#high-risk tolerance

[ultragamerz]

XRP: The Sleeping Giant or a Crypto Tombstone?

New Post has been published on https://www.ultragamerz.com/xrp-the-sleeping-giant-or-a-crypto-tombstone/

XRP: The Sleeping Giant or a Crypto Tombstone?

XRP: The Sleeping Giant or a Crypto Tombstone?

Ripples of uncertainty continue to surround XRP, the controversial token associated with Ripple Labs. Unlike the wild swings experienced by other cryptocurrencies in recent months, XRP has remained stubbornly stagnant, a slumbering giant some might say, or perhaps a digital tombstone for overly optimistic investors.

A Brief History of XRP’s Legal Limbo:

The U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) filed a lawsuit against Ripple Labs in December 2020, alleging XRP is an unregistered security. This lawsuit cast a heavy shadow over XRP’s future, creating a climate of fear and doubt among investors. The legal battle continues to drag on, with no clear resolution in sight.

March Madness or More Stagnation? Unpacking the Potential 25x Surge and Looming Dump Threat

The price of XRP, the token associated with Ripple Labs, has been a curious case in the ever-volatile crypto market. Unlike its brethren that experience wild swings and parabolic rises, XRP has remained stubbornly stagnant, leaving investors questioning its future. However, with March 2024 approaching, whispers of a potential “XRP March Madness” are swirling, hinting at a monstrous breakout that could redefine the coin’s fortunes. Let’s delve deeper into this intriguing scenario and explore the factors fueling this speculation.

Aligning the Stars: Favorable SEC Lawsuit Outcome and Market Momentum:

The ongoing legal battle between Ripple and the SEC remains the single biggest factor influencing XRP’s price. A favorable outcome for Ripple, meaning the court deems XRP not a security, could trigger a domino effect. Regulatory uncertainty would vanish, potentially attracting institutional investors who have been hesitant to enter the fray due to the ongoing lawsuit. This influx of new capital, coupled with renewed investor confidence, could ignite a buying frenzy, propelling XRP’s price significantly higher.

Technical Analysis: Bullish Signals and Breakout Potential:

Technical analysts scouring XRP’s charts have identified potential bullish signals hinting at an impending breakout. Price consolidation patterns and positive indicators like the Relative Strength Index (RSI) suggest XRP might be coiling up for a significant upward move. While technical analysis shouldn’t be the sole factor in investment decisions, these signals add fuel to the fire of the “XRP March Madness” narrative.

Community Sentiment and FOMO (Fear of Missing Out):

The crypto community thrives on hype and social media buzz. If XRP experiences a significant price jump in March, a wave of FOMO could propel the price even further. News outlets and social media influencers amplifying the narrative could create a self-fulfilling prophecy, attracting new investors eager not to miss out on the potential gains.

A Word of Caution: The Looming Dump Threat and Whale Activity:

While the prospect of a 25x surge is undoubtedly enticing, investors should remain cautious. Recent on-chain data reveals large transfers of XRP to cryptocurrency exchanges. This activity can be interpreted in two ways: either a prelude to a massive breakout or a worrying sign of whales (large holders) preparing to dump their XRP holdings, potentially causing a significant price drop.

Investing in XRP: Weighing Risk and Reward:

The potential March 2024 breakout for XRP presents a classic high-risk, high-reward scenario. A successful resolution of the SEC lawsuit and a confluence of positive factors could lead to explosive growth. However, the ongoing legal battle and the uncertainty surrounding whale activity inject significant risk into the equation. Investors with a high-risk tolerance and a strong understanding of the cryptocurrency market dynamics might consider XRP as a potential investment. However, thorough research, careful portfolio allocation, and a healthy dose of caution are paramount before diving in.

Stagnant Price, Shaky Future?

While the broader cryptocurrency market experiences periods of explosive growth and heart-stopping dips, XRP remains largely unmoved. This price stagnation has led some to question XRP’s viability as an investment.

A Potential Monster Awakening?

However, some analysts believe XRP could be on the verge of a monstrous breakout. Should the SEC lawsuit be settled favorably for Ripple, XRP’s price could potentially surge by a staggering 25x or more. This scenario, while enticing, is far from guaranteed.

Whale Activity and the Dumping Specter:

Adding another layer of intrigue, recent on-chain data reveals large transfers of XRP to cryptocurrency exchanges. This activity could be interpreted in two ways: either a potential prelude to a massive breakout or a worrying sign of whales preparing to dump their XRP holdings, further depressing the price.

Is XRP Worth the Risk?

The current situation surrounding XRP presents a classic risk-reward scenario. A successful resolution of the SEC lawsuit could lead to explosive growth, but the uncertainty surrounding the legal battle makes XRP a gamble at best. Investors seeking more stable or demonstrably growing investment opportunities may be better off looking elsewhere.

Final Thoughts:

XRP remains a sleeping giant, but whether it awakens as a majestic beast or simply crumbles to dust is a question only time, and the ongoing legal saga, will answer. Investors should approach XRP with extreme caution and conduct thorough research before making any investment decisions. Remember, in the world of cryptocurrency, sometimes the biggest risks lead to the biggest rewards, but they can also lead to the biggest losses.

SEO Keywords: XRP, Ripple Labs, SEC lawsuit, cryptocurrency, March 2024, breakout, institutional investors, technical analysis, FOMO, whale activity, investment, risk-reward, high-risk tolerance, portfolio allocation.

[wackywatchdotcom]

man, i have to go do something in a minute here, but i am CONSTANTLY think about like... how long DOES the average circus member last before they abstract?

we dont have a lot of information about the passage of time in general in the show (which is infinitely painful to me, who likes to know about technical details very in-depth. but i understand writing wise why its like this) other than that the first 4 episodes take place over the span of 4(? or 5, depending on how you interpret the ending scene of episode 4) (which this also intrigues me that 8-9 days will pass over the course of the show... and also makes me curious about just how eventful the average day truly is in the circus!) days and that everyone in the circus has likely been here for at MINIMUM 2 years

(i say that because jax says "weve been stuck here for years" which implies that all of the people there at the time have been there for more than one year and because of the plural years, a minimum of 2. maybe. he also could just be oversimplifying things but unless given reason to think otherwise im interpretting the line this way)

we know of a at least ~18 people whove been in the circus total, but i frankly think its more than that. we know ribbit abstracted before kaufmo, but we dont know when ribbit joined the circus, or how much time was between these

it also depends on how long you think the circus members have been trapped for. i personally think this has been going on for at minimum 10 years (i have my own hcs abt it being ~16 years, but thats just hc and based on a bunch of my interpretations of random details) but we dont really know this, and how long this has been happening, and how long kingers been here, and whether or not kinger has or hasnt been here the longest

like if its been like 5 years thatd mean like... 3-4 people join the circus each year (on average). if its 10 years thatd mean 1-2 people join the circus each year (on average). and we dont even know how many people the circus has in it at one time on avg!! like theres the theory it floats around 6, but thats just a theory and not smth we know for sure. point being, we dont even know how often people join the circus and that effects a LOT of things

idk..... i guess the question really is 'how often can a person last in the circus before they literally cannot take it anymore' which is a much sadder question. we dont even know how long ago queenie abstracted, or ribbit abstracted. did zooble know ribbit? did ribbit get here before or after zooble did??

it just haunts me a little

[girderednerve]

rewatching black sails & really admiring how many insects are in it. like it's not enough insects but most shows have zero insects unless it's an Oh No, Bug! scene. black sails has flies buzzing around. ambience

[idiosyncatsy]

about 3/4 of the way through six of crows and the tagline "six dangerous outcasts" never fails to make me smile bc like, realistically, this is four dangerous outcasts, the world's meanest calvinist, and a guy with a chemistry set

[phagodyke]

I slept rly deeply last night even tho it took me a while to get to sleep but I think that was bc I had acid reflux and I'd been playing videogames too late not anything else.... still only got 6 hrs but doing pretty okay all things considered 😚

[ultragamerz]

2024 The Wild World of Meme Coins: A Look at 12 Popular Tokens

New Post has been published on https://www.ultragamerz.com/2024-the-wild-world-of-meme-coins-a-look-at-12-popular-tokens/

2024 The Wild World of Meme Coins: A Look at 12 Popular Tokens

The Wild World of Meme Coins: A Look at 12 Popular Tokens

$DOGE $FLOKI $SLERF $DUKO $MFER $PENG $BOME $CANDLE $TROLL $MUMU $Hege $Mong

The cryptocurrency market can be a serious business, but there’s also a lighter side fueled by internet humor and virality. Enter meme coins – cryptocurrencies inspired by internet memes and online jokes. While they may lack the perceived utility of other crypto projects, meme coins can experience explosive growth thanks to community hype and social media trends. Let’s take a deep dive into 12 of the most popular meme coins, exploring their origins, functionalities, and potential:

<blockquote class=”twitter-tweet”><p lang=”en” dir=”ltr”>Which one will you Buy during this dip?<a href=”https://twitter.com/search?q=%24DOGE&src=ctag&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw”>$DOGE</a><a href=”https://twitter.com/search?q=%24FLOKI&src=ctag&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw”>$FLOKI</a><a href=”https://twitter.com/search?q=%24SLERF&src=ctag&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw”>$SLERF</a><a href=”https://twitter.com/search?q=%24DUKO&src=ctag&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw”>$DUKO</a><a href=”https://twitter.com/search?q=%24MFER&src=ctag&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw”>$MFER</a><a href=”https://twitter.com/search?q=%24PENG&src=ctag&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw”>$PENG</a><a href=”https://twitter.com/search?q=%24BOME&src=ctag&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw”>$BOME</a><a href=”https://twitter.com/search?q=%24CANDLE&src=ctag&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw”>$CANDLE</a><a href=”https://twitter.com/search?q=%24TROLL&src=ctag&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw”>$TROLL</a><a href=”https://twitter.com/search?q=%24MUMU&src=ctag&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw”>$MUMU</a></p>— Elon Musk (Parody) (@ElonMuskPDA) <a href=”https://twitter.com/ElonMuskPDA/status/1783102815017308291?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw”>April 24, 2024</a></blockquote> <script async src=”https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js” charset=”utf-8″></script>

1. Dogecoin (DOGE) – The OG Doggo Coin (https://dogecoin.com/) Dogecoin, the granddaddy of meme coins, features the iconic Shiba Inu dog from the “Doge” meme. Launched in 2013 as a joke by Billy Markus and Jackson Palmer, Dogecoin gained mainstream popularity with tweets from Elon Musk and garnered a passionate community known as the “Doge Army.” DOGE has limited functionality beyond being a medium of exchange, but its cultural significance and strong community backing have fueled its success.

2. Floki Inu (FLOKI) – Taking Over for Doge? (https://floki.com/) Capitalizing on the Shiba Inu theme, Floki Inu claims to be the “son of Doge” and has gained traction with its association with Elon Musk’s dog of the same name. FLOKI aims to be more than just a meme coin, offering features like an NFT marketplace, a play-to-earn game, and a charitable arm. However, its long-term success hinges on the execution of its development roadmap and maintaining community interest.

3. Slurp ($SLERF) – All About the Memes (https://blockworks.co/) Slurp embraces the meme culture with a constantly evolving mascot, often featuring internet-famous characters and references. The project prioritizes fun and community engagement, hosting regular contests and giveaways. SLERF has limited real-world use cases beyond being a community token, but its focus on fun and lightheartedness could attract users seeking a more light-hearted crypto experience.

4. Ducky Inu (DUKO) – Quacking its Way into Crypto (https://www.duckychannel.com.tw/) DUKO features a cute duck character and aims to provide a fun and easy entry point for new crypto users. The project offers a decentralized exchange (DEX) and a staking platform within the Binance Smart Chain ecosystem. However, DUKO faces stiff competition from established DEX platforms, and its long-term success relies on attracting and retaining a loyal user base.

5. Mothership (MFER) – Bringing the Memes to DeFi (https://coinmarketcap.com/currencies/mothership/) MFER takes a different approach, utilizing the “Mfers” meme within a Decentralized Finance (DeFi) ecosystem. The MFER token grants access to a platform offering various DeFi features like staking, governance, and potential future NFT integration. While the project holds promise for DeFi enthusiasts, its success hinges on attracting users who value both the meme aspect and the DeFi functionalities.

6. Penguin Finance (PENG) – Waddling into the Market (https://coinmarketcap.com/currencies/penguincoin-old/) PENG features a penguin mascot and focuses on building a decentralized exchange (DEX) within the Binance Smart Chain ecosystem. Unlike some meme coins with limited functionality, PENG offers a real-world use case for users seeking alternative trading platforms. However, the success of PENG relies heavily on the overall adoption and liquidity of its DEX platform.

7. Bombshell (BOME) – Making a Big Bang (https://www.wsj.com/articles/bitcoin-blockchain-hacking-arrests-93a4cb29)

BOME utilizes a sexy anime character as its mascot and aims to create a fun and engaging community around its token. The project has plans for an NFT marketplace, a play-to-earn game, and its own anime series. However, BOME faces criticism for its reliance on a potentially exclusionary mascot and the ambitiousness of its development roadmap.

8. Candle (CANDLE) – Burning Bright in the Memeverse (https://www.candlestick.io/)

CANDLE features a simple candle chart as its logo and focuses on building a sustainable meme coin through a deflationary token model. A portion of every transaction is burned, reducing the total supply of CANDLE tokens over time, which some believe can increase its value. However, the effectiveness of this model in a volatile market like meme coins remains to be seen.

9. TrollCoin (TROLL) – Feeding the Online Antics (https://www.coinbase.com/price/trollcoin)

TROLL uses the “trolling” meme as its inspiration and aims to create a fun and engaging community for internet pranksters. The project has limited real-world use cases beyond being a community token, but its focus on humor and lightheartedness could resonate with users seeking a more playful crypto experience.

10. Mumu the Bull (MUMU) – A Bovine Take on Meme Coins

Mumu the Bull (MUMU) takes a unique approach to the meme coin space by featuring a bullish character instead of the more common dog theme. Inspired by the “Mumu the Bull” meme, popular within the crypto community as a symbol of bullish market sentiment, MUMU aims to capitalize on this positive association.

The project has plans for a decentralized exchange (DEX) and a yield-generating mechanism for MUMU holders. However, the long-term success of Mumu the Bull hinges on the execution of its development roadmap and attracting users who see value in its specific meme and its functionalities.

11. Hege Coin (HEGE) – Inspired by a Controversial Figure (https://coinmarketcap.com/dexscan/solana/CJcu7ciRHBHu4BDnpLgAUm1A6iSp9RuhJMG36rjjrxnd/)

HEGE is a more controversial meme coin, inspired by a historical figure. While the inspiration can be a source of community engagement, it can also raise ethical concerns and potentially limit its mainstream appeal. It’s crucial to conduct thorough research on the project’s background and community before investing in HEGE.

12. MongCoin (MONG) – Bringing Memes to the Real World (https://coinmarketcap.com/currencies/mongcoin/)

MONG aims to bridge the gap between the meme coin world and real-world applications, focusing on charity and social good. The project partners with various charities and donates a portion of its transaction fees to support them. MONG offers a unique approach within the meme coin space, potentially attracting investors seeking to combine meme culture with social impact.

Important Note: Meme coins are inherently risky investments due to their high volatility and lack of underlying utility. Always conduct thorough research before investing in any cryptocurrency, and consider your risk tolerance. The information provided here is for informational purposes only and should not be considered financial advice.

[mothygraves]

people are so rude about those really nice temporary tattoos that look decently real. "just get a real one" as if there aren't a million reasons why someone wouldn't want/be able to get a real one. it doesn't just boil down to someone being a "fake poser"

[dualityvn]

Hello, I am writing this post in order to address my own community but also give a heads up to other yandere game devs on Tumblr. This has filled me with deep dread and I feel like it needs to be spoken about at once.

TLDR: There's a community of over 1k people who are seeking real life yandere relationships and planning illegal actions here on Tumblr.

I recently discovered there's a fairly big community here on tumblr of people who are seeking "yandere" partners in real life and/or identify as "yandere" themselves. Part of me is hoping and praying to the gods that it's just roleplay, but the community has "IRL" in its name and there is nothing in its rules indicating that it's roleplay. Some of the people in there are following my blog.

