#but it changes nothing about this scenario
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amazinglyashy · 2 days ago
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hello!! can I request fluff reactions of the boys to mc craving something to eat in the middle of the night?
thank youu have a good day 🥰
I'm laughing because you asked this like it would be the most off the cuff situation, when literally every single one of these men canonly have an awful sleep schedule and nighttime habits. Like, there is absolutely nothing weird about this at all except the fact that you're awake when they're awake.
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LaDS men when you crave something to eat in the middle of the night -
Zayne -
In all honestly, he was just now getting home from a shift at Akso hospital, so it takes him just a few moments to register why the situation in front of him was abnormal.
He can't help it, he's usually coming home in the early evening, not at three in the morning.
So when he sees you sitting at the counter, snacking on something, he simply sets his stuff down near the door and removes his tie, before coming over to give you a peck on the cheek in greeting.
He's made it halfway to the bathroom, yawning wide and telling himself to get some good sleep tonight- well, technically this morning- wait… morning…? What on earth were you doing up-
He's back in the kitchen in a second, with your eyes flickering back to him in an innocent question, confused as to why he's looking at you so bewildered.
'Why', is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, and when you finally process what he means by that, you can't help but give him a chuckle and a smile, still eating whatever you had gotten from the fridge or cupboard.
"I was hungry."
Not even going to question why you acted on your impulses to eat at three in morning. He'll just sigh, and tell you to make sure you get to bed soon for the sake of your health and mood tomorrow. Gives you one more kiss before heading off to get ready for bed himself.
Sylus -
He's probably just getting up.
So when he starts to rise and notices you lying awake, he's going to be confused, hoping to himself that you didn't have some freakish nightmare, especially not any possibly involving your past experiences with him-
No.
Turns out, you're currently trying to make yourself go back to sleep, despite wanting something warm to eat, but also not wanting to cook.
He's going to find it terribly endearing, letting out a little snicker and making you blush at his reaction, his hand carding through your hair as he leans down over you.
"I think you're forgetting something, kitten. I wake up around this time- meaning, I need to have something for breakfast before working on anything. You do know you can ask the chef to make you something right now, right sweetie?"
He won't say it, but you can tell he's so pleased to be eating with you, even though he knows you'll be heading off to bed right after, it's a nice change of pace for him. He's more than happy to have your company, no matter the odd hour.
Rafayel -
He's finally ready to kick himself into going to bed, but the moment he opens the bedroom door, he runs into you.
At first, he's worried.
Secondly, he's miffed that you got up to come and harrass him into coming to bed again.
Thirdly, he's extra miffed that none of the previous answers are true, but you're actually just hungry.
He's seen the way you snack, he knows you're not just making something up. And he can't exactly let you go back to bed hungry so-
That's how he ended up making a late night dish rather than finally heading to bed.
Any protests to him cooking fell on deaf ears. He's having none of that. He can tell you're still sleepy, and since he hasn't wound down yet, he isn't. So he's more than happy to cook for you.
Definitely wasn't hungry himself, definitely didn't forget to have dinner, no sir-
He'll sit and eat with you, asking if you had any interesting dreams, before making up scenarios that may have occurred involving food monsters and treat fairies.
He's not trying to hear that beautiful sound that is your laugh. Not at all. He's trying even less hard to make the meal last longer, just so that he can spend a little bit more time with you-
Xavier -
He probably saw you on his own way to get a snack, in all honesty.
You two just have to share a look, contemplating the situation, before the both of you begin to grin, realizing what the other is awake doing.
He offers to walk you around the block to the corner shop that's open 24hrs, so that the two of you can get some junk food or spicy microwave noodles to have together.
If you don't want to go anywhere, he'll either go himself or order delivery from somewhere that's open all hours so that you guys don't need to cook. He doesn't want to put out a fire for his attempts this late at night, and you either don't feel like it, or you're not the best at it yourself.
(You're still better than him though.)
Whenever the two of you end up getting your food, you sit together on the couch, legs folded over one another as you tangle together to watch an episode of something you've been binging.
You'll both wake up completely different though- having fallen asleep together on the couch after finishing your food, and ending up snuggled closely, a bundle of warm blankets and pajamas mixed with the relaxing sensation of the other's breathing.
Thank goodness today was the both of your day off...
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sharoo · 2 days ago
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Self-knowledge as a theme in STP messes me up so bad, bros.
This all starts with how little the Princess can tell you if you ask her about herself. How little you can say about yourself, more often than not. Most of the time Quiet doesn't even know what they look like!
The Narrator makes it a point to make the Princess' cluelessness, her lack of self-knowledge, into deception, but really, both the protagonists don't know themselves. How could they?
The concepts of bounds, of something that isn't you, the distinction of "self" and "other", "you" and "I", the concept of something being not like yourself... this is the first time this deity which is now two has ever experienced it.
The Shifting Mound and the Long Quiet did not exist until the Narrator tore a whole into parts.
Now, this deity in twain has to reorient. It has only begun existing, it's not yet known itself. A toddler has to develop a self-concept, and the concepts of others.
Now imagine, for the first time in your solitary existence, that there is something that you are not. Unknowable, foreign.
What are they like, you think? Are they a friend? Should I get to know them? Are they a foe? I do not know them, I cannot trust them... Or can I?
This brings to mind, of all things, Contrapoints' video on Twilight, where she speaks about the concepts of Union and Division in relation to love. And while she speaks of it in terms of eros, it can apply here just as easily, romantically and platonically.
Love is the union of two beings. We love because something outside of us allows us to be more than ourself. In others, many seek that which they lack. We seek out people so that we may develop through our similarities and contrasts with them, to change an be changed.
We seek out people because there can be no I without a You. To exist in a void is not a fulfilling experience.
We cannot discover ourself if he have nothing that allows us to compare ourself. The mirrors elude us throughout the game, always leading to the princess - she is the only way we may know ourselves, the mirrors tease as they disappear. And at the end of the route, only then, can you see yourself, now that you have a complete knowledge of yourself in a given scenario, with a given persona.
Was the princess someone you decided to trust? Or to betray? Was she a foe? A friend? A nightmare? A victim?
You both try to find out who you are through your relationship.
The princess assumes many faces and attitudes in response to you, you assume voices and attitudes in response to her. You're two batches of clay shaping each other at the same time. It's almost like knowing someone your entire life, seeing them go through different phases as they try to find out their identity in the world, their place. The 5 routes, whatever they be, are your "adolescence".
And growing means you will hurt each other, intentionally or not. There will be fights, disagreements, there will be heartache, and comfort and love.
And everything will pass.
Shifty, before she's complete, before she discovers her godhood, makes this point so clear.
How could she not be kind to you? You are the only thing in this place that is not her. What reason could she have to hate you? To make the only friend she could have into an enemy?
That's why, at the end of every route, all hurts are forgiven. All the heartache is acknowledged, understood, and then she moves on. So that you may continue being together, so that she may see what else you do.
Even godhood can become a phase. The Shifting Mound recognises what you both were, but it need not be you unless you accept it. Because self-knowledge is unending. You are always changing, and you can always change.
You can accept being a god, and that becomes you.
You can reject being a god, and that becomes you.
You are by that point an "adult". The figure trying to dictate who both of you are is gone, and you can decide for yourself.
I think this is partially why I love the Leave with Stranger ending the best of all the endings. You begin it by avoiding knowledge of yourself and of another. The self can only exist as far as it is not like the others.
And you meet the Stranger, this being who knows so little about herself, because she too has been deprived of another. The route is quick. It really cannot amount to much, because if you don't know yourself, it's so hard to build a relationship.
But at the end, they've matured. You gave each other time to become fuller beings. You met this person again and they seem so much happier with themself than they were in youth.
I love how they say "We're just a stranger.", and the voices point out how it needn't be sad that you don't know her, unless you make it out to be. You can get to know them, the real them, and they can do that with you.
The way the Stranger speaks if the position of a God only underlines how much the heart of the Shifting Mound can understand self-knowledge.
They speak of how they feel themself be pulled towards taking the position of godhood, of being everything, yet find it confining. Restricting.
"We want more. We want whatever might be on the other side of this door. Something new, that we'll experience together. With someone who exists outside of us. Someone who can see us in a way we can never see ourself."
Self-knowledge through relationships and reflection on how you impact other people.
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ssa-dado · 3 days ago
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Three Stages of Truth - SOS
Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff and a lot of fun bits Summary: After years of adhering to the FBI's "no dating coworkers" policy, you and Aaron finally crossed the line, keeping your relationship hidden behind a professional facade. The team, amused by your strict boundaries, continuously poked fun at your stoic, near-platonic interactions. Despite this, once you were home, everything changed. Three fun scenarios lead to one undeniable truth. Warnings: probably there's a short NSFW bit, nothing scandalous, minors can probably still interact (?) idk sue me Word Count: 10.4k Dado's Corner: The first two parts are heavily inspired by the delightfully unhinged brainrots exchanged with @c-losur3 (bless your criminally brilliant lawyer mind, this is all pure comedy). Finally expanded into something more fun… or at least, I hope so! Hopefully I met your expectations with your request, took some creative liberties just to keep you on your toes :)
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Arthur Schopenhauer, German philosopher, once said: “All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.”
---
Stage one: “First, it is ridiculed.”
If there was one defining characteristic that bound you and Aaron together more than any other, it was your deeply ingrained sense of duty.
Duty to the job, to the rules, to the team.
This profound sense of responsibility was what held you apart for so long, faithfully upholding the FBI's strict "no dating coworkers" policy, a rule neither of you dared to transgress.
It was that deep sense of responsibility that kept you and Aaron apart for so long, both of you strictly adhering to the FBI’s “no dating coworkers” rule. It was a line neither of you dared to cross… until, one day, you did.
When you finally took that step, it wasn’t as if everything suddenly became easier. If anything, your dedication to your roles only deepened. Years of hiding your true feelings had trained you well, knowing how to navigate each other’s professional boundaries came almost naturally.
And it wasn’t just about personal pride or discipline - it was about a shared commitment to keeping the team dynamic intact and not letting personal matters disrupt the work you were all so devoted to.
Worried that your relationship might disrupt that delicate balance, you both chose to keep it private for as long as possible. Every interaction at the office was carefully managed, every glance controlled. Even in moments when you wanted to let your guard down, you reminded yourselves what was at stake.
