#pms integration

[phonesuite]

This blog post will provide an illustrative roadmap for understanding what's necessary for successful digital transformation adoption. Explore the essential components of a digital roadmap, highlighting the importance of aligning technology with business goals to ensure a successful transition. Learn More...

[phonesuitedirect]

5G technology can offer advantages that have the potential to revolutionize the hotel landscape. Let’s take some time to dive deeper into how and why this next-generation wireless technology could have major implications for your business. Read More...

[curiosity-killed]

you know when something happens and you're like "eh that's annoying but not a big deal" and then hours later your brain pops back in like "hey! surprise!! i'm actually super upset about this!"

[mochirizu]

Fuck it. I'm rewriting MyStreet from the Aphmau series on YT; only the great P.M. Seymour can judge me.

He probably will but eh

i need a passion project before I go off to University

[pmotool]

What is Integrated Project Management?

Integrated project management refers to the process of managing all project components—from tasks and resources to timelines and budgets—in a unified system. The goal is to ensure that every project aspect is interconnected, making it easier to monitor, track, and manage resources and deliverables.

For successful integrated project management, the following elements must be coordinated:

Task Management: Assigning and tracking tasks across teams.

Resource Management: Ensuring that resources are optimally allocated to meet deadlines.

Budget Management: Keeping projects within scope and financial constraints.

Communication: Ensuring all stakeholders are aligned and updated in real-time.

With celoxis, all these aspects come together seamlessly through its all-in-one project management software.

[trayoungvis]

6 ways to improve front desk operations in a hotel

Implement a User-Friendly Property Management System (PMS)

Investing in a robust, user-friendly PMS can streamline many front desk functions, allowing for quicker guest check-ins and check-outs, and simplifying task management for staff. The right PMS can also automate functions like billing, housekeeping updates, and guest profile management, ensuring that information is centralized and accessible. With integrated technology, front desk staff can access real-time data and focus more on engaging with guests rather than juggling paperwork.

Example: Hotels can use cloud-based PMS solutions that integrate with mobile devices, enabling staff to manage bookings, room assignments, and other guest requests on-the-go. This type of flexibility can enhance the guest experience and make the front desk operation more agile.

Enhance Staff Training and Development

A knowledgeable and friendly front desk team is essential for smooth operations and creating positive guest experiences. Training programs should include customer service techniques, conflict resolution, cultural sensitivity, and technology skills to ensure that staff can handle a wide range of scenarios. By investing in ongoing training and development, hotels can empower front desk agents to respond confidently and professionally to any guest need.

Example: Implementing customer service role-playing sessions or workshops on handling difficult situations helps front desk staff feel more prepared and confident in high-pressure situations. This leads to quicker resolution of guest issues and enhances the overall service quality.

Leverage Mobile Check-In and Check-Out Options

Offering mobile check-in and check-out options can greatly improve convenience for guests, especially those who value minimal contact or are on tight schedules. With these digital options, guests can skip the line, access their room with digital keys, and receive important information directly on their mobile devices. This not only speeds up the process but also reduces wait times at the front desk, allowing staff to focus on more personalized interactions with guests.

Example: Hotels that allow guests to check in through an app or kiosk help reduce lobby congestion during peak hours, providing a smoother arrival experience. Mobile check-out also enables guests to settle their bills quickly and leave feedback immediately, fostering a positive and seamless end to their stay.

Create a Well-Organized and Efficient Workspace

Organization is key to smooth front desk operations. A clutter-free, well-designed workspace helps front desk staff access essential tools and information quickly, allowing them to serve guests efficiently. Organized storage, a clear filing system, and ergonomic workstation setups can reduce unnecessary steps and help staff focus on guest engagement rather than searching for items.

Example: Organizing desk drawers with labeled sections for different forms, supplies, and guest essentials can speed up routine tasks. Hotels could also use digital filing systems to eliminate paperwork, making it easier to retrieve guest data and reducing physical clutter.

Use Data Analytics for Forecasting and Staff Allocation

Data analytics can play a significant role in optimizing front desk operations. By analyzing guest flow patterns, seasonal demand, and peak hours, hotels can better predict staffing needs and ensure that they have adequate coverage. This approach prevents both overstaffing and understaffing, ensuring that guests receive timely service without additional operational costs.

