#Goyal Eye

[goyaleye]

आई फ्लू के फैलने के बारे में एक ग़लतफ़हमी है कि यह देखने से भी फैल सकता है। इसी गलत धारणा को ख़त्म करते हुए डॉ रितिन गोयल, आई फ्लू बचने के उपाय बता रहे हैं।

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[goyaleye123]

आई फ्लू के इलाज के बारे में कुछ गलत धारणाएं हैं, जो आई फ्लू को बदतर बना सकती हैं। आई फ्लू से जुड़े मिथकों और सही इलाज के बारे में डॉ. रितिन गोयल से जानें।

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[brownsugar4hersoul]

“Hello everyone (Fools & Wise Ones)!

Welcome to New Month, April!

A month known for sunshine,

spring vibes & it’s fool’s day.

Honestly speaking, it is human nature

to think wisely & act foolishly.

Isn’t that the truth?

We spend hours contemplating the best course of action, only to be tripped up by emotions, impulses or that one extra Gulab Jamun or laddu staring us from our dining table.

Sweetheart, Isn’t that just delightful?

Here’s to thinking big, acting…well, sometimes a little less big & learning to laugh along the way.

Remember, even the wisest person trips on their shoelaces occasionally.

But hold on, dear, before you align yourself to a life of perpetual folly, here’s the good news:

The fact that we CAN think wisely means we CAN act wisely.

I wish & hope that from today itself you will begin to catch yourself in the act of thinking foolishly (every time)…

Darling listen – we’ll still have our April Fools’ Day moments (because, let’s face it, sometimes life is the biggest prankster of all).

But by acknowledging this human tendency & taking steps to bridge the wisdom-action gap,

we can turn this month & every month,

into a celebration of our ability to be not just thoughtful creatures, but thoughtful doers.

May this month be everything you hope for & more!

Happy New Month! Blessings!”

| Rajesh Goyal |

[ssa-dado]

The Metaphysics of Love - SOS

Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluffy fluff, sapiosexual fluff and - brace yourself - SOFT SMUT LET'S GO SPICY GOYALS!!! Summary: On a rare day off, you planned a quiet morning for Aaron's birthday. But he surprised you instead, taking over the kitchen revealing one of his hidden talents. Caught between banter and intimate teasing, you both savored the depth of your connection, blending banter and desire. One thing is certain though, luck is never by your side. Warnings: +18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, or at least do out of your parents' sight - SEX, ORAL SEX ALLUDED (fem receiving because we live in a patriarchal society, we deserve it), lots of dirty talk. Aaron 'how am I a whore' Hotchner, he's just a whore. Word Count: 8.8k Dado's Corner: So, this is the first remotely sexual thing I've ever written. I love reading some good ol' smut, but for some reason, I cringe a lot while writing it. It took me excruciatingly long. I don't know what I'm doing; I don't even know if it's any good or even half-decent - let me know? AAAAA I'm very insecure about this and on posting it eheheheh life is fun isn't it? Is it even smut? Who knows. I need theraphy after this.

masterlist

Greek philosopher Plato wrote, “If only there were a way to start a city or an army made up of lovers. Theirs would be the best possible system of society, for they would hold back from all that is shameful, and seek honor in each other’s eyes.”

On rare days off, there was one thing you allowed yourself unapologetically: to be entirely unproductive.

You took these days like a blessing, where sleeping in was less a luxury and more a necessity - a chance to let your mind drift, to refuse the call to be anything more than just here, in this restful solitude.

And when Aaron came over the night before, both of you embraced that same ritual.

It felt almost like a paradox that two people so fiercely devoted to the relentless precision of your work - two minds honed to confront humanity’s darkest edges, always willing to answer the call, no matter how ungodly the hour - could find such deep, sweet solace in those private mornings together.

Days when, for once, you weren’t bending yourselves to crises or sacrificing the next moment’s peace to duty.

You and Aaron, who could spend hours in a rare, intellectual love, a bond built on respect, shared virtues, and an admiration for the other’s mind, a connection that didn’t rely on words, but on understanding each other’s essence.

Yet when the door was closed and the world locked out, all that intellectual reverence between you replaced by something untamed, something driven by pure, aching desire.

The slide of his hands over you felt reverent yet urgent, mapping each line and curve as though rediscovering familiar territory for the first time.

Each kiss, each touch held the thrill of exploration, a deliberate pace that turned gentle caresses into an unspoken plea. The way he whispered your name, his breath hot against your ear, sending sparks down your spine as he drew you closer, as if he could never be close enough.

In that bed, the world ceased to exist, its demands fading into oblivion as you lost yourselves in each other’s bodies, moving and meeting in rhythm, a silent language spoken only between you.

You felt his every shift, every unhurried stroke, savoring the taste of his skin, his weight, the feel of his hand tangled in your hair.

Every time his hands began their journey over you, it was as if he were memorizing you anew, mapping each curve with a reverence that made every touch feel essential. The way his lips would trace a languid, heated path down your neck, over your collarbone, and linger to each of your breasts, then lower to your stomach – always precise, always teasing, always patient.

Each time, he would pause with that infuriating, electrifying smirk, glancing up at you just as his mouth left warm, wet trails along the delicate skin of your inner thigh, each mark a whispered claim, each gentle bite igniting a spark of wild, irrational hunger.

Then, he’d slow, letting his touch turn soft, his movements deliberate, every kiss a careful mark of possession as he inched closer, closer, until he hovered right where you burned for him most.

The warmth of his breath brushed against your skin, stirring an ache that felt endless - and yet he always held back, drawing out each second to a tantalizing, almost torturous eternity.

Time itself seemed to dissolve, stretched and redefined by his restraint, bending beneath his control until it became something ungraspable, a vast chasm of unfulfilled need. In that suspended tension, everything beyond the heat of his touch blurred and faded, the world reduced to the exquisite ache of his nearness.

Every nerve felt poised on the brink, strung tight between the agony of waiting and the edge of release. It was an ache that deepened with every restrained second, until every part of you ached for him to finally give in - to end the slow, maddening tease and take you over the edge you so desperately craved, to just let you combust.

Every time, you knew there was no getting out of that bed.

But today, you needed to try.

Today was Aaron’s birthday.

It was his tenth birthday as your partner.

His second as your boss.

His first as… your boyfriend.

The word still felt novel, strange to say aloud, as if acknowledging it might make it slip away. Months in, and it hadn’t yet lost its surreal sweetness. So, despite already knowing he would brush it off, you wanted this day to be special.

Not big, not loud, just enough to quietly tell him how much he meant to you.

And how much you loved him.

He had given up on his own birthdays long ago, weighed down by the memories of being called away, the guilt of leaving pieces of himself with every mile, the reason of the failure of his marriage, the strain of missing out on Jack’s moments he could never relive.

But you knew his aversion went even deeper than guilt and regret.

Because Aaron Hotchner, the man whose presence could command a room with a single look, who possessed a physical authority in his stature, his voice, and his steely gaze, was nothing like that in private.

In his job, he could pull strings in hidden places, command respect from even the most powerful, yet, in private, Aaron Hotchner was anything but the center.

He instinctively yielded that space to others, always giving, forever considering his own worth secondary to his duty. For him, the spotlight was an obligation, a necessity he wore well, but not one he sought.

He instead lived with an unshakable humility that, in his own mind, made him unworthy of the small graces most would take for granted.

He was the center for so many others, to let the world turn around him, even for a day, felt almost undeserved.

This was the man you loved.

The man who, in every part of his life, had chosen to orbit around others rather than himself.

But today, you wanted to change that.

If there was one battle you were determined to win, it was this one: slowly chipping away at Aaron’s stubborn sense of self-denial, proving to him that he deserved the care and quiet adoration he so freely gave everyone else.

You’d make it your mission, spoiling him however you could in those rare, fleeting moments he allowed.

Especially today.

Today, you wanted everything to be about him.

You wanted him to let you give him a birthday that revolved solely around him, a celebration in the purest sense of the word.

So, you concocted a plan.

One of your more mischievous fool-proof “evil” plans, as you’d call them.