To other devs, I urge you to discourage such mentalities and make it as clear as possible that we DO NOT tolerate this stuff.

To anyone who identifies as "irl yandere" and is following this or any of my blogs, block me this instant. What you are doing and encouraging is abusive if it is outside of a consensual roleplay or BDSM scenario. Purposefully isolating a person from their loved ones, kidnapping them, harming them (again, without consent) is abuse. Get the hell out of my community, you are not welcome here. I will not have abusers use my game or participate in my community. Seek therapy.

There is a difference between exploring a crazy scenario in a game and pursuing said scenario in reality. NONE of the stalkerish, obsessive, overly jealous things Keith and Tenebris do in the game are okay to do to a real person. They are not role models, they are not ideal partners.

And to people who are seeking out "yandere" partners in real life, for the love of god realize that your fantasies will not play out the same in reality. You are putting yourself and all of your loved ones at risk. No matter how much you think you can appeal to a "yandere" or meet their needs, that is still an abuser who may go to extremes one day. There was a damn post in that community asking for advice on how to turn someone against their family. Another asking how to kidnap someone and being praised for it. This is not a joke. Do not invite abusers into your life. It will not play out like your fantasies. You will feel unsafe and violated, you may end up in a very very bad situation that you cannot get out of easily. There is a high chance you may lose your life when the abuser decides they can't have you to themselves any other way.

And to those of you in my fandom who are well in the head and aware this is nuts, please report this community if you come across it. The age of entry was 16, SIXTEEN YEAR OLDS ARE IN THERE LOOKING FOR ABUSERS. I cannot stress how fucked up this is.

I really really really hope I just somehow didn't pick up that this was all roleplay. I hope I didn't just witness someone trying to plan out how to kidnap a real person. Please just let me be a clueless idiot.

[thewitchblue]

Could you write something about looking into Jason’s wallet and seeing a picture of his lover there?

"Found it!"

Dick said, holding the wallet victoriously. The duo went on a scavenger hunt for Jason's wallet after he lost it. Dick has the hidden talent of being about to find anything.

Jason, to his horror, watched your photo leave his wallet as Dick held it up high. He really did not want to talk about you to his brother, especially this brother. He'd even tolerate stalker Tim finding out before Dick.

"Who's this?"

Dick asked innocently as he looked at your picture. Jason knew he should have put the picture in a more secure part of his wallet, but he didn't want to risk scratching or crinkling it. Now, he will be hounded until Dick and you meet.

The picture wasn't an anniversary, date, or even a birthday party, but it was special to him. It felt intimate to him, and it felt like a slice of life he didn't know he needed.

You often tease that it's the only picture you have of him smiling, but that's not true. You have hundreds of pictures with you both, but he's a lot more picky with the pictures he keeps.

This picture is his favourite because it was taken without either of your knowledge. It was raw, not staged. Artemis took the picture after sneaking into the house. She originally wanted to use it as blackmail to extort money out of him, but you idiots were too in love to notice or really even care if you got leaked to the others, so she simply left and sent the picture to the group chat with a vomiting emoji.

He can see the unfiltered adoration on your face and the lovesick grin you gave him. It felt special to him, and it continued to feel special every time he saw it.

You both were breaking away from a kiss. Your hand cradled his face gently, and his arms seemed to be drawing you in by your waist. You were mimicking his Red Hood suit with a leather jacket, black cargo pants, and a Red Hood shirt that you modified to have a hood. He remembers calling you a copycat with a huge smile.

"That is none of your goddamn business."

Jason said as he took both his wallet and his picture back. Dick gave him a grin that made him know he was in trouble. Dick was going to find out one way or another. Jason rolled his eyes. Dick said smoothly,

"I'll hunt them down."

Jason shook his head. Good luck finding you. You live like a ghost. He doubts even he could find anything about you.

"Good luck finding them. There is nothing on file for them anywhere."

He cursed under his breath when he heard your special knocking pattern. Dick practically ran to the door, but Jason was faster. He managed to hit Dick over the head with a frying pan like a cartoon character.

"Are you okay, sugar bear?"

Not really. Jason was wrestling with his brother now, but he called out,

"I'm fine, munchkin. Taking care of business."

You knew what that meant and started to walk away. Until Dick was thrown through the wall and nearly knocked you down. You eyed the grinning man as Jason groaned. Dick always gets what he wants in the end, no matter what.

"You must be the lover."

Dick said as he stood up and brushed off the drywall on him. You went to stand by Jason with a frown. Jason swings an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him in a protective way. He really doesn't trust Dick with you.

You gave him a cheek kiss and asked,

"What's wrong, sugar bear? Is he dangerous?"

How do you not know the Wayne family? Well, you don't live in Gotham. You live in a neighbouring city, but it's not a long drive, so you always drive to see your sugar bear.

"You have no idea. I don't know what he's going to do with this knowledge."

You kissed him quickly and cuddled into his side. He always makes you feel protected and safe. You will be protected from Dick until Jason's dying breath.

"I'll keep it a secret if I know more."

Dick said confidently. He's a man of his word, and so were you.

"What questions?"

You assume the basic, "how did you meet," but instead you got,

"Why do you have a ring?"

You look at your hand with a fond smile. It wasn't anything fancy; simply a silver banded ring with a small emerald in the middle. You smiled,

"It's my promise ring. Jason has a matching one."

Jason hesitated before pulling out the necklace that held his ring. He didn't want it to break or for any villain to find out about you. He keeps it tucked away safely as a necklace and under his Red Hood gear.

Dick looked offended. How has he never noticed? He was surprised and hurt by the lack of trust. He thought Jason would at least tell him about you.

"When did you start dating?"

You smiled up at Jason. You were happily tucked under his arm and into his side. It gave you confidence.

"It will be our second anniversary in two days."

Jason answered. He's always on top of romantic gestures and dates. He went all out the last anniversary. He brought you to all your favourite spots before ending on a cliffside watching the sunset and cuddling on the blanket he insisted on bringing despite being on a motorcycle and how impractical it was to bring along. He had to fold it at least four times to fit it in his pocket so it didn't get caught in the wheels.

Dick didn't like that answer. Two whole years without ever revealing you to the family. That hurt his big brother ego. He should know everything.

It's none of their business, in Jason's opinion. His love life shouldn't matter to his family. What's the big deal? It's not like he's married.

"How did you meet?"

Your smile turned into a mischievous grin as Jason groaned. It was so awful to him. He felt horrible.

"I accidentally sneaked up on him at an old bookstore, and he judo flipped me in surprise."

You laughed, but Jason's grip on you tightened slightly. He'll never forgive himself for hurting you, even if it was an ice breaker that led to your relationship.

Dick looked at Jason with disapproving eyes and Jason felt the exact same way. He felt terrible for judo flipping you.

"No need to be sad, sugar bear. It led to us."

You took his hand that was resting on your hip and kissed it gently. You lightly squeezed it to reassure that everything is okay.

Dick smiled at the happy couple. Sure, it was unfortunate the way you met, but the love was clearly there, and he was happy that his little brother could finally find peace and love.

[thee-horny-thicky]

TW: Yandere!Gojo, baby trapping

I know it's fanon that Satoru became a fuckboy once Suguru left, which I've written about before. However, I think the reality is that intimacy is rare for Satoru. He's busy, and vulnerability is his biggest fear. It's why he always maintains his childish, energetic persona, because after Suguru tore out his heart and stomped on it, opening up to another person was out of the question.

However, even the strongest isn't immune from developing crushes.

You were a new hire, a foreign sorcerer that recently transferred to Jujutsu Tech. You were born the same year as Suguru, and the similarities didn't end there. You might not look like him, though you were attractive in your own right, but so much about you echoed the man who broke Satoru's heart. Despite your serious demeanor, you knew how to take a joke, and were seriously competitive. You were cunning and sly, with a wit that he admired. You were loyal to those you cared about, but ruthless to your enemies. Best of all, you tolerated him in a way few could.

He found himself falling hard, and was delighted to know you felt the same way... sorta. You see, while he was planning a wedding, you wanted something purely physical. Satoru didn't mind indulging your lust, but he expected it to transform into love at some point. And it did, on his end. But you, you were a different story.

Your trajectory was similar to Satoru's. You too had a high school sweetheart who broke your heart, and you responded to it by shunning relationships. The difference was that you indulged in a decent amount of flings and one night stands. What started as a way to ease heartbreak became a stress reliever and your favorite hobby. Moreover, being a sorcerer, conventional dating was risky. The risks weren't canceled out by someone like Satoru.

In fact, they were amplified.

Put simply, you didn't want to be a clan leader's wife. You enjoyed being a sorcerer, but if you wed the leader of a clan, you'd be reduced to a baby maker. You wanted kids one day, when being a sorcerer had lost its thrill. Maybe they'd fill the void, but for the time being, you were happy childless.

Unfortunately for you, your time without kids is nearing an end.

You see, once Gojo hears that you wouldn't mind being a mommy one day, he decides that's how he'll keep you. If his expensive gifts and lavish dates aren't enough, certainly a baby will be. Because after losing Suguru, he isn't willing to miss out on HEA with a great love again. If he has to use...questionable methods, so be it.

And hey, if a baby doesn't work, he has a cozy little room waiting for you, complete with security measures only he could disarm.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Big Guy Big Belly

König is a big man, and with a big man comes a big appetite. We’re talking about a 6’10 man constantly maintaining his peak physique. He needs to be consuming as many calories and as much protein, carbs, fats, fiber and more to keep himself in fit and fighting shape.

At the canteen, he’s a nightmare. I bet that people rush to the cafeteria just to make sure they get something to eat before the big man on base rolls up. He’ll clear out the bins if he gets a chance. There’s a rumour on base that the reason König fought so hard to climb the ranks so quickly was just to be able to eat more and get away with it. Little do they know that they’re absolutely right, but König will never say that out loud. Ever. There’s some secrets you take to your grave. 

Either way, König is a menace in the canteen. He’ll pile his plate as high as he can when he gets a chance. He’s packing away all he can get in the shortest amount of time he can, and everyone has to suffer for it. The worst part is that everyone has to rush to get to the caf before König, and König knows exactly what others are doing, so he’s in a daily race against the entire base to eat his fill. It’s always a photo-finish to see who gets to the cafeteria first.  König currently has been slacking, so he’s not been eating like he normally has. Is he mad? Not really. He’ll clean out the snack cart later. 

He’s a monster late at night. Everyone knows that you need to leave the big man to his snacks, lest you face the wrath of the colossus on base. Well, wrath in a peculiar way. He just gets quiet and angry, but it’s still not a fun experience to try and fight him for a sandwich. If you take the last egg salad sandwich you’ll be at the top of his shit list for the next week. Don’t even think he won’t track you down. He’ll throw around his rank just to get his hands on the poor bastard. Nobody is safe, either.

Stiletto only once took the last pudding cup. Once. She never made that mistake again. For a week he was giving her dirty looks over a cold shoulder as he bumbled down the hall. She eventually had to give in and sacrifice a desert to be able to get back in his good graces. She still thinks he’s a massive bitch because of it. And you know what? She’s right. Everybody knows she’s right, König included, but he’ll keep going after whoever ‘steals’ ‘his’ snacks. They get along a bit better now that they’ve both advanced in rank and worked together, but there was a good period of time where Stiletto had to sleep with one eye open.

It gets a bit better for everyone when König finally finds a partner and doesn’t stay on base so often. Everyone takes a moment to pray for the poor soul who has to cook for König whenever he gets home from deployment.

See, during deployment, König can’t be such a massive bitch about food. He gets his rations, and that’s that. He can’t steal from anybody else, so he gets stuck with these pitiful MREs that barely fill him up. It’s miserable, and he’s losing weight like crazy when on the field. He’s running on fumes and burning calories like crazy as he’s risking his life out there. It’s gotten to a point where König has taken to eating with hostages post-rescue to ‘help them feel safer’ (read: get more food into his gullet). Thankfully, he puts his best foot forward when dealing with victims of trauma and ensures that he has somebody else do all the socializing while he plays with the kids after dinner. Apparently, after the inevitable shower of tears whenever kids have to face König, he becomes pretty popular. They love to use him as a jungle gym (and make fun of him) and he’s just happy to get more to eat. He’ll take being called ‘bigger than even my dad!’, being told ‘you’re weird’ or being asked ‘why are you so big and scary all the time?’ any day for a little extra to eat. He can tolerate a few kids. He won’t ever admit that hanging around them makes him want some kids of his own, or at least not to Horangi, who’s already teasing König about being a surrogate father to the kids. König tells him to keep it to himself, but Horangi is already buying things for the baby shower.

Once König finally comes home, that’s when all Hell breaks loose. This man has been starving and he needs food NOW. He won’t take no for an answer. If you don’t have something prepared, he’ll be ordering a massive order of takeout the likes of which you’ve never seen before in your life. He’ll hit multiple places on his way back to your place if he doesn’t think you’ve been able to get something together for him. If you can’t cook, he won’t even bother telling you to cook for him and just focus on getting a whole banquet of junk food ready for when he arrives home. He brings the pizzas in the door before he even brings in his own bags. You’ll have to go out and grab his bag as he sets up his personal buffet table. The worst part is despite how much he can shove down, he always buys more than he can eat, so you’ve got a couple of days worth of food to shove in the fridge at the end of the night.

If you can cook, this is a multi-day experience. Is it rewarding? Absolutely. Is it painful? Abso-fucking-lutely. He’s got you slaving for hours a day just to get him a nice home cooked meal. You’ll be going all out to get him a big enough meal. We’re thinking a tray of mac and cheese, a whole roast chicken, easily a handful of loaded baked potatoes. If you have something from your traditional cuisine, he’s not picky, he’ll gobble it up in a heartbeat. Knowing you made it for him is more than enough for him. Food is the way to a man’s heart, some say, and König will never let you go if you treat him like the king he is.

The good thing about cooking König such a big meal is that he gives back. He’s not a fan of cooking, but for the next few days he’ll take over cooking and cleaning in the kitchen. It’s just an easy way for him to give back, you know? He can’t thank you enough with words, so why not with actions?

But the best part of König giving back is that he’s an excellent cook. He cooks mostly traditional food from his culture, but he’s down for some french or italian cooking if you’re into it. He can make a mean lasagne. He does not skimp on the cheese, this man. No he’s a cheese fiend. If you’re lactose intolerant, you’ve got another thing coming for you. He will hand feed you lactaid just for the meal. If you have a dietary restriction, he’ll learn how to cook your types of meals in abundance. He’s perfect that way. Vegetarian, vegan, keto, no matter what, he’s got your back. He’s learned how to make an excellent spread for a dinner party, and part of learning to cater to others is to work around other people’s diets; his mother drilled that rule into his little head as a kid. He does it without complaint, too. For at least a week after coming home, he’s just so happy to be around food in abundance again. He’s absolutely thriving in the kitchen before the thrill wears off and he’s back to avoiding cooking like the plague again.

He loves to eat, but usually hates to cook. He’ll mostly eat takeout until he actually has to eat a nutritious meal again for a change. It’s not that cooking is awful, it’s just that he hates doing the dishes. He’d be far more inclined if he didn’t have to do the dishes afterwards. If you take over dishes, he’ll definitely step up his game for the both of you.

All in all, König loves to eat. He’s a big man with a bigger appetite, as hard as that is to believe. Once he retires he has to learn to cut back a fair bit, but he never loses his taste for sweets and snacks. It’s just something you’ll have to learn to live with.

[ghostlyferrettarot]

🖤✨️Venus in the houses✨️🖤

❗️All the observations in this post are based on personal experience and research, it's completely fine if it doesn't resonate with everyone❗️

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🖤Masterlist🖤

♥︎Venus 1st house: charming people with a flirtatious aura. They know how to get people attached to them ; love to compliment others but expect double the praise in return, they know they are a catch. This individuals are usually the life of the party, the one who unites the relationship/friendship group.

♥︎Venus 2nd house: This is the house of finances, so these people prefer to be pampered by their loved one. People with strong values and respect, they expect the same from their partners. They don't play, they want stability and seriousness in a relationship; most loyal and supporting persons ever.

♥︎Venus 3rd house: really flirtatious and persuasive. They value new experiences, they are attracted to other's personality and interests. You have to keep them entertained, they have an adventurous nature and can get bored easily when it comes to a routine.

