car while you take care of checkout. 

He meets you outside, sunglasses on, and the sun hits his hair. You can see all the nuances in the black - the touch of silver, the dark browns and reds. They all seem to make a halo around him in the sunshine. “Ready?”

You snap back to attention and give him a wide smile. “Yes, sir!” 

Breakfast is an eventful affair. As soon as you sit down, you get a call from Penelope. 

“Hey, Pen, what’s up?” You look across the table at Hotch with amusement in your eyes, and he smiles, still digging into his eggs benedict like a starving man. 

“Tell me everything.”

“Oh, well we’re just at breakfast, almost on our way back. My laptop is in the car, can I take a look at that for you when I get home?” 

Not now, Penelope, I’ll call you when I’m home. 

She hums, following right away. “You better give me every single detail as soon as you step through the door or I swear I’ll riot.”

With a laugh, you reply, “Of course. You know, it might be easier if you just stop by - I’ll text you when I get home and we can do dinner or something.” You push your food around your plate, trying to ignore the fact that the only person you actually want to have dinner with is right across from you.

“Perfect. Yeah, just text me when you get home babycakes. Can’t wait!” She hangs up promptly, and your eyebrows raise for a half second. 

You put your phone away and shake your head. “She’s very predictable.” 

He nods, looking at you from under his brows. “Indeed.” 

You both continue to dig into your food, not realizing how hungry you are from all your antics the night before. His phone rings next, and it’s Jack. 

“Hey bud!” 

There’s nothing better than the way his voice transforms when he speaks to his son. You hear your name and return your attention to his conversation. 

“...we’re at a wedding this weekend, remember? We got to go to a big party last night, and we’re driving home today… Yeah,” he looks at you, “we did have a lot of fun… I’m so glad you had a good time with Aunt Jess and the Brooks cousins this weekend… You got to go ice fishing? That’s so exciting! Did Grandpa take you?... Awesome, bud… Sounds good, I’ll call you when I get home, okay?... I love you too.”

When he puts his phone away, you ask, “How’s he doing?”

“It’ll be a fight to get him home, that’s for sure.” 

You take another bite of your food. “How are things with Haley’s family? Any better?”

“Not at all. I’m not sure there’s much I can do, at this point. Jess does what she can, but her dad is… not a fan of mine.” There’s a kind of sadness in his eyes, and you almost regret asking.

“I know you know this, but none of this is your fault.” You look into him and hope he can see the sincerity in your eyes, hear it in your voice. 

He thinks for a moment, and you’re almost nervous he’s going to disagree (it’s happened before), but he just meets your eyes and says, “Thank you.”

+++

Hotch lets you pick the music on the way home, and doesn’t say a word when you sing along (sometimes good, sometimes bad). He does occasionally smile a little secret smile to himself, which makes your heart skip around in your chest. 

At a certain point, you turn the music off and sit back in your seat. 

As usual, Aaron knows you’re going to say something long before you say it. “Yes?” 

“I know I keep saying this, but thank you for coming with me this weekend.” Your body shifts toward him, and you can’t seem to tear your eyes from his profile. 

“You’re welcome.” He glances at you before looking back at the road. “Thank you for trusting me not to embarrass you in front of people you haven’t seen in almost ten years.” 

You smile a kind of lopsided sort of smile. “You could never embarrass me.”

He frowns playfully. “That’s not true.” 

“You are exceedingly upstanding, and you just got your hair cut, so the odds are in my favor.” 

“Hey!” He self-consciously runs a hand over the back of his hair. You reach over to shove at his shoulder and you’re rewarded with a laugh. 

“I’m kidding! I like it long.” You look over fondly at him. “It was longer when I first met you, remember?” You’re not sure why you continue, but you do nevertheless. “You started keeping it shorter after the div - well, after.” 

He quirks his brow, the corners of his lips upturned just the smallest amount. “Nobody ever accused you of being unobservant.” 

You grin widely at him and turn the radio back on. 

+++

You’ve never been more disappointed to see your own driveway in your whole life. Hotch pulls in and turns the ignition off, and you sit in silence for a minute. 

There’s so much to think about, and most of it is at least a little uncomfortable. Of course you’re in love with him and he’s your favorite person (and that’s bad enough), but that is even harder to stomach now that you have to go back into the real world. 