You’d set your weekday alarm to go off at an ungodly hour, sacrificing your own precious sleep for a just cause. When the alarm blared, you’d pretend it was a simple mistake, and then, under the guise of getting some water, slip out of bed.

Now, Aaron, being Aaron, would try to keep his eyes open, struggling to wait for you to come back to bed, but you were betting on his recent run of sleepless nights to wear him down. He’d have no choice but to let sleep drag him back under.

And while he slept, you’d slip into the kitchen to bake him a birthday cake, filling the apartment with the warm, sugary smell of freshly baked sweets.

But not just any sweets - because Aaron’s idea of a “sweet tooth” was as delightfully twisted as the man himself.

He liked desserts that weren’t cloying, desserts that had just the right balance of sugar and subtlety. You’d stocked up on his favorite ingredients earlier in the week, quietly stashing them away like a stealthy confectionary hoarder.

You wanted the process to take time, to show him that he was worth the hours of sacrificed sleep, that he was worth the care poured into each meticulous step.

Call it love.

You could picture it perfectly, or at least you thought you could: the early morning quiet, just you in your cozy sanctuary, stealing away precious minutes of peace to bake for the one person who had come to mean more to you than anyone else in the world.

You’d sneak out of bed and create something special, something full of quiet love. That was the plan, the picture you’d carefully composed in your mind.

But reality had other plans.

Because, instead, you woke up alone, which wouldn’t have been unusual months ago, back when solitude was your morning routine. But lately, you’d grown a little too used to waking up next to Aaron, finding him there in those rare, lazy mornings, seeing his face softened by sleep.

So, yes, waking up without him startled you.

And that wasn’t the strangest part.

But what truly threw you off was the unfamiliar noise that filled your apartment – the sounds foreign and unexpected, loud and unmistakably upbeat.

Music.

Not just any music, but the kind that seemed plucked from a pop radio station’s Top 30 - those catchy, bubblegum-sweet songs that played over and over, each one sounding like a new but familiar hit. You recognized the song immediately, a few of its lyrics sneaking into your consciousness.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone…”

The music filled the entire space, and the distinct melody grew louder as you slowly pulled yourself out of bed. You quickly washed up, threw on Aaron’s shirt - somehow conveniently draped over the chair beside your bed from last night - and crept toward the source, trying to make sense of the scene awaiting you.

The closer you got, the louder the music became, and as you moved down the hall, another noise reached your ears. A full octave lower, slightly offbeat tune, blending into the chorus.

You stopped.

This new melody was unmistakable - a deep, familiar voice humming along.

You rounded the corner, holding your breath as you peeked around the door frame, and there he was: standing at the counter, 6’2” of pure FBI stoicism, humming and even softly singing along to Taylor Swift’s “Love Story” as he flipped pancakes, completely absorbed, almost…at peace.

Aaron, your Aaron, was singing.

And he was singing on key, to a Taylor Swift song, of all things.

This was Aaron “blues and classic rock” Hotchner, the man who’d first revealed he could play the guitar with quiet pride, a piece of his world he’d shown you like an offering.

This was the man who once played you a perfect riff from Eric Clapton’s “Layla” to win a bet, who could talk about the origins of every Beatles riff and knew exactly which blues chord matched which heartbreak.

You’d seen him pour himself into those riffs and solos, even negotiate an occasional strum in exchange for something even as stupid as a kiss or him asking you to sing along. That was thrilling enough, it was something special he shared with you, revealing his private passion for music.

You’d always thought he kept his own voice hidden somewhere deep.

You’d gone a decade without hearing it and almost expected never to, half-convinced he didn’t even know how to sing. If he did, it was probably as flat as his deadpan humor.

Yet here he was, in his element - or maybe in your element - singing along, his voice low and smooth, threading into the melody as if he’d been doing it all his life.

He wasn’t putting on a show, no spoon-as-microphone dramatics, no fake dance moves. Just the smallest tilt of his head in time with the music, his voice like his presence - restrained, yet always intentional. It was almost as if he was singing to keep himself company, like he’d done this a hundred times over, alone.

It was strange, maybe surreal, to see Aaron singing the words to one of the most unabashedly sentimental pop songs, lyrics he’d usually flip the station over without a second thought.

But what truly was more shocking - was the calm, almost methodical way he sang. It wasn’t the typical poppy, upbeat rendition, he was deliberately bending the melody, drawing out the notes, giving it a weight and richness that felt… sincere.

Even thoughtful.

“Romeo, save me,” he murmured, his voice like velvet, layering over the lyrics with that warm, low cadence that made you feel he was singing a ballad rather than a radio hit. “I’ve been feeling so alone” The lower octave turning the song into something more heartfelt, the kind of warmth you’d find in an old love song.

You barely dared to breathe, your hand resting on the doorframe as you took in the scene, each step bringing you closer, yet you stood still, just watching him.

There he was, perfectly at home in your kitchen, flipping pancakes in time with the song, a bowl of batter at his side, and those neatly diced apples - your apples, the ones you’d hidden for the cake, already sliced and ready on the counter.

He moved with this calm certainty, like he knew exactly where every spoon and skillet was, as if he’d done this a hundred times before, like this was his kitchen, his place.

And watching him, the weight of it settled over you, soft and unassuming, like it had always been there, only waiting for you to notice.

You wanted to see this every morning.

This sight - him in your kitchen, in your space, humming along to a cheesy love song.

You could already imagine so many more mornings just like this - waking up to the quiet sounds of him in the kitchen, maybe later to the faint patter of little feet, to quiet laughter, to moments of warmth and ease you hadn’t dared to let yourself picture.

Right there, it hit you, the thought rising naturally, with the same certainty as breathing: you wanted to marry Aaron Hotchner.

You wanted this morning, and every morning, and every rare, precious moment he’d allow you to share, for the rest of your lives.

It was so startling, it almost scared you - the sheer weight and clarity of it, something you’d never even let yourself imagine until now.

And as if he could read your mind, he sang on, unwittingly echoing the thought you’d just had, the words falling from his lips with this surprising tenderness, so soft you barely heard it over the sizzling pan,

"He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring…”

And in perfect time with the lyrics, he turned, reaching for something on the counter. His gaze met yours, and he froze, his eyes going wide.

Caught.

Caught like he was a kid with his hand in the cookie jar, his cheeks tinged pink as he stammered, “It’s… catchy.”

You couldn’t even form a coherent reply. All you managed to say, a little dazed, was, “Last time I checked, this was my kitchen.” It seemed only fair to mention, because he looked entirely too comfortable, like he belonged there. Which, of course, he did.

Without missing a beat, he smirked, still flushed. “Last time I checked, that was my shirt.” There was a glint of humor in his eye as he nodded at the oversized button-up you were wrapped in.

Touché.

But you couldn’t let him off so easily.

“So, Hotchner’s finally embraced pop?” you teased, moving closer. He gave you a look that was half-fond, half-exasperated.

“Are you going to tell the team?” he asked, lips twitching in a barely suppressed smile.

“Oh, you mean that you know the lyrics to Love Story by heart?” You reached for a piece of apple, savoring the sweetness, both of the fruit and the moment.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms in a way that was both effortlessly intimidating and disarmingly charming. "And how exactly are you going to tell them?" he countered, his voice low and amused. "Considering we’re still keeping this whole thing," he gestured between the two of you, "a secret?"

You arched an eyebrow at him, a smirk dancing at the corner of your lips. “Oh, don’t worry, I’d find a way to tell them. Especially after finding my plan completely sabotaged.” You gestured toward the crime scene he’d made of your countertop, the diced apples mixed with flour dust and cinnamon smears, reaching out to pick up a perfectly diced slice. “What kind of monster butchers my last apple?”

Aaron chuckled, crossing his arms in that familiar way that made him look both effortlessly intimidating and disarmingly charming. “Well, I got here first, so I have dibs on breakfast duties,” he said, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he leaned in just a bit closer.

“Admit it, you’re just miserable that I’ve now beaten you not only to the office every morning but also in your very own kitchen.” With a playful smirk, he reached out, fingers grazing yours as he took the slice of apple from your hand, popping it into his mouth.