And when you finally told the team, it wasn’t accompanied by a sigh of relief or a relaxing of your professional façade, instead, you doubled down.
Pure stoicism.
No touching.
No lingering eye contact.
What the team found undeniably funny - and maybe enjoyed a little too much - was that back when you and Hotch were just “partners”, you were actually more relaxed around each other: a comforting hand on the shoulder every once in a while, sitting close together on the jet, chatting easily about anything and everything.
Now, you barely allowed yourselves even a fleeting glance. You maintained such deliberate distance that every rare look felt like you were cautiously measuring out tiny doses of affection from a secret reserve.
"Why don’t you two just kiss in front of us once, so we can actually remember you’re a couple?" they would jest during briefings, fully aware that the likelihood of such a display was on par with the office coffee machine working on a Monday morning.
However, this only seemed to encourage them to find even more creative ways to poke fun at you. During tactical briefs, a simple "Pass the stapler, please," from you to him could warrant theatrical gasps and someone fanning themselves as if witnessing an affair.
Or watching you navigate the halls with military precision, they’d nudge each other, whispering dramatically, "Alert, potential accidental eye contact in three, two, one... Oh, never mind, false alarm!"
In reality, the one thing that could actually make you falter was when the case wrapped up and all the tension, the sleepless nights, everything came down to a single moment.
All you both wanted was to collapse into each other’s arms, but instead, the only physical contact you allowed yourselves was a strangely formal handshake - stiff and awkward, yet somehow managed to carry the weight of all the unspoken longing between you, a small tradition of yours.
"Good job catching the unsub," you’d say, your voice steady, though your eyes shimmered with a warmth reserved just for him.
"Good job deciphering the pattern," Aaron would reply. His tone was calm, but his eyes lingered on yours a moment too long, betraying his deeper emotions.
In a daring whisper, you might lean in closer and murmur, "You looked insanely hot in that vest. I’m dying to jump your bones right now."
"I know, darling, but we can't," Aaron would reply, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "And by the way, if you could stop tying your hair up when I’m around, it would make things a lot easier."
You and Aaron had mastered the art of subtle flirtation, weaving little moments of connection into the everyday rhythm of work. Casual comments, quiet glances, nothing obvious, just enough to remind each other of what was waiting for you both at the end of the day.
If someone happened to get too close, you could easily switch back into "professional mode," talking about the case with ease, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
But once you were home, everything changed.
The moment the door closed behind you, it was like a switch flipped. Suddenly, you were no longer bound by the rules of the office. In your shared space, the weight of professional conduct melted away. You could finally let go - drop your bags, let the tension fade - and just reach for him. Your arms would find their way around his neck, as if you'd been waiting for this all day.
“Long day?” he’d ask, voice softened in a way that no one else ever heard.
“Long,” you’d murmur back, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before you even realized you’d missed him. “But I think I can be persuaded to relax,” you’d add, letting a sly smile tug at your lips.
He’d shake his head, but his hands would find your waist, pulling you close. “I’m sure you’re very persuadable,” he’d reply, and the warmth in his voice would melt away whatever stress lingered from the day.
There was no one to see you both now, no one to maintain appearances for, and the freedom was almost intoxicating.
You’d end up on the couch, half-curled into his side, legs intertwined, as you both debriefed each other not just on the day’s work but on everything that made you who you were, stealing kisses every few minutes just because you could.  
When paperwork demanded attention, it quickly transformed into another reason to stay close. You’d find yourself on Aaron’s lap, either at the dining table or settled into the couch, one arm draped around his neck as you both tried - mostly in vain - to concentrate on the documents in front of you.
More often than not, the papers would end up slightly crumpled, bearing witness to the playful struggles and distractions that ensued whenever one of you became too immersed in the task - or, more accurately, when the task became anything but the focus.
With a subtle wiggle, ostensibly just an innocent adjustment, you grinned up at him. “This is just more comfortable,” you declared, your tone overly serious as if you hadn’t used that same excuse every time you sat on his lap.
His eyes narrowed, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Comfortable for you, maybe,” he murmured, his hands settling on your waist, fingers drawing slow, deliberate circles on your skin that sent your heart racing.
You stretched, arching slightly, your lips brushing the spot behind his ear that you knew he loved. "Are you saying you’re uncomfortable, Agent Hotchner?" you teased, your lips still grazing his skin, before pulling back to face him as though nothing had happened. "Because we can always switch back to a more professional arrangement."
He chuckled, a rich, low sound that reverberated against your ear. "It’s only unprofessional if we’re caught," he replied, as your hand began to roam up and down the middle of his chest, your movements slowed by the bumps of his shirt buttons.
You feigned shock, your hand pausing in its path up his chest. "SSA Hotchner, suggesting we shirk our duties? I'm scandalized." Your tone was light, teasing, your fingers now slipping beneath his shirt to trace the warm skin of his torso. His slight gasp was your reward, and you pressed your advantage, your touch bold and exploring.
"And yet, you're not too scandalized to stop what you're doing, are you?" he observed, his gaze lowering to the chaos of papers that had begun to scatter across the table as you moved to straddle him, your knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his hips. He immediately moved his hands to rest on your waist.
"Shock makes us irrational," you quipped, biting your lower lip. Your left hand rested at the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his hair to draw him closer, while your right hand played provocatively with the belt loop of his trousers.
His eyebrow arched, a sculpted line of mock sternness that didn't quite mask the flicker of desire in his eyes. As your fingers playfully tugged at his belt, a barely audible hitch caught in his throat. “Oh, I think the real shock came last week,” he murmured, his voice a low, tantalizing tease, “when you chose to critique my punctuation on that witness statement  - while we were busy on the coffee table. And, of course, it wasn’t even an error.”
You paused, holding his gaze with a look of feigned innocence, your hands slid slowly over his shoulders, fingers tracing the hard lines of his upper back as you leaned in closer. "I never said it was an error. I just suggested that a semicolon would’ve made that paragraph flow better." Your fingers danced closer to the waistband of his trousers, hinting at further provocations yet to come.
"And you expected a revision on the spot?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, his voice a blend of amusement and disbelief. "You’re lucky that I was too distracted by other things." He adjusted your positioning slightly, sliding your hands from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him so that the closeness allowed you to feel the firm pressure of his arousal.
“Lucky?! Look, it’s not my fault that, in that position, all I could see were your terrible stylistic choices,” you breathed out, your voice a sultry whisper as you began to kiss along the side of his face, tracing a path from his forehead down to his ear. “They were staring me in the face, begging to be corrected.”
His response was a teasing smile, his eyes alight with mirth as he leaned in, his lips barely brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. “You could’ve told me, and we could’ve tried something else.”
“Oh, no chance,” you retorted boldly, your smile laden with mischief. “From now on, it’s sex on the coffee table or nothing .”
He smirked, starting to place wet kisses on your neck, letting sounds escape from you. "Alright, but don't start complaining about ink smudges on your blouse this time."
"There won’t be any smudges if you just took it off. There’s a reason undressing is the first rule in the manual, you know?" you raised an eyebrow as you guided his hand from your waist up to your breasts, earning an amused look from him as he began unbuttoning your blouse.
And, inevitably, the papers would crinkle beneath you both, completely forgotten, scattering in a mess neither of you cared about. The only certainty was that later you would need to reprint half of those, but that's exactly why you had invested in a printer for your home office in the first place.
And, inevitably, the papers would crinkle beneath you both, forgotten, replaced by the quiet, magnetic pull that seemed to dissolve every responsibility the moment you were alone together.
Then, there were the slower nights, the ones where words weren’t necessary. You’d find yourselves wrapped up in a blanket, his arm around you, your head resting on his chest as you listened to his heartbeat, each beat sounding more like home.
He loved to stroke your hair, twisting the strands between his fingers. He would trace the curve of your shoulder, his touch a promise that echoed in the walls of your empty house, all without needing to say a thing.
Until he would.
"I love you," he'd say, quiet but direct, because he knew how much words meant to you and always would. It didn’t matter if it was the twentieth time he said it that day, he would keep saying it, never once straying from his purpose.
"I love you too, Aaron," you'd reply smiling, looking up at him, watching the way his eyes softened. His hand would brush yours, fingers intertwining in that familiar dance that he always led to his mouth, kissing your hand while still intertwined with his.
When he caught you blushing, though, that’s when the real teasing would start. “Are you blushing?” he’d ask, eyes twinkling with amusement as he leaned in closer, his grin widening as he watched the flush spread down your neck.
“Maybe,” you’d huff, trying to look away, though he wouldn’t let you, his fingers lifting your chin so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.
“You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed, you know that?” he’d murmur, his voice a low rumble, making it impossible to resist smiling.
“Pretty sure you’re blushing too, Hotchner,” you’d shoot back, arching an eyebrow. And sure enough, a faint hint of pink would dust his cheeks, and he’d laugh, pulling you into another kiss.
“Guess we’re both fools, then,” he’d say, his voice softer, that rare smile reserved just for you.
You’d settle in for the night, curled up on the couch, your legs tangled together, his arms around you, holding you close. Sometimes you’d talk for hours, sharing stories, inside jokes that made no sense to anyone else but always made him laugh, that deep, genuine laugh that seemed to shake away every shadow he’d carried with him.
In the kitchen, he’d steal kisses over the stove as you cooked together, hands brushing as you reached for spices, your bodies leaning into each other in that rhythm you’d both grown to know so well. You’d nudge him with your hip as he tried to take over, insisting he was better at chopping vegetables. 
“Let me handle this,” you’d say, swatting his hand away, only for him to pull you into a kiss, completely derailing your focus. 
“Or maybe,” he���d murmur against your lips, “we could just order takeout and go back to the couch.” 
“Terrible influence,” you’d reply, but you’d never actually order takeout; you enjoyed doing tasks together way too much, even if it meant sometimes letting him cut the vegetables, letting him win - after all, it was in his nature.
Lawyers always do everything to win, skillfully bending the law to meet their needs - and Aaron, he'd willingly bend you over the counter. You weren't quite sure whether to be flattered by that, considering it meant you were his personal law.
Hours passed like that in a blur, lost in each other’s presence, the outside world never seemed to matter, it was just the two of you, existing in your own little bubble.