♥︎Venus 4th house: These individuals have a really harmonious and protective nature, a fairy-like aura to them. They value comfort and openness in a relationship, they want to feel the love of their partners and create a special bond with them. These people tend to attract people with mommy and daddy issues, with an "I can fix them" vibe.

♥︎Venus 5th House: These are my luxurious people, they have high standards and don't care what anyone has to say about it. They are in love with love, their cheerful nature attracts them towards creative people and people who are in a position of fame or success. They are the muses of artists.

♥︎Venus 6th house: These individuals tend to manage many things at once, they thrive on self-improvement. Their love language tends to be acts of service, they are also attracted to truly selfless people. They can spot a lie from miles away, value trust, and expect the same from their romantic partners. They forgive but they never forget.

♥︎Venus 7th house: They have an attractive and persuasive personality, they are tolerant and charismatic. The 7th house is the house of agreement and partnership, so your luck will probably change after your marriage, your significant other may play an important role in your life. These people crave love and genuine connections.

♥︎Venus 8th house: They are very sensual and intimidating; tend to have stalkers and admirers. They value deep connections, people who truly understand and accept them. People with some type of trauma are attracted to them. You may be interested in occult sciences and have healing powers.

♥︎Venus 9th house: They have a happy aura and an adventurous character. These individuals are attracted to optimistic and adventurous people, those who value their beliefs and want to take risks with them. Venus in the 9th house attracts many foreigners as it may indicate a lot of travelling, you significant other may be from another country.

♥︎Venus 10th House: The 10th House governs public image, career aspirations, and career achievements which makes these individuals attracted to status. They are goal-oriented, always looking to improve, and expect the same from their partners. You will want to live a high-profile life and connect with influential people.

♥︎Venus 11th house: They have a calming and jovial personality. Easily attract many friends who would want to work and connect with you to grow your business. These are my "friends to lovers" trope, they value friendship over romance, which attracts them to those closer to them.

♥︎Venus 12th house: These are my artistic people, they have a lot of passion and compassion. They tend to be attracted to spiritual or helpful people. They value connections and are naturally drawn to others; They find much comfort in helping those around them. They are looking for a partner with good character and empathy.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing a "Curious" Character

Curiosity - the impulse or desire to investigate, observe, or gather information, particularly when the material is novel or interesting.

This drive appears spontaneously in nonhuman animals and in young children, who use sensory exploration and motor manipulation to inspect, bite, handle, taste, or smell practically everything in the immediate environment.

The Five-Dimensional Model of Curiosity

Deprivation sensitivity—recognizing a gap in knowledge the filling of which offers relief. This type of curiosity doesn’t necessarily feel good, but people who experience it work relentlessly to solve problems. This dimension was derived from Berlyne and Loewenstein’s work.

Joyous exploration—being consumed with wonder about the fascinating features of the world. This is a pleasurable state; people in it seem to possess a joie de vivre. This dimension was influenced by Deci’s research.

Social curiosity—talking, listening, and observing others to learn what they are thinking and doing. Human beings are inherently social animals, and the most effective and efficient way to determine whether someone is friend or foe is to gain information. Some may even snoop, eavesdrop, or gossip to do so. This dimension stems from Renner’s research.

Stress tolerance—a willingness to accept and even harness the anxiety associated with novelty. People lacking this ability see information gaps, experience wonder, and are interested in others but are unlikely to step forward and explore. This dimension builds on recent work by Paul Silvia, a psychologist at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro.

Thrill seeking—being willing to take physical, social, and financial risks to acquire varied, complex, and intense experiences. For people with this capacity, the anxiety of confronting novelty is something to be amplified, not reduced. This dimension was inspired by Zuckerman's work.

The researchers conducted surveys across the United States to discover which of the dimensions lead to the best outcomes and generate particular benefits.

For instance, joyous exploration has the strongest link with the experience of intense positive emotions.

Stress tolerance has the strongest link with satisfying the need to feel competent, autonomous, and that one belongs.

Social curiosity has the strongest link with being a kind, generous, modest person.

They also explored attitudes toward and expressions of work-related curiosity.

In a survey of 3,000 workers in China, Germany, and the United States, they found that 84% believe that curiosity catalyzes new ideas, 74% think it inspires unique, valuable talents, and 63% think it helps one get promoted.

In other studies across diverse units and geographies, they have found evidence that 4 of the dimensions—joyous exploration, deprivation sensitivity, stress tolerance, and social curiosity—improve work outcomes.

The latter two seem to be particularly important: Without the ability to tolerate stress, employees are less likely to seek challenges and resources and to voice dissent and are more likely to feel enervated and to disengage.

And socially curious employees are better than others at resolving conflicts with colleagues, more likely to receive social support, and more effective at building connections, trust, and commitment on their teams.

People or groups high in both dimensions are more innovative and creative.

A monolithic view of curiosity is insufficient to understand how that quality drives success and fulfillment in work and life. To discover and leverage talent and to form groups that are greater than the sum of their parts, a more nuanced approach is needed.

Psychologists have compiled a large body of research on the many benefits of curiosity:

It enhances intelligence: In one study, highly curious children aged three to 11 improved their intelligence test scores by 12 points more than their least-curious counterparts did.

It increases perseverance, or grit: Merely describing a day when you felt curious has been shown to boost mental and physical energy by 20% more than recounting a time of profound happiness.

And curiosity propels us toward deeper engagement, superior performance, and more-meaningful goals: Psychology students who felt more curious than others during their first class enjoyed lectures more, got higher final grades, and subsequently enrolled in more courses in the discipline.

Since the 1950s psychologists have offered competing theories about what makes one person more curious than another. Rather than regard curiosity as a single trait, we can now break it down into five distinct dimensions. Instead of asking, “How curious are you?” we can ask, “How are you curious?”

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[kiwriteswords]

If put to the test, would you step back from the line of fire?

AN: This got out of hand!! But kinda became one of my favorite stories I have written! I was up WAY too late today and in between meetings at work finished it, so I hope you enjoy it!! Let me know what you think!

Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader

Word Count: 19k

Rating: Mature

Tags/TW:  canon-typical themes, angst, fluff, injuries, fade-to-black smut, sexual tension, banters, enemies-to-lovers, suggestive comments.

Summary: New to the BAU, you quickly find yourself at odds with the unit's stoic leader, Aaron Hotchner. What starts as a clash of wills and a battle of stubbornness soon transforms into a connection neither of you anticipated. With each case you work, your fire-fueled banter and undeniable tension grow, challenging your carefully constructed walls. As you both navigate the line between professional rivals and something more, you're forced to confront the truth you’ve been hiding—from each other and yourselves. In a world where control is your armor, letting someone in could be the biggest risk you've ever taken.

The bullpen buzzed with the usual energy as you made your way to your desk, the new addition to the BAU. You knew the reputation Aaron Hotchner held in the unit: stoic, precise, and tough on new recruits—especially women. You’d heard the stories from the team about how he handled Emily's arrival and Jordan’s brief stint. You were determined not to let him rattle you.

But what you didn't expect was how quickly the two of you would clash.

"Agent Y/L/N," Hotch called out from his office, barely looking up from his paperwork. "I need that report on the recent case by the end of the hour. I hope you understand the urgency of deadlines here."

"I've been doing this job for a while, Hotchner," you replied with a clipped tone. "I don’t need a reminder on how to meet deadlines."

His eyes narrowed slightly, and a hint of a smirk played at the corner of his lips. "Good. Let’s see if your actions match your confidence."

The tension between you two was palpable, and the rest of the team took notice almost immediately.

"They fight like an old married couple," Derek muttered under his breath, nudging Emily as the two of you clashed in yet another heated debate. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, watching you stand toe-to-toe with Hotch—a rare sight, considering most people didn't dare to challenge his authority so openly.

"She's got guts," Emily said, raising her eyebrows in amusement. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone go head-to-head with Hotch like that. And he's actually... engaging?"

Derek let out a low chuckle. "Oh, he's definitely engaging. Usually, he shuts people down in seconds flat, but with her? He’s giving as good as he gets."

Emily grinned, shaking her head in disbelief. "Think they realize they're basically the same person?"

"Not a chance," Derek replied with a smirk. "They’re too stubborn to see it. And honestly, I’m not sure I want to be around when they do."

The rest of the team exchanged amused, almost disbelieving glances. It was clear they’d never seen Hotch behave like this before. He wasn't just tolerating your defiance; he seemed almost... entertained by it, as if he was finally facing someone who could match his intensity and push back just as hard.

And while you both seemed entirely focused on proving the other wrong, the team couldn’t help but notice the way Hotch's lips twitched ever so slightly when you fired back at him—a hint of a smile that suggested he was enjoying the sparring far more than he let on.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The case had taken a toll on everyone. It was late, the team was exhausted, and emotions were running high. As you laid out your plan to corner the unsub at the next location, Hotch cut you off mid-sentence.

"No, that won't work," he said firmly, his voice colder than usual. "You're making assumptions without enough evidence to back them up. We need to think this through logically."

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your temper in check. "I am thinking logically, Hotchner. If we don't act fast, we'll lose any chance we have of catching this guy before he strikes again. We have to take the risk."

"And that's exactly the problem," he snapped, his eyes boring into yours. "You're too impulsive. This job isn’t about charging in headfirst without a solid plan."

Your hands balled into fists at your sides, the frustration bubbling over. "I'm not impulsive! I’m trying to save lives, which, correct me if I’m wrong, is the point of this whole job. But you wouldn't know anything about taking risks, would you, Hotch? You always play it safe, no matter what it costs."

A flash of anger crossed his face, and he took a step closer, his voice lowering to a dangerously calm tone. "You don’t know a damn thing about what it costs, Y/L/N. I’m not playing it safe; I’m making sure my team comes home alive. Something you might want to consider before throwing yourself into situations you’re not ready for."

The team watched in stunned silence. No one dared to intervene as you and Hotch stared each other down, both too stubborn to back down. They were used to disagreements in the field, but this level of intensity was something new—even for Hotch.

"I’m not some rookie you can bully into submission," you said, voice shaking with barely restrained fury. "I’m here because I’m damn good at what I do. And maybe if you took your head out of your own ego for two seconds, you’d see that."

Hotch's jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might actually shout back. But instead, he spoke in that calm, unnervingly quiet voice of his. "The minute your 'damn good' plan puts any of my team at risk, I’ll pull you off this case so fast, you won’t know what hit you."

The team exchanged uneasy glances. It was clear this wasn’t just about the case—it was about control, about power, and about two people who couldn’t stand the fact that they met their match in each other.

As you turned on your heel to walk away, you couldn’t help but notice the looks on the faces of your colleagues. They weren't just surprised by how fiercely you stood up to Hotch—they were stunned that he actually seemed to respect you more for it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The case wrapped up successfully, just as you had predicted. Your plan, the one Hotch had so firmly shot down, ended up being the key to cornering the unsub. It wasn’t without risks, but in the end, it worked, and no one could argue with the results.

As the team gathered their gear, Hotch remained silent, his face stoic as always, though there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—a mix of reluctant admiration and irritation that he couldn’t quite mask.

Rossi, ever the perceptive one, sidled up to Hotch with a knowing smile. "You know, Aaron," he said, his tone dripping with amusement, "it wouldn’t kill you to admit when you’re wrong. I mean, it's not every day someone out-thinks the great Aaron Hotchner."

Hotch shot Rossi a pointed look, his jaw tightening just slightly. "I wasn’t wrong," he muttered defensively. "I was... cautious."

Rossi let out a chuckle, shaking his head. "Cautious? Is that what we’re calling it now?" He cast a glance in your direction, where you stood a little ways off, giving instructions to a local officer. "She was right, you know. And from the look on your face, I'd say you know it too."

Hotch's gaze flicked back to you, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at his lips before he quickly wiped it away. "She was lucky," he said, more to himself than to Rossi, as if trying to convince himself of that fact.

Rossi raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Right. Lucky.”

Hotch opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. Instead, he gave a noncommittal grunt and turned his attention back to his paperwork, his expression a mask of irritation mixed with something that looked suspiciously like pride.

"You’re a tough nut to crack," Rossi said, his tone softer now, more serious. "But maybe that’s exactly why she’s the perfect match for you."

Hotch shot Rossi a glare, but it lacked its usual sharpness. "Don’t start, Rossi," he warned, though there was no real heat in his voice.

Rossi simply laughed, clapping Hotch on the shoulder. "Just saying, my friend. Sooner or later, you might want to let that wall of yours come down—before she knocks it down for you."

As Rossi walked away, Hotch allowed himself one last glance in your direction. He'd never admit it out loud, but in that moment, he couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for you—along with a nagging realization that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't the last time you'd get under his skin.

But he wasn't ready to give you the satisfaction of knowing that. Not yet.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Weeks passed, and while your clashes with Hotch became routine, you couldn't deny that you had developed a strange rhythm with him. You knew each other’s moves like pieces on a chessboard—always anticipating, always one step ahead.

Despite your frequent arguments, there was a mutual respect building beneath the surface that neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

During a late-night case discussion, Hotch had his arms crossed, leaning against the table. "Your theory is flawed," he said, his voice laced with skepticism.

You squared your shoulders, refusing to back down. "It’s not flawed. You’re just too stubborn to admit that my way might actually work."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with a challenge. "If I admit you're right, does that mean you'll stop trying to strangle me in these meetings?"

Your lips twisted into a smirk. "Don't flatter yourself, Hotchner. If I ever strangle you, it’ll be out of pure frustration."

Hotch leaned in, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "Oh, Y/N, I didn’t know you were into that."

You blinked in surprise, your cheeks heating slightly at his boldness, but you quickly recovered. "Only if it shuts you up," you shot back, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

The rest of the team watched from a distance, exchanging amused glances. They could see the crackling energy between you two, even if you both stubbornly refused to acknowledge it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The air between you and Hotch was still charged, the underlying tension refusing to fade. The rest of the team had taken to watching your interactions like a live sport—wondering who would land the next verbal blow.

You were in the middle of the bullpen, poring over case files, when Hotch approached, his expression as stern as ever. "Y/L/N," he said, his tone clipped and professional, "I need your analysis on the suspect's profile by end of day. And make sure it’s thorough this time."

You looked up, eyebrow arched. "Oh, don’t worry, Hotchner. I’ll make it as ‘thorough’ as you like," you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Wouldn’t want you to have to redo it when you realize I was right all along."

Hotch’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of irritation sparking to life. "This isn’t a contest, Y/L/N. It’s about accuracy and professionalism—two things you might want to brush up on."

You stood up, matching his gaze with equal intensity. "And maybe if you stopped micromanaging every move I make, you’d see that I know exactly what I’m doing."

The tension between you was thick enough to cut with a knife, both of you glaring at each other like two opposing forces locked in an endless struggle. The bullpen went silent, eyes darting between the two of you in surprise at how openly you challenged him—again.

Hotch opened his mouth to retort, but then he paused, his gaze softening just a fraction. He seemed to consider his next words carefully, as if he knew he was about to cross a line he wasn’t ready to cross.

"You know," he said slowly, his voice dangerously calm, "for someone who claims to know what they're doing, you spend a lot of time second-guessing your decisions. Almost like you’re afraid to be wrong."

You bristled, feeling the sting of his words hit a little too close to home. "I’m not afraid to be wrong," you shot back, eyes blazing with defiance. "I’m just not used to being treated like an amateur by someone who refuses to admit when they’re outmatched."

Hotch’s lips twitched, a brief flash of something resembling a smile crossing his face before he quickly hid it. "Outmatched? By you?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "If that’s what keeps you motivated, Agent Y/L/N, then by all means—keep believing it."

Before you could fire back, Rossi’s voice broke through the tension. "You two done sparring, or should we set up a ring in the conference room?" he quipped, amusement dancing in his eyes.

The rest of the team chuckled, clearly entertained by the ongoing battle between you and Hotch. Despite their jokes, they were all aware that there was something different about the way Hotch responded to you—how he engaged with you in a way he didn’t with anyone else.

"You know," Morgan added with a grin, "most people don’t stand up to Hotch like that. You must really like getting on his bad side."

"She’s practically setting up camp there," Garcia chimed in with a wink. "It’s like their own twisted form of bonding."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Please. If I ever start bonding with Hotchner, you have my permission to stage an intervention."