Your hand instinctively reached up, brushing a stray smear of flour from his cheek, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, your fingers lingered against his skin, warm beneath your touch, your thumb brushing over the roughness of his stubble. “Believe me, Aaron,” you murmured, your voice softening, “I’m hardly miserable. But if there was ever a day for you to be spoiled, it’s today.”

A subtle shift crossed his face, he tried to play it off with a shrug, but you caught the way his eyes softened. “Since when are Sundays such a big deal?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

You smiled, your voice dropping just as low. “Since a certain FBI Unit Chief turned 43 today.”

He paused, something deeper flickering across his face, gratitude, maybe even a hint of wonder. But his lips curled into a small smile as he teased, “So you’re saying you’re obsessed with me? Is that why today’s circled on the calendar?”

You laughed softly, leaning in until the warmth between you was almost overwhelming. “Maybe I’m just a thorough planner,” you murmured, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. “Not that you’d know anything about that, Mister Show-Up-Unannounced-To-Ruin-Everything.”

His chuckle was low, rich, and his hand slid from the counter to your waist, pulling you closer, his thumb traced small, warm circles just above your hip, sending a thrill through you that made your pulse quicken. “Oh, so I’m the one to blame now?”

His forehead pressed against yours, his lips only inches away, his voice a warm murmur that made your breath catch. “I thought I’d get some credit. I put my heart into this, you know.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingertips brushing gently along the nape of his neck as you closed the space between you. “Maybe a little credit,” you whispered softly in his good ear, your voice low and warm,

“But only if those pancakes are as good as the cake I was going to make for you.” You leaned back just enough to see your reflection in his light chestnut eyes. "Happy birthday, Aaron. I love you."

Six words, and that’s all it took.

Six words and the universe seemed to gather itself, suspended in a moment that transcended language itself.

It was a truth so elemental, it resisted adornment, a declaration distilled to its essence, timeless and immutable.

An affirmation that existed beyond expectation, a vow as ancient and constant as the stars themselves.

There is a metaphysics to love, you realized - it stands outside the linear bounds of time, touches the eternal.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice serious thick with emotion, “I love you, too.”

As he leaned in, his lips met yours with a tenderness that felt timeless, like the merging of two notes in perfect harmony. The kiss was neither hurried nor tentative - it lingered, unbound by time, a communion in which words would only lessen its meaning.

It was as if the essence of all things - of breath, heartbeats, even thought - collapsed into a single, quiet rhythm, a pulse shared between the two of you, steady and enduring.

His hand on the small of your back was grounding, tethering you to the warmth and certainty of his presence, yet it held the weight of something deeper, an invitation to transcend the ordinary, into a realm that felt almost timeless.

His fingers traced gentle paths along your spine, each motion a quiet pledge, a reminder that this moment - this suspended eternity - was as real as anything either of you had ever known.

There was something purely metaphysical about it, a union that philosophy itself would struggle to pin down, though it tried - oh, how it tried!

There were passages in Aristotle, in Plato, that hinted at this feeling, words that beckoned yet somehow fell short of translating this precise depth, this shared infinity.

How perfectly absurd, yet fitting, that the ancient words you’d studied your whole life only now truly resonated, here, in his arms.

It was probably a blessing that he couldn’t read your mind, or he’d surely tease you mercilessly, forever, about finding existential truths in the simplicity of a kiss.

Yet philosophy was the only thing that could try to capture even a fraction of what he made you feel. You would have likely confessed that, at this very moment, he seemed to hold all the secrets of the universe in the softness of his gaze, in the press of his hand.

If he knew, you could already hear him laughing, promising with that faint smirk to remind you every day for the rest of his life: ‘that you were the one waxing poetic, hopelessly undone by his touch.’

But perhaps you’d take that trade-off, if it meant he’d keep looking at you just like this.

Or maybe he already suspected, because as he pulled back slightly, that familiar sparkle was in his eyes. His voice dropped to that low, warm timbre that always seemed to melt you. “You know, I’m the luckiest guy in the world having you as my girlfriend,” he murmured.

You felt your cheeks grow warm, a reaction you couldn’t seem to help, especially when he was the one reminding you of that fact.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your blush. “I love how you keep doing that every time I call you my girlfriend,” he said, savoring each word, his grin only widening.

“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” you nudged him playfully, pulling away just long enough to pour yourself a glass of water.

He leaned against the counter, eyes sparkling with a playful glint. “Maybe. It’s the little pleasures in life, you know?” He paused, and you caught the mischievous edge to his voice. “Like watching that blush climb all the way down your neck every time I’m close to you.”

You took a sip of water, trying to keep your cool, but he leaned even closer, his lips just a breath away from your ear. “And I can think of a few more ways to keep you flushed like that,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a sultry murmur.

You nearly choked, sputtering as you looked up at him with a mock glare. “If you say one more word, Aaron Hotchner, I swear I’m dumping this entire glass of water on you.” you warned, pointing to the water for emphasis.

But he didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he raised a playful brow, his smirk only deepening. “Now, that’d just give me an excuse to get closer to you. Which, I’d say, isn’t a bad way to spend my birthday.” He paused, eyes trailing over you in a way that sent warmth radiating from your cheeks down to your very core. “Or… maybe you’d rather see me get out of this shirt? I mean, it’s your call, sweetheart.”

The room suddenly felt too warm, and from the glint in his eyes, you knew he could see how thoroughly flustered you were. You searched for a comeback, determined to give him a taste of his own medicine.

But the words caught in your throat, entirely out of reach, and he noticed - of course he noticed. His grin widened as he leaned back, folding his arms, looking smug and entirely too pleased with himself.

“What’s the matter, Professor?” he continued, a grin playing on his lips. “Don’t tell me the great philosopher herself is speechless?” His voice dropped even lower “No ancient texts to rescue you from this one?”

The challenge in his eyes held you captive, and you knew there was no witty comeback that could save you from the truth: he had completely undone you.

But you managed to pull yourself together just enough to respond, leaning forward as you raised your chin with a defiant smile.

But he didn’t budge, his eyes sparkling with that familiar, infuriating confidence. “Oh, I think I’ll stay right here. Watching you like this?” His smirk grew wider. “This is the best birthday gift I could ask for.”

You raised an eyebrow, refusing to back down, and turned to the fridge, grabbing a cold bottle of water and holding it up with a knowing look. “You know,” you said, a mischievous smile playing on your lips, “there’s a whole bottle of ice-cold water here. Just waiting to be used.”

He chuckled, unfazed, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Judging from that blush,” he murmured, stepping closer, “I think you’re the one who could use the cold water.” He leaned in, his voice a low, seductive whisper. “Or do you want to bet I’ve already got you wet down there?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips as you took a small step back, pretending to consider his words. “Oh, you’re bold today, aren’t you?” you teased, uncapping the water bottle and tilting it slightly in his direction. “I wouldn’t test me, Hotchner.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied smoothly, though his gaze stayed fixed on you, steady and full of challenge. “But I’d love to see what you’d actually do with that water,” he added, crossing his arms and leaning back with a smirk. “Go on, show me.”

You lifted the bottle just enough to let a single drop slip down, watching as it slid down the bottle’s edge, intentionally drawing it out. “You sure about that?” you asked, your tone daring. “Because once I start, there’s no going back.”

He grinned, holding his ground, eyes dancing with intrigue. “Try me,” he whispered, his voice rough, daring you, his gaze locked on yours.

With a smirk, you tilted the bottle in one swift motion, letting a stream of cold water pour down his neck, catching him completely off-guard. The shock in his eyes was priceless as he gasped, shivering as the icy water spilled over his collar and down his chest, soaking into the fabric of his shirt and clinging to his skin.

You watched, heart pounding, as rivulets of water dripped from his hair, tracing paths down his jaw and across the hollow of his throat.

His breath came shallow, and for a brief moment, he just stared at you, his eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and something else - a heat that went far beyond the playful spark in his gaze moments before.

Slowly, he brushed his fingers through his wet hair, sending droplets flying as he shook his head in mock surrender, chuckling under his breath. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, “I’ll give you that one.”

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours, the water still trickling down his neck, clinging to his skin. “But you do realize,” he said softly, a glint of challenge and mischief in his eyes, “now it’s my turn.”

