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swaqcenix · 6 months ago

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༻ Stardust of your soul | N. Romanoff ༺

Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

Summary: Being new to SHIELD and it's agents you'd always kept yourself to yourself & hovered in the background. Yet a new chapter opens up when being invited to the compound for 'team bonding,' and it turns out another star shined just as you did without even knowing. Simply the trust to fall asleep on another's lap really does open up the deepest of souls.

Warnings: None! Just pure fluff & sentiment of how Natasha falls asleep on your lap..

Pairings: Natasha romanoff x gn!reader, sort of black cat x golden retriever (ish?)

Word Count: 3.8K

DC: cafekitsune

AN: I don't know where I got this idea from, but I wanted to get back to writing again, so I figured some soft reading of Natasha falling asleep on the reader's lap by accident would cut it! <3 Might make a P2!

(also if ppl can teach me how to get a sapphic relationship-)

Walking through the halls of the building always seemed daunting when you worked for SHIELD. It wasn't like you feared anyone there, just everyone was so equipped and skilled- they'd been there for a good chunk of time. Many beginning their journey's with SHIELD years before yourself, forming bonds and friendships.

You were merely a baby taking their first steps within the walls of SHIELD headquarters, simply learning the ropes & where to start. Still, you were eager to always take on a challenge and being accepted as a SHIELD agent wasn't something you'd expect to happen, yet changing that decision to take on the role wasn't even a consideration for you.

A simple few weeks at the headquarters was all it took for you to slowly begin to feel more comfortable with the said environment. You'd spoken to Maria Hill the Deputy Director of SHIELD and while she could be intimidating, she and yourself shared views similar making it easy to get on. Fury was a little more on the complex side but some of the other agents you'd definitely enjoyed bonding with.

You'd been called in to a meeting for god knows what, but that was the generalised idea these days. Most agents yourself included never seemed to be informed prior of your missions only simply assigned upon the day. It did albeit stress you out given your organised schedule and how you felt with being thrown into the deepest ends of the pool was stressful.

However, when you dedicated your time and complete energy and effort within SHIELD's walls and work you had to be prepared for anything, without fail. You'd found yourself being so lost in thought with how you'd ended up in this role and position that you'd realised you'd come to a halt.

Seeing the door to Fury's office was a surprise to your eyes, having not realised you'd walked all that way. Slowly bracing yourself, your hand reached for the door handle before it was pulled open and Nick Fury himself stood there in the flesh.

"Come on in," His voice that always sent chills down your spine seemed warmer than usual today.

It did strike you as odd but you hardly had the time to think more of it. Instead you simply merely nodded entering the room at a gentle pace, before your shoes caused a loud squeak of a sudden stop.

Your eyes glanced around the room to see people you hardly ever thought you'd be in the same room with. The Avengers, the actual known hero's themselves sat around a table as their eyes slowly drifted up to study you.

Tony, Steve, Clint, Thor, Natasha, Bruce, Wanda, Rhodey & Sam. All of them were waiting for your arrival.

Natasha let out a soft smile at you nodding an approving look, which didn't surprise you at all. You'd become accustomed to the redhead while at SHIELD given her status and her ability to train new recruits which yourself was in fact one of them.

You'd never quite been able to read her fully, only knowing she had a closed off position about her, including the past everyone was forbidden to know of. All the recruits and fellow agents knew that it was a road nobody dared cross, including interacting with the redhead outside of working hours.

Standing there waiting for Fury or anyone to say something felt like an agonising amount of time & it was making the clock feeling like minutes were passing by. In reality, it was most likely to be mere seconds before Fury coughed and began to fill the silent room with his voice.

"So Y/N.. There's been some form of talk amongst myself and the Avengers," he began and you felt your body froze.

Without the intention of doing so, you glanced over at Natasha with concern and worry glazed over your eyes. Nobody else would recognise the small but clear look she gave to you, it was something you'd come to somewhat understand. She gave you a curt but firm nod and her eyes softened only for a moment but that moment was enough. It was okay.

You felt your shoulders and body language relax a tad as you nodded towards Director Fury to continue his conversation.

"We feel that.. we need a new member to work with the Avengers. Think of it as a new position a higher role. One that we thought you'd fit most well into. More like a team bonding so you'd say."

You gawked at the older man before shaking your head back to reality as it sunk into your brain and your bones. He thought you were the best for the role? You as in just someone from a town that had nothing now working along side the Avengers, more specifically her.

"M-Me? What, there has to be some sort of mistake. Director I don't know if I-" You began stuttering over your words.

While you did admire your strengths and abilities, it was a big step to be working with the earth's mightiest hero's. You certainly didn't want to make a fool out of yourself, however Fury decided to interrupt you.

"All due respect Y/L/N, it wasn't really a request. We need you on the team. The mission that's required is going to need all the assets and best that we've got. It's important," he stated firmly looking around the room at the Avengers before moving his gaze back to you.

"Director I-"

"They'll be trained and ready. I'll make sure of it," you heard her voice echo through the room with determination.

Your eyes drifted around the room landing onto her, staring at Natasha in pure shock and partial annoyance. You knew your own weaknesses and strengths and didn't need anyone speaking for you.

However, she simply stared back at you with a firm all serious look showing she wasn't backing down. Why was she so fixated on having you on the team? Her eyes changed ever so slightly and only for a moment looking at you with something you couldn't quite place. However, in a small blink just a tiny moment the look disappeared and her normal stoic expression was back.

"Thank you Agent Romanoff. Anything anyone else has to add?" He asked looking around the room with sheer authority.

Nobody seemed to speak, Tony flamboyantly flapping his hands up to speak for them. Clearly they weren't against having you on the team, you must be some important asset they required. With nobody speaking, you were all dismissed and the Avengers all fluttered out of the room.

All except one. Natasha stood leaning against the wall, half slouching her gaze fixated onto you. Head tilted in an almost questioning way towards you. Mirroring the action, you stared at the redhead inquisitive facial expressions painted on both of your faces.

Natasha cracked first, shifting off the wall walking towards you with her hands in her pockets, her signifying black leather jacket around her shoulders.

"You know, you should have more belief in yourself Y/N. We both know your abilities, I've witnessed them myself," she added her eyebrow arching.

"I.. You think so?" You managed to get out slowly.

Without a warning she leaned forward, whispering in your ear causing your body to stiffen. With her being this close you could smell her perfume, invading your senses like a warm blanket alluring you and drawing you in. The proximity of her was sending heat to your face and you knew her voice was sending shivers down your body.

"I know so sweetheart, I know so," she hushed out and if the floor was made of lava you'd melt right through it and into the ground beneath you.

Natasha was like a temptress, a woman who knew how to lull people in just with a few simple words. You knew this but still felt yourself floating towards the singing of the siren.

She stepped back smirking at you sending you a wink causing your heart to hammer against your chest. It was like she was looking into the depths of your soul and you were trying not to give her the key to opening your soul.

Just before she opened the door to exit the room she flung her body around to face you at an angle. The tension in the room was intense, dancing around you in a heavy feeling as she spoke.

"Training starts at 7. Don't be late sweetheart. I don't do late."

With that she left the room without allowing yourself to respond and you felt an internal groan bubbling inside of you. She was seeing into your soul now you needed to try and allow Natasha to let you see her own.

Tossing and turning at night in your bed whilst the minutes passed by seemed to be what was happening for you. The clock was ticking yet you were significantly restless especially knowing training started at 7am with Natasha wouldn't settle your mind to rest.

Her words played over and over again in your head, on a constant never ending loop. 'I know so sweetheart.' You couldn't remember the last time you had that much confidence running within your veins, let alone someone else. Yet, her voice ran through your mind, your soul almost touched by her belief.

Turns out you must have been laying there for that long tossing and turning throughout the night you'd managed to not succumb to a single ounce of sleep. That perhaps would come back to be biting you on the ass at some point today. Especially if you have training with Natasha.

As your head spun to view the clock next to the nightstand, elicting a loud groan from your lips. It read the time of 6:15AM. That's always your luck, never helping with the concept of you being the polar opposite of a morning person. If anyone was grouchy in the morning it would always be yourself.

Flinging the covers off yourself, grudgingly, you found your legs dragging themselves to the bathroom to have a shower, the need to freshen and wake up becoming excruciatingly stronger by the minute.

The water cascaded down your body, a soft sigh leaving your lips. It warmed you up within the speed of light, relaxing your current running thoughts, muscles relaxing slightly. Taking a shower has always reassured your senses with its water-hug, warm and cozy.

As you dressed for the training, you slipped out of the room deciding to take a small detour around the compound. The passing of Agents in the corridor, seemingly more professional and adjusted to the surroundings of the compound than yourself.

It almost made you shrink into yourself, wanting to knock your confidence. However, Natasha's words from the previous day replayed in your head on repeat, warning your insides for reasons unexplained.

Almost as if by sheer luck you'd past the main lounge of the compound where a few of the known Avengers seemed to be sitting around. That included, Tony, Steve, Wanda and Clint. As if your presence was like a dark shadow lingering into the room, all of their heads seemed to twist into your direction.

One thing you despised being more than anything is being the centre of all attention, eyes gazing on you like you'd become to be on a stage you weren't supposed to take. It bought bile rising from the depths of your stomach up at the mere concept of it.

Yet, their gazes lingered in a none judgmental way, almost like the comfort of understanding, an overwhelming sense but peaceful. Steve was the first to speak up, nodding at you firmly but not with an intensity of malice.

"If you're after the training room, it's just down the hall. Natasha's waiting for you there. Good luck, just believe in yourself."

With a curt, but gentle nod you headed to the training room giving your best definition of a half smile. Though, it probably looked more like a grimace, unintentionally of course.

As you entered the training room, Natasha was working on her punching exercises. Each one better than the last. The glimmer of sweat trickling down her cheeks and side of her hair, shone like water in the moonlight. For a moment you almost stopped to admire her.

However, you'd clearly being staring too long considering, when you came out of your dazed trance, Natasha stood smirking at you. Her head was now tilted to the side, her crimson hair braided and cascading down her shoulders. Immediately you flushed, a sudden realisation you'd been watching her working out, like some puppy in awe of the smallest of things.

"See something that you like?" Her voice carried huskily, but with a hint of a smirk lingering causing your knees to weaken.

Why she was having this effect on you, you'd never know. Part of yourself wished the feeling would vanish, disappearing like particles of atoms into the air. Dust vanishing away, yet another piece of you thrilled for the unknown drawn, the tranquility you felt. It felt exhilarating, the need for an escape.

As your eyes drifted around the room you realised just how much equipment had been invested within the 4 walls. Several different types of equipment were laid out in different selections, ranging from treadmills to yoga mats, leg presser's, even a shooting target range.

"N-No sorry I-" You stuttered still trying to distract your gaze to anything but at the redhead whose smirk had now grown wider.

The pair of you trained for a while, Natasha teaching you combat, which albeit you weren't as talented as herself. Several times she's managed to knock you down and pin you to the ground. Which, just happened to always end up with you looking up at her both your bodies in an extraordinary comprising position.

Natasha, on the other hand never judged you. Her skills and assets were on a scale of unbelievable, making you feel as tiny as an ant. Yet, the redhead never made you feel smaller than herself. She always seemed to root for the best in you, causing you to admire her as the minutes passed on.

"You've got more talent than you know," her voice whispered during the last training session.

Her voice sent a small shiver through your body shooting down your spine, as though a melody yet to be sang was ready to be heard. A soft nod a content true smile painted your lips setting a thousand suns alight.

"Thank you, Romanoff," your voice responded a little stronger than prior.

"Hey to you, it's Natasha."

A soft giggle passed your lips and she smiled, a rare one you could have sworn in the short time including familiarities of SHIELD, had never seen cross her lips before.

"it's like before when you were training me isn't it?" You asked your mouth speaking before your brain.

She simply nodded with a hum, putting herself once again in a position of combat causing you to follow suit. Her hair was now slick with sweat, but yours was drenched. Almost as if you'd been training the whole day, yet in reality it was a simple couple of hours.

"Exactly like before. Just harder and with stronger combat skills and assets."

Before you knew it, the pair of you were back at it. Training like you'd done the several times previously. Your skills had improved remarkably. How you didn't know, perhaps it was her words and further encouragement. Her sense of purpose that brought tranquility to you an ideology of lack of judgment.

One minute you were slightly stumbling and within the blink of an eye, you had her pinned. It was like the world had stopped, her own eyes had widened in shock, your body freezing as though ice had embedded itself within your veins, shocking every atom inside you.

The Natasha Romanoff, had been pinned down onto the floor with you hovering over her. A huge sense of achievement fell over you, a joyful relief that you had finally believed something within your bones for so long.

She felt it too, winking with no insult or any sort of ruined pride. Natasha merely looked and presented herself in a way that ran through to the pit of your stomach.

You scrambled off her slightly embarrassed as reality began to hit you, considering the positions you were currently in. Helping her up, Natasha stood there hands on her hips for a moment analysing you, but for once no feeling of unease overcame you.

"Told you could do it sweetheart," she said wiping her head with a towel.

If words could make your body melt into a puddle, like snow in the winter. You would have right there. Like an icicle on a tree branch waiting for its calling of life that's how you felt. Glistening but melting into bliss.

Natasha headed towards the door, her black tank top sticking to her in a way that was sheer attractive to practically everyone undeniably. Her abs could practically be seen through the material, causing your eyes to look up towards the ceiling scolding every part of your brain.

"Oh and, same time tomorrow," Natasha stated her voice carrying a tinge of something unplaced that caused you to look up at her. Yet she's disappeared through the door before anything more could be thought of it.

That's how it continued. The form of relationship building between yourselves, training continuing everyday. Your combat becoming stronger, fighting harder each time, not only did your skills improve but also your mindset. It began to light up your moments like a firefly, shining thousands of miles into you lighting up a hope in the sky.

There were times Natasha beat you, earning a playful comment from her lips.

"Gotta be faster than that honey," she'd husk out in that voice of hers.

Yet, you never stopped enjoying your training moments, the building of an established unknown. The way you and Natasha formed was rare, unseen and unbecoming, but there was no regret. No simple doubt that you enjoyed the form of relationship the pair of you had formed.

One morning your alarm clock went off once more, 6:15AM on the dot. Making no time to convince yourself to fall back into a peaceful depth of slumber you headed to the shower. Getting ready fast in the morning had become the new norm for you.

You'd managed to get changed at the speed of light hopping around to get into your gym wear. Just as you were about to leave F.R.I.D.A.Y spoke up warning you.

"Excuse me Y/N, I was informed to let you know most of the Avengers got called out for an emergency mission. You were called to go on it but, Miss Romanoff debated otherwise."

Your heart sank, upset slightly about the lack of training. You'd become quite accustomed to the way of life in the morning, training with Natasha before amusing yourself for the remainder of the day. However, it sank further when she mentioned Natasha stated she didn't want you there.

Were you not qualified enough? Would you ever be? Your mind spiralled around with overwhelming and overthinking thoughts, like a tornado sweeping through miles of countryside. No, you couldn't do this to yourself again.

The entire day became yourself training practically with little to no breaks, until the very darkness of night emerged the atmosphere, clicking your brain into knowledge.

Taking your last shower felt less like a privilege and more like a burden. Something undeserving, especially when you're clearly not welcome on missions. However, you knew you needed it.

Eventually you'd changed into some warmer fuzzier lounge wear, settling on some grey jumpsuit. It allowed you to feel more relaxed. The feeling sent you into a deep slumber, curled into the couch in a content creation.

A form half leaning on your body caused you to almost jolt awake, but you heard a whisper next to you. For a mere few seconds your surroundings became an enemy, training become reality. Yet, as your eyes adjusted to the light around you an awareness grew within you.

The Avengers were sat down around you, watching some random Christmas film you presumed Sam chose considering the choice. Clint was sat a few feet away glancing at you contently.

"You'll wake her," he mumbled his voice lower than usual that caused an unprovoked raised eyebrow from yourself.

Following his gaze, your heart pounded harder, eyes widening in a sudden surprise. Natasha was lying on your shoulder, her body almost slipping towards your lap. She seemed more at ease than Natasha ever had before.

Like the weight of a thousand worlds, a thousand men had been lifted by one single sleep. No, a single person. You. Her hair was now loose, drifting down her shoulders, making her look almost incredibly soft and it melted every aspect of you.

"She seems exhausted," you murmured without thinking.

"She took the most hits. I know what you were thinking. Natasha she.. She didn't want you on that mission, because she didn't want you hurt. Not because she doubts your capabilities. All I could see was her guilt and want to be back training with you."

Clint's confession and confirmation sent a warmth unexplainable feeling through you. Looking deeper at Natasha, you noticed the cuts and bruises. The winces when the redhead shifted in her sleep. A shatter through your heart came hard, one you had no idea was possible as you glanced softly at the older woman.

She cared. Natasha stirred slightly her eyes fluttering glancing up at you. Her eyes met yours and in that moment it unlocked everything and anything possible. It's said eyes are window's to one's soul. The key to unlocking everything about a person there was to be done.

Glancing at her emerald eyes all you saw was stardust, the pain of stars shimmering thousands of light years away trying to find their way back. She smiled weakly, trying to pull away. However, instead you adjusted Natasha to rest her head on your lap.

A frozen form hit your lap, tense in shock before fully relaxing into your hold. A soft hum left her lips and without thinking you began to caress her hair, bringing her to a warmth blanket of safety.

"She's never like that, looks like you're something," Clint mumbled smirking causing you to roll your eyes.

Natasha wasn't just an assassin, nor an Avenger. Sure you had no doubt words would be interestingly mentioned later when she awoke. Yet for now, as you had previously gazed into her eyes, all you saw was the stars of light wanting a home. Stroking her hair was like touching the star's of the soul itself, no matter the distance they'd always have somewhere or someone to go to.

#kazzy's fics ࣪ ִֶָ☾.#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x gn!reader #natasha imagine #marvel fic

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blackbat05 · 6 days ago

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Opposites Attract

Congressman Bucky x Library Staff Reader

Plot: You were never really one for politics, but when Congressman James "Bucky" Barnes and an Avenger comes to grace the library for work, he may just prove you wrong...

Genre: PG-13

A/N: Super self-indulgent (yet again). Watched Thunderbolts over the weekend and despite being very partial to the MCU, this movie seriously impressed me! I love my rag-tag team~ Please excuse the subpar writing as I feel like I'm still in a funk.

He absolutely regrets this.

Yeah he should have never agreed to this.

“Congressman Barnes?”

The secertary snaps him out of his anxiety hazed stupor. “Sorry Linda, you were saying?”

“As I was saying, your appearance at the public library has been shifted up to 2pm. There’s a kid’s program and they’re hoping you’ll be able to grace them with your presence.” Linda informs.

“Thank you.” Bucky dismisses the secretary, immediately taking out his darned notes that Gary insisted he had to read.

“New York Public Library recently had their children’s library go under redevelopment…”

***

“Y/N!” Darcy rushes over. The young girl drags a chair to sit beside you as you’re pouring over the story time you planned for the kids coming in for the reading session at 2pm.

“Someone’s awfully cheery after lunch.”

“Congressman James Barnes is coming! To our library!” She hisses with excitement. “Gosh he’s so cute, I hope he gets to interact with the kids because that would just make me explode!”

“Okayyy, someone needs to calm down on the caffeine.” You swivel your chair to face her. “First of all, he’s doing his duty Darcy, second of all aren’t you being too vocal with your fantasies?”

“A girl can dream.” Darcy singsongs. “Good luck!”

You sigh at her enthusiasm that was bordering on naivety. The congressman was probably going to be the same as the rest, they always are. They’ll come and show their faces for photos and leave without truly understanding what they had to be here for.

Though a part of you can’t help but to agree with Darcy. Those good looks are wasted in politics.

The clock read 1.15pm. You should start getting ready for the session.

***

“You seem very engrossed in that packet, sir.”

“I find it tough how we can fund billions for weapons and nuclear warfare but it takes almost six years to refurbish the children’s section of the New York Library.”

“I can’t say anything else apart from my need to agree with you, sir.” Linda crisply responds.

Bucky stays silent, thinking about his own memories as a child in the library. A library was meant to be a safe space, away from the ruckus of life.

The car rolls to a stop and Bucky gets out with two guards trailing behind him.

“What am I? An invalid? I don’t need bodyguards, Linda. This is a Children’s Library. I don’t need them to have more things to be scared of.”

“Apologies sir. I’ll speak with the Director and make other necessary arrangements after the event.”

“Yeah, you do that.”

The trio departs from Bucky who decides to take the chance to explore the library that was as every bit as he remembered it.

He takes a random book and finds a spot that is hidden away from the public eye to do some people watching at the Children’s Library.

Mothers take this chance for a reprieve and catch up with their friends while the little ones try to flip big picture books with much effort. The older children roam around the series section, discussing in excited hushed voices the latest book that they had each read. Bucky’s heart oddly feels satisfied when he sees a little boy nose deep into a Geronimo Stilton book. Ah, a timeless classic for kids.

“Congressman Barnes?”

Bucky turns around, slightly apologetic that he had been people watching for too long.

“I’m the children’s librarian- well, technically support staff. I’m working towards becoming a librarian but of course you didn’t need to know that.” You inwardly cursed at yourself. He’s definitely going to think you’re bonkers.

Then, he chuckled.

Actually chuckled.

“I’ll be sitting in your session later? I promise not to stare as much.”

Before you can get a good word in, the charming congressman strolls away, leaving you in a mess.

***

"Good afternoon children!" You put on your best enthusiastic voice, as you greet the crowd.

"Good afternoon Ms Y/N!"

Even after doing this for too many times to count, being in front of children who were waiting to be impressed still gave you the jitters. Nevertheless, you were proud to say that you had build rapport with them steadily over the past six months.

"So, we've been reading books about values and I thought we could continue our discussion with a short but humorous story that I know will promise a good laugh." You show the book, eliciting a couple of giggles from the children.