Hotch cleared his throat, shooting the team a look that was more amused than annoyed. "Alright, that's enough," he said, but there was a softness to his tone that wasn't there before, a hint that maybe—just maybe—he respected you for pushing back.

As the team dispersed, Hotch caught your gaze one last time. The moment was brief, but it lingered just long enough to make you question whether all this fighting was really about animosity—or if it was something else altogether.

And just like that, the fire between you reignited, burning hotter than ever.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The team was in the middle of a tense operation, a situation that demanded quick thinking and decisive action. You had taken a calculated risk, making a call in the field that didn't go as planned. The unsub got away, and while no one was hurt, it set the case back significantly.

The second you returned to the makeshift command center, Hotch was waiting for you, his eyes dark and unreadable. You barely had a chance to open your mouth before he was on you.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he barked, stepping closer, his voice rough with barely restrained anger. "That decision of yours just put everyone at risk, and I'm not sure we can afford that kind of recklessness again."

You shot back, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. "I was thinking that if we didn’t take the shot, we’d lose our best lead! But of course, you'd rather sit around playing it safe while the unsub walks free!"

Hotch's eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack. "This isn't about playing it safe, Y/L/N! It's about not acting like a reckless amateur who puts the entire team's lives at risk because they have something to prove!"

Your hands shook with the force of your frustration, and before you could stop yourself, you snapped, "Oh, spare me the lecture, Hotchner! You act like you're the only one who knows how to do this job, but the truth is, you're just terrified of making a mistake. You’re so damn scared of letting anyone in that you push people away the second they don’t fit your perfect mold!"

The words seemed to hit Hotch harder than you expected, his eyes darkening even further. He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerously quiet tone. "You think you know me, Y/L/N? You don’t know a damn thing. At least I’m not so afraid of being alone that I act like I don’t need anyone. You're more isolated than anyone on this team, and the saddest part? You overcompensate by pretending you don’t care."

Your breath hitched, but you were too angry to back down. "Oh, that's rich coming from you, Hotchner! The great Aaron Hotchner, who’s too afraid to be human around us because it might make him seem weak. You can't even let people in enough to let them see that you're a father first, can you? You act like this job is all that defines you, but deep down, you know you're failing at the one thing that really matters."

The moment the words left your mouth, you saw the flash of pain in Hotch's eyes—a wound laid bare for everyone to see. But before you could take it back, before you could even blink, Hotch struck back, and this time, it was a direct hit.

"You don’t get to talk to me about failure," he said, voice shaking with a mix of anger and hurt. "You walk around here like you have something to prove, like if you’re tough enough, no one will notice how desperately you need to be part of something—anything—to avoid facing how alone you really are. But here's the truth: no matter how loud you are, no matter how many arguments you win, you’re still just trying to convince yourself that you’re enough."

The team collectively held their breath, the weight of the confrontation settling over them like a dark cloud. You could see the shock and discomfort on their faces, how they tried to look away as if that would lessen the impact of the words you and Hotch had just exchanged.

You opened your mouth, ready to deliver one final blow, but something in his eyes stopped you. The hurt, the frustration, the betrayal—it was all there, mirrored in your own gaze. And you knew, in that moment, that you’d gone too far. So had he.

Before either of you could say another word, a voice crackled over the comms, interrupting the heated exchange. "We have a new lead on the unsub," Garcia’s voice came through, urgent and breathless. "I need you back at the command center, ASAP."

The tension snapped, and you both pulled back, breathing hard, eyes locked in a shared look of something like regret. You could see it—the recognition that the words you’d thrown at each other couldn’t be taken back.

Without a word, you turned and walked away, your shoulders tense, refusing to let anyone see how deeply the argument had cut. Hotch stood there for a moment longer, his face an unreadable mask, before he, too, walked in the opposite direction, his movements stiff and deliberate.

As you both moved to your respective corners, the team exchanged glances—expressions of concern, sadness, and a little fear. Even they could tell that this fight had gone way beyond professional differences. It had become personal. Too personal.

"You think they'll be okay?" JJ asked softly, breaking the silence that had settled over them.

Rossi shook his head, his face lined with worry. "Not sure," he said, glancing over at the two of you from a distance. "That was more than just anger. That was hurt. And that’s a lot harder to come back from."

Derek looked from you to Hotch and back again, his face serious. "They both know they crossed a line," he said quietly. "But the question is, can they find their way back?"

Hotch knew he’d struck too close to home, just as you did. The damage was done, and as much as you both wanted to pretend it didn’t matter, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you had changed forever.

And for the first time since you joined the BAU, neither of you was sure how to fix it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

In the days that followed your explosive argument, neither you nor Hotch said a word about what had happened. Both of you were too stubborn to apologize, too proud to admit that you might have gone too far. But even as the tension between you remained thick and uncomfortable, something in the way you interacted began to shift.

Despite your so-called hatred, you and Hotch started doing little things for each other—things that neither of you ever mentioned aloud. He'd leave a coffee on your desk, exactly how you liked it, when you’d had a particularly rough night. You’d order lunch for him when he was too buried in paperwork to take a break. It was as if you were both trying to say "I'm sorry" without actually uttering the words.

The team noticed the change, the way you two danced around each other, trying to make up for the damage in the only way you knew how—without acknowledging it outright.

And whenever one of you tried to express gratitude, it always came out as an insult wrapped in sarcasm.

"Thanks for the coffee, Hotchner," you said one morning, not meeting his eyes. The words were gruff, but there was a softness beneath them that you couldn’t quite hide. "I didn’t realize you were capable of being considerate."

Hotch shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Don’t get used to it, Y/L/N," he replied, voice laced with mock indifference. "Just trying to keep you from falling asleep in the middle of your presentations. Wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of the team."

You rolled your eyes, a reluctant smile breaking through despite your best efforts to stay annoyed. "Oh please, Hotchner. If I did fall asleep, it’d probably be because your voice has all the excitement of a tax seminar."

He gave a small chuckle, the tension between you two easing just slightly, even if neither of you would admit it. It was as if every sarcastic comment and light jab carried with it a hidden message—"I’m sorry," "I didn’t mean it," "I care more than I should."

And so, the unspoken apologies continued, buried beneath layers of pride and wrapped in your shared rhythm of bickering. The gestures were subtle but unmistakable, a silent acknowledgment that despite the walls you both put up, you were trying to make things right in the only way you knew how.

But even then, the fire between you still burned hot, and neither of you could quite bring yourself to let go of the pretense of animosity. Not yet.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The days were filled with a strange tension—one that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. The biting remarks between you and Hotch were still there, but they were laced with something different now, something that had the team raising their eyebrows and sharing knowing looks. The biting anger had started to twist into something that almost resembled…flirting.

One afternoon, you were both standing by the coffee machine, trying to get through another endless stack of case files. You reached for the last cup of coffee at the same time as Hotch, your hands brushing against each other. You snatched it up quickly, smirking in his direction.

"Careful, Hotchner," you said, raising the cup to your lips. "You keep getting in my way like this, and I might just have to pin you to the wall."

Hotch’s eyes glinted with amusement as he raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. "Bold move, Y/L/N," he replied, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Didn't realize you were in the habit of getting physical on the job."

Your breath caught for a second, but you quickly recovered, narrowing your eyes at him with a teasing smile. "Only when someone deserves it," you shot back, your voice light but your gaze steady. "And trust me, Hotchner, you've earned it."

He smirked, the kind of smile that made it clear he enjoyed pushing your buttons, and that little spark in his eyes hinted at something more than just professional rivalry. "I’ll try to contain my excitement," he said, voice smooth and challenging, the playful banter lingering in the air between you.

You opened your mouth to fire back a retort, but no words came out. Instead, you found yourself laughing—a real, genuine laugh that caught both of you off guard. The sound of it seemed to disarm Hotch for a moment, his expression softening as he looked at you.

"Just admit it," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "You’d miss our arguments if they stopped."

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to think about it. "I’d miss putting you in your place, Hotch. But don’t get used to it—I’m still keeping score, and I’m winning."

Hotch let out a low chuckle. "We’ll see about that."

The team observed from a distance, exchanging amused glances at the way you two were sparring. But this time, it wasn't just hostility—it was something far more complicated, like the first sparks of a fire that neither of you wanted to put out.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The night had not gone the way you’d hoped. The date you’d forced yourself to go on—an attempt to prove to yourself that you could open up to someone, anyone—ended as all the others did: in disappointment. You’d spent the entire evening trying to connect, trying to be someone you weren’t, only to come home with that familiar ache in your chest and a little too much wine in your system.

Stumbling slightly, you sank onto a bench outside the bar, phone in hand, replaying Hotch's words in your mind from your previous argument. "You’re more isolated than anyone on this team, and the saddest part? You overcompensate by pretending you don’t care."

The truth of it stung more now than ever. You felt the weight of his words pressing down on you, and you didn't have the strength to fight against it. Maybe he was right, you thought bitterly. Maybe I am going to end up alone because I can't let anyone in.

Before you could stop yourself, your fingers dialed his number, the alcohol-fueled haze making you braver—or more foolish—than you would have been otherwise. The phone rang once, and then you heard his familiar voice, steady and calm.

"Hotchner," he answered.

You hesitated, suddenly feeling ridiculous for calling him of all people. But then, you let out a shaky breath and said, "I...I don’t know why I called you. I’m fine. I’m—" Your voice cracked slightly, betraying you. "I'm not fine."

He didn’t ask you where you were. He didn’t hesitate or question why you’d reached out to him. Instead, his voice softened, and you could almost hear the worry in it. "Tell me where you are, Y/N," he said, his tone more gentle than you’d ever heard it. "I’m already on my way."

You told him the name of the bar, and before you knew it, Hotch’s car pulled up to the curb. He got out, looking every bit the composed leader he always was, but there was something else in his eyes—something softer as he took in your disheveled state.

Without a word, he draped his coat around your shoulders and led you to the passenger seat. The drive was quiet, the hum of the car the only sound between you. You kept your eyes on the window, embarrassed by your outburst but too drained to put your walls back up.

When he pulled up to your place, he helped you out of the car, his hand lingering at your back, a silent comfort. You let him guide you up the steps to your door, but when you fumbled for your keys, he stopped you, turning you to face him.

"You didn’t have to come get me," you said, your voice small, more vulnerable than you wanted it to be. "I’m just a mess tonight."

He looked at you, really looked at you, and for a moment, you saw the mask he always wore slip just a little. "You’re not a mess, Y/N," he said quietly. "You’re human. We all are."

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "You don't get it, Hotch. I keep trying to let people in, and I can't. It's like there's this wall I can't tear down, and I'm starting to think I’m going to end up just as alone as you said."

Hotch's jaw tightened, and he reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You’re not alone," he said, his voice low, almost tender. "And for what it's worth, I never meant to make you feel that way. You’re tougher than anyone I know, but you don’t always have to be."

You looked up at him, feeling the weight of his words settle in a place deep in your chest. For once, there was no sarcasm, no biting remarks—just a quiet honesty that took you by surprise.

"Why did you come?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper. "After everything I said to you?"

Hotch hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours, and then he said, "Because I know you. And I knew that when you finally let your guard down, even a little, it wasn’t something you’d do lightly." His voice softened even further. "I couldn’t just leave you alone tonight."

The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words. He moved closer, his hand still resting on your shoulder, and you let yourself lean into his touch, even if just a little.

He just stood there with you, holding you steady when you couldn’t hold yourself up, letting you see that maybe, just maybe, letting him in wasn’t as terrifying as you’d thought.

"Thank you," you finally said, looking up at him with something that felt like gratitude mixed with a hint of something deeper, something you weren’t ready to name yet.

Hotch gave you a small, almost shy smile. "Anytime, Y/N," he said simply. "And for the record, I’m not going anywhere."

You nodded, the walls between you still there, but just a little lower now. And as you stepped into your apartment, you knew that this was the beginning of something different—something you weren’t ready to admit but couldn’t deny anymore.

The fire between you still burned, but it felt like a fire that could warm you instead of one that would consume you.

The door clicked shut behind you, the weight of the night’s events settling over you like a heavy blanket. Hotch stood in your entryway, his hands in his pockets, looking more out of place than you’d ever seen him. This was Aaron Hotchner, the unflinching leader of the BAU, but right now, he looked like a man unsure of what to do next.

You leaned back against the wall, running a hand through your hair and letting out a sigh. "I’m not usually like this," you said, your voice rough around the edges, still tinged with the effects of the alcohol. "I don’t usually call for help."

Hotch gave a small, almost reluctant smile, his eyes softening as they met yours. "I know," he said quietly. "You’d rather bite off your own arm than ask for help. That’s why I came."

You blinked at him, a bit taken aback by the way he said it, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. The honesty in his eyes made something in your chest tighten—a mix of frustration and relief that you couldn’t quite put into words.

"You think you have me all figured out, don’t you?" you muttered, looking away to avoid the intensity of his gaze.

Hotch’s lips twitched into a smirk, that familiar fire sparking back to life in his eyes. "Well, you do have a habit of making it a challenge," he said, his voice taking on that dry, teasing tone. "But you’re not as complicated as you think, Y/N. I see right through that tough act of yours."

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest in a weak attempt to shield yourself from the truth of his words. "Oh, please, Hotchner," you said, trying to regain some of your usual bite. "The last thing I need is you trying to psychoanalyze me."

Hotch took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. He was close enough now that you could see the concern etched in the lines of his face, the way he was holding back something he wanted to say. "You’re right," he said, his voice gentler now, almost a whisper. "I’m not here to analyze you. I’m here because I care."

Those last words hit you like a punch to the gut, the sincerity in his tone catching you completely off guard. You opened your mouth to say something, anything to deflect, but all that came out was a shaky breath.

"You care?" you repeated, a mixture of disbelief and sarcasm lacing your voice. "Is this the part where you tell me you’re my knight in shining armor?"

Hotch let out a small, rueful laugh, shaking his head slightly. "Hardly," he said, a hint of that familiar smirk creeping back. "More like the guy who has to keep you from making a fool of yourself because you’re too stubborn to admit you’re human."

You wanted to snap back, to put up the walls again, but you were too tired, too raw. Instead, you just looked at him, really looked at him, and saw something in his eyes that you hadn't allowed yourself to see before—genuine concern, warmth, something that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

"You know," you said, your voice quieter, softer than it had been all night. "You’re kind of infuriating."

Hotch’s smirk grew into a smile, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes in that rare, almost boyish way that you hardly ever saw. "And you’re impossible," he replied. "But we’ve established that already, haven’t we?"

For a moment, you both just stood there, the air between you thick with unspoken words. You should’ve felt awkward, but instead, there was a strange comfort in the silence, like you were both finally seeing each other without all the defenses in place.

You let out a deep breath and nodded toward the couch. "Stay," you said, surprising even yourself. "Just for a while. I could use the company."

He didn’t argue. Hotch gave a small nod and moved to sit on the couch, his movements careful, deliberate, as if he didn’t want to push too hard, too fast. You sat down beside him, not too close but not as far as you might have a few weeks ago.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, your head leaning back against the couch, your eyes closing as you tried to process everything. You felt Hotch’s presence beside you, solid and grounding, the quiet rhythm of his breathing strangely soothing.

"Thank you," you finally said, breaking the silence, the words almost too quiet to hear. "For coming to get me. For…not letting me be alone tonight."

Hotch turned to look at you, and when you opened your eyes, his gaze was softer than you’d ever seen it. "Anytime," he said simply. "And I mean that, Y/N. You don’t have to go through everything on your own."

You felt something crack open inside you, just a little—a small space where the walls had been, making room for him in a way you never thought you’d allow. And maybe, just maybe, that terrified you even more than anything else.

As you both sat there in the quiet, the tension between you still simmering but somehow warmer now, you realized that for all your fights, your arguments, and your stubborn pride, you didn’t hate him. Not even close.

You didn’t say anything more that night. You didn’t have to. The silence said enough, and for once, neither of you felt the need to fill it with words.

The fire between you had shifted, turning into something new, something unspoken but undeniably there. You didn’t feel quite so alone.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The next morning, the BAU office buzzed with its usual energy, but everything felt different. The night before lingered in the back of your mind like a half-remembered dream, and you couldn’t quite shake the image of Hotch sitting beside you on the couch, his quiet presence more comforting than you’d ever expected.