But that wasn’t something you allowed the team to see. It was an unspoken rule between you and Aaron - quiet and composed in public, free and true to yourselves in private.
And it had worked.
Or at least, you thought it had, until one day, the team decided they’d had enough - if you two weren’t going to let them see the real deal, they’d just have to… intervene.
It started innocently enough, with Garcia orchestrating what she dubbed a "team-building" exercise focused on open communication. The twinkle in her eye was your first hint that mischief was afoot.
Morgan delivered the coup de grâce with a wide, victorious grin, making a seemingly casual announcement that sent ripples of mischief across the cabin. "Oh no, looks like the lovebirds have to sit next to each other for the entire trip! Sorry, guys. Plane’s tight this time.”
Hotch, clearly not about to let the team’s evil plan play out in full while you all had to start briefing about the latest case, immediately shut down the smiles with a sharp, stern remark. “What, you think we’re going to cuddle on the way to a triple homicide?”
Honestly, every time he could command an entire room with that dry humor of his, you wanted to jump his bones.
You couldn’t help it, it got you every time. Your man was pure authority wrapped in a smart suit and perfectly timed jokes.
Despite what everyone might assume, Aaron was actually the kinder one in the relationship. While he had the sharp, lawyerly precision to cut things off before they became problems, always quick to resolve matters - you, on the other hand, were far worse.
You didn’t rush to fix things or settle for easy solutions.
No, your method was more intricate, more drawn out sometimes it required humiliation before you got to the point. You were a master of patience, allowing people to dig themselves into a hole first, letting them build their own assumptions, and only then would you pounce, proving them wrong in the most delightful way possible.
Being a philosopher at heart, you liked to draw things out, just to let people stew a little bit in their own misguided assumptions.
In these instances, your strategy was pure, calculated evil - a slow burn of sweet, sweet revenge that only you could orchestrate.
Morgan's comment, far from a mere joke, sparked something much more dangerous within you - the thrilling anticipation of proving to them that they really didn't want to know what you and Aaron were truly like behind your professional facades.
“If we're traveling real tight this time, I guess I’ll just have to sit on your lap, Aaron,” you quipped, batting your eyes innocently at him.
Hotch blinked, his usual composed demeanor faltering for a split second, clearly caught off guard by your bold move. You could already see the faintest flush creeping across his cheeks, a rare crack in his otherwise impenetrable exterior.
But then, a slow, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips, the realization dawning on him that this was just the beginning of one of your devious plans.
He was, after all, your favorite partner in mischief. With a teasing glint in his eye, he patted his lap, a mock invitation and you wasted no time, making yourself comfortable on top of him.
The game was on.
“So,” you began, snuggling into him with exaggerated sweetness, “Hotch, you ever think about triple homicides?”
If you ever called him that in private, he’d probably have walked out on the spot, but here, in the middle of the case, using his work name felt like the only boundary left between you and the truth. It was the one little shield that kept the line between professionalism and the chaos of your relationship.
“All the time, Teach” Hotch murmured back, his voice low and humorously serious while his hand carelessly rested on your thigh, in its natural position.
Garcia, who ‘coincidentally’ happened to be traveling with you that day, shifted excitedly in her seat, mouthing "OTP" as she gave you both an enthusiastic thumbs-up, her delight in your theatrics clear as day.
Meanwhile, Reid looked on with wide eyes, his academic mind probably filing this under 'unexpected field observations’. "I... I think I should call my mom more often," he muttered, seemingly to himself but loud enough for others to hear. "I don’t think I show enough... affection."
Hotch’s fingers inched higher up your inner thigh at the mention of ‘affection,’ tracing patterns that almost made you question whether or not to intertwine your fingers with his to make him stop. You leaned in to whisper something cheeky into his ear, only for him to capture your lips with a swift kiss.
Now this, was unexpected.
His bold move even caught Rossi’s attention, who had been trying - and failing - to bury himself in paperwork, clearly uninterested in the team's antics. But Rossi had endured the deliciously excruciating tension between you and Hotch for far longer than anyone else. After all, there was a reason he still had that picture of you at his book release party in '99 hanging on his office wall - right in plain sight, as if to remind everyone who had been in on this secret for years, even before you two.
So you played it up even more, leaning in with a dramatic flair. "I love you," you declared, your voice slow and deliberate, gazing deeply into Hotch’s eyes. Every syllable was crisp and clear, you could practically hear the gears grinding in the team’s heads as they went into full overdrive, still scrambling to process what was happening.
"I love you more," Hotch replied, the soft chuckle accompanying his words causing a collective groan from around the cabin - yes, you two were cheesy, you and Hotch were far from the type to indulge in the most clichéd of romantic exchanges… probably because he already knew if you two ever started it, considering your competitiveness, it would have probably escalated into something so ungodly he didn’t even want to know.
"No, I love you more," you shot back, the stakes of your playful banter rising – you almost wanted to puke.
"Impossible," Hotch retorted, his lips curling slightly in that way that made your heart skip a beat. "Because I loved you first." you blinked in surprise, eyes widening just a little.
Now, that was new information.
But before you could fire back with another over-the-top retort, something in his gaze shifted, and in an instant, you found yourself pulled into a kiss, this one deeper, more intense, and completely unexpected.
The kiss was slow at first, drawing out the moment as his lips moved against yours with a deliberate slowness that made your pulse quicken, no room left for hesitation.
His hand slid to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, his grip tightened just enough to hold you in place, but it was gentle, as if savoring every second. His other hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer, until you could feel both of your shirts crumpling against each other.
The kiss deepened, his tongue slipping into your mouth with urgent intensity, exploring and tasting, oblivious to the hum of the jet engine masking the sounds of your teammates' shocked reactions… and the click of Garcia’s phone camera.
His movements were fluid and confident, each touch perfectly synchronized with the growing heat between you. You met him with equal fervor, your lips and hands moving in sync, the kiss becoming more insistent, more desperate – it was this raw, unreserved passion that finally pushed Rossi to his breaking point.
“Alright we got it! You were right! Stop it, stop whatever this is. We won’t tease you about the PDA anymore, I swear," Rossi exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in dramatic surrender.
Thank you.
You and Hotch broke apart, the kiss lingering in the air as you wiped a smear of lipstick from his lips with a quick swipe of your thumb. Without missing a beat, you slid back into the seat next to him, immediately adopting your professional mask.
The sweet talk, the casual touches - all of it disappeared, as it should, leaving behind only the steely, composed agents the team was more accustomed to.
“Good,” you said coolly, taking the pen from your jacket pocket and clicking it with an exaggerated focus as you pretended to examine the case files.
It was as if the entire heated exchange had never occurred. Your calm demeanor was flawless, but inside, you couldn’t suppress the gleam of triumph in your eyes.
Oh, how you loved being right…
…Rossi, on the other hand, was still recovering from the emotional whiplash.
He shook his head with a rueful smile, a flicker of regret in his eyes. “If I ever see you two so much as glance at each other that way again, I’m quitting, for real” he muttered, his voice laced with mock seriousness.
Garcia, however, shot up in her seat, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “No, no! Ignore him! You guys, please, be as mushy as you want. It’s a safe space here! I want this. We all want this,” she insisted, her eyes wide with fervor as she shot Rossi a defiant look. “Come on, meet me in the middle, Dave! I’ll buy you bleach! A privacy curtain! I’ll even throw in a soundproof booth! Just let them be adorable in peace!”
Rossi, who had clearly reached his limit, held up a hand, shaking his head in resignation. “I’d rather have earplugs and a set of blinders.” His voice was full of mock defeat, though it was clear he couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Really, Dave? Blinders?" Morgan chuckled from the back, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “You’re not going to let them have a little fun? Come on, man. This is way better than watching you flirt with the coffee machine in the break room.”
At that, you and Hotch immediately turned your heads toward each other, exchanging a look that only the two of you could understand.
Oh, if only they knew the real story. If only they knew how much Rossi had a thing for that coffee machine...
… especially the one in the Section Chief’s office.
You and Hotch had both noticed it long ago.
It was impossible to miss, really.
Rossi’s eyes would soften whenever he found himself near that ‘coffee machine’, as if it held some magnetic pull. Or the way he would suddenly volunteer to deliver reports to the coffee machine’s office, even when it was Hotch’s responsibility.
It was so painfully obvious to you two - Rossi was absolutely smitten with that ‘coffee machine’.
But, of course, you weren’t going to spill that little nugget of gossip just yet. Not today, anyway.
Although Hotch’s dry humor kicked in, and he glanced over at Rossi. “It’s all in the Italian blend,” he said flatly, his voice as deadpan as ever. You squeezed Hotch’s hand tightly to suppress the burst of laughter that threatened to slip out – damn, how you hated how much he managed to let you crumble like that all the time.
Oh, how much you loved him.
Thankfully Reid came in to save the day “I’ll buy the earplugs, Dave,” he said in all seriousness, looking at Rossi like he was ready to place an order for industrial-sized ear protection. “And maybe a seat in the very back of the plane. For everyone's sanity.”
“Thanks, kid,” Rossi muttered with a sigh. “This is the last time I’m taking a flight with you two lovebirds.”
You exchanged a playful glance with Hotch, both of you struggling to keep straight faces. The rest of the team seemed caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement, clearly trying to hold it together, but clearly failing.
"You know, we really should've started this sooner," you mused aloud, crossing your arms and leaning back in your seat. "It’s such a great way to keep everyone in line."
Hotch's lips curled into a slight smirk, though his eyes stayed locked on the case files in front of him. "Next time, I'll save the theatrics for after the case. If we make it that far."
“Good call, as always, Unit Chief,” you replied, your voice playful, but just serious enough to leave them wondering if you were still messing with them or if something had changed.
And that’s when it happened - the first domino fell.
Hotch’s hand, now shifted from the table to rest on your knee.
The weight of his touch was different this time - it wasn’t calculated, nor was it part of the show you’d put on to mess with everyone - it was simply him, expressing something real.
For a moment, you froze, the air around you feeling suddenly charged with something more intimate than you’d allowed to settle between you at work. But as you looked at him, you saw that he wasn’t expecting you to respond theatrically, either.
His gaze was steady, his hand resting casually, without any of the usual distance he’d maintained before.
The shift was subtle, but it was there.