Your fingers threaded into his damp hair, tugging him closer as you pressed your body against his, deepening the kiss with a need that went beyond words.

His mouth moved over yours, hot and unyielding, each kiss more consuming than the last, igniting a fire that pulsed through every inch of you. You let out a soft moan as his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you against him, until the lines between where he ended and you began were blurred.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you with ease, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as you steadied yourself, your legs tightening around his waist. He walked with purpose, each step deliberate as he moved you away from the puddle on the floor.

Reaching the counter, he set you down, his hands sliding to your hips to keep you anchored to him. You pulled him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist, feeling his hard bulge pressing against you, right between your legs, sending an excruciating wave of heat that made you ache with need of wanting every inch of him.

His lips trailed down to your neck, finding that sensitive spot that made you gasp, arching your back and tilting your hips against him in response, desperate for more contact through all those unnecessary layers of clothes.

That made him chuckle against your skin, his breath warm and teasing as he pressed his hips forward, letting you feel more of him. His hands roamed over your body, one slipping down between your thighs, his fingers sliding over the fabric of your clothes to press gently against your folds. You let out a shuddering breath as he teased you, feeling your arousal seep through the fabric under his touch.

“Shit Aaron,” you whispered furrowing your brows, the sound escaping as a mix of plea and need. He let out a low, satisfied sigh, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate strokes along your folds, applying just enough pressure to leave you breathless.

"Told you needed that cold water too," he murmured, his voice rough and dark with desire as his fingers continued their slow, teasing movements, each touch lingering longer than the last, setting every nerve in your body on fire. "You’re so wet, love."

His lips found yours again, his kiss searing and consuming, swallowing the soft gasps that escaped you as his hand worked in a steady rhythm that left you trembling, every touch building the ache that spread through you.

Your hands found the hem of his soaked shirt, unable to resist the need to feel more of him. You gripped the fabric, slowly peeling it up over his torso, your fingers tracing over every defined line of his abdomen and chest as the shirt lifted, clinging to his skin, heavier from the water.

He shuddered at your touch, his muscles taut under your fingertips, and his breathing hitched as you struggled to work the fabric up over his shoulders. With a quick, impatient movement, he pulled it the rest of the way off, tossing it carelessly to the floor, where it landed with a wet, heavy thud.

The unexpected sound made you both pause, sharing a breathless, shared chuckle that broke the intensity for only a moment.

Then his gaze met yours, dark and blazing with an almost unrestrained hunger. His pupils were blown wide, breaths shallow and quick, matching your own.

The charged silence between you was almost unbearable, every second weighted with anticipation " Let's cut this shit and just fuck me, Aaron," you said firmly locking eyes with him, your tone was thick with need.

 "So eloquent," he replied, his voice so low that it made you even more wet than you already were.

"If you don’t have me quoting Plato," you breathed, voice unsteady, “then it means you’re doing it a good job."

He let out a low, throaty chuckle. "Trust me, that's the last thing I want to hear right now."

False. But he wasn’t about to let you know that just yet.

Keeping his gaze fixed on yours, he dipped down slowly, his hands sliding up your thighs, his grip firm yet gentle, holding you open in a way that left no room for resistance and filled you with a breathless anticipation.

His lips brushed softly over your knee, then trailed upward in maddeningly slow, deliberate kisses along your inner thigh. Each touch of his mouth felt like a spark on your skin, the heat pooling within you growing with every inch he covered.

The roughness of his stubble scraped deliciously over your sensitive skin, heightening the sensation and leaving you craving more with every slow, deliberate movement.

“I could stay here all morning,” he murmured, his voice thick and rough, lips lingering at that spot on your inner thigh that made your head spin. “Fuck, your thighs drive me crazy.” He sucked gently at the sensitive skin, and a dizzying wave of warmth coursed through you, making you clutch the edge of the counter beneath you.

“You sound so much better when you’re talking between my legs,” you managed, your voice a whisper. “Almost makes me want to actually listen to what you’re saying.”

A smirk played on his lips as he moved inward with torturous slowness, each kiss deeper and more lingering than the last, his mouth exploring every inch with an intensity that only stoked the fire inside you. “Can’t wait to eat you out,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low rumble that made you shiver. “You always taste so damn sweet.”

Just hearing him made your cheeks flush, heat spreading across your skin, and he looked up briefly, catching the blush on your face.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your thigh, the vibration sending a shiver through your entire body. “There it is,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to your skin as if savoring every reaction, “and I’m not even close.”

“Fuck you Aaron,” you muttered, rolling your eyes at the nerve he had, but unable to mask the need building inside you.

“Just give me a few minutes,” he whispered, a wicked smile tugging at his lips, “and you won’t be able to say a word.” Without giving you time to respond, he moved his hand, his fingers brushing over your throbbing, clothed core, drawing a soft, needy moan from you.

“Oh, Aaron,” you gasped, the words spilling from your lips as the warmth of his touch sent a shock of pleasure through you.

“Better, but next time just say my name”, he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction as his mouth continued to explore every sensitive spot, each kiss igniting fresh waves of desire.

He savored every second, each shiver, each breathless sound you made, keeping you on edge and drawing out your need until you were trembling with anticipation, every nerve alive and straining toward him, aching for the moment he’d finally close that last, agonizing bit of distance.

A soft, breathy moan escaped your lips as his mouth reached the very end of your inner thigh, lingering there with maddening intent before, with one swift motion, he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and discarded them, leaving you exposed to the cool air that instantly sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hand flew to his, squeezing his left hand resting on your thigh, seeking an anchor amidst the building tension. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding you there, his grip firm and grounding.

What a gentleman.

As he moved closer to where you ached for him most, the warmth of his breath contrasted with the coolness of the air, sending another wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

Your skin was hypersensitive, every inch of you on edge, the cool air brushing against your slick, exposed core making you tremble with need. You could feel yourself wet, the evidence of your desire trailing down, and he noticed, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he took in every reaction.

Slowly, he leaned in, and just when you thought you couldn’t bear the wait, he let out a soft, cool breath against your sensitive center, the contrast making you gasp, your hips instinctively arching toward him.

The sensation was electric, his teasing touch only building the tension to a fever pitch, leaving you breathless and desperate, every nerve alive, craving his next move.

Every inch of you ached for him, and the faint chill of his breath against your heated skin only made you more sensitive, heightening every sensation as you waited, breathless, desperate, for the moment he’d finally close the distance and give you the relief you craved.

And just as you felt yourself entirely lost in the moment, fully immersed in his touch, your phone rang – your work phone.

Aaron, sensing the urgency of your vibrating work phone, let out a reluctant sigh and leaned down, resting his head between your legs for a lingering moment before handing the phone to you.

His hand found yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze before he straightened up and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. He knew it had to be important if you were getting called on your day off - especially since your last case had barely wrapped up a day ago.

With a sigh, you brought the phone to your ear, feeling Aaron’s hand slide down to rest on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow, grounding circles over your skin. “Agent Y/L/N,” you answered, keeping your tone professional despite the unmistakable warmth of Aaron’s presence beside you.

The voice on the other end chirped brightly. “Oh, don’t worry, Teach, this isn’t a case.” It was Garcia, her usual exuberance coming through, immediately putting you at ease.

Aaron’s head shot up, his expression sharpening as he registered Garcia’s voice on the line. His unit chief instincts kicked in immediately, a hint of concern flickering across his face - he knew as well as you did that Garcia wasn’t supposed to make personal calls to your work phone.

His gaze shifted to meet yours, silently questioning, his eyes searching for an explanation.

But you quickly gave him a reassuring nod, your eyes conveying, ‘It’s fine. Just Garcia being Garcia.’

He studied you for a moment, then sighed, the tension easing from his face as he accepted your silent assurance. She was his favorite on the team, after all – you knew he’d let this slide simply because it was her, and only her.

His tense posture softened, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he relaxed. But his hand stayed firmly on your leg, his thumb moving in soothing circles, silently grounding you as you continued the call.

“So… what’s up?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Well, I’m just outside your door!” Garcia chirped, and you froze, a sense of dread pooling in your stomach. “I came by to return that umbrella you lent me! And as an apology for taking so long, I brought homemade cookies! But not just any cookies - these are made with your recipe. I had to know your secret, oh wise cookie guru.”