You walked into the bullpen, forcing yourself to adopt the mask of professionalism you always wore, your steps just a touch more deliberate to hide any trace of a hangover or vulnerability. You were determined to pretend like nothing had changed, like the night before was just a glitch in your well-oiled machine of stubborn denial.

But as soon as you stepped into the room, you felt Hotch’s eyes on you. He was at his desk, his expression calm and controlled, but there was something different in the way he looked at you—softer, more attentive, like he was seeing you in a way he hadn’t before.

You met his gaze, and for a second, the rest of the office seemed to fade away. His eyes held yours, and you could feel that unspoken connection between you, the memory of his steadying hand on your back, his whispered words in the dark.

But then you broke the gaze, clearing your throat and throwing up your usual walls. "Morning, Hotchner," you said briskly, moving past his desk like it was business as usual. "Let’s hope you’re ready to keep up today. Wouldn’t want to have to drag you along."

Hotch’s lips twitched into that familiar half-smirk, but there was something in his eyes that wasn’t there before—something almost like pride. "Careful, Y/L/N," he said in that smooth, controlled voice of his. "If you’re not careful, people might start to think you’re actually enjoying this partnership."

You opened your mouth to fire back a retort, but JJ and Morgan chose that moment to walk in, their eyes darting curiously between the two of you. You could see the knowing smiles tugging at their lips, and you knew they’d sensed the shift in the air.

"Everything okay over here?" Morgan asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. "I thought I saw sparks flying for a second there."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest to regain some semblance of your defenses. "Please, Morgan," you said, a hint of sarcasm in your tone. "If I wanted sparks, I’d go rub two sticks together in the woods."

"Uh-huh," JJ said with a grin, not missing the way Hotch’s eyes followed you, a little softer than they usually were. "Well, you two seem to have your own language these days. Should we be worried?"

Hotch straightened in his chair, his expression slipping back into that stoic professionalism, but you caught the flicker of amusement in his eyes. "I think you have more important things to worry about," he said evenly, glancing at the case files on the table. "Like solving this case."

Morgan shot you a sideways glance, his grin widening. "Man, they really do bicker like an old married couple," he said under his breath to JJ, loud enough for you and Hotch to hear.

You rolled your eyes dramatically, but you couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Keep dreaming, Morgan," you said, flicking your gaze to Hotch for a split second before turning back to the files. "If I ever settle down, it’ll be with someone who actually listens."

You didn’t miss the way Hotch’s eyebrow twitched at that comment, the slightest hint of a challenge in his eyes. He gave you a look that said he was holding back something—something that both of you were too stubborn to acknowledge.

"Who said anything about settling down?" Hotch replied, voice smooth as ever. "I thought you were the kind of person who lives for the argument."

"And I thought you were the kind of person who likes to be right," you shot back, smirking. "Guess we’ve both been wrong about each other."

There it was—the unspoken truth lying between you both, hidden beneath the layers of sarcasm and banter. You could feel the shift, the way your arguments had started to feel less like battles and more like dances, each of you knowing the other’s moves before they even made them.

As the day wore on, you found yourself glancing at Hotch more often than you cared to admit, catching him looking at you with that same intense focus that he usually reserved for unsubs. The problem was, this time, you weren’t sure whether he was profiling you or trying to figure out how to get past your defenses.

Later in the day, as you grabbed another cup of coffee, you felt his presence next to you before he even said a word. He reached for a file on the counter, leaning in slightly closer than necessary, and murmured just loud enough for you to hear, "I meant what I said last night, you know."

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Which part?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

Hotch's gaze held yours, unflinching, unwavering. "The part about not going anywhere," he said softly. "And the part about you not having to be alone. Not if you don’t want to be."

You swallowed hard, the words sticking in your throat. You knew what he was offering—a chance to let him in, to take that next step, whatever that might be. And it terrified you more than you’d ever admit.

"That’s a dangerous game, Hotchner," you said, trying to deflect with a smirk, even though your heart was pounding in your chest.

Hotch gave you that slow, almost maddening smile that seemed to unravel something deep within you. What you couldn’t see—what he hid beneath that calm exterior—was the way his mind was still racing with everything that had happened the night before. The way you'd let your guard down, even for just a moment, had left him more shaken than he wanted to admit.

He wasn’t a man who let people in easily; it took a lot for his interest to be piqued, to feel something more than detached professionalism. But you—you had managed to get under his skin. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that glimpse into your world, the vulnerability you showed him when you thought no one else was watching. It was raw, real, and it stirred something in him that he didn’t want to let go of.

He was intrigued by you in a way he hadn’t been in a long time, and now that he’d seen that side of you—the part you kept hidden from everyone else—he didn’t want you to close that door again. He wanted more than just the sharp banter and the fiery arguments. He wanted to see the layers beneath, to understand the person you were when the armor came off.

There was this part of him that saw you as this rare enigma, but also a part that saw a mirror looking back at him--someone who finally carried their world in the same way as he did. 

"You’ve never been one to play it safe, Y/N," he replied, his voice low and warm, the hint of a challenge still lingering. "Why start now?"

There was a flicker of something in his eyes, something almost like hope mixed with determination. He was giving you a choice, but deep down, he knew he didn’t want you to pull away, to retreat back into the walls you’d built so carefully around yourself.

You didn’t have an answer for that. At least, not one you were ready to give him. The truth was, the idea of letting him in—of letting anyone in—scared you more than you wanted to admit. But his steady gaze, the way he was looking at you as if he was ready to hold that door open as long as it took for you to walk through it, made it harder to hide.

So instead, you just nodded, your walls still there but not quite as high as they’d been before. "We’ll see," you said softly, more to yourself than to him. "We’ll see."

And as you turned away, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of his eyes still on you, watching, waiting. Hotch knew that if you closed yourself off now, it would be ten times harder to find his way back in. But he also knew he couldn’t push you—not yet. All he could do was make sure that when you were ready to open that door again, he’d be right there, waiting for you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A few days passed since that quiet moment at the coffee machine, and while you tried to push it to the back of your mind, it kept creeping up on you. Hotch’s words, the look in his eyes—it all felt too real, too close, and you weren’t ready to let it unravel everything you’d built around yourself.

The trouble was, Hotch wasn’t making it any easier.

He was still his usual composed, authoritative self during briefings, but every now and then, you’d catch him watching you out of the corner of his eye, as if trying to figure out what was going on beneath your surface. It was disarming, the way he seemed to see straight through you, and it annoyed you to no end that you cared what he thought.

Today was no different. The team was deep into a new case, the type that pulled everyone’s focus with its twists and turns, but you still felt that nagging awareness of Hotch’s gaze tracking your every move. You tried to shake it off, to focus solely on the details of the profile you were presenting, but when your eyes met his, you hesitated for a fraction of a second—a slip that didn’t go unnoticed.

As you finished laying out your theory on the unsub, you expected Hotch to challenge you like he always did. Instead, he gave a small nod, his eyes never leaving yours. "Solid work, Y/L/N," he said, his voice steady, but there was a trace of something else in it—something that felt like he was acknowledging more than just your profiling skills.

Morgan raised an eyebrow at the rare praise coming from Hotch. "Wow, did I just hear that right?" he teased. "Hotch giving a compliment? Are we sure we’re not in an alternate universe?"

You rolled your eyes, fighting to keep the blush creeping up your neck from reaching your face. "Don’t get used to it," you shot back, forcing a smirk. "I’m sure he’ll find something to disagree with in about five minutes."

But when you glanced back at Hotch, you caught the smallest hint of a smile pulling at his lips, like he was amused by your deflection. It was such a fleeting moment that if you hadn’t been watching him closely, you might have missed it. But it was there, and it sent a ripple through you that you couldn’t quite shake.

Later that evening, as the rest of the team wrapped up for the day, you found yourself alone in the conference room, staring at the evidence board. The case was getting under your skin in a way that you couldn’t quite explain, and you were too restless to go home.

"Working late?" Hotch’s voice broke through the silence, and you turned to find him leaning casually in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. He looked at you with that same unreadable expression, and you hated how your pulse quickened at the sight of him.

"Just tying up loose ends," you said, your tone clipped, but even you could hear the exhaustion in your voice. "Can’t leave things half-finished."

He nodded slowly, stepping further into the room, his gaze never leaving you. "You’ve been distracted," he said, not as a question, but as a statement of fact. "Is it the case, or something else?"

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "Always profiling, aren’t you?" you said, turning back to the board to avoid looking at him. "Maybe it’s both. Or maybe I’m just tired of being stuck in my own head."

Hotch moved closer, close enough that you could feel his presence like a tangible weight in the room. "You know, you don’t always have to carry everything alone," he said quietly. "You’re allowed to let someone in."

You turned to him then, your eyes locking onto his, the vulnerability of that night flashing in your mind. "I thought you knew me better than that, Hotchner," you said, your voice laced with a mix of defiance and something softer. "I’m not good at letting people in."

Hotch held your gaze, and this time, he didn’t look away. "I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I also know that when you finally do, you don’t want to regret it."

The words hung between you like a dare, and for a second, you saw past the stoic exterior he always wore, straight into the man who’d been just as guarded, just as wary of letting anyone see the cracks beneath his armor. It was unnerving and comforting all at once.

"I don’t want to close that door again," he admitted, his voice steady but his eyes revealing a flicker of uncertainty, as if saying it out loud made him vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been before. "You let me in, Y/N, even if it was just for a moment. And I don’t want to lose that."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words died in your throat. You could feel your defenses crumbling, piece by piece, under the weight of his gaze, and it scared you. But it also made you feel something else—something you weren’t ready to put a name to.

"I don’t know what you expect from me," you said finally, your voice softer, almost hesitant. "You know I’m not the kind of person who’s good at this… at letting someone get close."

Hotch’s lips curved into that maddening, gentle smile, and he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. It was a simple touch, but it sent a jolt of warmth through you. "I’m not expecting anything," he said, his voice calm, reassuring. "I just don’t want you to shut me out when you don’t have to."

For once, you didn’t have a quick retort, no sarcastic comeback to throw up as a shield. Instead, you found yourself nodding, the smallest sign of surrender, as if silently agreeing to let this—whatever it was between you—take its own course.

"Goodnight, Y/N," Hotch said softly, his hand lingering on your arm for just a moment longer before he turned to leave.

"Goodnight, Hotch," you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper as you watched him walk away.

As he disappeared through the doorway, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The fire between you wasn’t just simmering anymore—it was building into something that felt inevitable, something that terrified and thrilled you all at once.

You didn’t feel the urge to run away from it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It had been a long week for the team, the kind that left everyone mentally and physically exhausted. The case had taken a toll on each of them, but none more so than Hotch. You could see it in the way his shoulders sagged slightly when he thought no one was looking, in the tightness around his eyes that no amount of professionalism could hide.

He’d been quieter than usual, more distant, even with you. It was a stark contrast to the way he’d been drawing closer lately, as if he’d built up his walls all over again. And for some reason, that made something inside you ache.

You found him alone in his office late that evening, the light dim, a half-empty cup of coffee growing cold on his desk. The tension in his posture was palpable, and he didn’t look up when you knocked lightly on the doorframe.

"Hotch," you said softly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "You look like you’re about to tear that case file in half. What’s going on?"

He didn’t answer at first. He just kept staring at the paper in front of him, his jaw clenched tight, the muscle ticking in his cheek. For a moment, you thought he might brush you off, that he’d snap back into his guarded self and shut you out completely.

But then he let out a slow, shaky breath and finally looked up at you. There was a weariness in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, something raw and unguarded. "It’s Jack," he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I missed his soccer game today. I promised I’d be there, and I missed it."

You blinked, surprised by the admission. It wasn’t like Hotch to let his personal life bleed into the job. He was the master of compartmentalization, always keeping his professional mask firmly in place. But right now, that mask was slipping, and you could see the guilt and pain beneath.

"I’m sorry," you said, the words genuine and uncharacteristically soft. "I know how much he means to you."

He gave a short, humorless laugh, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to scrub away the exhaustion. "It’s not just that," he said, finally meeting your gaze. "I try so hard to be there for him, to make up for all the time I can’t get back. And every time I fail, it feels like I’m failing him all over again."

You took a hesitant step closer, your defenses lowering in response to his vulnerability. "You’re not failing him, Hotch," you said, your voice firmer now. "Jack knows you’re doing everything you can. You’re a damn good father, even if you don’t give yourself enough credit."

Hotch’s eyes softened as he looked at you like he was seeing something in you that he hadn’t allowed himself to see before. "It’s just hard," he said quietly. "Balancing everything. Being there for him and still being the kind of leader this team needs. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m doing either one right."

You took another step closer, your hand hovering near his on the desk. "You don’t have to be perfect, Aaron," you said, using his first name intentionally, letting it roll off your tongue like a promise. "You’re allowed to be human. To mess up. To let people help you when you need it."

His breath hitched slightly when you said his name, and you saw the way his defenses cracked just a little more, like he was allowing himself to believe you, even if just for a moment. "You say that," he said, a small, wry smile forming on his lips. "But you’re not exactly the poster child for letting people in either."

You felt a reluctant smile tug at your lips, even as your heart pounded in your chest. "Touché," you said, your voice gentler now. "But maybe we could both stand to learn a little."

Hotch stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to decide whether he could really let you see him—really let you in. And then, almost imperceptibly, he reached out, his hand covering yours where it rested on the desk.

"You know," he said, his voice low and rough, "it’s easier for me to tell you not to close yourself off than it is to follow my own advice."

You looked down at his hand on yours, feeling the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, and you squeezed his fingers lightly. "Yeah, well," you said, your voice soft but steady, "lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere either."

His eyes softened even more at your words, a quiet gratitude filling them that made your chest tighten. He was letting you see him—not the stoic leader, not the unflinching profiler, but the man beneath all that. The one who was just as scared of opening up, just as afraid of failing the people he loved.

"Thank you," he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. "For this. For not letting me push you away."

You offered him a small smile, one that felt more real than anything you’d given him before. "Don’t thank me yet," you said, a teasing glint in your eyes. "I’m still going to make your life hell in the field."

Hotch let out a soft chuckle, the sound breaking the tension in the room like a breath of fresh air. "I’d expect nothing less," he said, the warmth returning to his gaze. "In fact, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t."

The two of you stood there, hands still linked, the silence stretching out but not uncomfortable anymore. It was filled with a promise, an unspoken understanding that things had changed between you—that neither of you was quite as alone as you used to be.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The bullpen was buzzing with the usual chatter as the team wrapped up another case. The mood was lighter than it had been in days, and everyone seemed relieved to have a few moments to breathe. You stood at your desk, reviewing some final notes when you felt that familiar presence beside you.

"Y/L/N," Hotch said in his even tone, but there was a hint of playfulness in his eyes that only you could see. "I noticed a couple of discrepancies in your report. Care to explain?"

You raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly as you turned to face him. "Oh, Hotchner, I didn’t realize you were that nitpicky," you said, leaning in just a fraction. "I thought you were more of a big-picture kind of guy."

Hotch’s lips curved into that maddening smile, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Details matter," he replied, his voice dropping a notch. "And if I didn’t keep you on your toes, where’s the fun in that?"

The rest of the team was watching this exchange with poorly concealed amusement. Morgan exchanged a look with JJ, and Garcia's eyes were practically sparkling with glee.

"You two are at it again," Morgan said, shaking his head with a grin. "I swear, the tension between you two is so thick we could cut it with a knife."

"More like set it on fire," JJ added, nudging Garcia, who was already leaning forward, her mouth wide with anticipation.

"Oh, please," you said with a mock roll of your eyes, but your smirk was undeniable. "If Hotchner could actually manage to light a fire, he’d probably try to put it out just to avoid making a mess."

Hotch’s eyebrow shot up at that, and he took a small step closer to you, his voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for everyone to hear. "I don’t know, Y/N," he said, his eyes locking onto yours with a challenging glint. "I think you’d be surprised at how good I am at playing with fire."

The room went silent for a beat, the rest of the team exchanging looks that screamed oh my God, did he just say that?

Garcia’s jaw dropped dramatically. "Okay, that’s it!" she exclaimed, pointing between you and Hotch. "There is no way you two don’t have some unresolved sexual tension going on here. Spill the beans!"