“Today’s story is by Jon Klassen and it’s titled - I want my hat back…”

***

By the end of the story, the children were throughly amused at the simple but larger than life visuals that told a clear message. You were also glad that all that practice of different animal voices came in handy.

“Thank you for listening so well! For the last part of our session as we won’t be seeing each other for two weeks, we can do something fun! We’re going to create our very own paper hats!” You continued. “That’s not all, we’ll be doing it with a very special guest so I want all of you to help him along okay?”

Once you introduced Bucky, you offered him to roam around the tables where the children were already planning how to design the best hat.

As you helped a boy add stickers to his hat, your attention is diverted to a mini commotion at the table ahead.

“What’s all the buzz about?” You moved closer, almost bursting into unruly laughter yourself when you see the Congressman sitting in tiny plastic chair wearing a red cone hat similar to the character while the kids fluttered around to add sparkles and glitters, blissfully unaware of your presence.

Not Bucky though as his eyes widen at the sight of you. You give a slight cough to get the attention of the children.

“Alright now, let’s not crowd around Mr Barnes.” You ushered the children away, giving a couple of soft apologies on their behalf.

“Don’t be. I enjoyed it.” He appeared to have snapped out of his momentary embarrassment of being covered in glitter, back to his charming self that you had the privilege of experiencing firsthand.

The rest of the session went smoothly (and glitter free). Bucky watches you bid goodbye to each kid in a unique and special way, from fist bumps to hugs and sometimes just a simple wave of the hand to the quieter kids. The children's section is quiet once more and he is amazed how you flutter around the tables, cleaning up effortlessly.

"Can I help?" He finds himself speaking up.

"Oh, that's alright. Wouldn't want to get your suit all messed up." You respond airily, trying to ignore the close proximity with Bucky.

"I insist." He says firmly and starts helping you to gather the scissors. You can't help but to notice how there's a butterfly sticker on his metal hand.

"A little girl - Lucy, she put this on me." He explains fondly. "Can't bear to take it off, at least not today."

Lucy. She never failed to turn up for every library session. Although she wasn't the loudest in the room, she participated with a quiet determination. Which was why you found this revelation particularly surprising.

"That's amazing. She takes a while to warm up to strangers. Well, not that you aren't a complete stranger. You're an Avenger- oh I'm doing it again aren't I?"

"That's okay." Bucky reassures you calmly. "I like it."

His straightforwardness throws you off, leaving you flustered but oddly pleased.

"Hey-"

"No, you go first."

"Do you want to get a drink?" Bucky asks. Before you could respond, loud voices could be heard from the adult's section, slowly becoming much louder.

"Oh no..."

"There you are!" Bucky spots Alexi from a mile away with that strikingly bright red suit. The rest of the team hushes him collectively, with Yelena attempting to make herself as small as possible.

"We've been trying to call you! Then your assistant- and she said you were in this place of knowledge! Oh, and who is this lady?" Alexi stares at you, intrigued. Bucky steps in front, feeling protective.

"Alright, can we focus, please?" Bucky shoots you an apologetic look that you clearly understood.

You'll have to reschedule.

***

“So! Are you not going to tell us who she is?” John is the first to broach the topic. Bucky gives him one of his famous death glares. However, this only encourages him and the rest of the team more.

"She seems lovely." Yelena teases, "Though I'm not sure why she would be attracted to a grump like you."

"Opposites attract." Ava adds helpfully (or unhelpfully in Bucky's opinion).

The jet flies across the ocean, making its way back home. Bucky taps his foot impatiently. Any longer with this group and having to endure their teasing might just make him commit daylight murder.

Bucky feels a buzz in his pocket and he fishes out his phone to read the message.

"Oooooh! Someone's texted back!" The team is in sync with their onslaught on their leader.

"Someone just kill me now." He mumbles under his breath.

*** You tug on your cardigan, waiting for Bucky on the steps of the library.

"Doll!" You hear a familiar voice that made your heart skip a beat. Though you must say, you were a little shocked to find out that he wasn't alone.

"Hello! Miss Librarian!" Alexi booms.

"Oh my god Dad she has a name." Yelena groans.

"Yes but she is proud of her job no?"

"Sorry about these idiots. Hi, John Walker." The man extends his hand for a handshake before being brushed aside by Bucky.

"Hi," you decide to make yourself known. "Bucky's told me about all of you."

"Whatever he's told you, don't believe all of it. The man's too grumpy for his own good." Yelena pipes up as Ava nods.

"Ok! And it is time for you to all go. The jet does not need a parking ticket." Bucky interjects pushing his teammates away from you. "Bob's waiting!"

With a couple more goodbyes, the jet zooms away, leaving the two of you still standing on the steps of the library.

"Not everyday my date is late because he's keeping the world safe from bad guys and outer space threats." You joke.

Bucky doesn't say a word and you're suddenly afraid that you may have fried his internal circuits.

"Sorry, I wasn't mad-"

"I'm your date?" He says with a grin and your words slowly sink in.

"Oh, well... I thought... um..." You scramble for words much to Bucky's amusement and he takes a step closer towards you.

"Would it be weird to say right now that I was thinking exactly the same thing?"

The both of you laugh and your stomach takes this moment to grumble loudly.

"Someone's hungry. I know a good Japanese Restaurant."

"I'm always down for good food."

He slots his fingers in between yours, holding on to your hand firmly.

"Great, then Sushi awaits."

"You are a god send."

#bucky barnes #marvel thunderbolts #thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader

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kiwriteswords · 3 months ago

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congrats on your 2k 🎉

for missing scene Monday, could we get bearded Hotch's new gf he met on his secret assignment in Pakistan?? I'll leave it to you if you want to extend it back to the US and the BAU team!!

Just begging for anything with bearded Hotch and yes this was inspired by your 2k celebration gif choices ❤️ love ya!

Let It Be [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Ki2k Masterlist||Main Masterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 8k|| AN: Thank you so much for sending this request so early for day one! I was able to get a head start on this last week, and I really love how it turned out!

Tags/Warnings: female reader, canon-divergent, beard!hotch, canon-typical themes, hurt/comfort, banter, Hotch in Pakistan, non!BAU reader, kinda left tbc?

Summary: Hotch meets you on assignment in Pakistan, and you're exactly what he was looking for...someone who's just there without pushing.

The sun was relentless, bearing down on the barren expanse surrounding the base. Sweat collected under your tactical gear, but you barely noticed. It was the kind of heat that stripped away all distractions, leaving you focused on the mission ahead--or at least trying to be.

You adjusted the strap of your duffel bag and glanced around the bustling camp. This wasn’t your first special operations assignment, but the tension in the air felt different here. Heavier.

It could have just been you dragging the weight of unresolved emotions halfway across the world, or it could have been the stakes of the mission--a dangerous operation involving an international terrorist cell that required precision, discretion, and teamwork between agencies not known for always getting along.

“Agent Y/L/N?”

The voice was deep, cutting through the camp noise. You turned and found yourself face to face with a tall man, his sharp features etched into a permanent state of seriousness. His gaze was steady, and his presence commanded attention without effort.

“That’s me,” you replied, clipped but polite.

He stepped closer, extending a hand. “Aaron Hotchner, unit chief for the BAU.”

The name was familiar. You had read the reports and heard the stories--his work on high-profile cases, his leadership, and his reputation for being unflinchingly methodical. You shook his hand, noting the firm grip and how it matched the intensity in his dark eyes.

“Special Agent Y/L/N, CIA Directorate of Operations,” you said, introducing yourself with the same straightforward efficiency. “Behavioral analyst and covert operations specialist.”

His brow shifted slightly, just enough for you to notice. He nodded, acknowledging your credentials with a quiet respect.

“Briefing starts in five,” he said, his tone all business. Then he turned and walked away, leaving you with the distinct impression that there was more to him than the stoic exterior he projected. You had worked with people like him before--people who carried their burdens in silence--but something about the weight in his eyes made you wonder if he had brought his own ghosts to this mission, much like you had.

….

The first few days were a blur of briefings, strategy sessions, and late nights poring over intel. You didn’t interact much with Hotch beyond the occasional exchange of information, but you caught yourself noticing him. The way he carried himself--calm and composed, but with an edge of tension that never seemed to leave him. You recognized it because you felt it, too.

As you reviewed reports in the command tent one night, he walked in, filling the space. He set a folder on the table and glanced at you.

“You’ve been here for hours,” he said, not a question but an observation.

You shrugged, keeping your focus on the documents in front of you. “So have you.”

“I’m used to it,” he replied, his tone neutral.

“So am I.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, he pulled out a chair and sat across from you, his gaze steady.

“It’s easier to keep busy,” he said quietly as if he was sharing a truth he rarely voiced.

You glanced up, meeting his eyes. There was something there--something raw and unspoken. You wanted to ask what he was running from, but you didn’t. You weren’t ready to share your own truths, so you didn’t ask for his.

….

The nights were the hardest. The quiet gave your mind too much room to wander, dredging up memories you’d rather forget. One evening, you found yourself outside, staring at the vast expanse of desert under a blanket of stars. You didn’t expect company, but the sound of footsteps behind you made you turn.

It was Hotch.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked.

He shook his head, stepping closer until he was standing beside you.

“Me neither,” you admitted.

For a while, you just stood there, the silence between you feeling strangely comfortable.

“I read your file,” he said eventually, his tone careful.

You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Did you now?”

“You’ve handled some difficult assignments. Made a name for yourself.”

There was no arrogance in his words; it was just observation.

“Guess you could say I have a knack for throwing myself into the fire,” you replied. Something flashed across his face like he was going to respond with something, but he didn’t.

Neither of you spoke for a while, but his presence was steady, almost calming.

“Why are you really here?” you asked, breaking the quiet. Nobody in their right mind would have volunteered for this unless they either A) had nobody to go home to at night, or B) were trying to forget about something else. You could tell by the small photo Hotch carried around of, presumably, his son it wasn’t option A.

He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was low, almost reluctant. “Because it’s easier than being back home.”

You nodded, understanding more than you cared to admit. “Yeah. Same.”

He glanced at you, something unreadable in his expression. “What are you running from?”

You hesitated, the question hitting too close to home. “A mistake. One I don’t want to repeat.”

He didn’t press for details, and you were grateful. Instead, he said, “Sometimes running is the only way to keep moving.”

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure if you agreed.

……

As the mission dragged on, the weight of it started to press down on both of you. You began to notice how Hotch avoided certain topics, not that personal topics frequently came up. You noticed how his eyes darkened when the name "Prentiss" came up from the communication specialist on the special ops team.

You didn’t ask--he didn’t offer--but the pieces slowly started to come together. You had to be living under a rock in this field not to have heard about the major loss the BAU took this past year.

One night, after another tense meeting, you found yourselves in the makeshift kitchen, both reaching for the last cup of coffee.

“You take it,” you said, stepping back.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“I insist. I’ve had worse days.”

Something shifted in his expression, a flicker of understanding. “I doubt that.”

You smirked, the slightest crack in your guarded exterior. “Careful, Hotchner. That almost sounded like empathy.”

His lips twitched--the closest thing to a smile you’d seen from him. “Don’t get used to it.”

….

A sudden sandstorm sent the entire team scrambling for cover. The wind howled outside the command tent, shaking the canvas walls as you huddled with Hotch and two other agents.

“Typical,” you muttered, brushing sand off your gear. “Mission’s hard enough without Mother Nature making it worse.”

Hotch sat across from you, his expression unreadable as he tightened the straps on his vest. He was scruffier than he was when you first arrived. It wasn’t a bad look, but you brushed down that thought.

“You’ve been through worse,” he said matter-of-factly, not a question but a statement.

You let out a short laugh. “Don’t give me too much credit, Hotchner. I’m not invincible.”

“No one is,” he replied, his tone softer than you expected. “But you’re resilient. I can see that.”

The compliment, if you could call it that, caught you off guard. You didn’t reply, unsure how to. Instead, you focused on the storm outside, the roar of the wind drowning out everything else.

But later, when the storm passed, and you stepped out into the eerily quiet desert, you found yourself glancing at Hotch. He met your gaze for a moment, and something unspoken passed between you--a mutual respect, a shared understanding.

….

It was late, and the compound was finally quiet. You were seated at a makeshift table, cleaning your sidearm, when Hotch approached with two cups of coffee.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said as he set one down in front of you.

“I doubt that,” he replied, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone.

You took a sip, wincing at the bitter taste. “God, this is terrible.”

“It’s coffee,” he said with a small shrug as if that explained everything.

You glanced at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Do you ever lighten up, Hotchner?”

His lips twitched, almost a smile. “On occasion.”

“Define ‘occasion.’”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze drifting to the weapon in your hands. “When it’s earned,” he said finally.

It was a cryptic response, but it made you smile anyway. “Well, I’ll consider this progress.”

He sat with you in silence, but it was comfortable. The company was more needed than either of you realized.

….

The day had been relentless, the kind that left your muscles aching and your mind frayed at the edges. You had lost count of how many hours you’d been awake--thirty, maybe forty. Every bone in your body screamed for rest, but the tension from the mission had settled into your chest, making sleep impossible.

You found yourself outside the command tent, slumping onto an old crate with a half-empty water bottle in your hand. The distant hum of generators buzzed like a white noise machine, masking the desert’s eerie quiet.

Hotch appeared a few minutes later, wordlessly lowering himself onto the crate beside you. His presence, steady as always, should have been comforting, but tonight it only made the lump in your throat harder to ignore.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You told yourself you liked the silence, but the truth was, it gave your thoughts too much room to spiral. Your chest felt tight, and despite the coolness of the night, your face burned with exhaustion-fueled frustration.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you blurted out, the words tumbling from your mouth before you could stop them.

Hotch turned his head toward you, his face unreadable but his attention sharp. “Why do you say that?”

You let out a shaky breath, staring out into the endless darkness of the desert. “Because I’m running. I didn’t know what else to do.” You hesitated, feeling the weight of your own admission. “I thought putting space between me and...everything would help, but maybe it just makes it worse.”

The words sat heavy in the air, and you instantly regretted saying them. You felt exposed, as though admitting it aloud would make it all the more real. Your hands fidgeted with the bottle, and you kept your gaze fixed ahead, unwilling to meet his.

You thought about the way your life had pretty much unraveled around you back at home. If it wasn’t for work, you’re not sure you’d still be standing on your two feet. Here you could be the strong, independent person you aspired to be. At home, you were heartbroken without an end in sight.

The silence stretched long enough that you thought he wouldn’t respond. But then, in that low, even voice of his, he said, “It doesn’t make it worse. It just makes it...quieter. And sometimes quiet is all you can handle.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the quiet vulnerability in his tone. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, distant and heavy with something you couldn’t name.

“Is that why you’re here?” you asked softly, the rawness in your voice betraying how fragile you felt.

He nodded, barely perceptible, his gaze never leaving the horizon. “I thought being here might help me make sense of things. But some things…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing. “Some things don’t have answers.”

There was something about the way he said it--not defensive, not self-pitying, just honest. It broke through the dam inside you, and for a fleeting moment, you thought you might cry.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat tightening. The weight of his answer settled between you, tangible and heavy, yet somehow reassuring.

For the first time, the silence felt like a shared space rather than an empty one. You didn’t push for more. You couldn’t, not with your emotions already threatening to overflow. But as the desert night pressed in around you, you realized you didn’t need to.

Whatever walls you both had built were starting to crumble, and neither of you seemed inclined to stop it.

…..

The air in the abandoned warehouse was stifling, thick with the smell of rust and dust. You moved carefully, your weapon drawn and your eyes scanning every shadow. Hotch was just behind you, silent but steady, his presence grounding you in the tense atmosphere.

The intel had been solid: a potential threat against the local embassy was being planned here, and your team had been tasked with gathering evidence. But now, as you crept deeper into the maze of crates and machinery, something felt off. The place was too quiet.

A faint creak made you freeze. You glanced back at Hotch, and he gave a subtle nod, his dark eyes sharp with focus. He gestured for you to take the left while he veered right. You obeyed without question, trusting his instincts as much as your own.

You edged around a stack of crates, your pulse quickening. The sound came again--a faint shuffle, followed by a whisper of movement. You tightened your grip on your weapon, adrenaline flooding your system.

Then everything exploded at once.

A figure lunged from the shadows, slamming into you with enough force to knock you off balance. Your weapon clattered to the floor as you struggled against the assailant, their grip bruising as they tried to pin you down.

“Agent Y/L/N!” Hotch’s voice cut through the chaos like a lifeline.

You twisted, freeing one arm, and drove your elbow into the attacker’s side. They grunted, loosening their grip just enough for you to push them off. But before you could retrieve your weapon, another figure appeared, this one heading straight for Hotch.

“Behind you!” you shouted, scrambling to your feet.

Hotch spun just in time, deflecting the attacker’s blow and delivering a calculated strike that sent them stumbling. But the odds were quickly stacking against you--more figures emerged from the shadows, their movements coordinated and purposeful.

“Fall back!” Hotch ordered, his voice calm but commanding.

You grabbed your weapon and fell into step beside him as the two of you retreated toward the exit. The sound of footsteps echoed behind you, growing louder with each passing second.

“We’re not going to make it out clean,” you said, your voice tight as you scanned for cover.

Hotch’s jaw clenched. “We don’t have to. We just need to slow them down.”

He pointed to a stack of crates near the exit, and you understood immediately. You fired a few shots, not aiming to hit but to force your pursuers to take cover. Then, together, you pushed the nearest crate, toppling it over and creating a barricade that bought you a few precious seconds.

“Go!” Hotch barked, motioning for you to move ahead.

“No way,” you snapped, falling into position beside him. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

His gaze flicked to you, something unspoken passing between you. It wasn’t the time for arguments, so he didn’t push it.

The two of you moved as one, covering each other as you navigated the narrow corridors toward the exit. Your heart pounded in your ears, but you didn’t let it distract you. Hotch’s steady presence was all you focused on, his calm precision a stark contrast to the chaos around you.

Finally, you burst into the open air, the sounds of shouting and gunfire fading behind you. You didn’t stop running until you reached the safety of the extraction point, where reinforcements were waiting.

You doubled over, hands on your knees as you caught your breath. Hotch was beside you, his breathing heavy but controlled.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

You nodded, straightening up. “Yeah. You?”

“I’ve been worse,” he replied, a faint flicker of dry humor in his tone.

You couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. “That’s one way to bond, I guess.”

Hotch glanced at you, and for the first time since the mission began, you saw something close to a smile on his face. It was brief, but it was real.

“Good work out there,” he said simply.

“Right back at you,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

In that moment, you realized just how much you trusted him--not just as a colleague, but as someone who had your back, no matter what. And from the way he looked at you, you had the feeling he felt the same.

….

The day had been unusually quiet. The base hummed with its usual activity, but the weight in the air seemed heavier that day. You had noticed it the moment you walked into the briefing room. Hotch had been there, as he always was, but there was something off.

His usual sharp focus felt dulled, his replies curt even for his standards. He spent more time staring at his tablet than actually reading it, and the lines etched into his face seemed deeper somehow.

You weren’t a profiler, but you didn’t need to be to know something was wrong.

Now, hours later, you found him alone in the makeshift command tent, the harsh glow of a desk lamp illuminating the strain on his features. He was seated, elbows on the table and his hands clasped in front of him, staring at a map as if willing it to make sense.

“You’re still at it?” you asked gently, stepping inside.

His head lifted slightly, but he didn’t look at you. “There’s a lot to prepare for.”

“There always is,” you replied, pulling up a chair across from him. “But it’s late. You should take a break.”

“I can’t afford to.”

The edge in his voice wasn’t aimed at you, but it still made you hesitate. You considered leaving him to his work, but something kept you there.

“Hotch,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the tense quiet. “What’s going on?”

He finally looked up, his dark eyes shadowed by something heavy. For a moment, you thought he might tell you, but then his expression hardened, his walls slamming back into place.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said, his tone measured but distant.

You didn’t believe him, not for a second. But you also knew better than to push.

Instead, you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. “You’re allowed to have off days, you know. Even you.”

His lips twitched, almost a humorless smile. “I don’t have the time for that.”

“You’re human,” you countered, your tone steady but not pressing. “It’s not a luxury. It’s just...life.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze dropping back to the table. But his hands, usually so still, were fidgeting now--his fingers twisting the edge of the map absentmindedly.

You let the silence settle between you, giving him space. After a few minutes, you stood and moved toward the coffee pot in the corner of the tent. You poured two cups, setting one down in front of him without a word before returning to your seat.

Hotch stared at the cup for a moment before picking it up, cradling it in his hands like it was the only thing tethering him to the moment.

“It’s fine,” he said abruptly, almost as if he was telling it to himself, though his tone betrayed him. “I just--” He stopped, shaking his head as if to dismiss whatever he’d been about to say.

“You don’t have to explain,” you said quietly, your voice steady. “We all have those days.”

He let out a breath, somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. “This one feels heavier.”

You didn’t know what he was carrying--something about him always felt impenetrable, as though he kept the world at arm’s length. But you didn’t need to know the specifics to recognize the weight he was under.

“You’re allowed to let it feel heavy,” you said after a moment, watching his reaction carefully.

Hotch’s hand tightened around the coffee cup, the faintest flicker of vulnerability flashing across his face before his walls went back up. “I shouldn’t let it distract me,” he muttered.

You leaned forward, resting your arms on the table. “Maybe letting yourself feel it for five minutes wouldn’t be a distraction. Maybe it’d just be human.”

He didn’t respond, but his jaw shifted as though he was grinding his teeth. His silence didn’t bother you--it was enough to just sit there, letting him know he wasn’t alone.

After a while, he spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not digging,” he said, finally looking at you. His gaze softened just enough to make your chest ache. “For just...being here.”

You offered a small smile, reaching across the table and resting your hand lightly over his. It wasn’t much, but the way his shoulders relaxed told you it was enough.

“I’ve got your back,” you said simply. “Whatever it is, you’re not alone.”