You let out a soft breath, your muscles relaxing for the first time all day as you allowed yourself to lean slightly into the touch. “Thanks,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but Hotch caught the meaning behind it. He squeezed your knee just slightly, a wordless acknowledgment that you were both on the same page.
Maybe it was time to stop being so stiff…
---
Stage two: Second, it is violently opposed.
…and so you did.
Over time, you allowed yourselves some liberties here and there — small gestures, quiet moments shared in the midst of the chaos of the job - only when no one was watching, of course.
You still made sure that the workplace environment remained as professional as possible, the last thing you wanted was for anyone to feel uncomfortable or for your relationship to ever be questioned.
But if there was one thing Aaron was particularly good at, it was finding loopholes.
He would argue, “It’s not a breach of the rule if the statement isn’t clear on that at all." And when the rules weren’t clear, he was quick to take advantage of it, slipping into those grey areas that never seemed to get any real clarification.
Lawyers.
The rule had applied to the workplace, yes, but it never specifically mentioned physical spaces - like the FBI parking lot, or the elevator. So more often than not, you and Aaron found yourselves “stretching” the limits there, enjoying those quiet moments away from the eyes of the team.
The elevator rides were your favorite…
There, it was just you two, no cameras, no one listening, and nothing to hold you back. Sometimes it was just a kiss, other times... well, you both liked to test just how far you could go before someone walked in.
But, as always, timing had a funny way of messing everything up. It seemed like every time you’d start kissing or your hands would wander just a little too much, someone would always show up.
And somehow, it was always Rossi.
No one else.
Just him.
It never failed.
He’d clear his throat loudly, or tease you both with that exasperated tone of his, as if he was constantly trying to escape what he couldn’t avoid. It was like he had some sort of sixth sense for catching you two in those exact moments, and no one else seemed to be quite as lucky - or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it.
At this point, Rossi had had enough of the cosmic joke that always seemed to land him in the middle of your most inconvenient, and often highly personal, moments.
His will was already written, and it came with a very clear clause: Only one of them is allowed at his funeral or grave at a time. Lovebirds policy only. He had his reasons, of course, he didn’t need to explain why he didn’t want to see that particular dynamic at his final resting place.
So, in his infinite wisdom - and desperation - Rossi scheduled a mandatory HR seminar.
“Dave, I don’t have to attend the seminar, I’m Unit Chief” Hotch told him one afternoon, looking as though he might be able to talk his way out of it.
“Oh no, you do,” Rossi shot back, practically pointing at Hotch like he was an unruly student. “You’re the very reason I called them in. You and your... antics.” He threw his hands up dramatically. "This has to stop."
You exchanged a look with Hotch, trying not to laugh at how utterly serious Rossi was about this whole thing. But as usual, Hotch wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. “We’re managing it well, Dave. We never cross professional boundaries when you’re around.”
Not exactly, it should have been ‘we never cross professional boundaries when we know you’re around’.
But he continued talking anyways, intense and relentless as usual “In fact, we don’t even sit next to each other on the jet anymore, especially after hearing someone mention how she falls asleep on my shoulder after cases and thought it was 'cute,' apparently,” he said, glancing at you with a playful look.
Rossi’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, don’t start with that," he grumbled. "I know you two are playing some kind of game with me. And don’t act like you’re the picture of professionalism, Aaron, just because you sit on opposite ends of the jet."
Hotch then took a deep breath, rolling into lawyer mode. His voice dropped lower, each word becoming more deliberate – it was time to pull out the big lexicon. “Furthermore, Dave, I find it rather hypocritical for you to bring up a matter like this, considering you’re the very reason these fraternization rules were implemented in the first place. For the record, we’ve been transparent. Strauss was informed as soon as we started dating. There’s no issue here.”
Rossi blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Hotch’s tone. He frowned, a bit of surprise flashing across his face. “Did she teach you the word ‘hypocritical’?” he quipped, looking at Hotch with a knowing smirk.
Hotch, taken slightly off guard by Rossi’s jab, blushed a little - his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. He wasn’t usually one for showing any signs of fluster, especially in front of his team.
The HR seminar had barely begun, but you were already feeling your patience thin.
Everyone had been summoned to the bullpen, begrudgingly forced to sit through a mandatory lecture on fraternization and professional conduct.
Rossi, in all his glory, had managed to schedule the whole thing thinking that a lecture about fraternization and workplace boundaries would somehow curb the “antics” he thought were getting out of hand.
But what he definitely didn’t anticipate was the sheer chaos that would follow.
The HR representative - Carmen, an overly cheerful woman in her late forties with a name tag that read "Carmen" - stood at the front, facing the group with a bright, forced smile that didn’t quite match the tension hanging in the room. She seemed oblivious to the undercurrent of discomfort flowing through the team.
“Today, we’re going to talk about how to maintain professionalism in the workplace,” she began, clicking through slides on the projector. “Specifically, we’ll be discussing fraternization, boundaries, and how to handle uncomfortable situations when they arise.”
You exchanged a quick glance with Hotch.
This was going to be painful.
Carmen continued, oblivious to the growing tension, moving to the next slide. “So, let’s start with a simple question. What should you do if you ever feel harassed or like professional boundaries are being crossed?”
“Do you ever feel like there’s a couple who barely show any emotion beyond stoicism but make it a point to talk about…”
You blinked.
Stoicism?
Did she even understand what that word meant? It wasn’t just about hiding emotions or being composed. It was a whole philosophy, a way of understanding life and how to deal with adversity. And yet here she was, using it as some sort of generic descriptor for a couple that was, apparently, too controlled, while also being embarrassingly not controlled enough in their personal moments.
You could almost hear her thoughts: “Stoicism” sounds intellectual, let’s use that to make things sound deep and professional. But she was so off the mark, you almost couldn’t bear it.
Carmen paused, her finger hovering over the remote.
She clicked the button again with the kind of confidence that suggested she had absolutely no idea what the word stoicism even meant. In fact, as you sat there, trying to distract yourself from the growing tension in the room, you found yourself profiling Carmen.
You were pretty sure she had just Googled the term moments before this presentation, probably during the coffee break, her face lighting up when she stumbled across something that sounded smart enough to say in front of the group.
The way she adjusted her glasses after every click, the small, almost nervous laugh she gave when she spoke a little too loudly, and how she constantly tugged at her sleeves like she was just a little too eager to prove she was in charge - she was someone who tried hard to project authority but clearly lacked a deeper understanding of the material she was presenting.
Her behavior hinted at a kind of surface-level preparedness, just enough to get through the presentation without anyone questioning her qualifications. She was the kind of person who relied on buzzwords to sound impressive…
The entire room went dead silent, but Carmen, continued without skipping a beat. "Next, we’ll look at how professional boundaries really can be blurred in the workplace..."
“Stop shaving, your beard makes me want to schedule sick leave for the both of us.”
That hit you quite hard. Damn… you still remembered how you didn’t let Aaron get out of the bed for two whole days when he grew one of those himself.
Your weakness... how the way it highlighted the lineaments of his face, casting shadows like something painted by Caravaggio himself, was irresistible.
Not to mention the heavenly way it felt against your skin… oh you were so feral… you had never had so much sex in your life like you did in those two days…
Your mind wandered back to those moments, the soft temptation to bribe him into growing it back.
“Your lectures make me want to…”
Lectures? Very oddly specific.
“My son wants a sibling.”
You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around it, but then the realization hit you. Fun, the agents in that room who had a child could be counted on your fingers, so the words felt oddly out of place. But still, you couldn’t quite grasp why they felt so familiar.
And just like that, it hit you - 32 languages, three PhDs, and years of teaching... all now reduced to the deductive powers of a ladybug.
You hadn’t realized it until now - probably because you were still thirsting over the memories of your hot man with his hot beard - but those weren’t just any words.
Those were your words.
Your conversations.
The moments you and Hotch thought were just whispered between the two of you, moments you thought no one heard. And there they were, broadcast on the screen for the entire team to see.
A chill ran down your spine as the final line appeared.
“Stop quoting Hagel or we might have to leave to take something we left back in...”
The moment those words appeared on the screen, you felt something snap inside you. The misspelling of Hegel - with an A instead of an E - was a personal betrayal.
Your mind immediately spiraled, fixating on the glaring error. How could they get something so fundamental so wrong?
To have something so simple and fundamental, so easily identifiable, mangled like this felt like an insult. Your whole body stiffened in protest, and your jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
You could feel the weight of your teammates’ stares burning into you, but it barely registered.
It wasn’t much their reaction to the personal details of your relationship with Hotch that had you worked up - it was the glaring inaccuracy before you.
The universe had somehow decided that this moment wasn’t going to be about the privacy that had been stripped away from you, but about this mistake - a simple, careless error that was now at the center of your fury.
You couldn’t think about how embarrassing it was to be outed like this. Your brain couldn’t process any of it, it shielded itself consuming by the fact that someone had managed to butcher the name of one of the greatest philosophers of all time.
Prentiss leaned forward slightly, her brows raised in surprise, but her reaction was drowned out by your growing irritation. JJ, trying to keep it together, looked over with wide eyes, an unmistakable flicker of realization dawning on her face. Reid’s expression was a mixture of curiosity and confusion, as if he were trying to piece the scene together in his usual analytical way.
Then there was Morgan, letting out a low whistle, clearly amused by the sudden turn of events. But it was Garcia, sweet, innocent Garcia, who was practically glowing with excitement, a huge grin spreading across her face as though she had just won some grand prize. Her eyes sparkled with giddiness, clearly delighted by the personal details she’d just uncovered.
The entire team had turned toward you now, their attention fully on you and Hotch, clearly not expecting the turn of events.
And it was embarrassing.
But still, despite everything - the exposure, the teasing, the whispers of your relationship that had never meant to be public - it was the misspelling of Hegel that was making your blood boil.
Every fiber of your being screamed to correct it, to stand up and storm to the front and take the projector down, fix it, fix everything.
But before you could even move, Hotch must have felt the shift in your energy. His hand, almost instinctively, moved to rest on your knee. His thumb rubbed gently in small circles, a calming touch, grounding you.
“Y/N, stop,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent, sending a shiver down your spine.
You could feel his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in closer, the subtle press of his body against yours grounding you, even if everything else felt like it was spiraling out of control. “Stop before you point out they misspelled Hegel and make a lecture out of it, or we might have to leave to take something we left back in the car.”