You exchanged a panicked look with Aaron, who widened his eyes, clearly just as surprised as you were. He raised his eyebrows in disbelief, mouthing, ‘What?’

The kitchen was a disaster - a puddle of water glistened a few feet away from where you were, his shirt and your discarded underwear lay crumpled on the floor, and a forgotten stack of pancakes sat on the opposite counters, cold and untouched.

You tried to focus, clearing your throat. “Did you, um, brown the butter?” you asked, forcing a normal tone as Aaron’s lips returned to your cheek, planting feather-light kisses along your jawline. You brought your hand up to his chest, gently pressing to stop him just before he reached your neck.

If he kept going, there was no way you’d keep quiet.

“Oh, obviously, I browned the butter! Gourmet tip of the year, right?” she replied with dramatic flair. “But seriously, why haven’t you opened the door yet? Don’t tell me you’re still in bed!”

“Oh, Penelope, uh,” you hesitated, your voice wavering as you shot Aaron a helpless look. He simply leaned back, crossing his arms with an amused grin, watching you squirm. “I’m… uh… a little tied up right now.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then she gasped, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “Teach,” she said, drawing out the word as if savoring it. “Did you get laid?”

Your eyes widened, heat creeping up your cheeks, and you avoided Aaron’s gaze. “I, uh…” you stammered, glancing at Aaron, who raised both eyebrows, clearly entertained by the direction the conversation was going. ‘Lost for words, again?’ he mouthed, with a smirk.

“Oh my God!” Garcia squealed. “Spill! Where did you meet them? Was it romantic, thrilling, a slow-burn kind of thing?”

Thinking quickly, you stammered, “Uh… met him at the supermarket, actually.” You glanced over at Aaron, who was watching you with a barely contained grin.

“The supermarket?” Garcia’s tone was incredulous, then turned approving. “Well, look at you, turning errands into escapades! What was it about him? I mean, Teach, this is you we’re talking about, and you have that five-date rule before you even consider any ‘extracurriculars’!”

Aaron barely held back a laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He mouthed, ‘Five dates?’ with an exaggerated look of mock surprise, clearly referencing the fact that it had taken you much fewer than five dates to get there with him.

Grabbing a pen and sticky note from the counter, you quickly scribbled, *It took us ten years, I think we waited enough.*

He read it, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous grin that seemed to say, “Still a win.” He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, and you rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile.

“So?” Garcia’s voice came through again, jolting you back. “What made him so special?”

You cleared your throat, keeping your answer vague. “He was… just nice. Nothing too remarkable. We just clicked.”

Garcia paused, as if processing that. “Clicked, huh? Not the most exciting answer, but I guess it’s better than nothing.” Her voice lowered conspiratorially, “Well, Teach, between you and me - how was it?”

You blinked, struggling to keep your composure. You knew answering in detail would only encourage her. Shooting Aaron a quick, apologetic look, you took a deep breath and answered, trying to be as nonchalant as possible “Honestly? Not memorable.”

Aaron’s eyebrows shot up, a look of playful offense crossing his face. You grabbed the pen again, quickly scribbling, ‘She’d have asked for specifics. It was the only way to end it.’

But Aaron wasn’t letting it slide.

He smirked, taking the pen from you and jotting, “If I were you, I’d start writing your incident report now.”

You mouthed a playful “Come on, Aaron,” but he didn’t relent, writing again, ‘You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you. Trust me on that.’ His eyes gleamed with a mixture of humor and something darker, and he added, ‘Consider it a favor to your Unit Chief.’

The moment he pulled rank - even in jest - you knew he wasn’t kidding. A thrill shot through you, as, you realized: oh, you were fucked.

Meanwhile, Garcia was still on the line, sympathy dripping from her voice. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Teach. I hope the next one is better! But hey love, you’re a catch, you’ll have a line of suitors soon enough.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, grinning as he traced lazy circles along your arm, clearly entertained and waiting to see how you’d handle the situation. Just as you were about to breathe a sigh of relief, thinking the conversation with Garcia might finally be wrapping up, she added, “But one last thing… how big was he?”

Your eyes flew to Aaron, who pressed his lips together, struggling to keep from laughing outright. His brows lifted, an expectant glint in his eyes as he waited to see how you’d handle this new level of interrogation.

You let out a long, exasperated sigh, hiding your face behind your hand for a second before answering.

“Oh, Penelope,” you began, doing your best to keep your voice steady as Aaron’s expression practically sparkled with mischief. “Size… let’s just say he was… more than enough.”

You gave Aaron a pointed look, as if to say, ‘Happy now?’

Aaron raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye, and picked up the pen to scrawl on a sticky note, “At least you said something true this time.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms with a smirk and that unmistakable, self-satisfied gleam that only made him more infuriatingly irresistible.

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to wipe that smug grin off his face. He was lucky you loved him, even when he was this cocky.

Garcia hummed, clearly intrigued. “Alright, alright, keep your secrets! But I’ll be needing a coffee date soon to get all the details. And I’ll make sure to bring a tape measure!”

Aaron’s smirk only widened, thoroughly enjoying every second of your discomfort. Determined to take back some control, you grabbed the pen, furiously scribbling, “If you don’t stop smirking, I’ll make you wait a week.”

He arched an eyebrow, clearly unfazed, and took the pen, writing back with a smug confidence, “I don’t think you’d last a week.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned in close, his mouth brushing your ear. “In fact,” he whispered, voice low and challenging, “I’d bet you’d be begging in less than a minute.”

Just as he pulled back, you caught yourself, remembering Garcia was still on the line. You shook yourself out of the daze he’d left you in, quickly bringing the phone back up. “Thanks, Pen. I’ll, uh, catch up with you later. I’ve got a bit of a… mess here to handle.”

“Ohhh, say no more,” she replied with a knowing giggle. “Go handle your ‘mess,’ teach! I’ll swing by later to drop off the cookies.”

“Sure thing,” you replied, hoping to end the call before anything else slipped. “Talk soon!”

Finally, she hung up, and you let out a sigh of relief as you placed the phone back on the counter.

Before you could even process the call, Aaron wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back toward him. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss along your jaw, trailing slowly down to the sensitive spot on your neck, his touch igniting that spark of need all over again.

“‘Not memorable,’ huh?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed his lips along your collarbone, his voice thick with amusement and challenge. “Guess I’ll have to change that.”

You smirked, threading your fingers through his hair, giving it a gentle tug as you met his gaze, your eyes gleaming. “Consider it a challenge,” you whispered, voice heavy with anticipation.

“Oh, I intend to,” he replied, his voice low and filled with a promise that sent a thrill through you. His hands slipped down to your waist, gripping firmly as he lifted you effortlessly back onto the counter.

His fingers traced along your thighs, pulling you close until there was no space left between you, his warmth flooding over you as he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was anything but forgettable.

The intensity of his lips left you breathless, his mouth moving with a need that always made you ache for him.

But just as you were melting into the kiss, he pulled back abruptly, leaving you gasping.

Without a word, he turned and walked toward the entry room where he’d left his briefcase the night prior.

You sat there, still dazed, watching as he rummaged through it with purpose. When he returned, he handed you a piece of paper and a pen, his smirk widening as you looked down and realized he’d handed you an incident report form.

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “An incident report, really?”

He grinned, his hands settling on your waist, pulling you flush against him. “You file this,” he said, voice rich with amusement, “and in the meantime, I’ll clean up this kitchen disaster we made. How’s that sound?”

“You’re serious about this?” you asked, trying to keep a straight face as his fingers slid teasingly up and down your sides, his touch setting your skin on fire even through the fabric.

He leaned close, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “Think of it as a precaution,” he murmured, his breath tickling your skin. “Can’t have you running to HR with ‘not memorable’ complaints, now can we?”

You arched an eyebrow, glancing at the cold pile of pancakes beside you. “Fine. But if I’m filing paperwork, I’m at least entitled to a last meal,” you teased, reaching for one of the now slightly stale pancakes.