Hotch nodded, his grip tightening briefly on the cup before setting it down. He didn’t say anything else, but the tension in the room felt lighter somehow.

The two of you sat there in silence, the night pressing in around you. And while the weight of whatever he was carrying didn’t disappear, you could tell it didn’t feel quite so unbearable anymore.

…

The sun blazed mercilessly overhead, reflecting off the shallow, winding river that cut through the barren terrain. You adjusted your gear, sweat dripping down your temple as you followed Hotch’s lead. The mission had gone sideways--nothing catastrophic, but the extraction point was now miles further than planned, and the only route was straight through the rocky riverbed.

“Watch your step,” Hotch warned as he leaped from one jagged boulder to another. His movements were precise, practiced, but you could tell the exhaustion of the day was catching up with him.

“I was planning to fall flat on my face,” you replied, the edge of sarcasm in your voice lighthearted enough to soften the tension.

His lips twitched, that almost-smile you’d grown accustomed to. “Let’s avoid that.”

The river wasn’t deep, but the current was deceptively strong. The rocks were uneven; some were slick with moss, and others were barely stable. The whole setup was a sprained ankle--or worse--waiting to happen.

You made it halfway across before your boot slipped on a loose stone, your footing completely giving out beneath you. You stumbled, and the weight of your gear made it impossible to regain your balance.

Before you could hit the water, a substantial hand shot out, grabbing your arm and pulling you upright. The force of it brought you chest-to-chest with Hotch, his grip firm and steady.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and close, his breath warm against your temple.

“Yeah,” you managed, your own breath catching as you looked up at him. His face was inches from yours, and for a moment, the world shrank to just the two of you.

His dark eyes searched yours, something unreadable flickering in them--concern, maybe, or something deeper. He didn’t let go right away, his hand lingering on your arm as though he needed to make sure you were truly steady.

“I told you to watch your step,” he said finally, his tone softer than usual. His words did not match the gentleness in his tone.

“And I told you I was planning to fall,” you shot back, the corner of your mouth quirking up into a wry smile.

His lips twitched again, but this time, it felt closer to a real smile. His hand slipped away reluctantly, the warmth of his touch lingering long after he stepped back.

“Let’s keep moving,” he said, his voice all business again, though you caught the slight shift in his expression--something unguarded, fleeting, but unmistakably there.

…

The day’s trek had left you both bone-weary, but the setting sun brought with it a chill that seeped into your skin. The fire crackled low between you as you sat on overturned crates, the glow casting flickering shadows over the rocky outcrop that served as your makeshift camp for the night.

You had stripped down to your undershirt, your jacket drying on a nearby rock after the river crossing. Hotch sat across from you, rolling his stiff shoulders and rubbing his neck, his usual stoicism slightly cracked by the day’s exhaustion.

“You’re going to be sore tomorrow,” you commented, watching him massage the tension from his muscles.

“So will you,” he replied, his eyes flicking to your bruised forearm from the earlier stumble.

“I bounce back quickly,” you said lightly. “You, on the other hand, might want to consider a hot bath.”

His lips quirked, and he shook his head. “I’ll add that to the list of luxuries I’m missing out on.”

“Right after edible food,” you added, holding up the protein bar you’d been gnawing on. “This is basically punishment.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rare, and it made your chest tighten unexpectedly. You leaned back slightly, letting the warmth of the fire and the rare ease of the moment settle over you.

“You’re not always so serious, are you?” you asked, half-teasing but genuinely curious.

Hotch glanced at you, something unreadable in his expression. “Depends on the company.”

The weight of his words hung between you, and for a moment, you couldn’t look away. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting the lines of exhaustion and something deeper--something you couldn’t quite name but felt pulled toward.

“Well,” you said finally, breaking the tension with a small smirk. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on you before he nodded slightly. “You should.”

The fire had long since burned down to embers, but neither of you had moved. The quiet was comfortable now, a shared understanding that didn’t need words.

“You’re different,” Hotch said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. His tone was thoughtful, not heavy, but it made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t expect.

“Different how?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t push,” he said simply. “Most people do. They want something, even if they don’t say it.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening at the vulnerability in his words. “Maybe I just know what it’s like to need space.”

Hotch nodded, his gaze dropping to the glowing embers. “It’s rare,” he said quietly. “And...appreciated.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and you realized with a startling clarity that you didn’t want this moment to end. The mission, the chaos, the fleeting moments of quiet connection--they’d all built to this, and you weren’t ready to let it go.

You didn’t say anything, but you shifted closer, just enough that your knee brushed against his. He didn’t move away, and the warmth of his presence felt like an anchor in the cool desert night.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. But when he finally looked at you, the guarded distance in his eyes had softened, replaced by something you couldn’t name but felt deeply.

“Get some rest,” he said eventually, his voice low but gentle. “Tomorrow will come too soon.”

You nodded, standing and brushing the dust from your pants. But as you turned to leave, you paused, glancing back at him. “Good night, Hotch.”

“Good night,” he replied, his gaze following you as you walked away.

And for the first time since this mission began, you felt a flicker of something you hadn’t let yourself feel in a long time--something you weren’t sure you could name but couldn’t deny was there.

…..

The air in the base felt heavier than usual. The usual hum of activity buzzed in the background, but your focus was locked on the figure in front of you--Aaron Hotchner, standing by the transport vehicle, his duffel slung over his shoulder. A stark contrast to how he had shown up so long ago. Now, slimmer and with a face full of facial hair.

You hadn’t expected the mission to end like this--not with him leaving before it was over. The news had come down hours ago: he had been called back stateside. No explanation, no warning. Just orders.

“Something urgent?” you asked, keeping your tone steady even as you struggled to meet his eyes.

He nodded, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight, a tell you’d come to recognize. “I have to return to Quantico. The team needs me.”

Of course, they do, you thought. You had known from the beginning that this wasn’t his world. His world was back home, leading the BAU, carrying burdens most people couldn’t fathom. Still, the abruptness of his departure left a hollow ache in your chest that you hadn’t prepared for.

You stepped closer, your arms crossed, not out of defiance but to keep yourself grounded. “We’ll manage here,” you said, the words feeling both true and hollow.

Hotch’s gaze flicked to you, his dark eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. “You will,” he said, his voice low. “You’re good at this.”

A faint, humorless laugh escaped you. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“It was,” he replied, a faint ghost of a smile on his lips before it disappeared.

The silence between you was heavy, filled with all the things you wanted to say but couldn’t. You weren’t naive. Whatever had brought him here was bigger than the mission, bigger than you. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch him leave.

“Will you be back?” you asked finally, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

Hotch hesitated, his gaze shifting to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again. “I don’t know.”

The honesty in his answer hit harder than you expected.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and nodded. “Well, in case you don’t…you know, good luck, Hotch.”

He studied you for a moment, as if committing your face to memory. Then, to your surprise, he stepped closer. His hand reached out, resting lightly on your arm.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For everything.”

The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you, but you didn’t pull away. “For what?”

“For being here. For making this easier,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You searched his eyes, the words catching in your throat. Instead of speaking, you reached up and squeezed his hand where it rested on your arm, the small gesture saying more than words could.

His hand lingered for a moment before he pulled back, his professional mask sliding into place once more.

“They’re waiting for me,” he said, his voice steady but distant.

You nodded, forcing a small smile. “Go. They need you more than we do.”

He hesitated again, his eyes flicking to yours one last time. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too,” you replied, your voice barely audible.

And then he turned and climbed into the vehicle. You stood there, watching as it pulled away, the ache in your chest growing heavier with each passing second.

When the dust finally settled, and the vehicle disappeared from sight, you let out a shaky breath, the reality of his absence sinking in.

You hadn’t expected this assignment to change anything. But now, as you stood alone under the relentless desert sun, you realized just how much it had--and how much he had.

You weren’t sure how you’d get over missing him the way you felt the minute he left your side.

…

The harsh glow of the tent's fluorescent light was a poor substitute for the sun. You rubbed your temples, trying to chase away the dull ache that had settled behind your eyes after hours of pouring over intel. The mission dragged on, one step forward and two steps back, and you were beginning to feel the weight of it pressing down on you.

The faint crackle of the comm system startled you, drawing your attention to the communications officer stationed at the other end of the tent. His head tilted, listening intently before he turned and called out, “Y/L/N, secure line for you. Priority channel.”

You blinked, confusion flashing across your face. Secure lines weren’t uncommon, but they were usually pre-arranged. Rising from your chair, you crossed the tent, curiosity buzzing in the back of your mind.

When you picked up the headset, the officer handed you a notepad with a string of verification codes scrawled across it. “Verify the code,” he instructed.

You input the code into the secure terminal, and after a moment, the line cleared. “This is Y/L/N,” you said cautiously.

There was a beat of silence, then a familiar voice. “It’s Hotch.”

Back in Quantico, Hotch leaned back in his chair, his fingers gripping the phone tighter than necessary. The bullpen below his office was dim and quiet--most of the team had left for the night, but the stillness did little to ease the weight pressing on him.

The fallout from the Ian Doyle case was still reverberating through the BAU. Emily’s return had blindsided the team, and though he had tried to justify the deception, the cracks in their trust were impossible to ignore. Strauss’s scrutiny had sharpened, and his every decision seemed to be under a magnifying glass.

He hadn’t called to talk about any of that. He couldn’t.

But the familiar tension in his chest--the suffocating combination of guilt, stress, and isolation--had driven him to dial the secure line. He wasn’t even sure you’d pick up, but when your voice filtered through the line, steady and sure, it was like a knot in his chest loosened.

You straightened instinctively, surprise rippling through you. “Hotch,” you repeated, unable to keep the astonishment from your tone. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he replied, his voice steady but laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“You’re not…no,” you assured him, leaning against the edge of the table. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause, the kind that stretched just long enough for you to sense the weight behind it. “I just wanted to check-in. See how things are going on your end.”

You frowned slightly, his words not matching the tension you could hear in his voice. “Things are...as expected. Slow, frustrating, and complicated. But manageable.”

“Good,” he said, the word clipped, almost distracted.

You weren’t a profiler, but the exhaustion in his tone was unmistakable. He sounded like a man carrying too many burdens, with no room to set them down.

“You sound tired,” you said gently, knowing better than to pry.

He let out a soft exhale, the kind that felt heavier than it should. “It’s been a long few weeks,” he admitted, though his words felt like an understatement.

Hotch closed his eyes for a moment, your voice cutting through the static in his mind. He could still see the look on Morgan’s face when Emily had walked into the room, the betrayal simmering under the surface. He could hear the edge in Strauss’s tone as she grilled him about his decision to keep the team in the dark.

But here, with you, there was no judgment. No interrogation.

“You’re taking care of yourself, right?” you asked, keeping your tone light but genuine.

A soft scoff met your ears. “I’m trying,” he replied, the words carrying a note of dry humor.

You smiled faintly, leaning back against the table. “That doesn’t sound convincing.”

His silence stretched again, but this time it felt less heavy. You knew he wasn’t the type to reach out without a reason, but you also knew he wouldn’t say more than he wanted to. And you weren’t going to push.

“Thank you,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm.

You blinked. “For what?”

“For picking up,” he said simply. “For not asking.”

Your chest tightened slightly at the honesty in his tone. “Of course,” you replied softly. “You don’t have to explain anything, Hotch. You know that.”

For a fleeting moment, Hotch considered telling you. About Emily. About the team’s trust--or lack of it. But the words felt too heavy…too complicated to put into the space between you. He didn’t want to drag you into the mess, especially not when you had your own mission to worry about.

And yet, knowing you were there, steady and unwavering, brought him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in weeks.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the faint hum of the secure line filling the silence. Despite the distance between you, the connection felt tangible--grounding.

“I should let you get back to work,” he said finally, although his voice sounded reluctant.

“Yeah,” you agreed, even though you didn’t want the call to end. “But Hotch...don’t wait so long to call next time, okay?”

There was a pause, then a quiet, almost imperceptible, “Okay.”

And then the line disconnected, leaving you standing there with the headset in hand and a heaviness in your chest you hadn’t felt in weeks.

Across the ocean, Hotch set the phone down, his hand lingering on the receiver. For the first time in days, the storm inside him felt a little less suffocating. And though he couldn’t explain why, he knew that calling you had been the right choice.

….

Throughout the remainder of your mission in Pakistan, Hotch’s calls came sporadically, never announced, and always brief. Each time the secure line connected, his voice carried a steadiness that seemed to ease the tension that surrounded you. The conversations were simple--updates on the mission, quiet exchanges about the weather, or mutual remarks about the relentless grind of your respective work.

Yet, beneath the surface, those calls meant more.

They weren’t about the words exchanged but the connection that had grown between you. Somehow, through the static of secure lines and the distance of continents, you felt you knew him intimately.

Not in the way of shared stories or confessions, but in the quiet understanding of someone who had seen the same kind of pain.

Hotch never spoke about what weighed on him, and you never pressed. He didn’t need to. The heaviness in his tone, the pauses that lingered too long--they told you everything you needed to know. And you, in turn, found comfort in the silence he offered, in the unspoken acknowledgment of your own burdens.

It was a strange closeness, one that felt both fragile and unbreakable. You knew so much about each other, and yet nothing at all. He never asked about what had driven you to this mission, and you never asked about the strain you could hear in his voice. Yet, you understood each other in a way that words couldn’t capture.

In those stolen moments on the phone, it didn’t matter that the world outside was relentless. It didn’t matter that neither of you could put your pain into words. What mattered was that, for a few fleeting minutes, you weren’t alone. And somehow, that was enough.

It was those moments that patched up the pain in your chest, almost making you forget about the heartbreak you left at home. The failed relationships, the loneliness…you wondered how it would continue on--or if it would continue on once you were back home. You hoped.

…..

The bullpen at the BAU was its usual hive of activity, with agents moving between desks, typing up reports, and chatting quietly between tasks. But today, there was an undercurrent of curiosity rippling through the team--one that centered on Hotch.

Seated at her desk, Garcia spun her chair toward Morgan, a playful smirk on her lips. “Alright, Derek, spill. What’s with the boss man and those secretive phone calls he’s been making?”

Morgan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “What makes you think I know anything, Baby Girl?”

Garcia raised a skeptical brow, gesturing dramatically toward Hotch’s office. “Because every time he steps in there and picks up that phone, he looks...different. Like, not his usual stressed-out-because-the-world-is-burning look. It’s something else.”

JJ, passing by with a file, paused to join the conversation. “You’re not wrong,” she said thoughtfully. “I noticed it, too. He’s been...quieter lately. More introspective. Not that Hotch is ever exactly chatty, but it’s different.”

Rossi appeared from behind them, holding his ever-present coffee mug. “And you’re all assuming that a few phone calls mean he’s seeing someone?” His tone was teasing, but there was genuine curiosity behind it.

“I mean, it wouldn’t be the craziest thing,” Morgan replied with a shrug. “The man deserves a little happiness. Maybe he finally found someone who gets him.”

Reid, seated nearby with his tablet, looked up. “It could be related to the fallout from the Doyle case. He might be reaching out to someone for professional advice or support.”

Garcia shook her head dramatically. “Oh, boy-wonder, that’s far too clinical. This is Hotch we’re talking about. If he’s calling someone regularly, it’s personal.”

JJ frowned slightly, leaning against her desk. “Whoever it is, I just hope they’re good for him. After everything with Haley, and now the strain with the team...he needs someone who can be there for him.”

Rossi took a sip of his coffee, his gaze flicking toward Hotch’s closed office door. “Maybe it’s not about what they say. Sometimes, it’s just about having someone who listens. God knows that man doesn’t let anyone in easily.”

The group fell into a contemplative silence, their gazes drifting toward the office where Hotch was currently on a call. Inside, his expression was characteristically composed, but the slight relaxation of his shoulders and the faintest twitch of a smile betrayed something softer.

Morgan broke the silence first, smirking. “Well, whoever this mystery caller is, they’ve got our fearless leader smiling. I say we let him have this one.”

Garcia gasped dramatically, clasping her hands together. “Smiling? You saw him smile? Oh, this is bigger than I thought.”

JJ and Rossi exchanged amused glances, and even Reid couldn’t suppress a small smile at Garcia’s theatrics. But beneath the playful banter, the team shared a collective hope--that whoever was on the other end of those calls was helping their stoic leader carry at least some of the weight on his shoulders.

….

Hotch sat in his office, the low hum of activity in the bullpen barely reaching his ears. His personal phone buzzed on the desk beside him, an unfamiliar number flashing across the screen. He frowned, picking it up cautiously. It wasn’t often he got calls from unlisted numbers on this line.

“Aaron Hotchner,” he answered, his tone brisk.

“Well, that’s formal. Do you always answer like you’re being interrogated?”

His breath caught, the familiar voice pulling a genuine, if fleeting, smile to his face. “Agent Y/L/N. I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you teased. “Just because I’m not in Pakistan doesn’t mean I’ve vanished. I still exist, contrary to popular belief.”

“Good to know,” he replied, leaning back slightly in his chair. “I heard you finished the mission. Back stateside?”

“For now,” you said, your tone carrying the same measured ease he remembered. “It’s just a pit stop, though. The CIA doesn’t let its covert operatives sit idle for too long.”

“Sounds familiar,” he said, the faintest trace of humor in his voice. “How’s it feel to be back?”

“Strange,” you admitted. “Like I’m not entirely here, you know? You get that, don’t you?”

He did. More than he cared to admit.

“I do,” he said simply, his voice low.

“And you?” you asked, your voice softening. “How’s the BAU treating you?”

He hesitated, the weight of recent weeks pressing heavily on his chest. The fallout from the Doyle case, Emily’s return, the team’s shaken trust--it all simmered just beneath the surface. But he wasn’t ready to unpack that. Not now.

“Still busy,” he said instead, his voice even. “But you know how it is. Work doesn’t stop.”

“I do,” you replied, a knowing edge to your tone. “Sounds like you’re carrying more than just case files, though.”

He stayed silent for a moment, his grip tightening slightly on the phone. “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said finally.

“You always say that,” you said, a note of fond exasperation in your voice. “I’m starting to think it’s your catchphrase.”

“I don’t have catchphrases,” he replied, his lips twitching in the faintest of smiles.

“Sure you don’t,” you shot back. “Next, you’ll tell me you don’t ever crack a smile.”

“That’s a rare occurrence,” he said, his tone lighter.

“Well, I must be one of the lucky few then because I swear I’ve seen it.”

The warmth in your voice caught him off guard, but he didn’t mind it. Not one bit. “You’re in a unique position.”

“Unique, huh?” you teased. “You make it sound so exclusive.”

“It is,” he admitted, his voice softening. “Not many people see past the job.”

Your tone matched his now, the playfulness giving way to something more sincere. “That’s because the job is easier to focus on. It’s harder to look past it.”

He let out a quiet sigh, nodding even though you couldn’t see him. “You’re not wrong.”

The call buzzed with a quiet warmth neither of you acknowledged outright, but both felt. Hotch leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment before letting out a breath. He stared at the phone in his hand, debating whether to say what had been sitting in the back of his mind.

"So, this call," he said, his voice measured but holding a thread of something lighter. "Official business, or are you just checking up on me?"

"Can't it be both?" you asked, your teasing tone doing exactly what you intended--it made him relax, even if just a little.

He let out a soft laugh, surprising himself. "I suppose it can."

"I don’t know," you said, your voice playful. "Can it?"

He hesitated just a moment before admitting, “I actually thought about calling you too; I wanted to see how you were doing. And…I guess I needed to hear a familiar voice.”

The silence between you settled softly, comfortable, and filled with an understanding neither of you needed to articulate.

“Well, I’m doing okay,” you said finally, your tone calm. “Work’s the same. Chaos, classified details, long hours. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” he replied, the weight of shared experience clear in his voice. “Too familiar.”

“And you?” you asked gently, your tone softening. “How are you, Hotch? Really?”

He hesitated again, the instinct to protect himself battling against the trust he felt when speaking to you. “I’m…I’m managing,” he said at last, quieter than before. “But it’s...been a lot.”

You didn’t push. You never did. That was one of the things he appreciated most.

“Well,” you said, the warmth returning to your voice, “if you ever feel like you need to step away from saving the world, give me a call. I’ve got plenty of experience in chaos management.”

He let out another rare, quiet laugh. “I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” you said lightly. “Don’t be a stranger, Hotch.”

He let the words settle, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. He wasn’t sure what prompted him, but before the conversation could end, he spoke again.

“Actually,” he started, his voice betraying a hint of nerves that even he couldn’t suppress, “have you ever thought about meeting up?” The question lingered, and he immediately wondered if he had overstepped. “I mean, if your schedule allows it,” he added, his tone faltering slightly. “I know how demanding your work is.”

You paused, clearly caught off guard. “Meeting up?” you repeated, a smile audible in your tone. “You mean in person?”

“Yes,” he said quickly before he could second-guess himself. “I just thought…you’ve been a consistent voice through everything, and…” He trailed off, realizing he didn’t know how to explain it without giving too much away. “It would be nice to catch up.”

“I think that sounds...great,” you said after a moment, your voice softer now. “Though I should warn you, Hotchner, I’m still terrible at small talk.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he replied, his lips twitching into a smile.

“Well,” you teased, “I don’t know if I should be flattered or worried.”

“Flattered,” he said, surprising himself again with the sincerity in his tone.

The brief pause that followed carried an unspoken weight, a quiet understanding of the connection that had been building between you since the mission in Pakistan. Neither of you said it outright, but it was there, tangible in the way you lingered on the call longer than necessary.

“I’ll check my schedule,” you said lightly, breaking the silence. “But don’t think I won’t hold you to this.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he replied, his voice steadier now.

When the call ended, Hotch sat back, his thoughts circling the conversation. He realized that while he still didn’t know the full scope of your personal life or if there was someone waiting for you back home, he felt compelled to try--to find out, to see where this connection might lead. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself the thought of something beyond the weight he carried every day.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @superlegend216

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the-library-alcove · 6 days ago

Text

Annotated Debate Between Hen Mazzig and Kei Pritsker

Source

Full text and commentary under the cut, original annotations done on Google Docs here, being shared here on tumblr due to some people being unable to see the comments.