It was a mix of teasing and flirtation, the very phrase the HR rep had just banned from its existence. And damn it, it was working. The fire in his eyes pulled you in so completely, you almost forgot where you were, who was watching, or why you were so angry in the first place.
You wanted to stay mad, to stand up and correct the error, but the way he was looking at you made it hard to hold onto anything except the electricity that was building between you. The rest of the world faded into the background.
But of course, Rossi - ever the opportunist - had been listening intently. He leaned in, catching your words before they even left your mouth. “She just finished saying that,” he muttered, a smug look crossing his face as he caught your eye.
You shot him a glare that could have frozen him in his tracks, but it only seemed to fuel his teasing. “Please, Rossi," you said through gritted teeth, your voice low and dangerous. "Next time, forget to plug in your hearing device so you can stop listening to things you don’t want to hear. Or, better yet, don’t make me tell you the very reason you’re hypocritical in the first place."
Rossi’s smile widened, obviously enjoying your frustration. "Hypocritical?" he repeated, his tone dripping with mock curiosity. “Maybe you should teach me more of those big words.” He was goading you, trying to get under your skin.
Hotch, sensing the escalation, placed a hand on your shoulder, his voice smooth and controlled as he stepped in to defuse the situation. "You're welcome to take your concerns about our so-called 'unprofessional conduct' crossing boundaries directly to the Section Chief, Dave," he said, his gaze never leaving the screen as he remained calm. "But mind you, you have no proof."
Still, you couldn’t help it.
The frustration and tension of the whole situation - everything that had been building up - finally boiled over, and you couldn't hold it in anymore. "And on that subject, Rossi," you began, your voice firm, steady, and dripping with challenge, "don’t you regularly cross those unprofessional boundaries yourself?"
The room went dead silent.
You could feel Hotch’s eyes on you, and when you glanced at him, you saw the exact same understanding in his gaze. You both knew exactly what was about to happen. The words had already left your lips, and now Rossi was about to learn just how much the two of you had been paying attention to his “subtle” behavior.
Hotch, the perfect picture of calm, added with the slightest tilt of his head and a mischievous glint in his eye, “We noticed that you and…”
Rossi, visibly caught off guard, stumbled over his words, “Why did I even open my mouth? I knew this was gonna make everything worse… porca puttana,” he grumbled, rubbing his face in frustration.
Carmen, completely oblivious to the escalating tension, continued with the presentation as if nothing was happening.
But you weren’t going to let it go that easily.
You leaned back in your seat, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Rossi with a smug grin playing at the corners of your lips. “You know, Dave,” you said, your voice light but dripping with satisfaction, “this lecture has been very informative. But maybe next time, you should make sure to include a few slides on how to keep your own relationships under wraps. Might help you avoid the hypocrisy.”
Rossi’s face flushed as he shot you a glare, but you could tell that, for once, he was caught completely off guard. “Oh yeah? Well, why don’t you join me and Erin for dinner tonight then? It’d be fun, wouldn’t it?” He threw back, but you could hear the hesitation in his voice as he scrambled to regain control of the situation.
You leaned over to Hotch, lowering your voice just enough so only he could hear. “Aaron, I swear if I see them even touching hands, I’m going to puke.”
Hotch gave you a deadpan look, trying to suppress a grin. “I feel you, but…” His tone dropped into a mock-dramatic whisper. “What if we crank up the unprofessional behavior right in front of them? Scare them off a little?”
You raised an eyebrow. Oh, this was going to be fun.
Hotch looked like he was seriously considering it. “That could either work like a charm, or - let’s be honest - knowing Rossi, they’ll just double down and serve us a taste of our own medicine. And sure, we love a good challenge, but…” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering even more. “Do we really want to go there?”
You smiled to yourself, already picturing it in your mind. “Oh no, I can already picture it.”
Hotch sighed dramatically, as if considering his options. “We could leave earlier with the excuse we need to work on paperwork...” he trailed off, giving you a look.
You smirked. “‘Paperwork,’” you said, making air quotes with your fingers, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. “Our paperwork?!”
Hotch and you both knew exactly what the other was thinking.
Hotch’s smirk turned a little more serious, and he leaned in slightly. “You know, we could always go all out. Maybe I could place my hand on your shoulder every now and then. Keep them guessing.”
You gave him a look, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, I love you, but I fear that would be too scandalous.”
Hotch’s smirk widened as he leaned back a little, but the glint in his eyes didn’t fade. “Well, then I’ll settle for resting my hand on your knee. Once. For three and a half seconds.”
Your eyes flickered with amusement, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Wow, last time you only allowed yourself three,” you teased, knowing he had a habit of pushing boundaries, but always so carefully… you were an old Victorian couple with people you knew from the job afterall.
“I know, I’m practicing more self-control,” he said, voice thick with sarcasm but still looking at you in a way that made you forget you were attending a seminar about this specific behaviour.
You leaned a little closer, watching him intently, enjoying the banter more than you cared to admit. “You’re so hot when you’re so unprofessional," you whispered, the words dripping with playful intent. "Almost makes me want to kiss you on the cheek.”
Hotch’s expression never wavered, but the amusement in his eyes was undeniable. "So unprofessional..." he murmured under his breath, his voice tinged with humor but also something deeper, something more familiar with the man you knew in the safe walls of your house.
You didn’t need to be obvious to make things very clear. It was all in the subtlety, the small gestures, the private moments that only you and Hotch understood.
And as you both settled back into your seats, you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. It was going to be a long seminar, but at least it was going to be entertaining.
---
Stage three: Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.
After an evening of forced pleasantries with Rossi and Strauss, the two of you were finally free.
Walking into Aaron’s apartment, you let out a long sigh of relief, kicking off your shoes and feeling the weight of the night slip off your shoulders. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Aaron turned to you with that familiar smirk - the one you’d missed to helplessly melt into all day long.
As if there had been no build-up, no tension at all, you found yourself pressed up against the door, his lips crashing against yours the second you crossed the threshold. The kiss was hungry, urgent, like both of you had been holding your breath all evening and could finally release it now that you were alone.
His hands moved instinctively to your waist, pulling you closer as your bodies melted into each other, until there was no room left between you two.
When you pulled away, breathless but grinning, you teased, “You know, after all that drama with Rossi and Strauss, I’m exhausted. Think I could spend the night here?”
“Well, I do have a guest room…”  Aaron raised an eyebrow, letting the words hang in the air, as if he was seriously considering it.
You narrowed your eyes, taking a small step back but keeping the playful smirk on your face. “Guest room? That’s so nice of you, love” you said, folding your arms. “But I was thinking maybe I could sleep in your bed you know, just for the night. It’s so cold here. I mean, really cold. We wouldn’t want me freezing to death, would we?”
Aaron's lips curled into a mischievous grin as he stepped closer, his gaze playful. “I’ll tell you a secret,” he said casually, his voice smooth. “It was all part of my plan,” he added with a glint in his eye. “That’s why I’ve kept all the windows open.”
He paused dramatically, his hands slipping around yourhips, pulling you closer. “Wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable, would I? Now, you’re basically obliged for cuddles.”
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head at him, already feeling the heat between you two. “Oh, you’re so devious,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him again, this time slower, with just enough space between your lips to let his tongue slide in.
“You know you don’t have to plan so much for us to sleep together. I thought that was a given by now, cuddles included... maybe even something more. Who knows?” You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, the playful challenge lingering in the air.
Aaron chuckled against your lips, deepening the kiss with just as much passion, his hands sliding up to your shoulders, gently but firmly pushing you back against the wall.
For a moment, you both paused, breathless, eyes locked in shared understanding before you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “So, how exactly do you manage to get to the office first every morning?” you asked, your smirk widening as the question hung in the air, taunting him.
Aaron’s smile deepened, a mixture of wry humor and something much more tempting in his gaze. He leaned in, lips brushing against your ear, his voice low and playful. “I love you,” he said softly, almost tenderly, before pulling back to meet your eyes. “But not a chance.”
You gasped in mock outrage, your hands finding his chest as you pushed yourself off the wall, trying to distance yourself a little. “Come on, no fair. You’ve been so open tonight with all your little secrets,” you teased, making air quotes. “Now you won’t share this one?”
Before you could move away, Aaron caught you effortlessly, pulling you back into his embrace. His strong arms wrapped around you, sending your heart racing. His lips grazed your ear again, his voice hushed and playful as he whispered, “I’ll tell you in 83 days,” his tone dripping with mock seriousness.
You froze, eyes widening in surprise.
The playful smile slipped from your face, and the warmth from his embrace spread through you, despite the coldness of the apartment.
You blinked, the realization hitting you all at once.
The bet you two had made years ago - the one where if he beat you to the office for 1,000 days, he’d have to propose - flashed through your mind. And now, he was casually dropping 83 days like it was just another countdown.
“Come on, don’t pretend you’re shocked,” Aaron said, his voice softening with affection. He leaned in closer, brushing his lips lightly against yours. “You knew this was coming, if you keep failing… this is your last chance to beat me.”
His lips captured yours in another soft kiss, and you could feel the unspoken weight behind his words. “Unless you really want to spend the rest of your life with me.”
Your breath caught, and the sudden heat flooded your cheeks, turning them a deep shade of red. You couldn’t help but melt into him, the gravity of his words settling in, even as you clung to the teasing spark that still flickered between you.
“You still have to find out my answer,” you teased, raising an eyebrow, your voice light but full of challenge. “You know, just to keep you on your toes. It’s not all settled yet… and who knows, maybe you won’t even ever know it. I’ve still got 83 days to beat you.”
Aaron shot you a pointed look, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer. “I wouldn’t be so confident, considering your terrible track record,” he said, his voice rich with teasing. Without giving you a chance to respond, he kissed you again - harder this time - his lips claiming yours with a passionate force that spoke of promises yet to be fulfilled.
You melted into the kiss, every nerve in your body aware of just how close you were, how real everything felt. When the kiss finally broke, your hand remained lightly against his chest, still feeling the thrum of his heartbeat. “Haven’t you learned yet that you should never underestimate me, Hotchner?”
Aaron chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your ears as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. “This is the only thing I allow myself to underestimate you on,” he teased, pulling back with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You’re terrible at it. Even worse than your shooting skills.”