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his fingers brushing along your jaw as he looked at you with mock sincerity. “Of course. I’m not heartless,” he said, sliding a hand possessively down your thigh. “Wouldn’t want you complaining that I wasted your ‘last apple.’”

You rolled your eyes, grinning as you took a bite, savoring the taste with exaggerated satisfaction just to get a rise out of him.

As you took a bite, he leaned in, his lips trailing a slow, heated path down your neck, each kiss sending sparks across your skin. “Finish up,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with promise. “You’re going to need a lot of energy later.”

You smirked, picking up a pancake and handing it to him. “I think you’re the one who’ll need it more,” you teased, eyes glinting. “Wouldn’t want you throwing out your back, old man.”

He raised an eyebrow, biting into the pancake you offered, then leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Old man?” he echoed, his tone low and challenging. “We’ll see who’s begging for mercy first.”

You chuckled, unfazed. “Just looking out for you,” you replied innocently. “Can’t have my Unit Chief all sore and out of commission, can I?”

He chuckled, his fingers tightening around your waist. “Sweetheart, by the time I’m through with you, the only thing you’ll be looking out for is a place to catch your breath.”

“Oh?” You leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Big talk. Hope you’re not all bark and no bite.”

He tilted your chin up, his gaze darkening as he smirked. “Oh, you’ll feel the bite.” His lips brushed over yours, slow and teasing. “And trust me,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve got more than enough stamina to keep you… occupied.”

You grinned, meeting his dark gaze with a defiant spark in your eyes. “More than enough stamina? Now that’s a bold claim,” you murmured, your voice laced with playful challenge. “But, if you’re looking to impress, I’d expect nothing less than an all-night performance. Think you can handle that?”

His smirk grew as his hands slid up your sides, pulling you even closer. “Oh, I’m not just handling it, I’m guaranteeing it,” he replied, his voice a low, rumbling promise. He leaned in, brushing his lips over yours, just close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath. “In fact, sweetheart, I don’t plan on letting you sleep at all tonight.”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept up the game. “Guess I’ll have to cancel my morning plans,” you replied, pretending to sound disappointed. “Here I thought I’d be waking up fresh and ready to tackle the day.”

He let out a soft, amused chuckle, his fingers slipping down to grip your hips firmly, pressing you against him. “Oh, you’ll be plenty ready to tackle something,” he teased, his eyes glinting as he tilted his head, giving you a slow, purposeful once-over. “But the day? Probably not. You’ll be too busy trying to remember how to stand.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smirk never left your lips. “Big words, Hotchner. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He leaned closer, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Challenge accepted,” he murmured, his tone dripping with intent. “And just so you know,” he added, his mouth ghosting over your skin, “the only thing I’ll need all night… is you begging for more.”

“Confident, aren’t we?” you teased, threading your fingers through his hair, giving it a gentle tug. “But confidence only gets you so far, you know. You’ll have to back up all this talk.”

He smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth, his eyes gleaming with that familiar intensity. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, his lips brushing over yours. “By the time I’m done, the only thing you’ll be able to say is my name.”

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet”, Plato.

---

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @justyourusualash ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

Hope you liked it :) Happy birthday old man

[cosmica-galaxy]

Goyall,jebus, crackpot and phobos react to a player that is a harpey? I don't mean the animal I mean the folklore that is a person that fell in love with a god/goddess/deity but the feelings weren't reciprocated turning them into a mostly bird person only thing human is the head.

Goyle: Goyle was used to many ragtag contestants coming onto his gameshow for an attempt at fame and glory in his cylinder of sin...but he had never seen this type of contestant before. They came in with a group of tagalongs, apparently leading the pack like a leader as they take charge over their entourage. Their kills were both graceful and magnificent. Their wings lifting them into the air and their claws snatching up prey like a hawk and dropping them into the blender apparatus on the arena. The crowd would even scream in awe as they fly past, their feathers bright and colorfully vibrate. Covered with blood and standing with their men proudly, the crowd goes wild with hoots and applause, and Goyle finds himself smiling underneath his mask. What an interesting contestant... Jebus: Jeb was a man of science and logic...but the Player was always far above his expectations in their means of what is logical. For instance, he has no idea what these 'mods' that the Player keeps talking about even are, but less to say he's surprised by their added "abilities". They were once 'human', but they now wear the identity of something called a 'harpy mod'. Their feathers made them look godlike, their voice like a songbird, and their talons as long and as sharp as any well-kept blade. The 'mod' merely added to their elegance and power and Jeb couldn't help but let the tempting thought of petting their feathers in his mind once or twice. He always shakes the ideas off, however. Still...he would love to learn more about these 'mods' if you would allow him to do so. Crackpot:

Crackpot was more than just a self-indicted messiah, he was the leader of the cult that he cultivated deep underneath nexus city. He was confident in his 'rights of passage' and 'those who would float' as Nevada sinks. But one day his lucrative view was challenged when the Player graced his presence in a form that never walked nor floated...but flew. It was the highest form of elevation among mortals that needed machines to take to the skies. But the Player's form shirked the need of grunt-made vehicles and the bright and colorful feathers that covered their body, defying the dull colors and tints that surrounded them. They stood with the two intruders, eyes tight and fierce and talons prepped to rip and tear into those lesser than them... And Crackpot became enthralled. Phobos: Phobos has always revered the Player as a being above all else in Nevada. They were above such needs that mere mortals had. They had no need for money, fame, or materials. They simple hailed as they were, pure and uncorrupted by the filth that ravaged Nevada's landscape. Seeing them in person, however, spurred another emotion that wasn't merely envy and awe from within Phobos. Seeing such a regal being standing next to the Auditor as the Nexus meeting begins to unfold, the director was speechless. The feathers that covered their body and the long threatening claws that extended from their feet radiated the power that he knew they were capable of wielding. But the form didn't take the face of his god...and Phobos could only stare at them as the meeting continued. His single eye scanning them in interest as his mind struggled to process the possibility of his god wielding multiple forms.

[dhr-ao3]

Fake it For Revenge

Fake it For Revenge https://ift.tt/vlwDocO by cring3writer Hermione Granger finds her Fiancé of 3 years and Boyfriend of 6 years - Ron cheating on her, struck by grief and betrayal all Hermione can think of is Revenge. But what can possibly make this situation even better? well the return of her old enemy turned friend - Draco Malfoy. What lengths will this pair go to, just to make dear old Ron's life a living hell? Read now to find out. Sneak Peak: ... Once again, her eyes filled up with tears of hurt and betrayal. “Well that’s where you are wrong Weasley, Granger here is pretty desirable any man would want to steal her from you.” Draco now inserting himself into the conversation, after watching the whole debacle go down before him. He walked towards Hermione, pulling her close by hooking his arm around her waist. He looked into her chocolate brown eyes, that had been glossed over by the tears she desperately tried to hold in. He looked back at Ron still holding Hermione close. “Hell, I might even try to keep her for myself.” Words: 2456, Chapters: 1/15, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, George Weasley, Fred Weasley, Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Bill Weasley, Percy Weasley, Cho Chang, Lavender Brown, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, James Sirius Potter, Albus Severus Potter, Lily Luna Potter, Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, Girish Goyal, Oliver Wood, Parvati Patil, Padma Patil, Hermione Granger's Mother, Hermione Granger's Father, Original Characters, Blaise Zabini Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Years Later, Ron Weasley Bashing, Good Draco Malfoy, Rich Draco Malfoy, Married Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Revenge, Ron Weasley is a Little Shit, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/o8MC32n July 15, 2023 at 05:09PM

[mukulgoyald]

Mukul Goyal

Mukul Goyal, the eponymous label comprising of objects of home decor has found a wide spread appeal and strong identity across a milieu of patrons. The range has a significant footprint in India and in about 30 other countries.

Tattva Art Hardware is a one of kind range of exclusive sculptural hardware which is available in almost 200 stores around the country. It is a unique range of home hardware visualized through the artist’s eye.