Commentators include myself, @strangestructures, and several others.

~~~~

Hen Mazzig: My name is Hen Mazzig. I’m an Israeli author, activist, advocate and founder of the Tel Aviv Institute. I was born and raised in Israel. My family came from Iraq and North Africa and I live in London today with my partner. He is not Jewish. My focus is on Jewish advocacy and fighting antisemitism and hate online in all its forms.

Kei Pritsker: I’m Kei Pritsker. I’m co-director of The Encampments. I’m a journalist with Breakthrough News.

(Here is Kei's Canary Mission profile; https://canarymission.org/individual/Kei_Pritsker)

HM: I was just interested in your background, Kei.

KP: I mean I’m a journalist, I’m a student activist. I was involved in the Palestinian student groups. This is an issue I’ve been involved in heavily for a big period of my life.

(Kei refuses to give any personal background, sticking solely to professional, in contrast to how Hen gives both his personal and professional background in relation to this conflict.

Yeah, I tried to look him up online and there's nothing about him. I could confirm that he's been involved in anti-Israel activism since at least 2017 (source: canary mission), so at least he's right that it's been a big period, not just since oct. 7.)

HM: Got it, OK sorry.

I want to start with a current event; we’ve had a couple in the past few weeks that speak to both your areas of expertise. First with the Mahmoud Khalil arrest and deportation proceedings, and then the Mohsen Mahdawi case more recently. I wonder if each of you can describe how you feel about both cases. Kei, this in your wheelhouse, maybe you can start.

KP: Ya, I mean it was really horrifying to wake up to that news of Mahmoud being arrested. Our team found out like everyone else just on social media or news notifications. Having known him this was particularly devastating. But the way I see this is as something that really reflects the success of the encampments movement and the Palestine movement. The reason this is happening — the reason Mahmoud was arrested — his only crime is speaking out against the genocide and speaking in support of the Palestinian people.

(False; while Trump was doing it in a hamfisted way, there's no question that Mahmoud was in violation of the terms of his green card by supporting terrorist organizations and supporting attacking citizens. Also, Genocide Canard counter is at 1.)

And he is now being abducted.

(This language is conflation between a man held in detention but still able to communicate, and the Israeli hostages being held by Hamas)

The reason for it is Israel knows they’ve lost the narrative, they’ve lost the battle of ideas, they’ve lost the argument, and the encampment movement really proved they’ve lost the next generation.

("Israel controls the US government" Canard--presenting the crackdown as being done at the instigation and direction of the Israeli government, as if Trump wouldn't do it on his own for his own reasons)

Because of this they’ve resorted to the last tool in their toolbox, which is essentially repression, censorship. This is why there’s such a concerted effort from the Trump administration to ban pro-Palestine speech, to ban freedom of expression. I can’t even think of a country you get deported for criticizing in the United States besides Israel.

(Also that they are trying to in some way center the Palestine situation in the USA context. When they say that is only in the USA that there is this "repression" against speaking for Palestine)

So while it was initially very shocking it really seems now this is a concerted effort to criminalize speaking out for Palestine.

(Continued "Israel Controls the US Government" Canard, plus "We're just criticizing the Israeli government!" downplaying of their actions.)

Because the mood and the consciousness in the U.S. has changed so much. There was a poll that came out recently that showed that for the first time in decades American perceptions of Israel are majority negative.

(If it's the poll that's been circulating on tumblr, I looked at the numbers and posted a more detailed analysis (https://www.tumblr.com/strangestructures/782103564186189824/that-is-definitely-concerning-however-the?source=share), and the truth is still that across all age groups, there are more people with a favorable opinion of Israel than a negative one. And a lot of people, especially in the younger cohort (18-24), simply don't care.)

This is because of the work of the pro-Palestine movement and people seeing what Israel is about in the last two years and learning about the history of Zionism. People are starting to wake up to what it really is and I think they’ve lost the narrative and now they’re resorting to abductions, and it’s shameful and disgusting and I think it will blow back in their face.

Hen, what do you make both of what Kei is saying and the actions the administration has taken in recent weeks?

HM: Yeah, no it’s absolutely ridiculous to hear this response from Kei to be honest. I think that using words like abducted — we know what being abducted is; my family members and friends have been abducted on October 7 by Hamas, a terrorist group, that had been celebrated by the same people presented in this film.

(I want to add to this and note how Khalil is getting to write Op-Eds for newspapers, while hostages held by Hamas get used for propaganda videos)

And to speak to us about how the Trump administration is being controlled by Israel — somehow Israel is infiltrating America while with the encampments on college campuses, specifically campuses that have been bankrolled by Qatar, funders of Hamas gave billions of dollars to those American universities and in the last few years we’ve seen the radicalization of these students.

(Kei ignores and don't mention this point. I don't know if is because he knows or because he knows that even mentioning it is going to make him look bad)

While I’m personally not a supporter of Trump or these tactics of taking people and deporting them, I think we should be very mindful of the words that we’re using. And I think [pro-Palestine activists] know what they’re doing. The reason that they’re framing it this way is to equate the students that have spent 18 months making the lives of Jewish students a living hell, that’s why they intentionally exclude from the movie any voice of Jewish students.

[And portraying the Jewish students at the encampments] equates to “we’re not racists, we have some Black folks we can push forward.” Kanye West was quoted as saying that slavery was a choice. Is he a voice for the Black community? Of course not. No one would argue that. But here we are with encampments taking a fringe minority of American Jews that do not represent the American Jewish community which by and large is Zionist. Over 90 percent of American Jews describe a positive feeling toward Israel according to Pew Research.

So this whole, really, charade — it’s a way to mask a lot of hatred and turn it against us, as if we’re to blame for their arrests or attacks on Jewish students who are fearing for their lives. In the encampments you hear calls like “al-Qassam’s next target.” Mahmoud Khalil has links to Hamas. The Instagram page of one of these anti-Israel groups at Columbia activating their page just moments before the attacks on Oct 7. The leader of Iran is sending them praises, Ali Khamenei saying, “I’m so proud of what you’re doing.”

(This, exactly; he's not being deported for "protesting Israel", he's being deported for supporting terrorists.

Also add that when is convenient they ignore that they received Iran's support. They probably try to clean themselves as an effort of making propaganda against them.)

I mean I would be ashamed. I would not be saying this is a success. I don’t even know how they can hold both arguments in their heads, to say “we are being silenced ” while we’re seeing this everywhere in the media, from The New York Times to CNN to BBC, everyone is covering it as if it’s the only conflict that ever happened in the world, as if it’s the only war, while in Sudan or in Darfur — I don’t want to get into whataboutism so I won’t even name the countries that are having far worse human rights violations that are getting zero attention.

So I think the question here is why are we talking about those students that have used hate speech against Jews specifically for over 18 months as being the targets but not speaking of actual victims of deportation? Why are we talking about privileged students at Columbia that can afford hundreds of thousands of dollars to attend those universities and they’re becoming the victim? It’s very bizarre to me.

Kei, what do you make of Hen’s assertion that in your movie pro-Israel Jewish voices were not platformed, and that conversely some of the backgrounds of pro-Palestinian activists were played down?

KP: Hen, did you watch our film?

HM: Absolutely.

KP: Yeah I mean so there’s a whole scene dedicated to the pro-Israel presence at these encampments and how these pro-Israel students would go up to the encampments and tell people “you should be raped, I hope you’re raped,” “you should be killed, if you went to Gaza you’d be killed—

(So no actual reporting on pro-Israel Jews, no discussion, just one scene of them shouting at the encampments. Though I do admit this went too far.)

HM [sarcastically]: Raped? Why would they use this example?

KP: —for being gay.” There was also this lynch mob, the pro-Israel lynch mob that descended on UCLA and actually dragged students out of the encampments and beat them bloody and also fired fireworks into the encampments, which very well can kill people. You know, we did show both sides.

("Show both sides" = "cherry pick one example")

We showed what pro-Israel students said to the pro-Palestine side and we also showed the non-Zionist pro-Palestine Jewish students as well because quite frankly the media coverage you’re talking about — Hen you said the media coverage of the encampments was wall-to-wall coverage. You’re right but the coverage was 100 percent slanted in favor of Israel.

(Bullshit; media biases have been consistently in favor of Hamas on the Left. Also, "Jews control the media" canard.)

All the coverage was talking about alleged antisemitism, people being attacked and “oh my god it’s these dens of violence.”

(Supposedly the fact that there is a reporting in antisemitism that there is in the encampments it make is automatically pro-Israel because is against the movement. This is a false equivalence.)

Not only was there no truth to that, not only was there no video of that shown which, by the way, in the October 8 film there’s no video or evidence shown of any Jewish students being attacked.

(Funny, I've seen plenty of videos of people from these encampments attacking Jews, threatening them, or otherwise engaging in violence--typically while having their faces covered.

There's also the whole "not letting jews get to class" by putting the encampments in the way thing. Not sure to what extent blocking someone's path counts as violence, but...)

The evidence they put forward of antisemitism was people saying “Free Palestine” or “From the River to the Sea.” Yes the media coverage was wall to wall — obsessing over antisemitism that didn’t exist.

(Jews don't get to define antisemitism canard, plus the whole denial of a hostile environment.)

The purpose of putting our film out was to balance the unfair coverage of the media — which by the way was coming from people who never stepped foot in an encampment. I was there, I lived in the Columbia encampment for 12 days. Hen, the reason I live in the United States is because on my father’s side my grandparents were kicked out of Ukraine because of antisemitic pogroms.

(See, this would have been something to mention back at the start, Kei. But your choice of words are interesting, because it makes it very clear that you weren't raised as a Jew, and the closest Jewish connection you can claim is two generations back.)

If I saw real antisemitism there I would have left, I would have covered it, I would have said something about it. I didn’t see it at all.

(This isn't Real antisemitism Canard)

What we wanted to cover was the anti-Zionist Jewish students, which is a growing phenomenon, thousands, tens of thousands, millions of young Jews in the United States

(eyeroll There aren't "millions of young Jews" in the entire world, just as a matter of demographics. Unless you're somehow claiming that every Jew under 30 is an "antizionist", then mathematically can't be, and that's before we even get into the fact that the number of antizionist Jews is somewhere in the ballpark of at most one million Jews. at most, being under ten percent of fifteen million people. So this is the "Silent Moral Majority" logical fallacy.

They also seem to not realize that when centering in the anti-Zionist jews they are not showing a jewish perspective because the other parts of the group, the ones that don't have an opinion or are zionist, are not considered for the film and also banned from the encampments.)

are realizing their Judaism doesn’t have to be tied to Jewish ultranationalism,

(Redefining zionism canard)

or a Jewish ethnostate

(ethnostate canard)

that kills people, that bombs hospitals, that bombs schools

(falling for Hamas' policy of why they use human shields the way they do)

and says that Palestinians have no right to live in their country of origin.

(Generalizing the opinions of the Israeli far-right as being the common one from the in all Israelis)

Jews are reacting to that en masse. So that’s my goal. To balance out the narrative which was completely skewed by the mainstream media.

("Jews control the media" canard)

We put something out and let the students speak for themselves.

Hen, Kei is making the point that there was a lot of vilification happening of these students, whether from the media or elected officials. What would your response to that be? And particularly in terms of Jewish protesters, we see in the film scenes of Jewish students who are actively practicing their Judaism in the encampments,

(I'm sure they exist, but I also can't help but think about the JVP "seder plate" and "sukkah". In general, the way Judaism is practiced in the camp feels very performative, and in many cases it's quite noticeable that these are people for whom practicing Judaism is unusual, either because they are disconnected from their community or because they are not actually Jews.)

and who are making a case for being Jewish without the state of Israel. How should we be looking at them in your view?

HM: Ya. I mean there are anti-Zionist Jews that exist in the world. For some reason they receive the majority of the representation in this film. That is my issue. The majority of American Jews are Zionists and you can add another seven million Jews in Israel. So you can say it’s a “growing phenomenon” but there are a lot of “growing phenomena” that are still very small and not representative. It’s like saying Caitlyn Jenner speaks for all trans women. No one would make this argument but here we are able to tokenize a minority, a fringe community, and weaponize it against us. It’s not because they care about Jews and wants Jews to be represented. It’s that they hate us so much that they’re doing this and gaslighting us. I’m sorry I’m getting passionate but it’s really I feel like they’re living in a different universe. I’ve seen the videos on these campuses — not the encampments because for some reason I’m not allowed there — but I’ve seen the violence in the videos of these young Jewish students that send them to me and they’re afraid for their safety. They kidnapped a janitor that was not even Jewish in Columbia.

(This is ignored by Kei and doesn't try to refute it.)

For anyone to say there was not antisemitism in the encampments is completely ludicrous. They weren’t saying support Palestine, they were calling for support for Hamas.

Even the October 8 film that Kei was mentioning there were clips of protesters saying they were Hamas, a terrorist organization that brutalized and killed over 1,000 Israelis on October 7 — kidnapped, killed babies, raped people. That’s why a lot of Jewish students were so upset and were calling out the rape of young girls that came back from Hamas captivity and testified about rape. We have recorded testimony of rape from a former hostage, Amit Soussana, and instead of engaging with that she was gaslighted and told she was lying. I’m sure that’s where those comments came from about rape. They are terrible comments. But I also think we need to recognize the pain Jewish students are going through. So if it’s true that someone said that someone should be raped, and I don’t know if it really happened, but if it happened I think it’s horrible and I also think it’s horrible to tell Jewish women they weren’t raped, and to deny it and say that Jews aren’t in danger when their dorms are being vandalized and the chants of “Zionists Get Out” when we know the majority of Jews are Zionists. How do you expect them to feel? Most Jews believe in Israel’s right to exist — that’s what Zionism is. So this chant is coded hate against Jews.

Kei, you’re privileged enough not to feel intimidated, good for you. The majority of Jewish students that I know and have spoken to, the majority of Jews in America, have a completely different experience than you. So it’s great you’re able to be a part of a tiny, tiny piece of the Jewish community and you take this and put your energy into presenting something but it’s just not the truth and it’s not reality and it’s completely whitewashing the violence and the hate that has been documented over and over again. You can see it anywhere, anyone can Google it, I don’t even need to cite it because there’s so much of it.

KP: if you’re saying there was violence that took place, tell me what happened.

(Hen gave specific citations and examples, so this qualifies as a goalpost move. "No violence occurred." "Yes it did, here are some specific examples." "Give me more examples.")

HM: Oh you think if you put a sign that says “al-Qassam’s next target” is that an issue for you or is that something legitimate? Is that a call for violence or not?

KP: Sorry, well you said someone was attacked. Who got attacked?

HM: I’ll find you some — I mean everyone can Google all of those cases but yeah there were Jewish students that were attacked. In Los Angeles I remember the bloody face of the student that was attacked.

KP: Yeah those were students in the Palestine encampment. It’s in our film; did you watch our film? Those students in the Palestine encampment that were ripped out and beaten by a Zionist mob and they fired fireworks into the UCLA encampments.

(Double standard of the violence only committed against the encampment are the ones that should be critize.)

That was pro-Israel violence. Those were pro-Israel people that beat up pro-Palestinian students. Who were the Jewish students who were attacked again?

HM: Do you think that calling to kill Jewish students is ok? That’s not attack, that’s not violence for you?

KP: I don’t agree with it. But it’s speech. It’s not violence.

(This is coming from the same ideology that views misgendering someone as an act of violence, but apparently saying someone is a terrorist group's next target is just "free speech". Please note the parallel with the same sort of behavior on the Right.)

HM: Oh it’s speech? To call someone to be killed is speech Kei? Are you serious?

KP: I don’t agree with it. But you said someone was attacked.

HM: I’m sending links, don’t worry, I’m sending links. Here you go. [Links appear in chat.] This is one link to an incident with two Jewish students at DePaul. Don’t worry I’ll get you all the links and all the sources.

If I can distill what you both are saying a little. There seemed to be incidents that everyone here would agree are troubling. Telling a Jewish student they’re al-Qassam’s next target or to go back to Poland is not the kind of speech I think we can all agree should be used. Kei I guess the question as I hear it from Hen is whether you feel this was the norm, the culture, or this was anomalous or outside the encampment.

KP: So that’s exactly what I’m saying. Hen is kind of proving my point with the articles he’s sending. These articles are not from the encampments. I’m not speaking for every single person that has ever said “Free Palestine” in their life. I’m just saying the attacks he’s alleged weren’t attacks that took place at the encampments. [Looks at chat]. I mean you’re just spamming—

(Goalpost move; "Show me violence" shows violence "these cases aren't valid because I have moved the goalposts, and you're spamming anyway, because these aren't valid evidence since I've moved the goalpost."

The goal post moved is the one of Violence on the Campus to violence in the encampments. Kei or he didn't remembered Hen point or he didn't heard it)

HM: Sorry, I’m sending too many examples of attacks on Jews.

KP: No, I mean you said a Jewish student was attacked.

HM: I said Jewish students were attacked. There were attacks of Jewish students in their dorms, there was an example of Jews in California attacked outside a synagogue. You say it wasn’t part of the encampment, it’s hard to identify when they have masks on. But this type of spirit is the one that is leading to violence against Jews. if you want to tell me that Jews were not attacked then we have a different issue and I mean you live in a different reality.

KP: So again what I’m saying is there were not attacks on Jewish students in encampments and none of these [links] are examples of that.

("I wonder why there are no attacks on a minority in a space that isn't allowed inside of it")

HM: Because they weren’t allowed in.

KP: And moreover there’s ample evidence of pro-Israel students attacking the encampments. I’m not speaking for every single protest that there was no bad conduct. I think we can all agree that anyone being attacked — that violence is not acceptable, that we shouldn’t be attacking people for their opinions. What I’m saying is that someone saying “from the river to the sea” — it’s in our film, a whistleblower who worked for Columbia and logged these cases of alleged antisemitism and a lot of it was people saying that or wearing a keffiyeh to class.

("Tu quque" fallacy, goalpost move, and several other fallacies--"there isn't any violence on his side, but even if there is, the Zionists do it too! And besides, there hasn't been any violence inside of the encampments, and any examples of violence outside are downplayed and presented as "alleged antisemitism" or people chanting slogans or wearing a keffiyah, so the real violence is coming from the Zionists!")

These are not antisemitic things, these are people calling for an end to a 75-year occupation and humans rights abuses that have been condemned worldwide.

("Israel itself is illegitimate" canard)

It’s legitimate speech against — ironically — an actual violent occupation that’s happening in Palestine.

Like that’s the thing that gets me — everyone keeps talking about “Jewish students feel unsafe because they see flags waving.”

(I mean, given the behavior they regularly see from people carrying these flags, yeah, it makes sense. I also feel concerned when I see a Palestinian flag waving these days, and I'm not even Jewish!

Also says a lot, because there have been repeated instances of people aligned with Kai saying that the Israeli flag makes Palestinians feel "unsafe". So rules for thee but not for me, etc.

Oh yeah, didn't think about that. The reaction to the Israeli flag is a good example, for me, of the "Israel is ontologically evil" thing.)

Meanwhile the students are protesting an actual situation where entire cities are being wiped off the face of the earth.

(Exaggeration, and also falling for Hamas' human shields policy again)

Hen you have yet to say anything about that fact — you talk about the students on these campuses as privileged or whatever or people feeling unsafe walking to their dorms, but what about the fact that Israel has destroyed every single university in Gaza?

(Stripping context of this, along with the other accusations, to demonize Israel, instead of acknowledging that the reason for the destruction is because Hamas uses civilian infrastructure as shields. But stated like this, it's this narrative that Israel just blows up hospitals, schools, and other civilian infrastructure just because they can out of simple cruelty, instead of "they have to because terrorists are using them as shields")

That’s what our film is about.

(I mean, as far as I understand the film is not about Gaza directly, but about anti-Israel activism at American universities, which is exactly what the discussion has been about. So yeah, definitely moving the goalposts.)

What do you have to say about that? What do you have to say about the safety of the Palestinian students?

HM: Ya I’ll speak about this in a second. I just want to point out that i did not say there were peaceful signs that triggered Jewish students. It was a student holding a sign that said “al-Qassam’s next target” with an arrow pointing to the Jewish student. Of course there was no violence in the encampments — the encampments were closed to Jewish students—

KP: —No that’s not true, there were Jewish students in the Columbia encampment in our film—

("We have tokens that we trot out to defend ourselves against accusations of bigotry!")

HM: —if i can finish my sentence. They were closed for Jewish students that would not sign off and say that they hate half of the world’s Jewish population in Israel.

(Kei ignores and doesn't engage in this part even to deny it. Also he ignores that a member of a minority is expressing how he is perceiving those attacks. That is a double standard.)