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could say anything, an alarm went off on the conference room monitor. Garcia’s eyes widened as she quickly typed on her laptop. "We’ve got an urgent update from the field team," she said, all traces of her previous amusement gone. "It looks like the suspect we apprehended escaped during transfer."

Hotch’s face shifted instantly into his no-nonsense mode, all traces of flirtation gone as he snapped back into action. "Everyone, gather your gear," he ordered. "We’re heading out now."

As you all hurried to grab your things, you felt Hotch’s hand on your arm, his grip just a bit tighter than usual. "Stay close," he said, his voice low and serious. "I don’t want any surprises."

You nodded, but there was a fire in his eyes that hadn’t been there before—a look that sent a thrill through you despite the situation. You didn’t have time to dwell on it as you jumped into the SUV, your focus shifting to the task at hand.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The stand-off had gone sideways fast. The unsub, cornered and desperate, made a reckless move, and in the chaos that followed, Hotch took a hit—a deep gash to his arm from a knife as he shielded you from the unsub. He stayed in control, his face a mask of determination as he secured the suspect, but you could see the pain etched in the tight lines around his mouth.

"Hotch!" you shouted, rushing to his side the second the threat was neutralized. Your heart was pounding in your chest, but you forced yourself to stay focused, your eyes darting over the wound. "You couldn’t just dodge or take a step back like a normal person?"

He gave you a half-smile that somehow still had that infuriating charm. "I had to make sure you had a clear shot," he said, his voice calm despite the blood seeping through his sleeve. "Besides, if I’d let you take the hit, you’d never let me live it down."

"Yeah, well, now you’re stuck listening to me complain about your lack of self-preservation," you muttered, shaking your head even as you helped him over to the waiting ambulance.

The paramedics wasted no time guiding Hotch into the back of the ambulance, their hands moving efficiently as they assessed the wound. You followed closely, trying to keep your expression neutral, but the sight of blood seeping through his sleeve made your stomach twist with worry you couldn’t quite hide.

"How bad is it?" you asked the nearest paramedic, doing your best to sound calm even though your insides were in knots.

"Deep cut," the paramedic said as he worked quickly to clean and bandage Hotch’s arm. "He’ll need stitches but no major damage. He got lucky."

Hotch’s eyes flicked up to yours, a small smirk forming on his lips despite the pain. "Lucky, huh?" he said, his voice slightly strained but still holding that familiar edge of sarcasm. "Looks like I’m harder to get rid of than you thought."

You let out a shaky breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, and for a moment, your guard slipped completely. The rush of adrenaline from the standoff was fading, leaving nothing but raw fear and relief in its wake. Without thinking, you reached out and gave his good shoulder a light but frustrated punch.

"You reckless idiot," you muttered, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to hold it steady. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? You scared the hell out of me, Hotch."

The words came out harsher than you intended, your emotions bubbling to the surface faster than you could control them. Hotch’s smirk softened into something gentler, more genuine, and he looked at you like he was seeing right through your bravado to the fear and vulnerability beneath.

"Y/N," he said quietly, his tone different now—gentler, sincere. "I didn’t mean to worry you."

But before he could say anything more, you felt your chest tighten, overwhelmed by how close you’d come to losing him. Hotch reached out slowly, his uninjured hand wrapping around yours, holding on in a way that felt both grounding and intimate. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, and you didn’t pull away.

Hotch hesitated, then reached out to gently touch your hand, his voice almost a whisper, "I’m right here, even if you don’t know what to do with that."

You blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill, and you squeezed his hand harder than you meant to.

"You infuriating man," you said, your voice trembling as you tried to hold onto the last shred of your composure. "You just had to go and make me care, didn’t you?"

The laugh that escaped Hotch was soft, almost disbelieving, and his eyes were filled with something you’d never seen before—something that made your chest tighten and your defenses crumble even more.

"I’m glad you care," he said, so quietly that it was almost lost in the noise around you. "More than you know."

Your breath hitched at his words, and you bit your lip to keep the tears at bay. Desperate to deflect, you let go of his hand and turned away, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

"You had to make me feel something, didn’t you?" you said, throwing him a wry smile over your shoulder as you blinked back the tears that refused to fall. "Next time, try not to make a mess of it, okay?"

Hotch's eyes softened as he looked at you, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips despite the pain. "No promises," he said, a warmth in his gaze that wrapped around you like a lifeline. "But I'll try not to scare you again."

You nodded, biting your lip to keep your composure, and then without another word, you turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last. You needed to get some distance before you completely fell apart in front of him.

But as you reached the end of the ambulance, you heard his voice, softer and closer than you expected. "Y/N," he called out, making you pause. "You know I’m not going anywhere, right?"

You didn’t turn back, but you felt the faintest smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "You’d better not," you said, voice just loud enough for him to hear. "You’ve got a lot to make up for."

And as you walked away, you realized that letting him in didn’t feel like a mistake—it felt like the only choice that made sense.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Hours later, after a tense and exhausting standoff, the team finally returned to the BAU headquarters. Everyone was drained, their nerves frayed from the adrenaline crash, but there was a palpable sense of relief in the air—the suspect had been recaptured, and despite the close call, no one was seriously hurt.

But you couldn’t shake the image of Hotch sitting in the back of that ambulance, blood staining his sleeve, his eyes meeting yours with that maddening calmness he always managed to keep. The memory made your chest feel tight, like something was lodged there that you couldn’t swallow down.

You headed to the quiet of the briefing room, too wired to sit still. You started pacing, the adrenaline from the night's chaos still buzzing through your veins. All you could think about was how close you’d come to losing him and how much that realization had rattled you more than you wanted to admit.

Just as you were about to let out a frustrated sigh, you heard footsteps behind you. Turning around, you found Hotch standing in the doorway. His usually neat tie was loosened, and his composed demeanor seemed a little frayed around the edges.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice softer than usual, his gaze fixed on yours with an intensity that sent a shiver straight down your spine.

"Yeah," you said, but your voice wavered, betraying the emotions that had been building all night. "Just trying to come down from the rush, you know?"

Hotch stepped closer, the space between you shrinking, the room suddenly feeling too small to contain everything unspoken between you. His injured arm was bandaged, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. He was looking at you like you were the only thing in the room.

"You handled yourself well out there," he said, his voice steady but tinged with something else—something like pride, mixed with relief and maybe even a touch of vulnerability. "You always do."

You gave a shaky smile, but you couldn’t help the words that slipped out next. "You didn’t have to get hurt for me to prove it, you know," you said, your voice cracking just a little. "What were you thinking out there?"

Hotch's lips twitched into a faint smile. "I was thinking," he said, meeting your eyes with that steady, unwavering gaze, "that if it came down to protecting you or getting a scratch, I’d take the scratch every time."

You let out a breath, something between a laugh and a scoff, your defenses slipping in a way that was becoming too familiar. "You’re impossible," you muttered, shaking your head. "Always playing the hero, aren’t you?"

"Only when it matters," he said softly, taking another step closer. His voice dropped to a whisper, the kind that sent a rush of warmth straight through you. "You’re important to this team—to me."

The air between you was crackling with the kind of tension that had been building for weeks, maybe even months. It was as if all the arguments, the banter, the fire had been leading up to this moment, and you both knew it.

"Hotch," you said, barely more than a whisper, taking a step closer to him. "What are we doing here?"

He took a deep breath, and you watched as his gaze flicked down to your lips for the briefest of moments before returning to meet your eyes. There was a crack in his usual stoic demeanor, the tiniest flicker of vulnerability shining through, like he was finally letting you see the part of him he always kept hidden from the world.

For once, Aaron Hotchner didn’t look like the unshakeable leader of the BAU—he looked like a man on the edge, torn between staying in control and letting his guard drop completely.

"I don’t know," he admitted, his voice rough, tinged with a hint of something you’d never heard from him before—fear, maybe, or hope. "I’ve spent a long time pretending this wasn’t happening... I don’t think I can anymore."

He took another step closer, and you could see the hesitation in his eyes, like he was terrified of making a move that couldn’t be undone. 

His voice softened, almost to a whisper, as he added, "I’ve been trying to ignore this," he admitted softly, his eyes never leaving yours, "but it’s not that simple anymore."

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, knocking the air right out of your lungs. You’d always known he was guarded, that he kept his distance as a way to protect himself, but hearing him say it out loud, seeing the raw vulnerability in his eyes—it shook you to your core.

For a heartbeat, you stood there, your emotions tangled, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. The weight of his words, the confession in his voice, crashed over you like a wave, breaking down every last wall you’d built between you.

"I don’t know how to do this either," you said, your own voice barely holding together, a touch of desperation leaking into your words. "I’m so used to keeping people out, and then you come along and—" You shook your head, letting out a shaky breath. "You scare me, Hotch. This scares me."

His gaze softened even further, his thumb grazing over your knuckles as he reached for your hand, holding it like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You don’t have to be scared," he said, his voice so gentle it almost broke you. "Not with me."

The tenderness in his touch, the way his eyes held yours with so much quiet intensity, like you were the only person who existed in that moment—it was more than you could take. And then, with a boldness you didn’t know you had, you reached up, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and pulled him into a kiss that was anything but gentle—fierce, desperate, a release of all the frustration and desire you’d been bottling up for so long.

The moment your lips met, it was like the world stopped turning. The kiss was electric, searing, filled with all the unspoken words and pent-up tension that had been building between you. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a collision—a clash of everything you’d both held back, all the things you were too afraid to say out loud.

Hotch responded instantly, his good hand sliding to the small of your back, pulling you against him as if he was afraid you’d slip away. His kiss was just as intense as yours, almost rough, like he was staking a claim, like he’d been waiting for this moment just as long as you had. His fingers tangled in your hair, his breath mingling with yours, and he kissed you like he was pouring everything he had into it—all the fear, all the hope, all the need he’d been trying so hard to hide.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for breath, you saw that the mask had shattered completely. The intensity in his eyes was unlike anything you’d seen before—raw, open, unguarded. Finally, you saw Aaron Hotchner not as your stoic boss or your sparring partner but as the man who had somehow slipped past every defense you’d ever built.

"You," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and relief, "You make everything so damn complicated."

Hotch’s lips curled into a slow, almost wicked smile, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he held you close. "And you wouldn’t have it any other way," he said, his voice low, roughened with emotion.

"Maybe not," you said, a shaky laugh escaping despite the tears welling in your eyes. "But damn you, Hotch…you’re going to ruin me."

He brushed his lips against your forehead, soft and lingering, his breath warm on your skin. "Only if you let me," he whispered a promise in his voice that made your chest tighten almost painfully. "And I really hope you let me."

At this moment, you realized that maybe letting your guard down wasn’t a sign of weakness; maybe it was the bravest thing you’d ever done. And maybe, just maybe, you were ready to be brave with him.

Just as the charged silence wrapped around you both, the door to the briefing room swung open. You and Hotch sprang apart, a little too quickly, both of you turning to see Derek Morgan standing there with an expression that was equal parts surprise and amusement.

Morgan's eyes flicked between you and Hotch, taking in the slightly disheveled look on both of your faces. A grin spread slowly across his face, and he raised an eyebrow in mock innocence. "Whoa," he said, holding up his hands as if surrendering. "Did I just walk in on something, or is this one of those 'don't ask, don't tell' situations?"

You felt your cheeks heat up instantly, your mind scrambling for a response. But before you could even open your mouth, Hotch, ever composed and unreadable, turned to Morgan with the kind of calm authority that only he could pull off.

"We're just wrapping up, Morgan," Hotch said, his voice steady, but there was the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth—one that only you seemed to notice. He kept his gaze locked on Morgan, his posture relaxed yet still protective, as though daring anyone to comment further.

Morgan's grin widened, but he knew better than to push his boss too far. He gave you both a knowing nod, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Alright, alright," he said, backing out of the doorway with his hands still raised. "I’ll let you two get back to 'wrapping things up.' Just remember, Hotch, the team’s got eyes everywhere."

As soon as Morgan disappeared, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, a half-laugh escaping your lips. You turned back to Hotch, who met your gaze with a look that was a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement.

"Well," you said, shaking your head with a smile, "that went better than expected."

Hotch's lips twitched into a wry smile, the hint of a challenge in his eyes. "You realize this isn’t going to go unnoticed by the rest of the team," he said, his tone a little softer now, almost conspiratorial.

"Oh, I know," you replied, your smile turning playful. "But I’m not planning on making it easy for them."

Hotch’s gaze held yours for a moment longer, something unspoken passing between you—an agreement, a promise, that whatever came next, you’d face it together. And with that, the tension in the room shifted once more, the unspoken understanding between you deepening into something neither of you could—or wanted to—deny.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The rest of the night passed in a blur of paperwork, debriefings, and quiet conversations as the team began to wind down after the exhausting case. But no matter how much you tried to focus, your mind kept drifting back to what had happened with Hotch in the briefing room—the way his touch had lingered on your waist, the heat in his eyes, and the quiet promise of something more.

You couldn't shake it. Every glance in his direction sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, a reminder of the kiss, of the way his lips had moved against yours, demanding and tender all at once. The tension between you hadn’t just simmered—it was boiling over, and the thought of leaving it unresolved made your heart race.

As the rest of the team filtered out, leaving the office empty and quiet, you found yourself lingering by your desk, unable to shake the feeling that tonight wasn’t over yet. And then, as if on cue, you felt him before you even saw him—Hotch’s presence filling the room, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he approached.

When you looked up, your breath hitched at the sight of him. His tie was still loosened, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing the bandage on his arm from earlier. There was a slight shadow of exhaustion around his eyes, but it did nothing to dampen the intensity of his gaze.

He didn’t say a word as he reached your desk, his eyes never leaving yours, and suddenly the air between you was thick with everything that had been left unsaid.

"You’re still here," he finally said, his voice low and rough, laced with something that made your skin tingle.

"So are you," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, but the way he was looking at you made it nearly impossible. You swallowed, the tension between you two practically vibrating. "We need to finish this, don’t we?"

Hotch didn’t hesitate. His lips quirked into the faintest smile as he nodded, the movement slow and deliberate. "I think we do," he said, his voice dropping an octave. His gaze flicked to your lips for just a moment before meeting your eyes again, and you could see the unspoken question in them—are you ready for this?

You were.

He stood close, closer than he ever had before, his fingers brushing the back of your hand in a touch that seemed to linger just a little too long. He didn’t say anything, but the way his gaze dropped to your lips and then flicked back to your eyes spoke volumes. It was a silent question, one he wasn’t quite ready to put into words.

Without thinking, you leaned in, a slow, tentative movement that felt like testing the waters. His breath hitched, and just as your lips barely brushed his, he hesitated—only for a second—before closing the distance, his kiss soft and controlled, as though he was savoring a secret he’d kept locked away for too long.

Hotch responded instantly, his good arm snaking around your waist and pulling you flush against him, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that made your head spin. His kiss was demanding, fierce like he was making up for every moment of restraint, every fight, every time he’d held back. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you to him, deepening the kiss as his tongue grazed your lower lip.

You let out a soft gasp, and he took the opportunity to take control, his tongue slipping past your lips in a way that sent a jolt of heat straight through you. You pressed against him harder, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt, desperate to get closer, to feel every inch of him.

He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through your chest, and it was like something inside you snapped. You reached up, running your fingers through his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him pull back, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

"Careful," he warned, his voice rough and low, his eyes dark with a mixture of desire and control. "You’re playing with fire."

You smirked, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "I thought you liked that."

His grip on your waist tightened, and before you could tease him again, he spun you around, pressing your back against the nearest wall with a swift, fluid movement that left you breathless. His body pinned you there, his chest rising and falling heavily as he stared down at you with an intensity that made your knees weak.

"I do," he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as his hand slid beneath your shirt, his fingers skimming over your skin in a way that made your pulse race. "But I don’t think you know just how far I’m willing to go."

You shivered under his touch, your breath hitching as his fingers grazed the curve of your waist, his lips tracing a hot path down the side of your neck. "Then show me," you whispered, barely able to form the words as the heat between you both threatened to overwhelm you.

Hotch’s lips curled into a wicked smile against your skin, and without another word, he kissed you again—harder this time, more demanding, more possessive. His hands explored your body with a hunger that matched your own, sliding beneath the fabric of your shirt, tracing every curve, every dip, until you were arching against him, desperate for more.