You raised an eyebrow, still smirking, a playful spark lighting up your eyes. “Oh, now you’re exaggerating,” you said, poking his chest lightly with your finger.
“It’s not like if I can’t beat you at something, I’m mathematically bad at it. And also, really? You expect me to outdo a sniper?” You tilted your head, teasing him about his former SWAT team background.
“Absolutely,” Aaron replied, his grin widening. “You still have to keep up with me on long-distance shots, and don’t even think about blaming it on your blurry vision.”
He gave you a pointed look, then leaned in slightly, his voice low and playful. “I still love you, of course, even if you might need a little more training from the ‘sniper’.” He winked at you, that familiar, mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
You laughed softly, shaking your head, but the idea seemed to settle in your mind. “You know,” you said casually, leaning against the counter with a thoughtful look on your face, “I just realized something. If I married you, we’d have two Agent Hotchners on the team.”
Aaron’s eyes twinkled with amusement, but there was a hint of something deeper in his gaze. He leaned down slightly, getting closer as if he were about to tell you a secret. “Oh, so you’re considering it?” he teased, the playful tone only slightly covering the vulnerability that was starting to show through.
You leaned in a little closer, your voice soft and teasing as you whispered, “Well, we’ve still got 83 days to figure it out, don’t we?” You let the words hang in the air for a moment before adding, with a sly grin, “Unless, of course, you want to start planning now.”
Aaron’s smirk softened, a chuckle escaping him as his arms tightened around you just a little more, pulling you in closer. “Oh no,” he said, his voice low, full of mischief. “I still need to do everything in my power to make sure you’re the one to lose the most important bet of your life.”
You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your gaze. “Getting a little cocky, aren’t we?” you teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Just because you think you’ve got me cornered in this bet doesn’t mean you’ve won yet.”
He raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering as he leaned in a little closer. “Maybe I just wanted to make sure I’m doing things right,” he said, voice low and teasing. “For example… I wanted to check if sapphire was still your favorite stone,” he added, his grin widening. “You know, just in case I need to upgrade the plan.”
The question caught you off guard. You blinked at him, your heart skipping a beat as the realization hit you. “What?” you stammered, feeling a blush creep up your neck. “Shut up, Aaron,” you said, your voice a little shaky as you tried to recover from the surprise. “You’re ridiculous.” You tried to pull away, but his arms were still around you, pulling you closer, his grin widening at your reaction.
Aaron laughed softly, his thumb brushing your cheek, the teasing light in his eyes evident. “I swear, you’re so easy to fluster,” he teased, his voice low but affectionate. “You’re blushing, and I haven’t even asked you yet.”
You couldn’t stop the blush from deepening, your face now a full shade of red. You crossed your arms over your chest, looking away in embarrassment, but it was too late, he’d already noticed. “You’re going to be the death of me,” you muttered, feeling the heat in your cheeks spread.
Aaron reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his gaze. His voice dropped to a quiet, serious tone, though the warmth still lingered. “Til death do us part, right?” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
“Don’t make me cry,” you whispered, the teasing edge to your voice slipping away. The laughter, the playful teasing, they all seemed distant now.
Aaron’s gaze softened, his thumb gently caressing your jawline as he studied you, he didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence stretch between you. His hand lingered on your chin for a moment longer before he slowly, carefully, let it fall to your waist, his touch grounding you.
His voice, when he spoke, was quieter, more intimate. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said softly. “But if I do, I hope it’s because I’ve made you happy, not because I’ve made you doubt what we have.”
You swallowed, the words tugging at something deep inside you. It was the way he spoke to you, like he meant every syllable, that made your heart swell, and for a brief moment, you almost wished you could freeze time and just stay in that moment, locked in his arms, no words left to be said.
You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling a little, despite the overwhelming feeling in your chest. “Well, you’ve already got me feeling all kinds of things,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood again, even as your voice wavered just slightly. “But I think you’re safe for now.”
Aaron chuckled softly, his hand gently brushing down your arm, a reassuring gesture that made you feel grounded. “I don’t want to just be safe, though,” he murmured, his eyes dark with something a little more serious. “I want to be the one who makes you feel like you’ve found home, even when the world is too much.”
Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest, causing your heart to flutter in a way you couldn’t quite put into words, no matter how many languages you spoke.
There was something about Aaron - his warmth, his steady presence, his certainty - that made it so easy to get lost in him. You didn’t know what the future held, but with him by your side, the world seemed less daunting, less frightening.
“Then maybe you’ve already won,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. The walls you’d so carefully built around your vulnerability came crashing down, and for the first time, you let yourself feel the full force of it. “Maybe you’ve already made me feel at home, windows open or not.”
Aaron’s lips brushed gently against your forehead in a soft kiss, his arms tightening around you in a way that made you feel completely safe. “Then I’ll keep doing it,” he murmured against your skin, his words a promise, a vow, and a reassurance all in one. “Every single day.”
"In love, one and one are one." Jean-Paul Sartre
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taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24
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iluvoscarpiastri · 2 days ago
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i usually don’t like to really ever publicly talk about this stuff just cause it leads to too much negativity in the fan base but this post is so ‼️
i started F1 as a lando fan. i was like in love with him. ofc i supported max, charles, oscar, alex everyone but he was just 💘. and i never thought that this is a post that i would ever be typing out 😭.
in the press conference post miami gp race, i remember the reporter asked max if he thinks lando would still have won without the safety car. max knew what they were trying to do and he also knew that lando was going to be very harsh on himself about the race so he instantly shut down any attempts at discrediting lando’s win. he fully backed lando up and was very very happy for lando’s win.
fast forward to zandvoort, when lando won max’s home race, nothing against that at all. that’s just how it happens. no driver is entitled to a race win simply because it’s their home race, however, i do think it was unnecessary for him to throw in the “simply lovely”. did F1 twt go insane about this to an unacceptable extent? yes. but i just want to point out and bring to light the fact that if the roles had been reversed, and max had pulled something like this, you best believe that not just twitter fan pages but fucking sky sports would’ve made it into a huge deal where max was being “disrespectful” and “acting like a child”.
then, brazil gp. there is not a single formula 1 fan who can deny that max’s drive that day was fucking phenomenal. going from P17 to P1 in probably the 2nd or 3rd fastest car with limited visibility and dangerous track conditions is nothing sort of a fucking master class in driving. i understand that lando’s words were taken out of context but it still doesn’t change the fact that some of what he said was completely unavoidable.
lando has always been an advocate for mental health and i have a shit ton of respect for him for that. in this sport, talking about mental health becomes extremely necessary considering the high pressure scenarios, constant public scrutiny, uncertainty of job security too amongst a lot of other things.
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like the original post said, why should we feel sympathy for the hate lando’s been getting when the one that max has been getting not just this season but probably ever since he won his first championship is simply ignored as a part and parcel of being in such a sport??
max was booed at multiple races last year, i didn’t see anyone coming out to talk about how it might have been affecting max’s mental health negatively?? do yall really think that just because he acts like it doesn’t affect him, he’s immune to it? where was this talk about mental health when max was being villainised left and right by sky sports? a media company that needs to remain unbiased considering they’re one of the primary broadcasters for F1 related news. where was this talk about mental health when anything and everything that max said or did was taken out of context and his name was dragged through the mud??
i do not condone hating on any driver because of petty ass shit. but it gets tiring to see such double standards.
i am in no way discrediting the hate that lando has been getting off late and i think that’s it’s despicable that people stoop to such petty acts in order to feel better about themselves. the lando hate train has gotten really out of hand and i genuinely think mclaren should take legal action against a lot of these accounts.
but that still does not take away from the fact that max has been hated equally as much and i did not see anyone come forwards and talk about how it might have impacted him negatively.
You know what? I might sound like a c*nt when I say this, but why are we suddenly supposed to feel sorry for Norris?
Are we forgetting the way Norris basically threatened his friendship with Max over something most drivers saw as a racing incident? The way he so happily disrespected Max at his homerace, the way he's been shitting on Max's driving, the way he's tried to undermine Max's performance several times as if it were just luck, when Max has done the complete opposite for him?
The way his friends have been shitting on Max on social media? The way official social media accounts related to him have been taking digs at Max? The way his father liked that disgusting meme of Norris punting Max off at Copse corner? The way his team has been shitting on Max 24/7?
Max has been antagonised by Norris, his team, his family, his friends and his fans all year long, but now we are supposed to sympathise with him??
No. I don't care. And I don't care how that makes me sound.
This time should be about Max's stellar drive in Brazil and the way he's carried this Championship. Not about Norris reaping what he's sowed.
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coffeegnomee · 2 days ago
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I love lifesteal not being about having power, but about defeating power and the way to do that being stupid ahh kit changes.
Because there's only four things you need to win pvp fights:
clicking ability
prep/kit
inventory management
comms
Be better in more categories than your enemy and you're going to win. And nothing makes that more sure than a kit difference.
From the cleansing, to clown v red/pangi, to s5 finale this has been how you win against power in a pure pvp scenario and its so fun to see it coming back around again.
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your-absolute-destiny · 15 hours ago
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Offscreen Post
The first thing Lucky noticed once she exited the Pelipper was just how big Gen’s house was.
It was far larger than her own home, with three stories, and many windows allowing a peek inside, though curtains obscured much of what laid within. It had a front yard, too, with a tree on the right side of a path to the front door.
It was almost like a mansion. Almost. Almost enough to distract herself from her situation.
But not quite.
She was so in awe at the house, that she almost missed the front door opening, and a small creature waddling out. It looked almost like an Oshawott, but had a fin atop its head, and a large curly tail. It also wore some sort of red hood.
That must be Gen.
Gen waddled towards Lucky, fidgeting with the hood he wore. His tail slowly swayed from side to side, as he came face to face with her.
“Um…L-Lucky?” Gen asked, looking up at her. “I, uh. I’m g-glad you made it here s-safely.”
“I'm glad too,” Lucky said quietly, still scared after the sudden changes to her body and nervous about this new housing arrangement falling through.
“I, uh. I-I have something I need t-to confess to you,” Gen says, beginning to tremble.
Panic coursed throughout the already shaken girl. What was it? Did they not have enough space for her after all? Was she going to have to go back?
“What's wrong?” Lucky asks, as calmly as she can in this scenario, which is to say not very much.