If they’re not going to say it they’re not going to get in. That’s why the attacks didn’t happen in the encampments — because there was no one to challenge [organizers]. They closed them down and made sure it would be a sterile area for Jews — not all Jews, the 90 percent of Jews that are Zionists in America. And for those students in the encampments — I mean I heard those testimonies of them not having humanitarian aid or getting enough food and I found it a bit bizarre. For someone who is advocating for peace for both Israelis and Palestinians and has been for years now, as someone who spent five years as a humanitarian officer working on building hospitals in Gaza and the West Bank and Hebron and Ramallah and building schools for Palestinians, it’s been part of my work so I’m deeply committed to promoting peace through building bridges this way. The situation in Gaza is horrific, it’s absolutely horrific. It’s been horrific since October 7 when the world was silent about what happened and it’s been horrific since then.

You can quote Anthony Blinken saying that the protests around the world are part of what emboldened Hamas. Hamas continues to hold hostages, continues to oppress Palestinians in Gaza, and while according to what Kei is describing is one of the worst situations ever and yet they still refuse to release the hostages, they still refuse to end it. You know if they released the hostages there would not be justification to continue this war; this war would be over. We haven’t heard anyone in the encampments actually say this. “Why don’t you call for the release of the hostages,” someone asked them. They said “well, you know it goes without saying.” But everything else you need to say and this fact you conveniently ignore?

If the hostages would be released the war would be over. Women have been raped in Gaza by Hamas and they haven’t said a word about it. Well they have said a word about it — they said you shouldn’t believe those Israeli women and said that those babies deserve to be killed because they live in Israel. While ignoring far worse human rights violations and getting praised from the Supreme Leader of Iran, one of the most brutal countries in the world for gay people. But they haven’t protested for those gay people, for gay Iranians, they haven’t said a word about them. They have an issue with Israel because according to what Kei is saying it’s an ethnostate. Show me another country in the Middle East that isn’t an ethnostate. But what type of ethnicity are we talking about? It is the Jewish one or the Arab one? My family is from Iraq and Tunisia, we have the same ethnicity.

One last thing — this movie would have much more credibility if they didn’t have someone like Macklemore producing it. Someone who engaged in antisemitism and wore a Jewish nose and had Jewface on at a concert and he took up the Palestinian cause and is producing movies. Just very interesting why you’d be OK with someone that engaged in antisemitism to be the face of this movie. Would you be OK with someone that engaged in racism to be the face of a movie about the Black community?

KP: What’s this Macklemore issue?

(Out of all the things Hen said, Kei only concentrates on the one that affects him personally.)

HM: Why, it’s not a part of your film?

KP: I don’t know, what’s your issue with Macklemore?

HM: I’m asking if it’s a part of your film.

KP: If what’s a part of my film?

If Macklemore produced the film. He was an ep, yes?

KP: Ya he’s the executive producer.

HM: Yeah, so he has been criticized by the Jewish community for wearing a caricature of a Jewish nose onstage and Jewish beard and engaging in antisemitism to the point that he had to issue a public apology [in 2014] for what he did on stage in front of thousands of people.

KP: So I mean I actually didn’t know about this and just looked it up briefly and it looks like he apologized for it. It sounds like he made a mistake and I believe in people’s capacity to grow and apologize. As long as I’ve known him I’ve not gotten the sense he has an antisemitic bone in his body.

(And who are you that gets to decide that, Kei, as someone who is apparently outside of the Jewish community?)

He’s always talking to Jews and he’s been very outspoken about the issue of Palestine, that’s why we brought him on. Because he was someone who was outspoken after the genocide

(Genocide canard counter 2)

began, at great risk to his own career.

(I feel like the people defending Israel are at greater risk of being ostracized in creative communities, which destroys careers. But there were a few cases of people going too far and losing their jobs, so now anyone who "supports Palestine" is a potential martyr. And that's what they want to be, martyrs, because it puts them front and center and shows what good people they are.

Is this a form of getting the consequences out of proportion and center more in the "persecution" of the Pro-Palestine side than in the real numbers?)

So that’s why we chose him, and you know I can’t speak to anyone’s past but it sounds like—

HM: I’m sorry, I’m sorry to interrupt it’s just really important that we point it out, Macklemore wore a long nose onstage with a Hasidic outfit and marked the Jewish community. This is directly leading to violence against Jews and we know that. Kei be honest, would you accept someone that used blackface?

KP: No, no of course not. But it looks like he apologized.

(You don't even know the details, but "it looks like he apologized" is enough. Great, I can do anything I want as long as I give a token apology!)

HM: Would you accept someone if they apologized, would you take them as a producer, if someone used blackface?

KP: I mean again, some people have the capacity to change. And if he knows he did something wrong then that’s OK. I wasn’t aware of it.

(Gotta love the double standard. "Blackface is verboten but Jewface is okay if they've changed.")

If I can, I think the subtext of Hen’s question here if I’m understanding correctly is whether having Macklemore on the film coupled with the lack of hostage emphasis, whether that adds up to an antisemitic strain and not just an anti-Zionist strain, is that what you mean Hen?

KP: I just think this idea if he made a mistake and he apologized and Hen you’re making him out to be this raging antisemite.

(Again, who are you to say that he isn't? You're not Jewish, Kei.)

[On the hostages], there are Palestinian hostages. Israel imprisons tens of thousands of Palestinians every year — administratively detains them without charges. Children as young as 12 for throwing rocks at armed vehicles. I think if we’re talking about hostages we should talk about releasing hostages on all sides.

(So... acts of violence are okay, so long as the targets can shoot back, eh?

This is a double standard that or the Israeli are capable of defend themselves so they are valid targets?)

I mean I don’t understand the implication, you’re saying the students are antisemitic for not talking about Israel hostages but it would never be asked of the pro-Israel side to talk about the 10,000 Palestinians in Israeli prisons.

(It's interesting how just a few lines ago, "Israel is imprisoning tens of thousands of Palestinians every year for no reason", then gives a reason, and then says that there's only ten thousand. What happened to the previous years' batches? I'm bringing this up not just to point out Kei's routine goalpost moving, but also to point out that he also routinely exaggerates and inflates numbers, percentages, and groups as part of appeals to emotion, while, in contrast, Hen gives specific details, which are then ignored)

We’re not asking Hen to justify these things. I don’t know why the students are being made to speak about 200 Israeli hostages.

("See, they don't count, because they're not as human as Palestinians, and we don't have consistent principles that say that any hostages are bad. And I think that people kidnapped from their beds and babies are morally equivalent to people who are assaulting others with intent to injure or kill."

Also, I'm pretty sure that if I had the choice, I'd rather spend a year as a prisoner in Israel than a month as a hostage in Palestine. A prisoner and a hostage are not the same thing!)

Hen what would you say to that?

HM: Just to clarify, the 10,000 Palestinian prisoners — hostages, as he calls them — they have committed crimes and are held in Israeli prisons, right? And they get family visits by the International Committee of the Red Cross. I’ve actually facilitated many of those visits. And the ICRC goes and makes sure they’re being treated well. In fact in the latest hostage release eight Palestinian prisoners refused to go back to Gaza because they’ve enjoyed their treatment in these prisons more than they—

KP: That’s absurd.

("I haven't heard about it so it can't be true.")

HM: — that’s not a lot. But it’s a reminder they’re not hostages and to frame them this way is just meant to do one thing and that’s to —

KP: Sorry, I think they probably didn’t want to go back because Israel destroyed Gaza.

(Calls it absurd and then tries to reinterpret it in his favor.)

HM: Interesting, so they’d rather stay a hostage? No Israel hostage wanted to stay in the tunnels. That’s the difference.

KP: Yes, because Israel is the one responsible for killing many of the hostages.

(Ah yes, the "Israel kills it owns people" canard.)

If Netanyahu and Israel cared so much about the hostages they wouldn’t be carpet-bombing the place where the hostages are being held.

("Carpet bombing" canard. If Israel was actually carpet bombing the Strip, the death toll would be orders of magnitude higher.)

HM: Kei, have you been to Gaza?

KP: What?

HM: Have you been to Gaza? Have you been to a war in your life?

KP: No but I don’t need to go to Gaza—

("The information I've vaguely absorbed is enough for me to know everything.")

HM: So don’t say people are being killed [by Israelis]. You know each time a hostage has been killed it’s a tragedy that crushes all of us. And also civilians. Any civilians dying in this war. It’s horrific to all of us. But for you to use that, to weaponize it against me to say “your army kills hostages.”

KP: How am I weaponizing?

HM: Those hostages should not have been kidnapped by Hamas. Those hostages should not have been taken from their beds by Hamas and held in tunnels and babies should not have been kidnapped from their beds with their mothers and the women should not have been taken from her bed and raped in the Gaza tunnels. The fact that you don’t speak about it is the issue when you focus on Gaza.

KP: So here’s the reality, and it’s something the protesters have been trying to point out, that this didn’t start on October 7.

(Trying to downplay the atrocity of the 7/10 with the crimes of Israel from before as that justifies it.)

HM: When did it start? When my family was forced out of Iraq in 1941? When?

KP: I mean you can go back 100 years to the First Zionist Congress. You could go back even further.

HM: So when?

KP: So the one thing I want to point out is the premise of your film is this whole war, this genocide,

(Genocide canard counter 3)

started on October 7, on October 8.

(which is interesting, because Israel didn't respond militarily inside the Strip for weeks afterward. The only response on those days were from people like Kai, celebrating and throwing parties. Remember that one professor who said, on October 15th, that the attack was exhilarating and that anyone who disagreed wasn't human?)

But the genocide in Gaza started in 2007 when Israel imposed a full naval, ground and air blockade on Gaza.

(So, eighteen years of genocide, in which time the population tripled? Can I trade? I'll exchange 4 years of genocide with a 90% death rate for 18 years where the population balloons!)

HM: They have a border with Egypt.

KP: Let me finish.

HM: They have a border with Egypt. How did Israel enforce a blockade? Because Israel is supposed to be better? Oh, so you hold Israel accountable but not Egypt.

KP: No I criticize Egypt.

HM: Oh have you protested? I haven’t seen a single sign about Egypt, not even one. Not even in your film.

KP: Because the film wasn’t about the protests.

(Double standard with "we criticize Egypt also" but our main concern is Israel.)

HM: Oh it was about Israel.

KP: We’re absolutely critical of the Egyptian government. But hold on let me finish. In 2007 Israel imposed a full blockade of the Gaza Strip, controlling everything that goes in and out.

(Yes, because Hamas started using the Strip as a base to attack Israel with, using anything they could get their hands on.)

This policy has been described as being akin to an open-air concentration camp, and not for no reason.

(Holocaust Inversion.

I always wonder since when this is a open concentration camp and how are they supposed to be being exterminated, by dying of hunger or by the hand of Hamas?)

There was an Israeli minister of the Knesset who once joked that Israel is putting the Gazans on a diet, and what he was referring to was that Israel controls the flow of food into Gaza so much so that they can actually calculate the caloric intake of the people there.

(I find it telling that this speech is worthy of condemnation (and it is) but telling someone that they're the next murder target of a terrorist organization is "free speech".

Double standard also because this is used without even considering the time when it was said, but when someone points out the "Curse upon the Jews" of Hamas this considered outdated.)

The genocide in Gaza started long before October 7.

(Genocide canard counter 5)

There was a UN report written in 2018 saying that Gaza would be uninhabitable by 2020. Before October 7, 95 percent of the water in Gaza was unfit for human consumption; the average Palestinian in Gaza got four hours of electricity.

(Gee, I wonder why? Is it because Hamas trashed all of the infrastructure in order to repurpose it into rockets? Oh wait, it is!

Also, I still don't understand why Israel is supposed to be responsible for water and electricity in Gaza, a region they completely left, despite the amount of humanitarian aid Gaza gets.

Because these people think that Gaza is an "open-air concentration camp" and is thus under Israel's complete panopticon and control.)

If you put people in an open-air concentration camp why should we be surprised they try to break out?

(That wasn't trying to break out, that was a killing spree.

Says a lot about their mindset, doesn't it?

They want to clean this saying that a good chunk of the hostages were killed by Israel and that the members of Hamas that really killed someone are a minority, downplaying it.)

Just to quickly clarify, Hen was not involved in the film October 8; there may be some confusion because Debra Messing who’s on his show was an executive producer. But to amplify Kei’s point, Hen, the idea from pro-Palestinian activists that this didn’t start on October 7 but long before — some say 1967 [when Israel captured territory and borders were redrawn] or 1948 — and October 7 was not a beginning but a culmination, how do you respond to that?

KP: This is Israel’s policy and of course collective punishment is a crime against humanity. Regardless of what you think about Hamas or what their role is, to starve two million people because they had an election [in 2007] and elected a government you don’t like is a crime against humanity.

(Good thing that, according to multiple sources, including the UN, there was never famine conditions inside the Strip!)

HM: That we “don’t like.” Do you think Hamas was elected democratically? Come on.

KP: They were. There were international observers that went there and oversaw the election, whether you like it or not is not really the question.

(It was only an election in all the time that Hamas has been in power. And then they said it has been Israel fault that Hamas has been in power this long.)

HM: That’s why there’s a war. Because we don’t like an election.

KP: My point if you leave people in a condition like that, why are we acting so shocked when they decide to break out?

(No, because they keep sending rockets to Israel.

Even before this, the rockets were just the status quo, like the weather. The war was because Hamas invaded and went on a mass murder campaign.)

Were they supposed to just sit there and accept that and say “this is my new lot in life, I’m just going to live this way, I’m never going to question it, I’m never going to do anything about it? We’re just supposed to sit there and take it?”

(Double standard, Palestine can do anything they want in retaliation but the rockets that the Israeli receive they should do nothing.)

HM: No, so we’re supposed to sit there and take it when 1,200 people are being killed—

KP: You’re collectively punishing—

HM: That’s what you’re saying though. You’re saying that we should take it.

KP: You’re collectively punishing everyone in Gaza.

HM: You’re saying we should take it, that we should allow them, because we don’t understand what it’s like to have borders, and if you have borders you should be allowed to go and take hostages.

KP: You are collectively punishing the people of Gaza for a crime they didn’t commit. Literally for having an election.

(Ignoring Hen point and doubling down in his version that what happened in 7/10 should not have formed a reaction like that and downplaying that is because they don't like Hamas)

HM: No. No, the war is not punishment. There’s a war because of October 7. Because of the massacre of 1,200 people in one day.

KP: No there’s a war because Israel is enforcing a genocidal blockade policy in Gaza.

(Genocide canard count 6)

HM: You are supporting 1,200 people being killed and a baby being choked to death—

KP: You’re supporting 200,000 people being killed—

(Even Hamas isn't claiming that number; why do you want another 150,000 people dead, Kei?)

Guys, I understand the passion on both sides. If we can—

HM: I have passion because I’m connected to it. It’s my family that is on the line. It’s my friends that have been killed. That’s why I’m passionate. I’m not sure—

KP: It doesn’t matter if it’s your family.

(At this point, I think that Kai has made it abundantly clear where he stands--and where his ideology stands--regarding the worth of Jewish lives to them. I.e. Nothing.

Also being indirectly showing support to Hamas even if is contradictory.)

HM: It doesn’t matter if it’s my family?! Are you insane? No, I’m sorry Steve, I can’t—

OK, Hen, guys, let’s bring it back — I think we all feel understandably heated, we all have stakes in this, and, again, passion. I appreciate that. Let’s bring it back to some U.S. policy. [Long pause.] So we talked a lot about the Khalil and other incidents but there’s obviously a lot going on on campuses now. We’re seeing the Trump administration take action against Harvard and Columbia in the name of antisemitism, and I want to ask both of you just in terms of this policy now, how should we feel about it? Whether it will do any good? Because I think that’s what we can all hope for is to live more peacefully, I think we can all agree with that. Hen why don’t you start and talk a little bit about what you think of this approach.

HM: I need a minute. So let him go first [goes camera-off].

KP: So again, this policy is reflective of the larger crisis here for the Trump administration, for the military-industrial complex, for Zionism, for Israel, which is that they have lost the argument especially among the younger generation.

(Is that the "Jews control the government" canard again? Oh yes, yes it is!

Also, having looked over this whole thing again... this is almost word-for-word what he said at the beginning. This isn't a considered statement, it's a catechism--basically a rote answer delivered without thought.)

The pro-Israel side is trying to put forward this increasingly paranoid conspiracy theory that the reason this is happening is because everyone in the world is an antisemite, that the United Nations is antisemitic, that the ICJ is antisemitic, that The New York Times is antisemitic, that Human Rights Watch is antisemitic, that Amnesty International is antisemitic, that Harvard University is antisemitic, that Columbia is antisemitic, that students are antisemitic.

(Well, of course you're not going to believe it, Kei, but we can give evidence of antisemitism at all of those organizations--often from their own internal documentation.)

But I actually think the reality is that it’s not that everyone is irrationally hateful all of a sudden against Jews.

(Again, who are you to decide what counts as antisemitism, Kei?

"...all of a sudden" as if antisemitism isn't millennia old

Don't you know that antisemitism was invented by the Nazis in 1933 and was ended by the Allies in 1945! /s)

I think it’s that people are sick and tired of watching babies incinerated in their cribs,

(and I wonder how you saw video of that? Who took the video, who uploaded it, and who edited it? Which conflict did it come from? Oh, also, Blood Libel canard)

of watching people’s livelihoods destroyed, of watching entire families, entire bloodlines, wiped out.

(Unless they're Israelis, apparently)

I think people don’t like genocide.

(Genocide Canard counter 7)

And I think people are sick and tired of watching their government send money and weapons and 2,000-pound missiles to be dropped on apartment complexes and journalists.

(again with the "Israel is cruel and bombing just for shits and giggles and wanton cruelty" canard.

They really should learn why it is dangerous being a war reporter in general. Do they really think that a certification is like a force field or similar?

Don't forget that a lot of Hamas militants actively seek out being "independent journalists" in order to use that as a shield.)

Hen talks about journalists. This has actually been the deadliest conflict for journalists ever.

(Because they're all terrorists moonlighting as journalists; that's been shown repeatedly.)

Israel doesn’t want that truth out.

Kei, can I ask you just on that previous score. You mentioned a lot of organizations. I don’t want to get into specific ones but people on the right say that there is something endemic to left-wing organizations that can be antisemitic. Do you think that’s true? Clearly there are people on the right and far-right who have problems with antisemitism, I just wrote about some of them. But is is true on the left, with the pro-Palestine movement? I’ll mention this example because Hen just tweeted about it, that the suspect who tried to burn Josh Shapiro’s house down cited the Free Palestine movement. The argument is there’s a normalization that’s happening that says it’s OK to be antisemitic and can lead people like the suspect which, if he did what was alleged, to do something terrible. Is this a problem in your view in the Free Palestine movement?

KP: So with the Josh Shapiro incident, if you look at the video [the suspect] is clearly mentally ill.

("There is no systemic antisemitism on the Left. Everyone who is antisemitic is having a mental health crisis. There is no war in Bah Sing Se."

Also, you can look at a short video of someone and diagnose them with "mental illness". And mental illness leads directly to hate and violence against minorities, even if there's no hate against said minorities in society at large, because mentally ill people develop their hate out of thin air and are not influenced by society at large. And of course, there's the whole "mentally ill people are scary and violent" thing, which is not directly related to Israel / antisemitism, but I still found it worth pointing out. Mentally ill people are much more likely to be victims of violence than perpetrators.)

He has never posted about Palestine before. The idea that he’s some Palestinian activist is ridiculous. I think he probably has mental issues. I don’t think he has anything to do with the Palestinian movement.

("No True Palestinian activist would do this!")

So you’re not concerned about normalization of antisemitic rhetoric.

KP: Well again, what Hen is doing is making a false equivalency between anti-Zionism and antisemitism.

("Jews don't get to define antisemitism, only outsiders do.")

There’s growing anti-Israel sentiment in the United States which is true but to say that this has led to attacks on Jews I think is wrong. And a lot of the incidents, if you look at the ADL’s report on antisemitism, a lot of the antisemitic incidents being reported are just people speaking out in support of Palestine or wearing a keffiyeh or saying Free Palestine. That’s not antisemitism.

("Jews call everything antisemitism, and I don't understand micro-aggressions or hostile environments when they're targeting Jews."

They also put the ADL as being blindly Pro-Israel and with Trump government.)

Hen, what would you say to that, to the idea that tying antisemitism to an anti-Zionist movement is a false equivalency.

HM: Yeah. First I’ll quote the person that wanted to burn Josh Shapiro’s family alive. He said “I have said for years, years before October 7, that I favor a two-state solution, Israelis and Palestinians living peacefully side by side, being able to determine their own future and their own destiny,” that’s what he said to reporters just yesterday. To me it sounds like a legitimate call for peace and co-existence. But that made him go and try to burn down a Jewish family and Jewish governor. So there’s a lot of semantics here that are being thrown around. Since October 7 antisemitic incidents in America have reached an all-time high — yes, even statements about Palestine like the one I cited led this person to go and try to burn an entire Jewish family alive. I think there is a problem of antisemitism on both the left and the right and I think the fact that Kei didn’t even know that Macklemore has used Jewface — they would never touch someone who engaged in racism or homophobia but when it comes to antisemitism it’s such an afterthought that you didn’t even know about it, it wasn’t even an issue.

Maybe I’ll speak briefly about what I’m doing with And They’re Jewish. Because what’s striking to me is the contrast between The Encampments and my project, the whole notion that it’s something they’re not even related to — Kei said it doesn’t matter if you’re related to it — but I am related, I am a person invested in it, and the difference between his film and my series is that the film shows Jewish identity through the lens of political rage, through chants, through erasure, through deciding for Jews what is and isn’t antisemitism. It’s very political, and Jews are just a background noise at best or the villains at worst. But And They’re Jewish centers joy, creativity, diversity, humanity. And it reminds people that Jews are not just headlines or symbols in someone else’s protests; we’re real, complicated, vibrant people. And I think the world needs more of that right now. Because this sort of dehumanization that we’re seeing from the encampments and other causes is directly leading to violence against us, and there are reports after reports, study after study, that show how dehumanization of Jews is leading to violence against us, that led to the worst genocide in modern history of six million Jews.