You tugged at his shirt, fingers fumbling to unbutton it as you kissed him back with just as much intensity, your heart pounding in your chest as the desire between you grew hotter, more insistent.

"Y/N," he groaned, his breath hot against your lips as you finally managed to push his shirt off his shoulders, your hands exploring the hard lines of his chest, the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers. "God, you’re going to drive me crazy."

You smiled against his mouth, tugging him closer. "Good," you breathed, your voice a mix of teasing and need. "I’ve been waiting for this."

He let out a low, rumbling laugh, his hands sliding down your body until they were gripping your hips, holding you tight against him as he kissed you again, harder, deeper. It felt like you were both caught in a storm, a whirlwind of desire that neither of you could control, and you didn’t want to.

You didn’t know how long the kiss lasted, how many times you lost yourself in the feel of his lips on yours, the heat of his body against yours. All you knew was that it wasn’t enough—it would never be enough.

When Hotch finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your bodies pressed so close together you could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest. He stared down at you, his eyes dark and full of desire, but there was something else there too—something deeper, something that went beyond the heat of the moment.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to catch his breath.

You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "I think I do," you whispered, your voice soft, full of affection and heat.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the intensity of what had just happened settling between you like a silent promise. But the fire was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to burn even hotter.

The air in the bullpen was electric, the tension between you and Hotch almost crackling as you both stood there, chests heaving, lips swollen from the kiss you’d just shared. The reality of where you were hit you like a bucket of cold water, and you glanced around, grateful that the rest of the team had already gone home.

"Hotch," you said, voice still breathless, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips as you took in the sight of him—tie askew, shirt half-unbuttoned, looking thoroughly disheveled in a way you’d never seen before. "As much as I’d love to continue this… display, I’m pretty sure the FBI frowns upon public displays of—well, whatever this is."

He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest, his hand still resting on your waist, like he wasn’t quite ready to let you go. "You make a good point," he said, his lips quirking up into that maddening smirk that drove you insane. "Wouldn’t want to scandalize the rest of the team more than we already have."

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a teasing look. "Oh, I don’t know," you said, a sly smile spreading across your face. "I think Morgan’s probably got a running commentary ready for the next team meeting. Maybe we should give him more material."

Hotch’s smirk widened, a flash of mischief sparking in his eyes. "You really are trouble, aren’t you?" he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly up your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "I knew it the moment you walked into the BAU."

"You sure that’s what you thought?" you shot back, your voice laced with challenge. "Because I’m pretty sure the first thing you said to me was how I needed to 'fall in line' if I wanted to survive on this team."

Hotch let out a short laugh, the kind that sounded like he was finally letting himself enjoy this. "And you’ve been driving me crazy ever since," he said, his voice softer, almost reverent, as his thumb brushed across your cheek. "In the best possible way."

You felt your cheeks flush, but you couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face, the one you couldn’t hide anymore. "You know," you said, tilting your head slightly, your tone shifting back to playful, "for a man who claims to be the master of control, you really have a habit of losing it around me."

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning almost predatory as he leaned in, his lips brushing just shy of your ear. "Oh, I haven't lost control yet," he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sent a shiver straight down your spine. "But keep pushing, and I might just have to show you what that really looks like."

Your breath hitched, and you had to fight the urge to pull him back into another kiss right then and there. Instead, you pressed your hand against his chest, pushing him back just slightly, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "Promises, promises, Hotchner," you said with a wink. "But you’re right—we should probably get out of here before this turns into an official FBI incident."

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly, but the fire in his eyes never dimmed. "My place or yours?" he asked, the question laced with a hint of playfulness that made your heart skip a beat.

You pretended to think about it for a moment, your lips quirking up into a sly grin. "Yours," you said decisively. "Wouldn’t want you thinking I’m too comfortable letting you into my world just yet. Gotta keep you on your toes."

Hotch’s eyes sparkled with amusement, his smirk widening into a full grin. "Ah, so we’re back to this, are we?" he said, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe how much he was enjoying this. "Fine. But don’t think this means I’m going to let you win our next argument."

You laughed, the sound coming out light and genuine, surprising even yourself. "Hotch," you said, leaning in close enough that your lips almost brushed his, "you never had a chance of winning. I’ve been three steps ahead of you since day one."

His expression softened, his eyes locking onto yours with that intensity that always made you feel like he was seeing right through you. "And that’s exactly why I’m not letting you out of my sight," he said, his voice rough with honesty. "You’ve already got me hooked."

Your teasing smile faltered for a heartbeat at the sincerity in his voice, and you felt the air between you shift—deepening into something more than just banter, more than the physical pull you couldn’t resist. You reached up, cupping his jaw in your hand, and for a moment, you let yourself just look at him—this man who’d somehow become everything you never knew you needed.

"You coming or what, Hotchner?" you finally said, pulling back just enough to flash him a challenging smile, the one he loved to see on your face.

He let out a breath, his smile softening into something almost tender. "Oh, I’m coming," he said, taking your hand in his, lacing his fingers with yours as he pulled you toward the elevator. "And don’t think for a second that I’m letting you out of my sight."

As the elevator doors closed behind you, the teasing banter between you faded into silence, replaced by a different kind of tension—one that promised tonight was only the beginning of something that neither of you could walk away from now.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ��⁺ 　 . ✦

The car ride to Hotch’s apartment was silent but not the uncomfortable kind. It was the kind of silence that crackled with tension, filled with every word neither of you dared to speak aloud. Every glance he stole in your direction made your pulse quicken; every brush of his hand against yours made your breath hitch just a little. You were both wound tight, like two live wires sparking dangerously close.

When you finally reached his place, Hotch opened the door with a practiced calm, but you could see the fire still simmering just beneath his composed exterior. He let you step inside first, and the second the door clicked shut behind you, something seemed to shift between you—a silent understanding that whatever happened next would change everything.

"You know," you said, turning to face him, your voice teasing but your smile almost too genuine, "I never thought I’d end up here, with you, of all people."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he took a slow step toward you. "Trust me," he said, his voice low and rough, "I never planned on it either. But somehow, you’ve got a way of turning my plans upside down."

You let out a breathless laugh, the kind that felt like a release of all the pent-up tension between you. "I guess I have a knack for getting under your skin, huh?" you teased, taking a step closer to him, so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"Under my skin?" Hotch murmured, his gaze darkening as he reached out, his hand cupping your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart skip a beat. "You’ve done a lot more than that."

He leaned in, his lips just a breath away from yours, the anticipation almost unbearable. But before he could close the distance, you pulled back slightly, a mischievous smile playing on your lips.

"Easy there, Hotchner," you said, a teasing lilt in your voice. "Are you sure you can handle this? I wouldn’t want you to lose control on me now."

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head, and in one swift movement, he had you pinned against the wall, his hands on either side of your head, caging you in. His face was so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips, warm and teasing. "Oh, I’m more than ready," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "but don’t think for a second that I’m letting you call the shots tonight."

Before you could muster a retort, his lips crashed onto yours, the kiss fierce and consuming, a raw release of everything you’d both been holding back. This wasn’t the careful, testing kiss from before—this was a battle of wills, a clash of all the fire and passion that had been building between you for so long.

You responded just as fiercely, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer, your mouth opening under his, desperate to taste every inch of him. His hands slid to your hips, gripping tight as he pressed his body against yours, pinning you to the wall in a way that left no space between you.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, "Come on, Hotchner, that’s the best you can do? I thought you’d at least make me work for it."

His eyes flashed with something wild and hungry, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, voice rough like gravel, "I’m just getting started."

Without another word, he scooped you up in his arms, his grip firm yet gentle, and carried you through the hallway, his lips never straying far from yours. He kicked open the door to his bedroom, the darkness of the room swallowed up by the heat between you two. He set you down on the bed with a deliberate slowness, his eyes drinking you in like he was memorizing every detail.

"You have no idea how much you’ve messed with my head," he said, his voice a mix of frustration and longing as he leaned over you, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "How many nights I’ve spent wanting you, hating you for making me feel this way."

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "Believe me," you said softly, all the teasing gone from your voice, "I know exactly how you feel."

Hotch's expression shifted then, something raw and unguarded flickering in his eyes, and he crashed his lips onto yours again, this time with a desperation that bordered on reverence. He kissed you like he was pouring all his unspoken words into it—all the frustration, the longing, the need that he’d kept buried for so long.

You tugged at his shirt, pulling it off him in one swift motion, and his hands followed suit, sliding under your top, lifting it over your head with a quick, impatient motion. His fingers traced the bare skin of your waist, sending shivers down your spine as he drank in the sight of you like he was seeing something he’d been waiting for his entire life.

"You make this harder than it needs to be," he said, his voice a rough whisper against your lips, his hands caressing your skin with a touch that was both tender and possessive. "But I wouldn’t have it any other way."

"Good," you murmured, your lips brushing his as you smiled, that fiery spark still dancing in your eyes. "Because I’m not done driving you crazy yet."

His answering laugh was low and rough, a sound that made your toes curl. "Bring it on," he growled, his mouth crashing onto yours once more, claiming you with a kiss that left no room for doubt, no space for second-guessing.

This wasn’t just a moment. This was everything—the culmination of all the fights, the banter, the fire you had both sparked from the beginning. The dance had finally peaked, and you knew there was no going back now.

As he pulled you closer, his hands mapping every inch of your body with a hunger that matched your own, you realized that you didn’t want to go back. Not to the arguments, not to the distance, not to the days of pretending this wasn’t inevitable.

Whatever this was—this fire, this madness, this undeniable connection—you were both all in, ready to let it burn as bright and as hot as it needed to.

And as his lips moved over yours, the night stretching out ahead of you, one thought echoed in your mind with a clarity that was impossible to ignore: This was only the beginning.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The first light of dawn crept through the blinds of Hotch’s bedroom, casting soft shadows across the room. You blinked awake, a lazy smile spreading across your face as the events of the night slowly came rushing back—how it had started with teasing banter and ended with the two of you tangled together in ways that left no room for ambiguity.

You turned your head slightly to see Hotch lying next to you; his face softened in sleep, a look of peacefulness that you rarely saw on him. The lines of stress and worry that usually creased his brow were smoothed out, his breathing even and slow. At this moment, he looked almost boyish, vulnerable in a way that made your heart squeeze just a little.

Careful not to wake him, you let yourself watch him for a moment longer, taking in this rare sight of Aaron Hotchner—not the stoic leader of the BAU, not your sparring partner in the bullpen, but just a man who’d let his walls down for you.

Just then, Hotch’s eyes fluttered open, and the soft sleepiness was quickly replaced by that intense gaze that never failed to set your pulse racing. He gave you a small, almost shy smile—a look you hadn’t seen on him before and one that did dangerous things to your heart.

"Morning," he said, his voice low and rough from sleep, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

"Morning," you replied, unable to keep the smile from your face as you met his gaze. "So, about last night…"

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and he raised an eyebrow in that infuriatingly charming way of his. "You mean the part where you practically tackled me against the wall or the part where you admitted you’ve been three steps ahead of me this whole time?"

You let out a breathy laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. "Oh, please," you said, leaning in slightly. "If I recall correctly, you were the one who said you were 'just getting started,' Hotchner."

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made your stomach flip. "Touché," he said, his fingers lightly tracing circles on your bare shoulder. "But I have to say, if this is what happens when we stop fighting, I’m not sure I want to go back."

You paused, the teasing smile fading slightly as you looked at him, something softer, more vulnerable settling in your chest. "You’re really okay with this?" you asked, your voice quieter now, the question carrying more weight than you intended.

Hotch’s expression shifted, the playfulness giving way to something deeper, something that spoke of sincerity and warmth. He reached out, taking your hand in his, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. "More than okay," he said softly, his eyes locked on yours. "I know this changes everything, and that scares me a little—but not as much as the thought of pretending this didn’t mean something."

You opened your mouth to respond, but he stopped you with a gentle press of his lips against yours—a kiss that was so different from the ones last night. It was soft, slow, like he was savoring the taste of something he’d finally allowed himself to have.

When he pulled back, you gave him a lopsided smile, your voice teasing but with a hint of tenderness. "You know, for a guy who spent so much time trying to get me to fall in line, you’re awfully good at breaking your own rules."

Hotch let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "Maybe I’ve always been a little too good at breaking them when it comes to you," he said, a hint of that old mischief dancing in his eyes. "Besides, it’s only fair—you’ve been breaking down my walls from the start."

You arched an eyebrow, smirking at him. "Who knew all it took to get through to the great Aaron Hotchner was a little bit of sass and a lot of stubbornness?"

"Trust me," he said, his smile turning soft, almost shy again, "it’s more than just the sass and stubbornness. You’ve always had a way of seeing through the tough exterior, straight to the heart of it all. Even when I didn’t want you to."

The sincerity in his words made your heart skip a beat, and for once, you found yourself speechless. You stared at him, the man who had always seemed so distant, so unreachable, now lying here beside you with his guard completely down.

"You know," you said finally, your voice barely more than a whisper, "I didn’t expect this to happen."

"Neither did I," Hotch admitted, his hand tightening around yours, "but I’m not sorry it did."

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "I’m not sure how we’re going to explain this to the team. You know they’ll never let us live it down."

A slow, wicked smile spread across his face. "Oh, I’m counting on it," he said, leaning in closer until his lips were just a breath away from yours. "Besides, I’m pretty sure they already have us pegged as the bickering married couple of the team. This will just confirm their suspicions."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face. "Oh great, so now we’re giving them material for years to come. Just what I needed."

Hotch chuckled, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was playful and sweet yet still carrying that hint of fire that never seemed to go away. "Well, if we’re going to give them something to talk about," he murmured against your lips, "we might as well make it worth their while."

You raised an eyebrow, your smile turning into a smirk as you gave him a light shove. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

He grinned, pulling you back into his arms, his voice a low whisper against your ear. "And you wouldn’t have it any other way."

You realized he was right. You wouldn’t have it any other way. The fire, the fights, the laughter—it was all a part of what had led you here, to this moment, to him.

And as the morning light continued to filter through the window, warming the room, you knew that whatever happened next, you and Hotch were in it together.

And that was more than enough.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Walking into the BAU the next morning felt different—like the air itself had changed. As you and Hotch stepped into the bullpen, you couldn’t help the way your shoulders brushed, the way his gaze lingered on you just a moment longer than usual. The two of you had agreed to keep things professional, at least while on the job, but there was an undeniable shift between you—like a secret that wasn’t much of a secret at all.

As you both moved to your respective desks, trying your best to look like everything was perfectly normal, you were acutely aware of the way the team's eyes tracked your every move. Morgan and JJ were huddled near the coffee station, grinning like they were in on the world’s biggest joke, while Garcia’s jaw practically hit the floor the second she spotted you two.

"Well, well, well," Morgan said, straightening up with a grin so wide it looked like it might split his face in two. "If it isn’t the lovebirds gracing us with their presence. How was the night, you two?"

You rolled your eyes, a hint of a smirk tugging at your lips. "Please," you said with a dismissive wave of your hand, "you act like this is something new. We’ve been driving each other crazy for months."

"Oh, trust me, we noticed," JJ chimed in, her grin just as wide as Morgan’s. "But judging by the way you two walked in this morning, I’m guessing the banter took a… different turn last night?"

Hotch, ever the picture of composure, adjusted his tie as if this was just another day at the office. "I’m not sure what you’re implying, JJ," he said in that calm, collected tone of his, though you could see the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Oh, come on, Hotch," Garcia said, practically bouncing on her toes with excitement. "So, anything new happening here that we should know about?

"Remind me to never play poker with any of you," you said dryly, raising an eyebrow at the lot of them. "You can’t hide anything."

Morgan leaned against his desk, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk. "And here I thought the toughest thing to crack in this office was the newest unsub," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Turns out, it was the two of you."

Hotch offered a small, controlled smile, giving Morgan a pointed look but saying nothing, his silence more telling than any words.

"Exactly," you said, turning to Hotch with a grin. "Might as well own up to the fact that I’ve been right all along, and you’ve been falling behind since day one."

"Oh, is that how you remember it?" Hotch replied, raising an eyebrow in challenge. "I seem to recall you being the one who couldn’t keep up."