It’s easy to pretend that it was real, that it wasn’t just for show to make you feel less awful about the direction of your love life. If anything, now that you’re home, you feel even worse. 

The only person you want is seemingly the only person you can’t have. There’s something so unattainable about Hotch. You’re not sure if it’s his stern exterior or his age or his role, or if it has more to do with how devastatingly handsome he is, but it’s something. 

Aaron wishes he could do anything else, than leave you here at home. Nevertheless, he sighs and gets out of the car. You follow him around back, though you’re not really sure why - he takes your suitcase and insists on carrying it all the way to the door. 

You stand there, fumbling with your keys, feeling more and more like a character in a romantic comedy with every passing second. Aaron sets your suitcase on the ground and covers your hands with his. You look up at him, and he leans toward you, pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to your cheek. 

“Thank you for inviting me.” 

All you can do is nod, with a tight, closed-mouth smile. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says

“Bye, Hotch,” you call to him as he trots back to the car. “Thanks again.” 

He turns toward you, puts his sunglasses on, opens the door, and says, “Anytime.” 

You wave with the tips of your fingers and slide into your house. Your back to do the door, you slide down to the floor and cover your face with your hands. 

Fuck. 

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[winterscaptain]

ambition.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i cannot articulate how excited i am for this one. it’s a little jump back in time, right after cicatrize. hope you all enjoy it and i can’t wait to hear what you think! thanks to aimz (@ssaic-jareau) for amping me up today, i love you.

an ajf fic that requires no context

words: 1.4 warnings: none!

summary: “do not act as if you were going to live ten thousand years. death hangs over you. while you live, while it is in your power, be good.” - marcus aurelius. au!december 2007

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next? edited: january 12th, 2021

The day is finally here. The day you officially graduate from the academy. 

Only a week after Hotch handed you your unit assignment at your now-permanent desk, you’re sitting among your classmates, listening to the director praise you all for your work. 

“I now have the very special privilege of introducing a guest to present the Director’s Leadership Award,” he says. “As this year’s award recipient has had unique experiences while in attendance at the FBI Academy, the directorate felt that it would be appropriate to select an agent to present this award. 

“Without further ado, I’d like to invite Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, to the stage.” 

Surprise pulls at your brow. He didn’t tell you he was speaking.

Aaron begins the long journey from the back of the auditorium to the front, while the director continues. 

“Agent Hotchner was a recipient of this award in his academy class, and has an exemplary record within the bureau - reflective of his dedication and loyalty to this agency and his unit. In his relatively short tenure as Unit Chief, he has continued the work of his predecessors - building the Behavioral Analysis Unit into one of the most effective task forces in federal law enforcement.” He gestures to Aaron, who climbs the stairs with his usual steady, even gait. “Agents, trainees, friends, family - Agent Hotchner.” 

Aaron reaches the stage and shakes the director’s hand with a small smile. Applause echoes through the auditorium, and quiets as he takes the podium. He pulls a small piece of paper from his inside pocket. You can’t help the proud smile on your face as you watch him.

Twisting in your seat, you spot the rest of the unit lined up against the back wall. JJ waves at you and you swear you see Derek wink. To your surprise, Haley’s beside Dave with Jack on her hip. You toss her a smile that she returns, only a little tense, before you turn back toward the front. Aaron catches your eye as he starts talking. 

The pull of his lips seems knowing somehow, but then again you’re sure he almost always looks like he knows something he shouldn’t. 

“Thank you, Director. It’s an honor to present this award on your behalf. A recipient of this award myself, I know how much work it takes to catch the attention of your superiors, to set yourself apart from your classmates.” He pauses, swallowing and wetting his lips. “The individual chosen for this award has done all of that and more. They have taken it upon themselves to break tradition, supersede expectations, and overcome any and all obstacles they encountered during their tenure at the academy.” 

He looks out over the crowd, checking in with the unit before returning to his notes. You’ve always known Hotch had public speaking chops, but seeing him in action outside of the field and the classroom is really something else. You’re not sure, but he seems to be fighting something as he talks - almost emotional, but tightly controlled. 

“This individual represents the best of this agency, conducting themselves with fidelity, bravery, and integrity in all they do. My own life has been touched by this individual and their dedication to their work.” 