[iammitesh86]

List of 28 people who looted money from Indian banks:-

1) Vijay Mallya

2) Mehul Choksi

3) Nirav Modi

4) Nishan Modi

5) Pushpesh Baidya

6) Ashish Jobanputra

7) Sunny Kalra

8) Aarti Kalra

9) Sanjay Kalra

10) Varsha Kalra

11) Sudhir Kalra

12) Jatin Mehta

13) Umesh Parikh

14) Kamlesh Parikh

15) Nilesh Parikh

16) Vinay Mittal

17) Eklavya Garga

18) Chetan Jayantilal

19) Nitin Jayantilal

20) Deepti Chetan

21) Saviya Seth

22) Rajiv Goyal

23) Alka Goyal

24) Lalit Modi

25) Ritesh Jain

26) Hitesh Nagendrabhai Patel

27) Mayuriben Patel

28) Ashish Suresh Bhai

The total amount looted was Rs. 10,000,000,000,000/- is.

(is ten trillion rupees)

something special-

None of them are Pakistani

None of them are Muslims,

None of them are empty,

None of them are Sikhs, none of them are Jats, farmers, laborers, workers,

None of these so-called urban Naxalites,

None of these belong to OBC/SC/ST,

None of these belong to Haryana Punjab Uttar Pradesh Rajasthan

Except Vijay Mallya, everyone else is from Gujarat!

People need to ask themselves this question.

They owned private companies and the government wants to give them to government banks, in the hands of private companies, the money of government banks belongs to the common people. Save the government banks, save the country. ✊Please share this message as much as possible, so that the eyes of the bigots are opened, how in the name of Hindutva, they have looted the hard earned money of the countrymen and settled abroad.

#money #banks #people #badloan #bharatjodoyatra

[drritingoyal]

Consult Dr. Ritin Goyal, a leading eye specialist in Delhi, for comprehensive eye care, advanced treatments, and personalized attention. Book an appointment now!

[portal92]

Top Design Consultation Firms in India: Residential & Retail Designers in Delhi by Sagar Goyal and Aanchal Sawhney

When seeking expert design consultation in India, Sagar Goyal Architect and Aanchal Sawhney Architect stand out as leaders in the field, offering bespoke solutions for residential and retail spaces. With a keen eye for innovation and functionality, both of these renowned architects have contributed significantly to India's design landscape, providing comprehensive services across various sectors.

Why Choose Sagar Goyal Architect and Aanchal Sawhney Architect?

Sagar Goyal Architect specializes in creating thoughtfully designed, sustainable, and aesthetically rich residential spaces that cater to modern lifestyles. With an approach that blends traditional architecture with contemporary trends, they offer personalized solutions to transform homes into functional and stylish sanctuaries.

Aanchal Sawhney Architect, on the other hand, brings expertise in retail and commercial spaces. Their designs are known for maximizing space while maintaining an inviting and stylish environment, ensuring that the functional aspect of every project is harmoniously blended with creative visuals.

Residential and Retail Design Consultation in Delhi

Whether you're looking for a residential designer in Delhi to craft a home that reflects your personality or a retail designer in Delhi to elevate your store's aesthetic appeal, both Sagar Goyal Architect and Aanchal Sawhney Architect offer customized, forward-thinking designs. Their deep understanding of local culture and modern design trends makes them a top choice for clients who seek excellence in both residential and retail design in India.

Top Design Consultation Firms in India

When it comes to choosing the best design consultation firm in India, Sagar Goyal Architect and Aanchal Sawhney Architect are highly regarded for their visionary approach and exceptional attention to detail. Their vast portfolio of projects speaks volumes about their skill in crafting spaces that cater to client needs while staying on the cutting edge of architectural design.

If you're planning a project and want to collaborate with top residential and retail designer in Delhi, contact Sagar Goyal Architect or Aanchal Sawhney Architect today for a personalized consultation. With years of experience, they will bring your vision to life through intelligent design and expert execution.

What services do top design consultation firms in India offer?

Design consultation firms like Sagar Goyal Architect and Aanchal Sawhney Architect offer services including architecture, interior design, space planning, and urban design for residential and retail projects.

How can I find a good residential designer in Delhi?

Look for professionals with a strong portfolio and experience in designing homes that reflect your taste and lifestyle. Sagar Goyal Architect is an excellent choice for residential design in Delhi.

Do I need an architect for my retail space?

Yes, a retail designer in Delhi like Aanchal Sawhney Architect can help create an inviting and functional environment that enhances the customer experience and maximizes space usage.

What makes Sagar Goyal Architect and Aanchal Sawhney Architect stand out?

Both architects are recognized for their creative solutions, sustainable design practices, and a keen understanding of cultural and market trends. Their ability to tailor designs to client needs makes them top choices in India.

Contact us today to get started on your next project with Sagar Goyal Architect and Aanchal Sawhney Architect!

[nintendogirl106734-blog]

Chapter 3: Two Captives and a Walk

Start

Chapter 2

“Fi, you are right on time as always. Go put your things in your room and get changed into your uniform. It is time to conquer the human race once and for all.” Cue the cliche maniacal laughter. Father may have the best intentions at heart, but I swear, he is the most theater kid person I know. I bow to hide the slight smile that slipped onto my lips and calmly walked away. 

My room was down a side hallway, through a door that would be impossible to see if you didn’t know where it was. Father once said it was perfect for the spy I was made to be. Just like everything else in the training wing. Even my bedroom was… utilitarian in design. It had a simple sturdy bed, a matching bedside table, a plain black bookshelf with various strategy, survival, and combat books, a punching bag in a corner, and a dresser filled with black body suits and dark blue gi uniforms. The only thing that wasn’t military standard was the cherry blossom blanket the goyals got me years ago. I touched the fluffy fabric before focusing on my orders.

It only took a few minutes for me to change and I quietly walked back to the main room, tucking my face mask into the belt. By the time I arrived, father had lost his excited ‘cartoon villain’ mood and had shifted to a darker and more serious temper. He is muttering to himself but his voice is too low and muffled for me to hear a single word. 

“Father?” He barely gave me a glance as he continued to pace with a clip clop at every step. I remain silent and slip on the mask, covering everything except my eyes. Something was about to happen and he was probably going to instruct me to do so anyway. He eventually paused long enough to pull out his communication crystal and continued his stride as a voice drifted through the gem.

“The trail has gone cold in the Hidden City. We’ll return to the last known location of the agent and continue our search at the nearest surface portal.” “Be quick. I have plans for the vile the agent stole and I need it back before the crystals go dark.”

“Understood.” He is interrupted by the sound of dogs barking and the shout of a second figure in the background. “The dogs have caught a scent. We’ll call when we have the agent in hand.” The crystal goes dark and swiftly vanishes into father’s pocket. 

Everything went still for a moment before father’s hands slammed on the counsel in front of him. “Blast the Titan’s tit’s!” He gives a sigh and bows his head. “Why does this have to happen on the eve of my success? AGAIN!” The last word was accompanied by him throwing his hand in the air and returning to his pacing. “At least I got lucky with competent henchmen.”

“Of course boss! Your ideas are always amazing,” Huggin cheered from father’s shoulder.

“Yeah. This is just a minor hiccup. No problem that you can’t overcome.” Muggin added his encouragement from the other side.

The goyals have always been father’s greatest (and most vocal) cheerleaders. I don’t think I have ever heard them say a bad word about the man and every word is said with absolute honesty. It would honestly be impressive if I hadn’t heard it practically every day for nine years. 

“I suppose you’re right.” He takes a breath and turns to the room’s central column. “The hard part is already done. All I need is that vial.” He goes silent once again and focuses on the bugs trapped behind the glass. “They should have it soon but how…” His eyes drifted towards me and a smile crept to his lips. “That could work,” he whispered for a moment before he fully turned to me. “Fi, I have a mission for you. You heard that call, correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. I want you to go to the gate and escort the mercenaries when they arrive. I want the agent and the vial he stole from me. You need to make sure they both do.” 

“Understood father.” I paused for a moment before fading into the shadows and slinking towards the exit. It wasn’t needed, father would know where I was if he looked, but he always smiled when he saw my stealth skills so I might as well get some practice whenever I can.