And that’s our fear today — that this dehumanization, this afterthought about Jewish identity and the way we’re being portrayed by this [pro-Palestine] movement, even if it’s just in the guise of “we’re just speaking about Zionism; we’re just speaking about seven million Jews in Israel that we think should be killed, not all Jews,” it doesn’t matter, it harms real Jews, it’s how a 70-year-old Jewish guy was beaten to death in California at a protest, it’s how we ended up with Josh Shapiro’s house being burned, it’s how we end up with so much violence in this country against us, it’s how we end up being gaslighted about the horrific brutality of October 7.

Thanks Hen, I’m glad you talked about the show, and Kei, I’m glad we spoke about the movie. I hope you each continue to watch each other’s work and we all watch work even from people we don’t agree with. We have time for one last question, so I’ll ask each of you this: What’s something you would like to see change on your own side? Something thought about or done differently. Hen let’s start with you.

HM: I’d like to see more voices from the pro-Israel camp speaking up for Palestinian civilians. I think it’s important that we speak about suffering on both sides and that we humanize both Israelis and Palestinians and we make sure we’re focusing on people as human beings and not just as pawns in some dystopian story.

(Kei ignores this)

That we’re seeing real human beings. I hope Israelis and Palestinians will be seen on both sides.

Thank you for that Hen. Kei, same question. Anything you’d like to see done or handled differently on your end of things?

KP: Yeah, I think there are a lot of people in the U.S. that are being legitimately propagandized or lied to about who the Palestinians are and are being told the same narrative that they were told after 9/11, “a lot of Muslims are violent, that they’re hateful people and the Palestinians are our enemy that Lebanese people are our enemy.”

(American-centric glasses for the conflict, and not bothering to examine any deeper.)

But the reality is our enemy is the military industrial complex, it’s the generals, it’s these politicians who sell us on these wars. I would like the Palestine movement to really engage with more debate with these people who are coming forward and supporting Israel because I think a lot of them are being misled about who Arabs and Muslims and Palestinians are.

(Honestly, Kei, if you're an example of the level of good faith debate coming from your movement...)

Thank you for that Kei. A good note to end on from both of you. I think more understanding about who we all are is a good thing. Before we go I just want to give you guys credit. Usually with this conflict people are chanting behind barricades or talking to their followers and not engaging with another side. I know things got heated and there may be some raw feelings. That’s understandable. I hope everyone takes a minute to takes care of themselves. And then feels good about what they did. Not everyone is willing to sit here and have these conversations — hard as they are, important as they are. So thanks to both of you. I hope we can continue talking, and listening.

#antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #the anti imperialism of idiots #israel hamas conflict #jumblr

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yunsound · 3 months ago

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Director Jiaozi and the Chinese Animation Industry

If you’re on my page it probably means you’ve seen my endless gushing about Ne Zha 1 and 2. I’ve always been a huge fan of domestic animation (domestic for me meaning China) as well as international Japanese and Western animation.

In particular, I admire big blockbuster animated films that managed to both convey cultural, artistic and spiritual messaging through a medium as notoriously finicky as animation.

Some of my favourite animated movies (I think this is an opinion held by every animation fan) are the Spiderverse series (despite not being a Spiderman fan) and the Ghibli movies of my youth.

Being Chinese, though, I grew up with 2D animated TV shows that cemented their place in my upbringing. Shanghai Animation Studio movies such as Ne Zha Conquers the Sea 1979,

Havoc in Heaven 1961,

and even 1878’s Calabash Brothers (or Gourd Brothers? I guess?)

are all iconic parts of growing up as a Chinese.

Chinese animation has never been widely acclaimed on a global scale the way Japanese animation and sometimes Western animation have. The domestic animation industry is made entirely up of passion projects, which can seem great until you realise passion projects don’t typically tend to make money.

In a film industry as hyper-competitive and critical as China, most animation projects never tend to make it far. Art and music, while highly respected once you achieve success, have high barriers to entry. Chinese people are very critical of artistic work because of thousands of years of artistic development.

You may have heard of a recent animated film in China called A Mermaid Summer (or however it was translated). 2 people spent 7 years making it- the movie was bullied to oblivion.

A Mermaid Summer is, quite frankly, shit. It’s terrible. The animation is bad, the storytelling is bad, the voice acting is bad. It was, however, a passion project made by like 2 people on their own- people understand why it’s bad, and it’s not like we expected Oscar-worthy visuals.

Does this seem incredibly harsh to bully these two hardworking people? YES, it does! And it IS harsh and mean!

Understand that thousands of beautiful works (made meticulously and with great care) receive little to no attention in the domestic industry, made by equally small teams as A Mermaid Summer but with much higher quality.

The creators weren’t seasoned pros and definitely didn’t deserve to be bullied so much, but it would’ve honestly been much better if they had scrapped it. (They had actually considered starting over but decided to keep going, which I think wasn’t a good decision).

Putting out a bad product is never better than taking your time, even if it takes you a lifetime.

I tell you about A Mermaid Summer to establish some baseline rules in the Chinese film industry and how Chinese people want films to be made (both animated and non-animated):

It does not matter how long it takes. The end product has to be good.

If the product is bad, NO MATTER how beloved the director/idea/IP/characters are, it’s going to flop.

In an animated movie: either the animation has to be great, or the plot has to be great. If you have one or the other, it’s meh. If you have both, yay! You cannot, however, get away with having both be mid.

If the product is bad, no one cares how much work you put in or how sad your circumstances are: there is going to be ZERO people complimenting or watching your work. Results speak, not effort.

Doesn’t this seem very strict? That’s because it is, but it’s the reality. Recently a movie came out based on the beloved novel series by Jin Yong, called Legend of the Condor Heroes. Condor Heroes is probably one of China’s biggest ever IPs.

Its fans are everywhere. My parents love Jin Yong’s novels and so do 80% of China’s population. It’s as big as Harry Potter, basically, just for a different audience.

The actors in the movie are all popular too. Xiao Zhan, Leung Ka-fei, Ada Choi are all big-names.

However, Legend of the Condor Heroes completely flopped. The art direction and writing was bad and the acting was mid. The movie industry is not like the TV drama industry: if your movie is bad, NO ONE CARES if the actors are hot or if the IP is big, it will flop.

In this harsh environment, animated films especially struggle. We’ve seen a severe lack of good Chinese animated films. Is this critical culture to blame? Certainly part of the problem, but it’s also (somewhat sadly and ironically) what drives people to want to excel.

A very tough love solution.

This is why it is especially shocking and especially impactful that Ne Zha 2 is doing so well.

Ne Zha 2’s director’s stage name is Jiaozi (which means dumpling). His real name is Yang Yu. I will call him Jiaozi, though.

He graduated from med school in a fairly-prestigious university in Sichuan. Everyone knows how rigorous med school is. While he was studying, he spent every night holed up in his dorm figuring out the basics of animation. After graduation, he didn’t go to work- he spent three years living basically in his mother’s basement trying to make an animated film.

A very, very classically doomed story. However, against all odds, he did it. He released a 16-minute animated short in 2008 called 打，打个大西瓜 (or See Through).

It’s available on YouTube and it has a total of 0 lines of dialogue. This short, however, went viral for its anti-war, anti-hate and anti-propaganda message. It won a lot of domestic and international awards.

Through those three years he spent making See Through, he lived off his mother’s retirement fund of 200 dollars a month (1000 yuan), bought virtually nothing, and worked 14 hours a day.

See Through didn’t garner him instant success. After all, it was just an animated short. Within a year it wasn’t really mentioned anymore. He did, however, get his foot in the door.

Ne Zha is one of the biggest IPs in China. He has the most film/anime/comic/game adaptations after Sun Wukong (that’s including Dragon Ball and all the Dragon Ball spinoffs).

Jiaozi basically made Ne Zha 1 on two cents and a dream. The movie was low-budget (I’m talking 22 million) and in interviews, he revealed he had no money to hire a motion capture expert or a voice acting coach, so he did all of this himself. He even voice-acted some of the characters to save on costs.

The entire cast was unknown VAs. The animation was done by newbies just entering the industry. This movie was the definition of cutting costs.

Against all odds, it succeeded. Ne Zha 1 won fans over with its humour, stellar character-building and refreshing message. It became the highest grossing film of that year and catapulted Jiaozi into fame.

Almost as soon as Ne Zha 1 succeeded (within a year), Jiaozi began work on Ne Zha 2.

If you compare pictures of Jiaozi before and after producing Ne Zha 2, you can notice he looks like he’s aged a lot more than 5 years.

Jiaozi has said he’s an extremely introverted person prone to anxiety, and that he’s a huge perfectionist to the point where it’s harmed both his professional and personal life.

He outsourced many of the more complicated scenes on Ne Zha 2 to top foreign production companies. You can see their names (Korean, Indian, Japanese, American etc) in the end credits of Ne Zha 2.

However, he said in an interview that because the project was coming from mainland China (which, as we’ve established, has a fairly weak animation industry), these foreign companies sent only their lowest-rate animators despite the high rates Jiaozi was paying them.

As such, Jiaozi had to redo most of these scenes from scratch with domestic groups.

Hundreds of animation studios in China joined to work on Ne Zha 2. Jiaozi invested almost all the money he made off the first movie back into the second one. These workers were young, passionate newcomers to the industry- they once again didn’t have the budget to hire seasoned pros despite the much looser spending constraints.

The studios that joined Jiaozi worked at low rates (sometimes not even breaking even on labour costs) to produce Ne Zha 2.

5 years later it happened. Ne Zha 2 is making an incredible amount of money.

Most people are worried about the pressure the success of Ne Zha 2 is putting on Jiaozi- about a week ago he officially announced he’s stopping all interviews and publicity for Ne Zha 2 to go into “seclusion” to work on the 3rd movie, before 2 even finished airing.

He’s been working extremely unhealthy hours for over a decade. However, the results have paid off. That’s all we can say, I guess.

The reason why many Chinese adore Ne Zha so much isn’t just because the movies are good- it’s because the movies are good enough that they basically became hope for the future of the domestic animation industry.

A *relatively* small company (not small anymore, considering how big they’re probably going to get in the future) managed to make 2 of the highest grossing films in Chinese history and one of the highest-grossing films of all time. Jiaozi has made more in box office sales with 2 full-length movies than most directors with over thirty or fourty.

It’s incredible that what seemed like such a doomed journey turned out so fantastically. Many young Chinese animators now dream of working with Jiaozi, or becoming like him.

Of course, Jiaozi isn’t perfect. He’s at the very least extremely talented, probably a “genius” (or however you define genius) and incredibly hardworking.

His workers describe him as a nightmare director not because he’s rude but because he is incredibly nitpicky and has seemingly impossibly-high standards. He’s also a little bit of a douchebag (he made a short film called The Boss’s Woman that’s pretty misogynistic but it was never formally released).

However. You can’t deny that Jiaozi has accomplished what decades of animators before him haven’t been able to. Ne Zha 2 is the greatest animated movie in history. That’s incredible for the Chinese animation industry, which before Ne Zha has never been able to get a stable footing.

Some other Chinese animated movies I recommend as well as some notes.

As a general rating marker: I rate

Ne Zha 1: 7.5-8/10

Ne Zha 2: 9/10

The Shawshank Redemption: 9.5/10

The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King: 9/10

Decide from these rankings whether or not you think my opinions on movies are valid and if you want to keep reading.

大鱼海棠 Big Fish and Begonia 2016

7.5/10

Co-produced with Korean animation studio

Very touching, very tear-jerking

Animation is beautiful

长安三万里 30,000 Miles from Chang’An 2023

6.5/10

Ehhhh?

It’s definitely touching but not for everyone

Not understandable for a wide audience: you’d need to know some basic Chinese history and culture

It’s okay

People either love it or hate it

西游记之大圣归来 The Journey to the West: Hero is Back 2015

7.5/10

The animation is just okay, but the story is great

Very hype

One of the first domestic animated movies whose release I actively followed

Without background of JTTW it’s not very good, but if you know you know.

新神榜：杨戬 New Gods Reborn: Yang Jian 2022

6/10

The animation is good: more precisely, the models are good

The storyline is kind of a mess

Much better than the other New Gods Reborn movie, which we don’t talk about

Worth a quick watch

白蛇缘起 White Snake 2019

6.5/10

Not bad, the storyline was meh

It got some hype abroad but it’s mid

Worth a watch but it’s way overrated

深海 Deep Sea 2023

7.5/10

The animation is beautiful and the story is good!

Worth a watch! I recommend it

Very dreamcore, floaty feeling

Gives you a sense of being not quite in our reality in a similar way as some Ghibli movies

#ne zha #nezha 2019 #nezha 2025 #chinese animation #chinese culture #big fish and begonia #movies #animation

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honeyhotteoks · 3 months ago

Text

across stardust - four (j.yh)

summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you’ve never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he’s so much more than a crush, he’s your soulmate. three | four | five | series masterlist 🔗read on ao3✨across stardust pinterest board

note: okay we're um.... getting into it now. hold onto your lightinys, and trust me.... part five isn't too far behind.

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, anxiety/nerves, mentions of insomnia/serious exhaustion/being overworked, no smut in this one but there's some definite fluff, some sexist language used towards reader, not by any of our boys

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 11.2k

Be additionally cautious means that this time, instead of secret rendezvouses, you don’t see Yunho at all.

What no one really remembered that night in the studio is just how jammed the next few weeks if not months of their schedules were. The hidden truth about idol life is that even when you’re not in the middle of a comeback, schedules are just as tight and days are still a minimum of ten to twelve hours. If you’re not promoting one album, you’re recording or filming context for the next, planning the tour, writing music, filming variety content, and being active on social media. There’s a constant, required drip of content that requires a constant, required effort from every single member of the team.

It’s a job that burns people out regularly, especially at a company this size.

So you’ve seen Yunho at the office, but not much more than that, and since you don’t even do his makeup regularly there’s not an opportunity for even an hour of closeness even if it’s just in stolen glances.

You’ve been getting regular text updates though, and you and Yunho communicate on Kakao Talk like you're in a long distance relationship even when you’re feet away from each other.

They’ve met and worked out their own requirements for early renegotiation, but now comes the secret meetings with lawyers and planning their approach, which is hard to do between all of their schedules on top of a quick promotional week in Japan for three stages, two special appearances, and multiple fansigns for their last album.

The hours have been near comeback levels of workload, and while management has promised vacation time once it passes, that seems farther and farther away with every minute you’re not sleeping and every minute you’re not with him.

Today is more of the same.

Now back in Korea, you at least have access to your own bed, but today is an early morning shoot at four thirty so that the music video directors can have optimal light, so you still have barely slept. Yunho’s awake, you can feel that through the bond, but he and two other members haven’t arrived to set yet, a product of winning the ladder game and getting a little more time to themselves in the morning before call time.

After you finish Seonghwa’s base, he asks to take a quick break and you sink into the chair to get off your feet for a moment, yawning heavily.

That’s a cute sweater - Your phone vibrates with the message and you smile, eyes flicking up to the mirror to catch Yunho, Wooyoung, and San just coming in the far studio door.

Morning x - You reply.

You watch him in the reflection as he smiles softly at your message, typing out a response.

How’s it been so far? - He asks.

You sigh - Quiet, everyone’s exhausted after the trip.

You had all returned from Japan only yesterday, and though you’re not contending with jet lag, you’re all still balancing heavy schedules and the switch up between home and away.

This should help then - Is Yunho’s next message, and you’re not sure what he means until you hear him behind you.

“Morning,” Yunho says to the room, getting everyone’s attention but keeping his voice soft, “we’ve got coffees on the back table for everyone,”

There’s a collective groan of appreciation.

“Thank god,” Dahan says, “I’ll get ours,”

You jump up before you can stop yourself, “I got it,”

“Oh,” She takes a step back, smiling, “thanks girl,”

“For sure, Hwa’s on break anyways,”

Eunji and Dahan both return their focus to the members in front of them, but Iseul gives you a sly smile. You shoot her an eye roll and head towards the loosely formed circle around the back table.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” You hear Wonshik say as he grabs a cup.

“Ah,” San shrugs, “it’s too early to film, we couldn’t let everyone go without a little strength,”

Jongho slips through the side, a roller and clips still in his hair, to find the iced americanos, “Let me know what we owe you,”

Yunho waves him off, “You’re good,”

As you get a little closer, you finally meet his eyes and you trade a little smile. You keep it professional, as always, but the warmth in both your chests at just stepping a little closer to one another is undeniable.

“Thanks for this,” You tell all three of them.

San and Wooyoung both grin, but step away fast, leaving you almost alone at the table with Yunho.

“Here,” He picks up a cardboard carrier with four hot cups, “this one's for you and the team,”

“Oh,” You smile, “thank you, Yunho,”

“Mhm,” He taps the lid on one cup and nods, “this one’s yours,”

You glance to the side, but no one’s lingering around too close so you look back as you take the cups, eyebrows raised.

“Extra shot,” He murmurs, “and vanilla,”

You could kiss him.

“Anyways,” He leans back and puts some space between you, “I hope it’s still warm enough.”

“It’s perfect,” You hear Seonghwa’s voice behind you, you have to go back to work, “thank you,”

He nods, and you force yourself to turn around, to put your face back on and get back to work. At your station, you slip your coffee cup out of the carrier and leave it on your side table.

”Lattes,” You place one on each station behind the other makeup artists.

“Perfect,” Eunji turns from Hongjoong and snaps the cup up, “I’m so tired I could inject this,”

Everyone laughs softly and nods, and you yawn as you get back to your station, taking a long sip of your coffee.

“Mm,” Dahan says as she wipes her lip and nods towards you, “what’d you get?”

“Hmm?” You don’t really understand her question.

She nods towards your coffee, and you lift the cup to glance at the side.

There’s a hastily drawn English initial there in sharpie, matching your name, and you laugh, “Oh, mine just has vanilla,”

You’re getting good at fighting through those waves of panic that people might be catching on, better at lying around every turn, so you keep yourself relaxed and shrug this off.

”I like vanilla,” Eunji comments.

Your eyes connect for a hair with Iseul.

Seonghwa interjects smoothly though, “I’ll tell Sannie for next time, we were just talking about coffee at that spot in Hyogo, he must have remembered,”

“That’s thoughtful,” Dahan nods, “you take care of us too well,”

“Ah,” Hongjoong adds, bringing the attention away from you, “please, it’s the least we can do when you’re always awake an hour before us.”

“I’ll never complain about coffee,” Iseul smiles and then shifts the conversation like a professional, “Eun, do you have any spare cotton buds? I’m smudging this mascara,”

“You’ve got to use the guards,” Eunji says, going off on one of her favorite tangents, shifting through her station for her beauty gadget of the moment, and you let Iseul take the reins on that so you can fade right out of their thoughts.

Seonghwa gives you a quick smile when you turn to him, and you quietly rotate the lid on your coffee so that the initial faces away from them and towards your body.

“So,” You focus again, smiling at Seonghwa, “how much glitter today? A subtle wash, or a truly tragic amount?”

He laughs, relaxing into your chair again, “Somewhere in the middle, but I really want these contacts to pop in the closeups,”

“Got it,” You find your favorite palette for him, setting your coffee to the side, your thumb unconsciously brushing over Yunho’s handwriting as you do.

The morning gets a little easier after that. The surprise caffeine has put everyone in good spirits, and filming days, while stressfully tight and complicated, are still some of the more fun days you get to have at this job. The pressure is a little lighter without a live performance, and there’s always room for the members to relax and joke around a bit which tends to spread infectiously towards the staff.

You watch them work with quiet affection, thinking of how quickly they fell into step with you and Yunho the moment they realized what you were to each other. That night in the studio has brought you closer to them in many ways, even if subtle and unspoken, and Yunho looks like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders now that his brothers know.

He feels happier, despite the stress and long hours, and you’ve relaxed considerably with him as such a pillar of strength.

Early into the afternoon it’s time for solo and unit shoots, and you find yourself in a largely unoccupied area of the set with Wooyong as you finish cleaning off his first coat of makeup. As you prep your tools, he gently nudges your leg with the tip of his boot.

“You good?” He asks softly, with a friendly expression.

“I’m good,” You answer automatically, plastering back on your smile.

“You don’t look good,” He says plainly.

You glance around the room, but it’s still empty, “Uh, thanks?”

“You look exhausted,” He clarifies.

“We’re all exhausted, it’s no big deal,”

He cocks his head slightly to the slide as you mix a fresh batch of his foundation shade together on the stainless steel pallet in your hands, “Are you sleeping?”

You shrug, “When I can,”

”Because he’s not sleeping,” Wooyoung points out, “which is weird, he used to be able to nap anywhere,”

Your mouth snaps shut, lips pressed together. Wooyoung has always been painfully observant, but this goes the extra step.

“Yeah,” Is all you can muster up.

“Damn,” He murmurs, “can you not sleep if the other person is awake?”

Your eyes scan the room again, “Uh,” you shrug again, “kind of? I mean, you can, definitely, but I don’t know… things are weird right now, and new.”

He nods, tilting his face up so you can start his foundation again, “The physical separation affects you?”

He’s not going to let it go, so you sigh, “I think so,”

“Hmm,” He chews the inside of his lip for a moment as he considers that, “that makes sense,”

“Does it?”

“Sure,” He says like it’s only natural, “I mean, you’re literally connected. It would make sense that it gets stronger or feels better when you’re together and it’s the opposite when you’re apart.”