You felt a laugh bubbling up, the banter between you as natural as ever, but now it was tinged with something lighter, something softer. "Keep telling yourself that, Hotchner," you said, crossing your arms with a teasing smile. "We both know I’m the one who’s three steps ahead."

Morgan let out a loud laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, this is going to be fun to watch," he said. "You two are never going to stop, are you?"

Hotch gave Morgan a look that was both calm and controlled, but there was a slight softening at the corner of his mouth, a hint of a smile that only you would recognize. "Let's try to keep it professional," he said in his usual authoritative tone, though you could see the glimmer of amusement hidden in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but smirk at his response, the challenge still present between you even if he wasn’t openly saying it. "Of course, Hotch," you said with a touch of mock seriousness. "I wouldn’t dream of making things too easy for you."

Hotch’s lips twitched ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, as he turned back to his desk, his expression as unreadable as ever to the rest of the team. But in that brief glance, you saw it—the silent promise, the unspoken words that lingered between you: this is far from over.

The rest of the team exchanged amused glances, their smiles wide and knowing. It was clear that this was the moment they’d all been waiting for, the confirmation of what they’d suspected for far too long.

As the team gradually settled back into their usual routine, you felt Hotch’s hand brush lightly against yours, a subtle touch that sent a thrill through you. You turned to look at him, and he gave you a small, private smile—a look that was meant only for you.

"Think you can handle the rest of the day without causing too much trouble?" he asked, his tone teasing but his eyes warm.

"I don’t know," you said, leaning in just a little closer, your voice a soft whisper only he could hear. "Trouble seems to be the one thing I’m really good at."

Hotch’s smile widened, and he shook his head slightly, a glimmer of affection in his eyes. "Good," he said softly. "Because I have a feeling we’re just getting started."

And as the day carried on, with the team throwing you both teasing looks and sly smiles, you knew that things were never going to be the same again. The banter, the fire, the arguments—they were still there, but now they were wrapped in something new, something deeper.

And this time, you were both all in, ready to face whatever came next together.

The worst-kept secret in the BAU was out, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @khxna @rousethemouse

[corasexigence]

Intox Play Primer

Vet for high risk play. If you don't have the utmost trust in someone, control what you're putting in your own body and know where it all came from.

Check for interactions. Yes, this means sharing complete information about whatever medications the person getting drugged is on. No, the interactions are not always intuitive. Yes, this includes things like alcohol. Ideally, ask your doctor about interactions with whatever you're about to play with- they're trained in spotting interactions, you're probably not. (ETA- @vekarin-striae mentioned that pharmacists are often cheaper, more specialized, and less invasive to talk to about drug interactions.)

If you've checked the interactions yourself, assume you might have missed something. Even if you've gotten your doctor to check, be aware they might have missed something. I once caught a potassium deficiency issue in someone's existing medication that their doctor prescribed them.

ROUND 1- Use it for its own sake before you play with it. Spend the time together and set yourself up for success: easy access to food, water, comfort media, and comfortable places to sit and lie down. Know how long it should last. Get someone who's used it before to tripsit if you can. Don't give yourself any tasks that involve new skills. Be ready to offer yourself or your partner a redirect from negative or anxious trains of thought.

Know what a good time on your drug physically looks and feels like. This is crucial, because things might go sideways in a way you're not expecting. Don't just be watching for specific signs of an overdose (though those are worth keeping in mind too)- if something seems wrong, get help. Seconds matter and you're probably not a professional.

Similarly: if the drug is at all sedative, or a downer, or long-lasting, and they're unconscious before it's out of their system, check for breathing and check for pulse. Also, your risk profile is your own, but I don't fuck around with hard sedatives- there's too fine a line between which body systems they shut down.

Start with a low-to-standard dose, and adjust doses for any relevant interactions (e.g. estradiol approximately halves liver tolerance [alcohol, weed, diphenhydramine]).

In order to avoid dependence issues, I wait a default of two weeks between recreational uses of any drug. (I only count caffeine here if I'm having more than two cups of tea in a day.)

ROUND 2- Play with it scripted and above board before you play with it in an explicitly cnc way. Your communication and mental state will have shifted, and you'll need to learn to accommodate that; make sure you try things out without added communication barriers first. Also, make sure to talk about how everything went afterwards when you're both sober!

If you're going to adjust doses, do it slowly and carefully. Most easily accessible recreational drugs can be incremented by half the standard dose. Some drugs are incredibly sensitive to fine adjustments; this is why Fentanyl, for example, is so dangerous and not recommended to use.

ROUND 3- Don't get comfortable. Try to have as peaceful and relaxed an experience as you want, and keep an eye on things as you play with different emotional states- but DEFINITELY continue to keep an eye on safety. It doesn't stop being a concern because you've done it once and everything went fine.

ETA- Mind how drugs affect things like pain tolerance! You might miss important signals from your body. Also, pay attention to overlap with your neurotype when planning and risk profiling. You might desire or achieve different effects depending on your own specific brain.

[nevarrhoe]

mea culpa (m.m) - 2

SUMMARY: "mea culpa" (exclamation - noun/legal term)

used as an acknowledgement of one's fault or error.

↪ in which matt murdock accidentally falls in love with the district attorney's daughter.

warnings: smut, angst, swearing, fem! reader

masterlist

It was a little hard to stop thinking about Matthew Murdock over the next few days. 

Nevermind the fact he’d left hickeys all over your neck - it was the fact he was texting you every few hours with absolutely indescribable fantasies that made it difficult to think about anything else. Your blood would run cold every time your phone buzzed, just on the off chance that one of your friends, or god forbid your father, see your phone screen. It put you on edge in the best way. This entire thing was already beyond fucked up for more than one reason and yet, you wanted more. So much more. 

Can’t wait to taste you again. 

Can’t wait to hear you scream my name again. 

Hope you haven’t been thinking about anyone else. 

And it was funny, really, because Matt was a perfectly respectable man from the outside. Quiet, unassuming, a dry sense of humour - you never would have taken him of all people to be the one to make you feel so fucking alive. It wasn’t just how good he was in bed, but rather the thrill of it all. Nothing got your motor running like a situation’s potential to disappoint your father but hey. That was for your therapist to deal with. 

Of course, your father had asked several questions about where you’d disappeared too after the gala on Friday. He was more concerned about it had looked for him, and to have his daughter run out on a big charity event. Your mother had been less worried about that part, and more about her vintage Chanel suit. You’d settled both their worries by a) telling your father you’d had stomach problems (because who was gonna ask about that?) and b) promising to send the Chanel off to a dry cleaner. 

It was on a slow Monday afternoon - exactly three days after you’d met him - that Matt sent you a not so dirty text. It was so casual, in fact, that it caught you more off guard than any of the filth he’d sent you over the weekend. 

Wanna grab lunch? 

“Are you okay, honey?”

You blinked, eyes shooting up to your best friend. Okay, maybe not a best friend - those were hard to come by in high-society. She was your most tolerable friend. It had been her idea to get martinis for lunch. Your idea of fun wasn’t exactly sitting around with five rich girls and their daddy’s credit cards but it wasn’t like you had work to do, right? 

Part of you so badly wanted to tell them about the escapade over the weekend - about how much better an older guy was than all their ridiculous, frat-house boyfriends, and how good he’d made you feel. But did you trust them? Not with your damn life. And for risk of being cut out of your father’s will, you figured it was something to keep to yourself. 

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat. “I gotta ditch. My dad needs me to get something from his office.”

Grabbing your jacket - a tan Chanel parka, naturally - you slid out of the booth and straight out of the restaurant. Matt’s number was dialed into your phone before you even hit the street. 

“Matthew, hi!” you greeted him. “I’m down for lunch.”

“Perfect,” you could hear the smile in his voice. “Wanna come by my office?”

“Sure. Want me to grab takeout?”

“It’s okay. I already have lunch here.”

“Okay. Text me the address.”

–

The Nelson & Murdock office wasn’t too far from where you’d been. Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t exactly your stomping ground but your Uber had dropped you off right outside, and you had a taser in your bag. Not to mention the years of Krav Maga and karate that you’d done in high school and college. You could have been a damn vigilante if you wanted to. 

It was the shorter, Nelson half of Nelson and Murdock that saw you first. He seemed taken aback at first - maybe by your expensive appearance, but also maybe because every other person in the room was a middle-aged man there for free legal advice. By the looks of your Chanel bag and red-soled shoes, he figured you probably didn’t need any legal advice for free. Especially not from him. It seemed much more apparent that you had the likes of Jeri Hogarth in your pocket should you need any legal assistance. 

“Hello. Hi.” Foggy greeted you with wide eyes. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Uh, no,” you turned around to face him, sticking out your hand. “You’re Nelson, right?”

“I am Nelson,” he replied, shocked look still not faltering. “How do you know my name?”

“I’m a friend of Matt’s,” you explained. “I don’t suppose he’s around?”

Speak of the devil. Your conversation was cut short by Murdock’s entrance. He looked hot in a suave sort of way; tie loosened around his neck, top button undone and sleeves rolled up. It was the first time you’d seen him since you’d left his apartment early on Saturday morning and frankly, you didn’t know how to act. Most of the men you slept with didn’t invite you to their offices for lunch - hell, most of them didn’t have offices. 

“Hey, Murdock,” you gave him a small wave.

“Hey - come in,” Matt shot you a grin, ushering over to his own office in the corner. 

It was neater than you’d thought it would be; there was a laptop perched on his desk, with a braille translator and a stack of legal files. They were probably the same legal files your dad had, just..the other side of the story. After all, Nelson and Murdock were known for looking out for the little guy. That was much more admirable than daddy dearest and his famously corrupt evidence. 

“Your shirt fits better today,” you commented, shrugging off your jacket. “That’s a real shame.”

“Is that a comment about my arms or the way I dress?”

“I think you know that it’s about your arms.”

You pushed aside the files, hopping up onto Matt’s desk. He had you caged in within a second, broad hands gripping your hips and guiding you up into a kiss. It was a little softer than the ones you’d shared on Friday night - there was less heat; a causal air to it. You didn’t think it was possible to miss the lips of a man you’d fucked exactly once. 

“So,” you murmured against him. “You said you had lunch here.”

“I do,” Matt gave you a shit-eating grin. “You.”

“Matthew!” you hissed, hitting his shoulder. “Did you seriously invite me over here just for a fuck?”

“Not exactly!” he quickly replied, raising his hands in surrender. “I wanted to check in with you and see how you were.”

“Oh, okay,” you raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. “I’m not too bad. I was having lunch with some of my friends when you texted-”

Matt suddenly attached his lips to your neck, teeth gently nipping on the same mark he’d left a few days ago. You didn’t mean to let out a moan, but how could you not? 

“Matthew!” you exclaimed again. 

“No, go on!” he stopped for a second. “I’m listening. You were having lunch with your friends and…”

“And you texted and I was bored, so I left and - Jesus fucking Christ, that feels so good.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “You left your friends to see me?”

“I would leave my dying Aunt Betty’s bedside to see you,” you said. Without a second thought, you grabbed him by the tie and pulled him back towards you. “Enough catching up. I’m good to have lunch now.”

He gave you a grin and a few moments later, his hands found your way under your ass. Matt shoved aside the pile of legal papers and moved you further onto the desk, lips back on your neck and working a thousand times harder than they had before. Instinctively, you tangled a hand in his hair and just let him have at it. 

The build-up wasn’t as tense as it had been the first time you fucked, but that was because Matt knew you better now. He pretty much had you memorised; the ticklish spot on your neck, the most sensitive spot on your hips, the way you liked his nails to dig into your back just enough to hurt. That was just a testament to him. Who else would remember that? Who else would take the time to learn what you liked after just once? 

“Not that I don’t enjoy this,” Matt paused for a second. “But my lunch break isn’t that long. If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna have to be quick.”

“You’re real cheap, Matthew Murdock,” you scowled. “Do you invite all girls over here for a fuck disguised as lunch and then rush them?”

“No, not all of them,” he shot back. “Some are more breakfast kinda gals-”

“- oh shut the fuck up.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him back into a kiss. Matt couldn’t help but smile against you - at how badly you wanted him, how you chastised him but still didn’t stop him. 

It was in that moment that you thanked every deity there was that you’d chosen to wear a skirt that day. But frankly, you wouldn’t have given a fuck if Matt had ripped your Versace mini-skirt to shreds. He would have been okay with that too, especially if it meant you have to borrow a shirt of his to leave in. 

Still, Matthew Murdock was nothing if not respectable - at least enough so not to destroy your designer clothes. Instead, he simply pushed it up, large hands making their way to your ass cheeks and giving one of them a light slap. You froze when he did - how many clients were out there in the waiting room right now? Even with the blinds closed and the door shut, how many of them could hear what was going on? 

“Problem?” Matt paused. 

“There are people out there who could hear us-”

“- not with the air conditioning on. Foggy always has it going. Don’t worry.”

You scowled. “How do you know that?”

“Just do.”

Matt wasted no time in resuming his activities. Grabbing you by the hips again, he lifted you with ease and spun you around so that he was the one on the desk, and you were in his lap. The friction of his hard-on in his trousers against your core was almost unbearable and he could tell you were desperate by the way your grip on him suddenly tightened. 

“Look at you,” he grinned. There was something about the way his voice dropped four octaves every time he was about to fuck you. “You’re calling me sloppy but you’re gagging for it, aren’t you?”

You let out a small grumble, shaking your head. “I thought you didn’t have time to tease?”

“You’re lucky that I don’t have time to do a lot of the things I want to do to you, sweetheart,” he said. “Everyone out there would be able to hear me fucking you if I didn’t have to be back in twenty minutes.”

“Matthew,” you growled. “I don’t care how long you have - if you’re not inside me in the next thirty seconds, I’m going somewhere else.”

“I didn’t think there would be many men around at this time willing.”

You let out a derivative snort, acrylic nails dragging down his neck and hand settling ever so gently on his throat. “You think I don’t have plenty of offers? You’re not the only man who can make me scream.”

It was almost like your words awakened something in Matt. In a flash, he’d pulled you off the desk and positioned you against it; there was the sound of his belt and a second later, his dick was inside you. Rock hard and beautiful, and the perfect length to have you clenching around him in mere fucking seconds. 

He wasted no time in pounding into you from behind, one hand tangling his fingers with yours on the desk and the other wrapped around your throat. You had complete and utter trust in him and maybe that was why you placed your own hand over his and encouraged him to squeeze harder. 

Matt’s movements were rapid and consistent: time was of the essence after all, and there was no way in hell he was going back to work until you came. 

It didn’t take much, to be honest. Not when you had his gruff voice muttering things in your ear. It was hard not to make noise then - Matt moved his hand from your throat accordingly, clutching it over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your moans. What an ass. Not to mention that it only made you even fucking louder. 

“Do they make you feel this good?” he teased. “Do they?”

He managed to hit the right spot over and over and it wasn’t long before you felt that knot in your stomach. It was a plunge; like a plane falling out of the sky, anything that caused a sharp drop in your gut. The room was practically spinning around you as you came undone, red acrylics digging into the skin of Matt’s arm for some kind of relief. 

“There we go, sweetheart,” Matt murmured. He softened his pace, slowing down for a minute to revel in his own high. “Good girl.”

He released his hand from your mouth, chest heaving against your back for a minute as you both came down from your respective orgasms. A broad arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you. Matthew Murdock was a gentleman, even when he was rearranging your guts. 

You slowly turned around to face him, pulling him into another desperate kiss. 

“Are you free tomorrow night?” Matt softly asked. 

“Yeah, I am,” you ran a hand down his chest, faltering for a second. “Why? You gonna take me out for dinner?”

“Yeah, but an actual meal. It’s not a euphemism, I promise,” he gave you a grin. 

You returned the gesture for a minute, a wide smile on your face - but then it faltered. “Matthew, I would love for you to take me on a date, and I adore spending time with you but…”

“But what?”

“My dad,” you groaned, dropping your head into his shoulder. “If anyone catches me with you, I’m done for - as hot as that is.”

Matt couldn’t help but chuckle. “Okay, fine. What if we just hang out at my apartment and get take out? You can dress like a slob and no-one will see us.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” your smile quickly returned. “But I am not dressing like a slob. I wear Chanel or I wear nothing.”

“I would much prefer it if you wore nothing.”