The path to our portal gateway is a simple stone walkway raised high above a molten sea of magma. Some people call it the ‘Devil’s Backbone’ like it is something dangerous, but nothing has happened to give it such a silly name. Well… it hasn’t as long as I’ve been around at least. It didn’t matter anyway. I just needed to keep my eyes on the stone under my feet and focus on getting to the gate. If I take my eyes off my feet, I will either focus on the lava fish gliding in the melted stone below or they will drift to the glittering Helios Mutatio stones glittering above. Father always told me that they were ‘inefficient and insulting imitations of the dazzling glorious sun the surface dwellers take for granted.’ I don’t know if that is true. I have never really seen the sun myself, but I always thought they were pretty. They give off a calming aura whenever I get the rare chance to see them. 

All of the sudden, I am suddenly wrenched from my thoughts as my foot collides with one of the decorative stones around the gate. I didn’t even notice that my eyes were on the ceiling rather than the path. The gems are breath-taking but now is not the time to lose focus. Father needs the vile to reach his goals and he has trusted me with the job of delivering it. He expects success and I refuse to fail him. That thought barely drifted past my mind when right as the stone I kicked burst into a wall of swirling blue magic. They have arrived. 

Within a second, two large men walked out of the portal with two equally intimidating Black Shuck Dogs at their heels. They were much taller than I was and their black armor bore spikes at every joint. Their movements were near identical as they walked, the only differences being their eye color and what they carried with them. 

Garm, the one with pinkish red eyes, focused on me the moment the portal finally shut. He gave me a little smile and said “Hey little one! Miss us?” with a chuckle. I barely restrained a laugh as he tossed a pink confinement ball to himself and nodded at his question. Neither mother or father have needed them in months, so I haven’t seen them in a while. Freki, the one with green eyes, looked over at our conversation, but something on his other side pulled him away as he whispered to it… or them in frustration. It was nice to see them again, but as much as I would have enjoyed a brisk conversation, we all needed to focus on the business at hand. 

I was getting ready to speak, trying to figure out the best way to bring up the topic when Freki’s communication gem began to ring. He shook the thing he was holding and whispered a threat to silence it before he picked up. “Freki here.”

“What is taking so long?” Father’s voice was getting increasingly frustrated, but there was a hint of worry hidden behind the anger. It always is when I am away from him or mother for longer than he likes.

“We have successfully passed through the gate and have the agent in hand.”

“Any troubles we would know about?” We…? This was his plan, but I’m glad that he thought highly enough of me to include me. Well… assuming he wasn’t using the royal we. 

“Eh, nothing past the usual tracking troubles in a city,” Garm butted in as he leaned on my shoulder. I paused for a moment before leaving him there. I can shake him off when he gets annoying. “Aside from these kids that thought they could be heroes.”

“What?! Explain, now.” OH! Father’s voice has turned into a growl. If a satisfactory answer doesn’t come now, it would be better for them to give me the captives and forget the paycheck.

Freki gave Garm an elbow to the stomach before focusing on father. “When we cornered the agent in an abandoned construction area, a group of five teenagers blocked our way. One human and four kapa yokai. I believe they were surface raised as they did not know who or what we were. One human also fell into the portal before it closed. We have him in custody as well but weren’t sure what you wanted us to do with him.”

A rather ugly face popped out from behind Freki. “Custody? Man, did I get snatched by the porkers? I didn’t do nothing man! Just ask my boss.” His blazing red anger shifted into cooled fear. “Damn it, man. The big cheese is gonna be pissed at another late delivery.” He then looked around before turning back to Freki. “Do you got a phone I can use man… uh, I mean sir? I might still have a job if he knows I got got by the cops.” Freki looked at the human with an ice cold expression and pulled him back to his other side.

“Hm.” Father was silent for a moment before his lips pulled into a faint grin. “Bring him here. I have a place for him while we discuss what comes next.” The return of the theater kid. Seriously, could he phrase that in a scarier way?

“Yes sir.”

“And keep that thing as far away from… my apprentice. They are there to escort, not to entertain.” 

“Of course sir. We should arrive within fifteen minutes.” “I will have cells prepared for your arrival.” At that, father disconnected the call and there was silence for a moment.

“That’s a cool phone dude. Where did you get it? Verizon?” This is a very chatty specimen. Father will not appreciate that. He will either become an immediate test or father will do something to keep the lab quiet. The guy will probably end up in a soundproof cell if he keeps going like this. 

“Silence. Captain Draxum will deal with you once we arrive.”

“Oh, he the chief or something? Cool, man. Cool. So, if you guys are cops, then who are they?” The human pointed at me and Garm moved to block me from the human’s sight. Thank Titan. 

“They are not your concern. Stay silent and walk. If I hear anything else from you, you won’t remember the rest of the trip.” The human shut up at that point and the rest of us walked with a little more ease.

Grem, presumably thinking that I needed a distraction, walked up and passed over the orb he had been holding since they arrived. “Take a look at him. Bugger was a tough one, but we got em’ in the end.” He tossed the sphere to me and gave a chuckle. “Not even the best agent the council has can stay out of our hands, huh?”  I gave a soft huff at his actions before focusing on the ball he threw at me. 

There was a small feline yokai skittering around within. It looked about the size of a house cat with overly large ears, but the translucent pink orb obscured the fur color and it was moving too fast for me to determine any specific details aside from the fact that it wore a glowing green vial around its neck. That must be the vial father wanted. It… was that empyrean??!! What is father doing with that? It… Whatever father is doing, it has to be for yokai good. It always is.  I sucked a breath into my frozen lungs and handed the orb back to Grem as carefully as I could. If that vial breaks, the agent could be… indescribably… dispatched from life.  Grem, however, did not have as much consideration as me. He gave the orb a little shake before tucking it under his arm.

 “Plus, we caught the guinea pig back there. Look at em’. Not model material, huh?” I actually looked at the human that was barely visible at Freki’s side. They were… rather unsightly in my opinion, but that could just be because I was looking at a filthy piece of human scum. If every human had the face of an orangutan with tires shoved in their earlobes, then I would prefer to never see them again, just like father. Plus, the smell coming off them was horrendous. I could smell week old sweat practically dripping off the ratty green sweatshirt and month old fish radiated off the figure in general. I could tell that Freki was doing his best to breathe through his mouth, but every breath came with a concealed gag. Grem and I winced in sympathy and walked faster, ignoring the human’s complaint of being dragged along. 

We walked for twelve minutes, ignoring the complaints that continued until Freki got annoyed enough to smack the human. Grem continued his one sided conversation and laughed at my nearly silent reactions. The most he heard was a huff or giggle but he was used to that by now and was able to continue on his own. Apparently, they recently targeted a pair of highly supervised politicians that were informed that there was a hit on them. They had an early alert system in place so the targets could leave and two escape routes to use. Grem said that they spent days figuring out a plan to realize they just had to sabotage the helicopter and a couple of parachutes. “The idiots didn’t even think to check their shoots. They just suited up and jumped. Easiest cash we made all month.”

“Then I’m glad my job was a little more stimulating for you.” Father stood at the open door with his arms crossed and a small smirk. 

“Happy to have something to do.”

“Grem.” Freki elbowed past him, slightly pushing me as well in the process, and walked up to father. “What do you want us to do with this?”

“I have a cell prepared for him at the central console. A smaller one is ready for the agent. One made for his specific abilities.” Father moved out of the way, his nose wrinkling as the human was pushed past, and turned to me. “Did the journey go well?”

I nodded and motioned to the door. Father gave a sigh and shifted so the door was completely clear. “I may need you when the tests start, so stay within earshot of the lab.” I gave him a bow and walked away as father led the hitmen to his library. They were muttering something about payment and bonuses, but I really didn’t care at that point. I walked to the nearest shadow and blended in like I was trained to. I didn’t want that human to interact with me, but there was no reason to leave if I was going to be called back. Might as well guard the captives. Father spent so much time getting them that I doubt he would be very happy if they were lost. 

The human kept making sounds even though there was no one there (that they could see). He called for a lawyer and demanded his release. Neither of those would help him. Father wouldn’t let the secret of the Hidden City get out to the humans. This human will either pass here or join the Hidden City community by force. As much as I wanted to let him go, this was the best choice for him. I just looked away and focused on the normal grunts and snarls of the lab creatures. They were all better where they were as well. 

Thinking of them, I might as well tend to their needs instead of just waiting around being useless. 

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