You’ve read articles that propose that same idea, but so much of the scientific research into soulmates and bonds just isn’t there. Especially not on something like separating soulmates or testing physical proximity, not when the pull towards each other is so strong, it’s practically obvious you’re not supposed to be apart and a study like that would be unnecessarily cruel.

You’re quiet for a moment, thinking that through, but then Wooyoung asks a question softly, “Does it hurt?”

You blink, “Does what hurt?”

“Not being with him?”

As if on cue, your chest aches, and you nod, “Yeah,”

“Like pain?” Wooyoung’s brows draw together.

“Not�� pain exactly,” You try to explain, “it’s just this… weight, maybe? Or ache?”

”I’m sorry,” He murmurs, “that sounds hard,”

You feel Yunho deep in the bond, a tiny tug on the cord that connects you, a wordless question.

You smile at the sensation and Wooyoung looks more confused. You shake your head, “Sorry,” you laugh softly, “he’s checking on me,”

Wooyoung’s mouth drops open, “That’s amazing,”

You nod, before brushing your fingers over your mark, sending a wave of reassurance back to him.

Wooyoung’s eyes flick down to watch the motion and back up, “And you’re…”

“Telling him I’m fine,” You feel your face warm up a bit.

“Wow,” He murmurs, a grin spreading on his face, “I can’t wait to know what that feels like,”

You smile, returning your attention to the makeup palette in your hands.

“y/n,” He says, “I really think it’s going to work out, I think people will be so happy for you both.”

For a moment his earnestness makes you believe him, and you thank him softly before you focus on his makeup, you don’t tell him about all the things you’ve seen online that tell you otherwise.

In the weeks that have gone by, you haven’t been able to stop yourself from researching.

In your deep dives you’ve found very little to comfort you.

Two idols have found their soulmates, but their relationships were announced quietly years into retirement from public life, and even then the articles were full of negative comments.

Plenty of idols have gone through dating scandals, and that always seems to end one of two ways. Either the company says nothing and the rumor fades into nothing, or the evidence is too damning and the destructive cycle of public outcry and idol disgrace continues until companies and contracts break down.

Yunho has popped up in a couple of unfounded dating rumors, but even those comments made you ill. The way they turned on him, and the way they speculated about his non-existent mystery partner certainly contributed to your sleepless nights.

Wooyoung’s confidence is almost sweetly naive for someone in the industry.

You finish his makeup and make it through several more hours of standing around on set ready to hop in and touch up your members between takes. You hold on to the feeling of Yunho’s adrenaline while he practices and performs for the camera to keep you going.

Hours later, the shoot has started to dwindle down to the people left who still have filming to go or members on set but both Wooyoung and Seonghwa wrapped and went home by the time you make it back to the set’s break tent.

It’s quiet here, just a collection of plastic tables with snacks and water bottles, some seats, and organized chaos of everyone’s belongings. You could fall asleep right here.

You’re nearly drifting, your body exhausted after a day of standing, and you sink into one of the break tent’s folding chairs, eyelids heavy. It’s empty for now, a good number of staff already gone for the day, but Yunho’s solo shoot is last and all you want is to see him one more time before you drag yourself home.

Your head lolls to the side and you don’t know if you really sleep or not, but the next thing you register is a gentle hand on your hair.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you blink your tired eyes open, “Mm,”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Yunho murmurs softly, “time to wake up,”

“Y-Yun?” You blink again, yawning as you shift out of the awkward position.

“What are you still doing here?” He murmurs.

“I guess I fell asleep,” You sweep a hand under your eyes, “is the shoot over?”

He nods, “It’s already nine,”

You look to your watch, surprised to see he’s right, “God,”

He lovingly strokes your hair again, “Let’s get you home,”

You sigh into his touch for a brief moment and then he steps back and you push yourself to standing. He takes one fast glance towards the tent opening before dipping down and kissing you once, just a quick indulgence of his lips on yours before he takes a few large steps back to leave a healthy gap between your bodies.

“How was your day?” He smiles, starting to gather his belongings.

“Good,” Your skin is still buzzing from the kiss, but you shake it off and look for your own bag, “long,”

“Mm,” He nods, “same,”

“How was the shoot?” You start to say, but voices outside catch both of your attention.

You didn’t realize many people were still here.

You quickly pull on your coat and snap up your bag.

Wonshik, one of their managers, steps into the tent, all of his focus on the phone in his hands, “You ready?”

“Yep,” Yunho nods, and you notice the other voices of your coworkers are hovered by the door as they talk animatedly about something you can't quite catch.

Wonshik responds but you miss his words, your mind still foggy with sleep.

“Hyung,” Yunho says, “can we give y/n a ride, it’s late,”

Wonshik looks up from his phone and finally notices you in the room, “Oh,” he nods, “sure, hey y/n,”

”Hey,” You normally would protest, but you’re dead on your feet, “you sure you don’t mind?”

”All good,”

The tent flap opens again and San, Eunji, Iseul, and a few BB Trippin dancers start to step in, still mid conversation.

Wonshik catches your attention though “Where do you live?”

“Seongsu,” Yunho says it before you can open your mouth and a strike of alarm twists in your chest before he smoothly recovers, “you were just saying how close you are to the studio,”

”Yeah,” You nod, catching on to his misdirection, “super close, I usually walk,”

Wonshik nods, “No problem, do you have everything? Another early one tomorrow,”

“Sure, I’m ready when you are,” You nod to them both.

Wonshik turns, reaching into his pocket for his keys, and heads for the entrance again. You and Yunho exchange a quick look, and he nods for you to go first.

“Good night,” You say to everyone as you pass by.

They give you a good night, and as you pass each other, you feel Yunho’s tall presence behind you. He says something to San, and gives one of the BB dancers a fist bump for something that happened on set, but then for the first time in weeks he moves without thinking.

“See you in the morning,” Yunho says, and then turns to follow you, his hand settling on your mid back to guide you forwards out of the tent.

It takes you both a second to realize what you’ve done, the weight of his hand feeling familiar and right against your back, but you hear San say something loudly enough he could only be making a distraction and your gut twists.

Yunho drops his hand, shoving it in his coat pocket.

You feel the rapid pick up of his heart, the apology that he wants to give you but can’t in front of other people. You want to tell him it’s fine, no one saw, and even if they did it was the most mild, brief touch imaginable, but you bite your tongue and climb into the waiting car.

Wonshik drives you home, and despite the closeness of your bodies in the backseat of the car, Yunho keeps his eyes on the window and an ocean between you.

Two more days of shoots like that have you propped up on coffee and sheer force of will alone.

You keep almost falling asleep everywhere, and you’re sure that to any of your coworkers who don’t know about Yunho and your sudden soulmate insomnia, you look terrible.

“You’ve got to figure out this sleep thing,” Iseul says, nudging your shoulder as she collapses next to you on the couch in your offices at the KQ main building. It’s getting late, finally time to go home, but you just need a second to yourself before trying to muster up the strength to catch the train or risk falling asleep in another Uber.

You sigh, “I know.”

“Is Yunho still avoiding you?” She asks.

“He’s not avoiding me,” You huff a tired laugh into your sweatshirt sleeves, “he literally can’t when we’re literal soulmates.”

He’s been a little distant since the other night, but it’s to be expected. You don’t need him to explain, you can feel it. He’s been looping through the line of mistakes from that night; the kiss, knowing your address, the back touch, all brought on by your joint exhaustion and the constant magnetic energy of the bond that tugs inside you, willing you to touch, to be close.

“y/n,”

“Sorry,” You sigh, “I’m tired, but no he’s not. He’s just keeping some distance after the other night, he slipped up and he’s beating himself up over it,”

“It’s a platonic enough touch,” She says, and you’ve heard this argument from her before, “and no one saw,”

“Mm,” You nod, “this is just how he deals.”

“By shutting you out?”

“By hyperfocusing on work,” You correct, “we’re texting, it’s fine, Iseul,”

“Fine,” She says with a sigh, “I just want my best friend back to healthy and happy,”

You give her a close lipped smile, “Soon,”

The door opens and you look up as Eunji, Dahan, and Eunwoo from the hair styling team come in, Hongjoong rounding the corner behind them. Hongjoong and Eunwoo are mid conversation, and the other members of your makeup team are carrying an arm full of vending machine snacks.

“How bad do you think I’ll break out after only living on Turtle Chips and caffeine this week?” Dahan groans and you smile.

“I’m telling you,” Eunji shakes the clear box in her hands, “the vending machine salads are surprisingly good,”

“How? It’s a literal vending machine,” Dahan’s nose crinkles.

They keep bickering, almost ignoring you and Iseul completely, but then you hear your name out of Hongjoong’s mouth and it catches everyone’s attention.

“y/n,” Hongjoong says as he steps towards your group and makes eye contact with you, “I actually had something I wanted to talk to you about, do you have a few minutes while I’m already down here? Seonghwa wanted me to pass a bit of feedback back to you,”

Your eyebrows raise, “Um, sure,”

Your teammates glance at each other in a bit of confusion, it’s rare for the boys to give you feedback like this, if at all after working with each other for so long, but they let it lie and don’t interject.

He waits for you, and then nods towards the hall.

“Right,” You pull yourself up and brush your hands over your wrinkled trousers, “no problem,”

“Text me later,” Iseul says as she stays with Dahan and Eunji, and as you step away you feel their curious glances at you, leaving a strange pit in your exhausted stomach.

Hongjoong steps into the hall and walks down towards the lobby on this floor, an empty space between elevators with no office doors or onlookers to overhear.

Once you’re alone with him, you cross your arms over your chest, “Hwa needed you to give me feedback? What did I do?” You smile, keeping it light.

He waits until he’s sure everyone’s out of earshot, and then he looks back at you, “Nothing, I just needed an excuse to talk to you for a second,”

“Oh,” You relax.

“My office,” He starts, “my recording booth, you know where it is?”

You nod, “Sure,”

“When the red light is on, no one ever bothers me, not even a knock,” He tells you.

“Okay,” The word stretches on your lips, confusion on your face to be sure.

He sighs, “Sometimes when comebacks get tight like this, members will use my studio to get a quick hour of sleep,”

“Ah,” You nod, “okay,”

“People will start heading home soon,” He points out, “but we’re all working late and have practice,”

“I know,” You nod, “Yunho said it would be another late one,”

“He’s in my studio,” Hongjoong continues, “and you both look exhausted. Wooyoung said you’re not sleeping either,”

You shake your head a bit, “I’m fine, you all have enough to worry about,”

He smiles softly, “I worry about my members,”

Your shoulders drop, “You’re worried I’m affecting Yunho’s work,”

“No,” He waves a hand to dispel that thought, “that’s not it, y/n. I know we haven’t spoken since that night at the studio, so I can understand why you’d think that, but no. I admit, I also wanted to apologize to you for how I reacted, the things I said.”

“Thank you,” You manage.

“I did some reading,” He admits, “I was… wrong, what I thought the connection was for you both, I didn’t understand and after what Yunho said that night, I did research.”

“Oh,”

“What I’m trying to say is,” He glances quickly to make sure you’re still not being overheard, his voice maintaining his low tone, “If I’m worried about Yunho, that means I’m worried about you too. You’re feeling these schedules just like he is, and your exhaustion is feeding off each other. I’m worried about you both, and I can only imagine how much worse the stress is making things,”

If you weren’t so tired, down to your marrow, his words might not make you so emotional but you take a sharp breath and nod, feeling a pinprick of tears behind your eyes.

“So,” He says with a small smile, “Yunho’s in my office trying to get a couple hours of rest, and I think you should join him. Get some sleep, we’ll text him if something comes up and we’ll cover for you both. Just be careful going in and out, but at this hour things should be pretty quiet.”

“Hongjoong,” You say his name in a breath, “I don’t know what to say,”

“You’re good,” He waves that off too, almost uncomfortable with the sudden emotion you’re trying to keep tamped down.

“Thank you,” You smile, “really,”

He nods and steps away, “Alright, I have to get to a schedule,”

He doesn’t, and he knows you know that, but you let him off the emotional hook with ease and make your way to the stairs.

Hongjoong’s office is close, which means Yunho is too and your chest starts to warm with anticipation.

Quietly, you make your way down the recording studio hallway and it’s blissfully, absolutely silent. Ahead is Hongjoong’s door, a red light above acting like a do not disturb sign, and with one more fast second glance up and down the empty hall, you turn the handle and step over the threshold in one smooth move.

The room is dark, but you hear the shift of a body on the couch before Yunho says, “Did you need me afterall?”

“Hey,” You whisper.

Yunho rolls over, and in the dim light you see him sit up, “Baby?”

“It’s just me,” You confirm, flicking the lock on the door just for good measure before walking over to the couch, “Hongjoong said you were up here.”

“Is everything alright, you okay?” He rubs a hand over his tired face before reaching out to you.

“I’m fine,” You assure him, stepping into his gentle hold, “but scoot over, let me in here,”

He shifts on the couch so you can slide next to him, but you can see the confusion on his face.

“Joong said they’d cover for us to get a quick nap,” You tell him softly, “can I lie down with you?”

He sighs, a smile stretching over his face, “Of course,”

You both shuffle onto the couch, and it’s too narrow for his big body and yours, but you wind your legs together and make little adjustments until you’re comfortable, Yunho’s arm banding protectively around your back to keep you from rolling backwards.

“Come here,” He murmurs as you adjust your head, cheek nestled into his bicep, “is that alright?”

“Mhm,” You sigh, feeling the tension of the day and of the past week unspool inside you, “missed you,”

“I missed you too,” he presses his lips to the top of your head and lets out a long, relieved breath, “so much,”

You nod, but your eyes have already started to grow heavy. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his body on yours. Faintly you can catch threads of his scent, clean skin and something earthy, soft cedar and juniper.

You nestle into his chest a little more, taking a deep breath and letting yourself relax, “Love you,”

He hums softly, but you feel him relaxing right alongside you, “Love you,”

You don’t even remember falling asleep. No sooner do you hear his soft reply, an alarm is sounding above your heads and you start out of sleep, Yunho gasping sharply and pulling you closer as he bursts back into consciousness alongside you.

“Mm,” You burrow into his chest, “that’s too loud,”

He searches above his head for his phone, the alarm still blaring.

“Yunho,” You groan.

“I got it,” He says, clicking the snooze button, “sorry, sorry,”

You sigh, “I think everyone in this building heard that,”

He snorts a laugh softly and sighs, “I can’t sleep through it,”

“That’s for sure,”

He wraps you back up in his arms and tucks his head against yours.

“Did we sleep?” You murmur.

“Mhm,” He says, his voice rough with sleep, “almost three hours,”

“I feel like I died,” You yawn, “oh my god,”

He stretches his legs out, joints cracking as he adjusts. Neither one of you moved an inch during sleep, and you’re both feeling all the stiffness that comes with that now that you start to come out of it.

“Did anyone message you? Are we good?” You prod Yunho gently.

“Um,” He finds his phone again, wincing when the bright light hits his eyes, “fuck, um, no, we’re good,”

“Good,” You sigh.

”I want to ditch practice and take you back to your place and just sleep for a hundred years,” He groans, winding his arms around you and rolling you artlessly on top of his chest so that he can stretch his long back and still keep you on the couch, “how much trouble do you think I’d be in?”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his chest, “A lot,”

“Yeah,” He yawns, “probably,”

You hum softly, relaxing into him, “Do we have any time, or do you need to go?”

He winces, “Five minutes, maybe?”

You can’t hide your disappointment at that.

“I know,” He strokes your back, “I’m sorry, I wish schedules were less…”

“It’s okay,” You soothe him with another kiss, “it is what it is,”

His lips press closed, and he nods, “Yeah,”

“Only a few more days,” You sigh.

A few more days of schedules like this, of early mornings and late nights and commitment after commitment stacked on top of each other.

He nods, but then he says, “We’re going to start negotiations next week,”

“You are?” Your head pops up and you meet his gaze.

“We have a day off after these schedules,” He says quietly, a tentative smile on his lips, “after we sure things up with the attorney, and then we just have to request the meeting.”

“That’s fast,” You admit.

“None of us want to waste any time,” Yunho admits, “between us and the potential our contracts could be better for all of us? I think we’re all ready,”

“When do you think,” You let your words trail off, but he picks up on your point with ease.

“A couple of weeks, I think we’ll know,” He smiles, “just a little longer,”

You smile, pushing up from your position to capture his lips in a kiss.

Yunho pulls you closer, shifting you higher on his chest as he hums pleasantly against your mouth, kissing you gently, tenderly, like all good sleepy, intimate kisses should be.

Yunho’s phone lights up with a second alarm and you jolt, breaking the kiss and sighing.

He silences the phone much more quickly this time, “I’m sorry,” he gives you a squeeze, “I really have to go,”

“It’s okay,” You slide off him, taking quick stock of your clothes and how mussed your hair is as he gets to his feet.

His phone dings with a notification and he checks it, before quickly tapping out a reply.

“All good?” You check.

“Mhm,” Yunho yawns and tucks his phone away, “Joong says the hallways are pretty quiet.”

“Should I go first, or you?” You ask, reaching out to smooth the collar of his shirt.

“I’ll go,” He leans in and presses a fast kiss to your forehead, “let me double check the coast is clear,”

“Okay,” You nod.

He takes a deep breath and shakes out the nap, “Only a couple more weeks,” he repeats, as much for himself as it is for you, “I love you,”

“I love you too,” You kiss him quickly, just a peck before he gets on with the rest of his work day.

“Let me know when you get home safely, okay?” He kisses your again, his warm hands cupping you close, “Try to get some more sleep,”

You nod, but you both know you won’t be sleeping until he’s in bed too, “Text me when you’re home later,”

“I will,” He says, “but try to sleep, okay? You need your rest too,”

“I promise I’ll try,”

His phone dings again, and he exhales sharply with a little exasperation, checking his phone again, “Alright, I have to go, I love you. Be safe.”

“Love you too,”

He kisses you fast, and then his hands are off you and he’s out the door.

You sink back down onto Hongjoong’s couch and collect yourself, pushing through all the post-nap brain fog now that you have a second. You wait until he messages you it’s safe to leave, and then quietly you turn off Hongjoong’s recording light and slip out unseen into the hall.

Downstairs you gather your things and get yourself back together so you can go home, darting quickly towards the exit when you hear that you aren’t completely alone in the building. Far off voices down one of the halls by your workspace, the sound of someone else in the lower break room, you don’t wait to see who could be working late.

Walking to the train you take a deep breath of cold air.

Only a few more weeks.

You can do a few more weeks.

───────────────────────── ✧₊⁺───────────────────────

Not everyone would agree with you, but you love night schedules. As one of the staff members who has to be there before the members, you love any schedule that means you get to wake up at a normal time and not the three or four in the morning call times for morning shoots.

A night shoot means you get the morning off.

Last night after days and days, you finally slept, sinking into sleep alongside Yunho, even though he was across town at his own apartment. It was the best night you’ve spent without him by your side since that first night after the European tour.

You woke up without an alarm, natural light and feeling fully sated. Today was going to be a good, good day.

You get to the office with a brightness in your body. An afternoon coffee in hand, a cute outfit, and you took the extra time to put a soft curl in your hair just to see Yunho’s eyes light up when he sees you later today.

He had texted you good morning and that he loved you.

You had joked about ordering the same thing for dinner later and eating over FaceTime for a virtual date.

Tomorrow was their meeting with the contract lawyer.

Everything was going right.

You’re almost there.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary until it does.

At the office, you scan your keycard to enter just like always, but you only make it halfway across the lobby before you’re intercepted by two of the largest men you’ve ever seen, dressed in simple black suits with armbands identifying them as security.

“Miss y/n?” One of them stops you with an outstretched hand, blocking your access to any more of the lobby.

“Yes?” Your heart speeds up.

“Come with us, please.” The other says plainly.

Your fingers tighten on your bag, “What’s this about?”

“Come with us, please,” He reiterates, and you can tell the please is a polite formality.

”Can you tell me what this,” You start to say, but you barely get a full sentence out before you’re cut off again.

“Miss,” The first one says, “let’s not discuss this in the hall. Follow us.”

They start walking, one in front of you and one behind, and you can sense people in the foyer starting to notice an employee being escorted by security, stopping to stare, but you keep your eyes ahead and try not to look as terrified as you feel.

It could be nothing.

It could be a keycard replacement or a problem with a clearance for one of the filming locations, it could be anything.

They walk you swiftly towards the back elevators and take you up until you’re passing your normal floors and going higher, towards the offices with better views and higher salaries.

Your stomach clenches when you get off and follow them further back to a corner office.

“This way,” The one in front says as he opens the door to the office, and your eyes flick over the name on the door.

Han Minchul - Attorney

Everything in your body is telling you to turn around, to get out of this hall and back to the elevators, to never step foot in this man’s office, but it’s just not an option.

Stepping over the threshold, you come face to face with Han Minchul himself.

“Ah!” He says, “Miss y/n,”

You greet him, professionally and cordially, “Mr. Han,”

“I don’t suspect you know who I am,” He gestures towards the chairs in front of his large dark wood desk, “please, have a seat,”

Slowly you step forwards and take the seat. He’s perfectly average in every way with the exception of his nice office and even nicer suit. You clock the watch on his wrist and the decorative table in the corner with the crystal bottle of expensive scotch.

“Well,” He says with a slight smile, folding his hands over a red file folder on his desk, “I do wish we were meeting under better circumstances,”

Your stomach drops out, “What circumstances are those?”

His smile falls away and he taps the folder, “We have some serious and very credible information about you and one of our idols, Miss y/n.”

It feels in a split second like your chest is collapsing in on itself.

“Nothing to say?” He leans back from the desk and sits comfortably in his desk chair.

“What would you like me to say?” You manage.

“It doesn’t really matter to me,” He sighs, “and there’s no point in lying. You and Jeong Yunho have been seeing each other secretly for some time, though we were only made aware of the nature of your relationship this week.”

“I see,” Your throat feels hoarse, your stomach rolling.

You feel a tug inside you, a press against the bond, but you stay focused on the conversation.

”It took us a few days of digging and corroborating information, but you are both less secretive than you think you are,” He adds, “we’ll be speaking with him later today, but for now, if you’ll turn over your keycard and identification badge,”

“You’re firing me,”

“Very good,” He says, and then he taps on the folder again.

Your ears are ringing, and you see his mouth moving but things feel like they’re falling apart all around you. Your heart is thundering in your chest and you feel another distinct touch of Yunho’s consciousness to yours.