“...m-my family, uh. We, um…” Gen takes a deep breath, then admits, “We’ve b-been housing d-dark types. And fairy, gh-ghost, and psychic types.”
“What!?” Lucky exclaims, alarmed at the idea of having to share space with such types, before remembering she herself is a dark type now. Before she could continue, though, Gen spoke again.
“...I’m s-sorry,” Gen says, looking down. “I j-just. I saw your blog, w-with so many people being mean to you, a-and…you just seemed s-so alone. I thought y-you could use a friend.”
“Thank you, I really did need one. Still need one right now, actually, since I don't have any others anymore.” Lucky felt tears threaten to fall from her eyes at the reminder that she could no longer return home.
“...um. W-would you like a hug?” Gen asks, looking back up at Lucky.
The dam bursts at the offer, and tears spill freely.
“Yes!” Lucky all but yells before choking out a sob.
Gen waddles closer, and puts his paws around one of Lucky’s forelegs, while wrapping his tail around her other foreleg.
It takes a second for Lucky to realize that this is hugging but eventually she gets it, leaning down to rest her head on top of Gen's. It's nothing like the hugs she used to get from her mother whenever she felt this upset, but it was the best she was going to get.
After a bit of hugging, Gen eventually pulls away, and turns around. “Um, r-ready to go inside?”
The absol hybrid shoved down the urge to say ‘No, I'm not. I want to go home and pretend this never happened now!’ because as much as she wished to do that, it wasn't an option.
“I'm ready.”
And so, the two of them walked forth, into Lucky’s new home.
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reticent-writer · 2 days ago
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If you aren’t writing for Hazbin then please feel free to ignore this! I remember seeing somewhere that you wanted Adams teen!reader and Alastors teen!reader to meet, and I was thinking they would maybe meet during the next extermination. I was also thinking about scenarios where Voxs teen!reader and Alators teen!reader meet/interact. I’m sorry this is so long, and I hope you have a great day/night!
◡̈⋆ʜᴇʟʟᴏ(●’◡’●)ノ I hope your having a great day/night too
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✿✼:*゚:.。..。.:*・゚゚・**・゚゚・*:.。..。.:*゚:*:✼✿  
I don't remember if I made a Vox teen/reader but...
I imgaine Vox's to be a soft spoken person (the opposite of Vox)
They like to stay behind the screen and make themselves usueful in anyway possible to the Vees
V!reader (imma call them Vee) is more timid then A!reader when they first meet Vee was intimidated by them even though reader actually wanted to talk but misunderstood and thought Vee was being standoffish and stuck up so they don't like them
A few times after that Vee started to think reader was just rude
Every time they meet its never friendly, reader always starts the arguments and ends while while Vee defends themself
Now moving onto the scenario
EPI 2: video killed the radio star
*Alaster and reader are walking out the tailor to see Vox's spectical on the tv. Alaster sighs and continues down the street while reader goes to take a closer look when they see Vee*
A- Aw I thought I unplugged you. *looks up and down* You're clearly still defective, I can help with that
Vee- *sigh* 7 years was far too much luck in this hellhole.
A- You must've missed me if you've been counting
Vee- oh please the only thing I miss is the silence before you started talking
A- Silence? With that staic up there talking shit
Vee- He's just saying what were all thinking
A- Seems like nothing has changed. He's still the one talking for you huh. Do me a favor and only speak when spoken too it's the only thing it seems you're good at.
Vee was taken a back but when they when to speak they were cut off by Alastor on the radio.
✿✼:*゚:.。..。.:*・゚゚・**・゚゚・*:.。..。.:*゚:*:✼✿  
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kseniyagreen · 3 days ago
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Some of my thoughts (and fears) regarding the possible ending of the Fangs of Fortune.
I have some premonition of which direction the narrative is heading. And I am mentally preparing myself for this scenario.
Perhaps the most predictable (and frankly the most unoriginal scenario) - tried to change the emotional content of ZYZ's ending without changing its essence.
That is, this is a scenario in which ZYZ still dies in the end, but along the way makes a switch from "I must be killed for my sins and because this world doesn't need someone like me" to "I choose to sacrifice myself to save those who love me and whom I love."
This turn looks beautiful on the screen, but honestly I really don't like it. Because it's the same story about a victim who accepts his unfair fate as a gift - because there is nothing else left.
And also because this route has already been taken many times - in the Word of Honor, in the Mysterious Lotus Casebook (but the fact that in the latter they still leave a loophole for a possible different outcome is a significant part of my love for the Lotus).
And yet I still hope that in the Fangs of Fortune they will come up with some kind of trick for the ending. Because in the drama itself it is repeatedly shown how self-sacrifice does not lead to a way out of the tragedy, but only transfers it to the next circle.
If you want at least something in the world to become better, do not say that the ending of this book cannot be changed.
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laudofthedeep · 2 years ago
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it’s been like ten years since i read it and im still not over the book i read that was like “he had never been completely naked in the last thirty years, not even for sex” like my guy that didn’t even break the top twenty questions i had
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grimmweepers · 22 days ago
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˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ 𝓻𝔂𝓾𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓶
there was an ache in my heart when i awoke in a strange, beautiful world that wasn’t my own. even as months turned to years, i still missed the familiar skies, the voice of loved ones and the home i had left behind. i wrote letters that went nowhere and whispered silent prayers that reached no one. it was like i was plucked from my own reality and placed in a world where i didn’t quite belong.
yet, as much as i longed for home, i was determined to learn in this new life. sumeru became my sanctuary and the akademiya, my solace. i learned their languages, customs, and secrets while sharing stories of the stars, landmarks, and beauty of my own world. the scholars listened, fascinated by the similarities and differences, but none more than al-haitham—a student assigned to guide me through this foreign land. he was a quiet presence. thoughtful and curious. he did not pity me.
and over time, he went from guide to peer to something more. over time, i wasn’t just seeking knowledge but also him. but what was the point? what was the point of falling for him if one day, i could just disappear—vanish back to my world, leaving him and teyvat behind? this could slip away at any moment. this might be as fleeting as a dream.
despite all reason, i still found myself loving him deeply. in a world that wasn’t my own, he had become my home.
𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬: very slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers
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𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐔𝐒: 22.10.22 | playlist | genshinverse ryu
𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐒: modern au | season of love
#is this an intro… or a drabble…#i got carried away#did i really just isekai myself into the genshinverse?#yes#don’t laugh at me please !!!!#be kind please !!!#i loved the academic rivals to lovers thing i had going on but that backstory belongs to my oc nahla (who i had for haitham before#i decided to self ship with him)#for my s/i i found myself daydreaming about this scenario and it’s probably a bit too ambitious for genshinverse but hey#the power of fiction lets me do whatever i want!#and our dynamics still stays the same ^^ i just changed my lore. i rlly tried to keep this intro as short as possible#but i think there is something so deeply romantic about falling for someone despite there being so many barriers and crossroads#if i wasnt clear enough we meet as students! i can picture him watching me curiously from behind his book when i first enrol at the akademi#he could be pragmatic at first but over time he brings me things that remind me of my home. perhaps books that could comfort me or#asking questions to allow me to talk about it#not knowing whether or not i'll suddenly go *blip* makes every moment so precious#nothing better than finding your beacon of light in an unfamiliar place#*he* fell first *i* fell harder me thinks#because i was never going to open myself to love but did it anyway#anyway who’s even reading this far i should have like a certain emoji for people to comment if they’ve reach this point#maybe 🌎#selfships#selfship moodboard#my selfships#genshin self insert#self insert
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jawsofjuno · 20 hours ago
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Thanks for the tag @gioiaalbanoart! I'm adding a chapter from a separate story called Stage One. Same ocs in an AU! (Alina meeting Eris in the lab instead of after it escapes) not finished, just something I've been doing on and off because I enjoy different scenarios. This part is still canon to Malignant though, which is why I'm adding it.
Stage One - Chapter one
Content Warnings: Slight torture/mention of torture, mention of feasting on human flesh.
Shrieks of agony rang out, echoing eerily off of the sleek, metal walls of the small containment chamber.
The little one could do nothing against the orange-suited, cruel human that was currently slicing its carmine biomass open as if it were nothing but a soft fruit. It had no control over any of its cells anymore, and wouldn’t until the weaponized aerated chemical had worn off.
All of the test subjects knew something bad was going to happen anytime that the aerosolized chemicals shot out from the small vents in each corner of the containment cells, but they had never been able to stop themselves from succumbing to its power.
None of them knew why the humans had brought them there in the first place, besides using them for their own gain to cure something that they called cancer. The lifeforms had been compared to the disease on many occasions, and the scientists thought that they could learn how to combat it by using the extraterrestrials in their research.
They had even come up with a scientific name for the creatures, calling them Endoparasitum. The term SIL, sentient infectious lifeform, was used frequently as well, but certain researchers preferred calling them abominations, a blight to mankind, and cancer incarnate, as if the creatures weren’t there by the humans’ choice to begin with.
Eris, who was watching its offspring being tortured from its own confines across the room had learned as much as it could about the strange species that had locked them away.
It was close to living out its plans for escaping, but the timing had to be just right for it to properly work. The humans still hadn’t learned of all of the things that its species could do, and it couldn’t wait to see the shock on all of their faces when it was too late for them to save themselves.
The little one, still officially unnamed by the researchers, hadn’t even been created by Eris’s own will. The researchers had collected eggs from it, and the other subjects, and grew them inside of an incubator. The process was unnatural, and resulted in all but one of them not even making it to the neonatal stage due to the researcher’s ignorance.
The one that did survive was the unlucky one. Eris couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the runt, and knew that its entire existence would be nothing but pain and suffering if it didn’t act soon. It had only known that the youngling was its creation due to the fact that the egg batches had been separated and labeled, but its feelings about the situation wouldn’t have changed much if it had been another’s.
Several crimson tendrils slammed against the thick glass that separated Eris from the rest of the facility, keeping the humans safe for now. Its daily attempts at breaking the barrier had been futile. None of the other four adult subjects had successfully escaped either, but Eris had been formulating a plan.
It didn’t get along with any of the others, and was basically an outcast, due to reasons that the humans didn’t understand yet, but it still wasn’t going to leave them here to die when the time came to leave the place behind.