A spike of adrenaline shoots through you, but you attempt to calm yourself down. 

He guest lectures all the time. Hell, you’ve been to one. 

“In my own letter of recommendation -” Another thrill flies through you, but you squash it again. “- I noted that this new agent has an insatiable curiosity, a gift for meeting the needs of those around them, and a knack for, as my colleague SSA Rossi says,” Aaron gestures to Dave at the back of the room, “taking the ball and running with it.” 

That gets a laugh, as all of the academy graduates had more than one lecture with Dave this year. You turn around again with about half the room, just in time to see Dave wave and take a bow. 

“So,” Aaron says, and the room turns back to him, “it is my honor to present the Director’s Leadership Award to…” 

He pauses for a moment, meets your eyes, and says your name. 

The rushing in your ears makes it impossible to move. Your classmates are all but attacking you - there are hands everywhere: your head, shoulders, arms, knees - and you find yourself lifted to your feet. 

There’s a path cleared for you as you scoot out of the row and into the aisle, smoothing your hands over your slacks. The shouts of your unit follow you all the way there, Derek’s deafening whistles keeping your feet firmly planted on the floor. Your ears are still rushing, your heart in your throat, and it’s a wonder you make it to the stage. 

Aaron’s there, his hand outstretched to guide you up the stairs, and you manage to meet his eyes. He’s beaming at you, pride shining in his gaze. You take his hand and he shepherds you to the Director, who’s holding an envelope. 

You release Aaron and shake the director’s hand with your right while taking the award with your left. Absently, you realize you’re being photographed, and smile at a camera that flashes before disappearing. 

“Congratulations, Agent,” he says. 

“Thank you, sir. It’s an honor.” 

He gestures to the podium, but you shake your head. You can hardly formulate a thought, nevertheless make a speech. With a smile, the director sends you back toward Aaron who, much to your surprise, wraps you in a hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says, his lips almost touching your ear. 

There are tears in your eyes and in your voice when you reply. “Thank you, Hotch.” 

He releases you, keeping a hand on your upper arm as you walk down the stairs together. As you go, he leans close to you. “If you want, you can stand back there with us.” 

You nod, unwilling to crawl over your classmates to take your seat back in the middle of the row. 

After another long walk back, you’re finally back with your family. Dave kisses you on both cheeks and Derek pulls you tight to his chest. 

“You’ve more than earned it.” 

All you can do is grin at him. JJ and Spencer tackle you next, followed by Emily and Penelope. 

Haley stands by, offering you a shy smile when the rest of the unit is finished with their demonstrative nonsense. 

“Congratulations.” 

You smile. “Thanks, Mrs. Hotchner.”

“Haley’s fine, I promise. ‘Mrs. Hotchner’ makes me feel like I’m substitute teaching again.” She leans closer. “And I think we’re past the Mrs. Hotchner point, don’t you?”  

Your smile turns into a grateful one. You would think that the surprises were through for the day, but she leans forward and loops her free arm around your shoulder. Returning her hug, you place a hand on her back and the other on Jack’s head. When you pull back, you ruffle his hair. 

To your delight, he giggles. 

Haley raises her eyebrows at you. “Want to hold him? He likes you.” 

“Sure.” You roll up your sleeves, realizing that the award has already left your hands in the commotion. When you look, you find it tucked into Spencer’s messenger bag, his hand resting protectively over it. 

Haley passes Jack to you, and you take a second to grin at him. He returns it. 

He looks just like Aaron…

But that’s Haley’s smile, through and through. 

Haley returns to the wall, shaking out her arm. You’re not sure how long she’s been carting him around. As much as you like Jack on his own, the opportunity to lend a hand to Haley is a welcome one. 

You turn back to the stage, and Jack lays his head on your shoulder, playing with the buttons on your shirt. There’s a smile on your face as you press your cheek into his hair, listening as one of the deputy directors asks you all to stand for the oath. 

Shifting Jack to your left hip, you raise your right hand and wave Aaron off when he tries to help. You recite the oath with your class, pride swelling in your chest. 

The deputy director officially declares you all agents and sends you off into the arms of your friends and family. He sends you off into your future. 

With Jack’s weight resting comfortably in your arms, your unit around you, and Hotch watching you with an unreadable, warm expression on his face, you realize something. 

You’re already there. 

+++

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