Mr. Han clears his throat and looks at you with a withering stare.

“What did you say?”

He purses his lips at you like you’re an annoyance, and then nods to the two stocky security officers at the doorway, “I said, we can make this simple, or we can make this difficult,”

You swallow tightly, fear pooling in your gut.

“Simple includes signing these two documents,” He finally folds open the folder and reveals a stack of contracts that are tabbed on multiple pages for your initials and signature, “and then you will quietly leave the premises. You will be let go without recommendation, but you will receive a lump sum of six months salary, still subject to tax of course.”

“Y-you’re buying me off?” Your head feels like it’s spinning.

“You’re a smart girl, y/n,” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, “now do I need to explain what difficult means, or do we have an agreement?”

As if on cue, both of the security officers take a step from the door towards you. They linger behind your chair like menacing pillars, and you have no doubt they’ll drag you from these offices kicking and screaming if necessary.

“I,” You start, fumbling over your words, “I’m sorry, but there’s been a misunderstanding,”

“Oh?” For a split second you think he’s going to listen, but then he leans back in his chair as he shakes his head, “No, I don’t think there has,”

Nervous knots tighten so hard in your gut you feel sick, “No, please, you have to listen to me,”

“Does listening get you to sign these papers faster?”

”We’re soulmates,” You finally get the words out, “we would never have broken the rules if that weren’t the case, but I know you can understand that, that we’re supposed to be together, that it was out of our control,”

The man across from you barely blinks, “Well,” he shrugs, “I’ve heard that one before,”

“But our marks,” You insist, “if you just let us show you, you’ll see,”

“Let me stop you there,” He shakes his head and sits forward in his chair, “because I can tell you exactly how that happened,”

His words don’t make sense, “What?”

“You developed a little crush,” He gestures towards you with his meaty hand, “and your crush turned into an obsession,”

He doesn’t even need to say it, you know exactly what this story will be. You’ve feared it from the second you realized he was yours, and to see it laid out in front of you is a cold reminder that you were right from the start.

That doesn’t stop the ringing in your ears though, and the way your heart starts to beat faster and faster like a bird in a cage, pure panic lacing through your body. Something sharp pulls in your chest, and distantly through the bond you feel Yunho’s own fear, his own sudden panic.

Mr. Han continues, even as the blood drains from your cheeks, “No, I think you’ve broken your contract so severely you’re lucky I don’t contact the police.”

“But,”

“How did you do it? A peek down one of his costumes? Did you walk in on a wardrobe fitting to get a good look?” He sneers, “Or did you seduce him first and get your own tattoo later?”

“I-I didn’t,” You feel cornered, trapped, fear pulsing through you, “I wouldn’t do that,”

“You,” He levels you with a hard stare, his eyes flicking down to your exposed forearm, “wouldn’t get a tattoo?”

You tug the fabric of your sweater down over your skin, “That’s not what I’m saying, I’m saying I wouldn’t get a fake soulmark, I wouldn’t deceive someone like that,”

He has to believe you, he has to. But instead, he only shrugs, “I doubt it, but it doesn’t matter.”

“It,” You feel lightheaded, sick, dizzy at the way the floor has all but dropped out from under you, “it has to matter,”

“y/n,” He sighs, tapping the papers before him, “my job is to protect the company from liability, to protect our idols from things that would be catastrophic for their careers, and you, my dear, are catastrophic.”

Panic slices through you, hot tears pricking at your eyes, “But I love him,”

His nose crinkles slightly, disgust masked with mock pity, “I’m sure you do,”

His words, the way he looks at you, you feel small and silly. A foolish girl with a crush clinging to a fairytale, and your eyes land on the file folder of contracts, beneath them no doubt all the evidence he alluded to before, thick and likely full of a false version of your love story, crafted so that you look like nothing more than a rabid fan. You think suddenly of the girl in the airport who pushed you aside for her chance to touch Yunho’s skin, and you can see exactly the rumors they’ll spread about you if they have to.

Underneath the panic and the pulsing dizziness though, you feel Yunho. His own heartbeat seems to knock against your ribs, and distantly you know it, he’s coming for you.

“I’ll offer you one last time,” Mr. Han says, and your eyes flick up to his, “I urge you to be smart about this. Sign the papers, take the money. I’m sure you can find somewhere that will hire you to do hair anywhere, it just won’t be alongside any other idols you can dupe.”

This time all you feel is the popping sensation of rage, crackling through your body so quickly you can’t catch your tongue, “I’m a makeup artist.”

“Yes, well,”

“No,” You cut him off, leaning forwards and fisting your hands to keep them from shaking, “I’ve sat here and listened to you insult me, and insinuate that I am some kind of delusional, love-sick fan, and threaten me, I’ve worked here for five years.”

“Congratulations.” He says dryly.

“What is wrong with you?” You stand up, the chair pushing back behind you as it bumps into the security officers, “You haven’t even talked to Yunho, you dragged me in here like you’re a cop and I’m some sort of criminal, this is our lives!”

”No, this is a place of business,” He shakes his head.

You rub at your temples, a headache bubbling in your brain, “How?”

“How is this a place of business?” He smirks.

“No, how did,”

“I know what you’re asking,” He interrupts and taps the stack of papers on the table, “it seems your friend thought you were behaving inappropriately in the workplace,”

A wave of dizzy nausea passes through you and you grip the back of the chair for stability, “My friend?”

“Your friend, one of the other makeup artists,” He repeats, “she had quite a lot to tell us.”

“She,” You feel unmoored, “she told you?”

“Everything we needed to know.” He confirms.

“I,” You stumble over your words and then find the stability to straighten back up, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Believe whatever you want,” He shrugs, “it won’t make a difference. It’s my job to ensure,”

“No liability,” You roll your eyes, anger bubbling hot inside you, “and a steady paycheck for you while KQ’s biggest group stays nice and profitable, and a soulmate for one of their idols would really cause a scandal, wouldn’t it?”

His jaw tightens, muscles tensing in his jaw before he recovers and nods again to security, “The difficult way then,”

One of the security guards steps smoothly to your side, his large hands closing over your upper arms tightly and he tugs you back.

The ringing in your ears gets louder, but you taste bitter adrenaline on your tongue and feel the bond inside you thrumming, you feel him closer.

The other security officer grabs your bag from the floor though, and it pulls your attention, “What are you doing?”

He ignores you, swiftly finding your phone and passing it over to Mr. Han who stays comfortably behind the desk.

“Let me go, give that back!” You jerk an arm, trying to push free, but it only makes the man holding you still grip harder, pressing angry bruises into your skin.

“Liability, remember?” He says as he flicks through your phone, “once this is cleaned up, you’ll be escorted out. Your access badge will no longer swipe into the building, and staff will be made aware that you are no longer welcome on the premises.”

“Fuck you,” You wriggle a little harder, only to get yanked back into the chest of the security officer.

“Very nice,” Mr. Han comments dryly, “very professional,”

You want to scoff, to tell them there’s nothing professional about anything that’s happened since you sat down in this room, but you hear fast footsteps in the hall, a distant shout.

The men in the room look up, towards the door, and you take the moment to your advantage. You twist sharply in the security officer’s arms and duck to the side, breaking his hold while he’s momentarily distracted and rushing to the opposite end of the room by the door.

He takes two steps towards you, but the door bursts open between you.

Yunho pushes over the threshold with a kind of reckless purpose, his eyes focused and searching, cheeks flushed from running and chest heaving, Mingi and Hongjoong hot on his heels.

He finds you in a second, and without a single thought to the room around him he rushes towards you, “You’re alright? You’re alright?”

His hands cup your cheeks, thumbs smoothing over your cheekbone, and you shake your head, “They want me to go,”

His brow furrows, and it takes him a moment to register your words. He felt fear and panic and dread so distinctly in your body that he didn’t know what he would find behind this office door. All he knew is that you were terrified and he was running, straight out of the recording studio with Hongjoong and Mingi stumbling behind him. But you’re here, alive and unharmed, and it takes a moment for the blood rushing in his ears to calm, to understand what you meant, but when he turns his head towards the room, he finally takes in everything in front of him.

The paperwork, your phone on the desk, the attorney, the guards, it all threads together.

You reach up and gently take his wrists, drawing his hands down from your cheeks so you can both face the room, and you thread your fingers tightly together with Yunho’s.

”What’s going on here?” Yunho asks.

“They know,” You explain, “I’ve been asked to leave,”

Mr Han sighs, finally standing, “I was trying to handle this situation professionally, I don’t know what you think calling them is going to change,”

“I didn’t call them,” You shake your head incredulously, “you have my phone, you can see that,”

He pauses, a brief flicker, but then shakes his head, “Regardless.” You watch him push together the contracts, gathering them to tuck them neatly away and your hand tightens on Yunho’s.

Hongjoong steps swiftly forwards, snatching the papers and bringing them back a few steps, “What are these?”

“Contracts,” He replies, and for the first time this whole meeting you can hear a little tension in his tone, “standard for employment termination.”

“Employment termination,” Yunho shakes his head, “that’s insane.”

“You can’t break the rules like this an expect there to be no ramifications,”

“Fire me then,” Yunho’s eyes narrow.

“Yunho, be serious,” Mr. Han says.

You feel a flash of Yunho’s anger in his chest, but then Hongjoong interrupts, his head shaking as he flips through the papers.

“These are unethical,” He glances up at you both before continuing to flick through, and Mingi leans over his shoulder to read more.

Yunho turns his head towards the two of them as Mingi reads aloud, “I, y/n, hereby acknowledge and agree to the terms of termination and the accompanying settlement as outlined above. Terms including, but not limited to, defrauding a member of the idol group ATEEZ, defrauding other KQ Entertainment employees in an attempt to establish co-conspirators, and intention to defame and devalue the aforementioned member’s career using these lies through public channels such as social media and the press. I understand and accept that by signing this letter, I am waiving all claims against KQ Entertainment, agreeing to the terms set forth in this agreement, and accepting the settlement outlined above.”

Read aloud, it’s even worse.

“This is a lie,” Hongjoong flips through the papers again, “all of it,”

“Defrauding me? Defaming me?” Yunho’s voice is low and steady, but you can see the look of betrayal on his face, you can feel the hurt, “You seriously wanted her to sign this? This bullshit?”

“Yunho,” You warn him gently.

”No,” He shakes his head and drops your hand, pulling the papers from Hongjoong, “this is ridiculous,”

“This is how it works,” Mr. Han replies, “this is is how we insulate you, and minimize liability,”

“Liability!” Yunho’s voice is sharp, “This is a mile from the truth,”

“It’s a smear campaign,” Mingi interrupts, calmly as he steps to Yunho’s side, “you get her to sign this and if the story about the two of them got out, you have it on record that she’s a liar and a manipulator.”

The attorney’s jaw tightens.

Hongjoong snatches back the papers and shuffles through them until he finds a subsection, “By means of seduction and false representation…. fabrication of a soulmark.”

Heat burns your cheeks even though the words aren’t true, and you swallow tightly to bury any threat of tears.

“What the fuck?” Yunho manages, pulling the papers closer.

“We don’t do this,” Hongjoong’s face is pinched in disgust, “we’re better than this. You make her sound like… you make her out to be some,”

“Gold digging whore?” You offer, a sick laugh in your throat at the absurdity of it all.

Yunho bristles, tossing the papers onto the desk and shaking his head, “She’s not signing this,” he says, “and she’s not fired, if you had just asked me instead of assuming I could have just told you that it’s true. We’re soulmarked, we found out while we were on tour. It wasn’t expected, but we’re happy. If you had just asked me, instead of treating her this way, we have nothing to hide.”

“But you’ve been hiding,” He counters.

“We were waiting for the right time,”

“And let me guess, that was her idea?” He nods towards you.

Yunho leans forwards, “Speak about her like that again and this conversation won’t be so professional.”

Hongjoong closes a hand around Yunho’s forearm in warning.

Mr. Han sighs and rubs his eyes, “Yunho,” his voice softens up and you brace yourself, “you need to think about your career, your livelihood. No one wants an unavailable idol, they want the fantasy.”

“We’re not objects,” Hongjoong bristles, “we’re not dolls for you to dress up as you please and play boyfriend,”

“Aren’t you?”

“Fuck you,” Mingi curses.

”Be serious,” He continues, “I know you like the girl, this is certainly not the first time someone’s broken a dating ban and it won’t be the last, but it always ends the same. I am telling you, no girl is worth your career.”

“She’s not some girl,” Yunho says sharply, taking a step back to you and finding your hand again, “she’s my soulmate, and I would have thought that would be different,”

The beat of silence stretches into two

”He doesn’t believe us,” You murmur, “he thinks I saw your tattoo and copied it, that I tricked you,”

“We’re bonded,” Yunho counters, “you can’t fake that,”

Mr. Han sighs again, “I’ve seen it more than once,”

You can’t help the flurry of rage that bubbles in your gut, and your hands fly to the buttons of your blouse. All eyes fly to you as your shirt starts to open, and Yunho reaches for your hands, “Stop, baby, stop, you don’t need to do this,”

You push his hands away, your shirt parting open, “You think I faked this?” You tug down the band of your bralette, “You think I’m lovesick and crazy, and would trick him like that? My tattoo is red, so is his, both of them used to be black. I have pictures of mine to prove that, and I’m sure your files have pictures of his.”

You let the band of your bralette slip back into place, covering the mark, “But that’s not what this is about at all, is it? It doesn’t matter if it’s true. All that matters is me disappearing, and the money flowing.”

His lips close into a tight line.

”Would you have convinced him it was a lie? After I was dragged out of this building by your goons, would you have told him all the stories of other idols who have been fooled?” You take a step towards the desk and press your nails into your palms to keep steady, “How many real bonds have you broken? And for what? A nice house? A nice suit? You’re disgusting,”

His jaw tenses again, “We’re done here,” he says, flicking a hand to security, “get her out of here.”

They step forward on command, but Yunho takes a swift step between you, putting his body between you and the room, “Don’t touch her.”

“It’s over,” Han Minchul says, exasperated, “she’s fired. You can be angry with me all you like, but the decision is final.”

“Then I quit,” Yunho drops the sentence like a bomb.

Mingi and Hongjoong snap up to look at him, and you press forwards to touch his back, “Yunho, don’t, don’t do that.”

“She’s right,” He nods, “you and this company have had a positive working relationship for years, don’t throw it away for a woman.”

“You son of a,” Yunho darts forwards, but Mingi is faster, locking his arms around his best friend and dragging him back.

You suck in a sharp breath of air and shake your head, tears threatening. It’s all coming down, just like you knew it would. When you look up, the attorney looks almost pleased. He holds your gaze as Mingi and Hongjoong get Yunho under control, a final challenge, and even though it kills you, you nod.

With your stomach in knots, you touch Yunho’s arm and bring him back to you, Mingi's hold breaking, “Yunho, it’s done, it’s over.”

“What?” He swivels to you, surprise across his face “y/n, we can’t,”

“Not us,” You assure him, pulling him closer, “never us, but this is over. Even if we could work it out, I wouldn’t want to stay where I’m clearly unwanted and we’re being watched.”

He studies your face, a tense crease in his brow, “But,”

”Let me go,” You squeeze his hand.

“This isn’t fair,” He breathes, cupping your cheek, “it wasn’t supposed to happen like this, we had a plan,”

“But we always knew it could,” You remind him softly.

Hongjoong steps close, keeping his voice low, “We’ll find a way to take care of this, but y/n is right. There’s nothing we can do here,”

“So you’ll go?” The lawyer pipes in, “Because as much as I appreciate this tender moment, I have a one o’clock,”

Yunho’s jaw sets hard.

”I’ll go,” You say from behind him, “just give me a moment,”

You go to move, but Hongjoong clears his throat softly, “Your blouse,”

Your cheeks flush, and you step back to Yunho who straightens up and tucks you closer to his chest while you hastily do up the buttons of your shirt.

You want to cry, to scream, to throw something and run away into the sunset with the man you know is yours, a truth so deep it’s in your marrow, but you can’t.

Yunho drops a kiss to your hair, checking to be sure your blouse is closed before he turns back to the room, “She goes, but she’s not signing those papers.”

“That deal is off the table,” The attorney says, “but our official position will be a downsizing of the department. You’ll be let go without severance, and without reference, but we will not interfere with your future job prospects negatively. Security will see you out of the building.”

Yunho doesn’t move, he keeps you tucked behind him and you can feel the tension rolling off him in waves even without the bond.

Hongjoong nods towards the desk, “Her phone?”

“Ah, yes,” He stretches out a hand with it towards you, but Yunho intercepts before passing it back.

One glance tells you all you need to know - Yunho’s contact is gone, your chat history is gone, and when you click on your photo library you see that every photo is missing.

You make a soft, involuntary sound, “Our photos,”

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that you are still bound by your original Non-Disclosure Agreement as an employee,” Mr Han says, “if anything is published online or otherwise about your relationship, you will be in breach of that contract and we will be forced to bring forward a suit. I trust you’re smart enough not to do that, but you’ll have to forgive me for taking additional precautions.”

“Liability,” You breathe.

“Exactly,” He nods.

Yunho spins back to you, kissing your forehead and gathering you close, “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

“I know,” You murmur, “I know,”

“I’ll fix this,” He presses, “it’s just a job, we’re still us.”

Mr. Han makes a non-committal sound, “In case you’re planning on maintaining whatever relationship and contact you have, Yunho, I will remind you that your employment contract still maintains a romantic entanglement clause.”

Your stomach drops out, and Yunho turns.

“You can consider this a formal warning,” He continues, “but if you break your contact again, you will be terminated, and that includes paying back a considerable amount of debt.”

“This is insane,” Mingi manages.

”This is business, standard business.”

Yunho finds your hand, pressing your palms together. Slowly, he exhales and looks up, “Understood.”

Your heart aches in your chest. You wonder if he can feel it too.

“Those contracts expire in a little over a year,” Yunho says, “I can tell you now that I will not be renegotiating.”

Your heart starts to pound.

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” Mr Han says, “groups lose one or two members after rookie contracts all the time, that’s not a concern to the company, that’s a probability.”

“And if you lose eight?” Hongjoong says sharply, “Because I won’t renegotiate if this is the new climate at KQ, and I know the rest of the members will be right behind us.”

“Yep,” Mingi nods, “Count me out.”

Yunho’s stunned silent, so are you.

“You’ve treated us terribly,” Hongjoong says, “but what you’ve done to y/n might actually constitute harassment, and I intend to find out.”

“You’ll never,”

“We understand the terms of our contract well,” Hongjoong interrupts, “and you will not catch us breaking those terms, but let me know how the CEO feels about their debut group walking away with grievances after that contract expires. Do you think that will be good for business? I know exactly how much profit we generate for this company, and if you think all we’ve done for six years is sing and smile on command, you’d be sorely mistaken.”

Mr. Han takes that in, eyes flicking over the room, “This meeting is over.”

”Meeting,” Mingi scoffs.

”Miss y/n,” Mr. Han clears his throat and addresses you, “your final check will be mailed to you.”

You have nothing to say, so you nod.

“Security will escort you out,” He reiterates.

Both of the security officers step forwards, looking at Yunho squarely, almost a challenge to see if he’ll let you go.

Panic lances through you at the thought of not seeing him again.

Yunho turns, tugging you close. With his lips at your ear he murmurs something just for you, “I love you,” he promises, “I’ll come, I promise,”

Tears track down your cheeks and you nod, “I love you,”

“It’s you first,” He squeezes your hand, “I promise, y/n, I swear,”

Your breath hitches, “I know,”

“Yunho,” Mr. Han says firmly, “that’s enough.”

Taking a step back from Yunho, the tears come faster but you scrub them away quickly with the sleeve of your shirt. The security officers nod and you step closer to them.

One of them secures a hand to your elbow and Yunho takes a step forwards, “Take your hands off her,” he says

You pull your arm away from the unwelcome touch, “I know the way out,”

“Yunho,” Mr. Han interjects, “stay. We have things to discuss, everyone else can go.”

“Let me walk her out,” Yunho steps towards you.

“No,” Mr. Han grows serious and gestures to the chairs, “sit. I’m done entertaining this,”

Yunho’s name is trapped in your throat and you press your nails into your palms.

“Miss,” One of the security officers nods towards the door.

Yunho’s looks to you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears and his lips parted, there’s more to say but he can’t.

“I’ll walk her out, I got her,” Mingi interjects, locking eyes with his best friend.

Yunho nods, words still trapped in his throat.

“Mr. Song,” The attorney says, “don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Mingi clenches his jaw, muscle jumping and he shakes his head, “Just the lobby, what a coincidence,”

Mr. Han looks briefly irritated, but looks to security.

They don’t touch you, but they do guide you with their hands outstretched, and it’s clear this is fully over. You stumble out, eyes still glued to Yunho, but Mingi swiftly steps to your side and falls into step with you.

“y/n,” Yunho manages, a stricken look across his face.

“Do not make a scene,” You hear as you leave the room.

Yunho lays a hand across his chest, a firm press to his soulmark that echoes in your chest and hot tears rush to your eyes. Security pushes you down the hall with their unrelenting pace though, and you’re forced to face front.

Behind you, you hear the door shut but not before Hongjoong’s sharp voice gives you all the comfort in the world, “No, I think I’ll stay.” You’re deeply, deeply grateful Yunho won’t be in that meeting alone.

“Mingi,” You manage as you all file into the elevator.

”It’s going to be okay,” He assures you softly, “keep your head up. We’ve got him, you know we do.”

You nod, swiping away the emotion from your eyes.

“How did they know?” He asks quietly as the elevator descends.

”He said Iseul,” You can barely say it without the idea turning your stomach, “but she wouldn’t have done that.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes track the floors as you descend.

“I’m sure,”

There’s a ding as you hit the lobby, and you breathe through the anxiety of knowing your coworkers are about to watch you be escorted out of the KQ offices.

“Miss,” Security gestures forwards and you step out.

“You got this,” Mingi says softly.

The walk to the doors is a blur, surreal and strange. Five years of your life, gone in a second.

You barely remember the walk home.

Curled up on the couch you wait for something, anything. A phone call, a text, a single message from anyone but you get nothing.

He doesn’t call.

He doesn’t text.

He doesn’t come for you.

The bond is strangely quiet, and it feels like your world is shattering around you.

In the morning you call the one person you know will be there, sobs wracking your chest the moment the moment your sister picks up the phone. She doesn’t need to know a thing before she’s in the car and driving to Seoul.

You want to go back, you’d keep hiding if it meant you could have even a little of him, but this.

You can’t stay here, choked by the ghost of him everywhere you look.

For a little while, life really was beautiful.

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