Troy tossed the steel blade to the side as he looked deep inside of the paralyzed youngling. “I know there’s something about you fucking abominations that we haven’t discovered yet, and I’m going to find it…you all seem to possess a higher intelligence than I originally thought, and I have a feeling that you all can understand me. Must be the human flesh scraps I’ve been tossing in there. Heh.”, he spoke loudly, making sure all of the extraterrestrials could hear his grating voice.
Eris felt an ounce of smugness at the fact that Troy still hadn’t figured it out yet. He hadn’t been entirely wrong; feeding them human remains had allowed them all to internally study the DNA that was brought into their biomasses.
Some used it to gain size, while others, like Eris, just converted the meat into energy, but they all stored the genetic codes in their system, waiting until the right time to use it properly. Troy never fed any of them enough for Eris to be able to even properly mimic something the size of a human, at least not yet. Gaining energy was the priority, then the mass.
Learning the behaviors of other lifeforms came as second nature to this foreign species. Humans were complex, especially their language, but it wasn’t impossible to study it from a distance, and understand what they were saying, especially after processing their varied DNA.
Eris had no idea what it was going to do once it actually left its sterile prison, or if the environment outside of the facility was even livable. The researchers had done an excellent job at not speaking about such things around the amorphous carnivores, but Eris would try to find out as much as it could before leaving in order to secure its own future.
It could hardly wait to sink its barbed tendrils into the large man’s supple flesh, and hear his screams for mercy. Soon, Troy would be nothing but a unrecognizable mess on the floor, it thought, as it menacingly stared ahead with many atramentous eyes.
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Idk who to tag who hasn't been tagged yet, feel free to share anyways!
Xena’s Share Day
todays a free day! have something you wanna share? here’s your chance, doesn’t matter what it is!! lemme see it!
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kagoutiss · 1 year ago
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*complaining for no reason again because i am bored* i need more ppl to know that these. are all the same person these are literally canonically all the exact same individual person im begging u
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literally almost all the ganondorfs are the exact same individual and almost all the ganons are the exact same individual, almost all the ganondorfs & ganons are the same exact person just in different forms and circumstances. except for FSA and maybe whatever the fuck is going on with TotK ganondorf but i still think it’s weird that he still has golden eyes & rounded ears when even the gerudo in TotK’s ancient past dont, but anyway ashfjsbfjsn
#not like you always have to subscribe to canon because it’s often impossible to know the truth of certain things#or some things that are canonical just suck and should be changed anyway but like#of all the things that are like relatively basic facts for ppl engaging in the Lore or whatever#ppl are like always. Always talking about ganondorf as if every iteration of him is a different person just like link & zelda#but so much of his character development stems from the fact that WW ganon and TP ganon are both different timeline offshoots of OoT ganon#i’m ​not even citing the ‘Official Timeline’ on this because it is silly & confusing but i just literally mean#in terms of basic canon continuity#that WW and TP were conceptualized even in the early 2000s to be the events that occur distantly after the two timeline splits OoT created#because OoT is a game about time travel and the entire concept of the split timelines in this series#originated from the two different scenarios that are created by link & zelda’s use of the master sword and the ocarina#WW ganondorf and TP ganondorf are both literal older versions of OoT ganondorf in 2 different futures#not to mention all of the ganons in the early games. OoT was made as a prequel that both literally and figuratively#attempted to humanize the main antagonist of the series#OoT ganondorf at the time WAS the ‘ganondorf with character development and an actual motivation’#WW ganondorf (who is the same person.) just actually got to vocalize what specifically his motivation was#which is great!! and also retroactively gives OoT ganondorf more context & depth#can u tell i am off my meds at the moment and have nothing better to do with my time ahsjfhskfhdj
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puhpandas · 2 months ago
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I think the reason beckory works well is that tony has a habit of getting self righteous and in his own head about things but Gregory isnt afraid to tell him off or call him out about things. the point of tony in ggy is that nobody ever told him that how hes treating other people isnt good, so that's why he got so bad. but tony would be close to Gregory and have every rational reason in the world to listen to Gregory so when he would say something like "you're treating ellis badly and that's not what a good friend does, you need to do better" hed actually listen and take it into account and improve himself
#everyone in ggy is oblivious but gregory wouldnt be#hed be used to flawed people by being family with vanessa and freddy and best friends with cassie#and in turn tony#so when tony showcases traits of being flawed he cares about him and can look past them bc he knows tony is a good person#but he also keeps him in check when he goes too far#gregory who would fight someone so intensely he would be put in the hospital if someone insulted cassie:#tony you shouldnt resent ellis and say hes annoying just because he doesnt know all about this journalist from the 1920s#i think the concept of Gregory trying to be normal and live a normal life with 3 star fam and actively having to make it happen#is interesting#bc i feel like tony is so abnormal and has become disconnected from reality especially in a scenario where he lives after the ggy attack#that interacting wiht gregory whos so strange and interesting and mysterious but also has both feet rooted in the present and reality#would do him a lot of good#just make him finally take a step back and see the bigger picture and take a chill pill#also its ironic bc gregory is secretly in his head trying soo hard to be normal and do normal things#and it appears so effortless to Tony that it literally fixes him#i love thinking gregory and others relationships as Gregory not really doing anything but he still affects ppl so heavily#like gregory just existing and freddy developing a soul and sentience and finding a will to live and a purpose after dropping lead singer#gregory almost accidentally saving vanessa and just existing in her life being someone she wants to live for#giving her the motivation to get back up and eventually allowing her to heal enough to want to enjoy life by herself#Gregory doing nothing but being cassies friend and it changes her after a lifetime of abandonment#to the point where it makes her happy and fufilled and brings out the determination and bravery in her#and finally gregory with tony where him just being in tonys life not trying hard to help him out and change his way of seeing life#actually does the most to change his life and shows him that he can view things differently and that now#he finds that he WANTS to#pandas.txt#3 star fam#beckory#superstar duo#gregory#tony
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ellisbian · 6 months ago
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i’ve always appreciated how tlou added homophobia and transphobia in its context because it’s realistic and they make you think how nothing changes. it would’ve been easy to not add seth who say shit to ellie and dina, or (religious) fanatics who are after lev because after all we are in the 2030s no? the society itself has been remodelled, we live in a “new” world but older people exist, people who lived in the old world know exactly what homophobia/transphobia are because they know how society worked so older generations are at the front for discrimination even if the mankind has to survive a fungal infection. with this new society their attachment to religious and so the rejection of everything that doesn’t align with those beliefs have been increased and now new generations which don’t even know what an lgbts pride is are exposed to people making comments on them or the forced repression they have to do if they want a so called family . also, with all of the environmental you forget what year we are in, because the internet, smartphones etc. doesn’t exist (anymore) and so you think we are like in the 80s, but then we return at the starting point: we are in 2038, and nothing changed because humanity will never change and they point eyes on you even if there are other dangerous things to worry about
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atangledfate · 2 days ago
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She just could not imagine being all alone for so long. Her life had never been easy, and it was always full of strife of its own. But to think of facing that all alone without her Uncle, her brother, or jewel felt like such a scary scenario. She didn't want to imagine that kind of life so she naturally felt bad for Kalak and just wanted to change that part of her life. Or at least she wanted to be as much of a friend to her as Kalak would allow her to be. She knew from whisper that Wolves could be a bit fickle about opening up. Or maybe that was just whisper? she couldn't say for sure.
As for the Devas, she didn't know enough about them but it sounded like they meant well. A tough group of warriors and thinkers trying to look out for there world! Sounded like the justice hall! from one of her comics, only far more real and way more important. Though at Kalak mentioning she might accidently lash out from the touch, it made her think of how much alike she and Whisper were.
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" Ah! right Sorry--- I'm uhh, still gettin' use to that with Whisp, guess im to use to just huggin' or being physical with my friends. but i'll try and keep that in mind for the future! "
However at the mention of metal Sonic she gripped the back of her neck as if an old wound was bothering her. The memory of getting her ass beat by Metal was still kind of fresh! She survived and even got her licks in, but he was nothing to sneeze at. If anything Sonic told he was true she hadn't even seen a fraction of his full power and she likely just got lucky he didn't come at her at full power.
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" Dunno, you folks from Flora are pretty tough, but thing is... everytime Metal loses. Eggman just improves Metal a little more... so by this point... he's crazy strong. I can say that... cause i got put in the infirmary by the guy..."
"Uh, I guess so? Never really thought about it until now, though I tend to keep myself busy." Kalak wasn't thinking about it too much as she had her pet and met nice people from time to time. Though guessed she could see how it could be lonely. Not much of a social life when she focuses on other things. "Though as I said King Renard's wife is super nice, even if she's only a stand in member. The D'vas is supposed to be diverse so it's in the best interests of all of Flora." The wolf knew a royal becoming a full member of the D'vas would lead to a lot of complaints. Not to mention then there'd be two from canine country.
Kalak's body tensed up at the little jab, having to fight in instincts as she was aware it was playful, though years of battle conditioning made things like that dangerous with her. "Yeah, sure, though maybe don't do that. I'm not being rude, just, I'd rather not go all auto fight mode and hurt you." The wolf thought it best to be honest with Tangle about this so she could at least tell the other's not to do stuff like that. Guess those social condition classes helped to keep it under control.
"Tall Lady doesn't think of Metal Sonic has a threat, though I'm not sure. Though I guess I'm the weakest member of the D'vas, and she seems to have a lot of crazy magic spells to let her move super-fast. I'm not the fast so maybe I just think he's a bigger threat to me. Not sure how hard he hits, though hopefully I can take it." Kalak could only guess at one point or another she'd come across Metal Sonic.
"Oh, he's well behaved, and is even super good with strangers," Kalak said, standing up before forming some magic in her hands before opening a portal. A second later a large red spider walked though, about the size of the wolf herself before it rushed her. She stopped it and began petting it. "I missed you too boy. Who's a good boy? You are, that's right, you are." She would scratch under the spider's belly as she said this.
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tombware · 1 month ago
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astarion's arc mentioning redemption doesn't make as much sense as it seemed it was going to in EA. like Ulma mentioning he might achieve redemption doesn't make much sense now since she's talking about victims he got while being almost literally puppeteered.
Originally it seemed pretty clear we were going to find out some heinous shit he did to the Gur as a magistrate out of his own free volition.
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