Example: With data insights, front desk managers can allocate more staff during weekends, holidays, or major events when guest traffic is higher. During low-occupancy periods, they can redistribute front desk staff to other areas of the hotel, optimizing labor costs and efficiency.

Encourage Personalized Service and Attention to Detail

Personalized service can leave a lasting impression on guests and set a hotel apart from its competitors. Simple gestures, like addressing guests by name, remembering their preferences, or accommodating special requests, can enhance guest satisfaction. Front desk teams can leverage guest data from CRM systems to tailor their service approach, creating an experience that feels unique and memorable.

Example: If a guest is a returning visitor who previously requested extra pillows or specific room amenities, front desk staff can proactively arrange these before their arrival. Such attention to detail shows the guest that their preferences are valued and remembered.

Conclusion An efficient front desk operation is essential for a hotel’s success and guest satisfaction. By adopting advanced technology, continuously training staff, organizing the workspace, using data analytics for decision-making, and personalizing guest interactions, hotels can significantly enhance their front desk operations. These improvements lead to smoother guest experiences, higher retention rates, and a stronger brand reputation.

Additional Tips for Optimizing Front Desk Operations

Offer Multi-language Support: Having multilingual staff or digital translation tools can enhance communication with international guests.

Automate Routine Tasks: Automated notifications for housekeeping, maintenance, or guest requests can streamline coordination among departments.

Implement Guest Feedback Systems: Encourage guests to provide feedback during check-out, which can help the hotel address issues immediately and improve service.

[re-discover-communication]

My mathematical analysis prof wasn't joking when he said "if you're finding it hard to fall asleep try solving some integrals". I damn sure am getting sleepy and I've been solving integrals for not even a full hour

[bluastro-yellow]

there should be an sms equivalent but online. and it should come with the silly gadgets that Whatzapp and iMessage have like stickers, games, video messages, audio messages, reactions, animated bubbles, animated backgrounds, etc. but it's a protocol(?) like e-mails. and it's encrypted

[jcmarchi]

Challenge: Enefit - Predict Energy Behavior of Prosumers - Technology Org

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/challenge-enefit-predict-energy-behavior-of-prosumers-technology-org/

Challenge: Enefit - Predict Energy Behavior of Prosumers - Technology Org

The competition’s goal is to create an energy prediction model of prosumers to reduce energy imbalance costs.

Electric switch box fragment – associative photo. Image credit: Markus Spiske via Unsplash, free license

This competition aims to tackle the issue of energy imbalance, where the energy expected to be used doesn’t align with the actual energy used or produced. Prosumers consume and generate energy and contribute a large part of the energy imbalance.

Despite being only a small number of consumers, their unpredictable energy use causes logistical and financial problems for the energy companies.

Overview

The number of prosumers is rapidly increasing, and solving the problems of energy imbalance and their rising costs is vital. If left unaddressed, this could lead to increased operational costs, potential grid instability, and inefficient use of energy resources.

If this problem were effectively solved, it would significantly reduce the imbalance costs, improve the grid’s reliability, and make the integration of prosumers into the energy system more efficient and sustainable.

Moreover, it could potentially incentivize more consumers to become prosumers, knowing that their energy behavior can be adequately managed, thus promoting renewable energy production and use.

Submissions to this Challenge must be received by 11:59 PM UTC, January 31, 2024.

Source: Kaggle

You can offer your link to a page which is relevant to the topic of this post.

[julianbashir]

A major hospital in New York City, NYU Langone, cancelled several appointments for transgender children following the executive order threatening to withhold federal funding to hospitals that provide gender-affirming treatments. [wayback machine backup link]

Not only is this a gross violation of LGBT rights, the New York Attorney general has stated that this move would be a violation of state law. (letter published by the attorney general) [EDITED 4:14 PM EST]

There are many ways you can take action.

Contact Dr. Robert Grossman, the CEO of NYU Langone Health, and demand that they resume care for trans youth.

Call the following number: +1 (212) 263-3269, with the provided script under the 'read more'. Call from 9 AM - 5 PM EST on weekdays. Ask for the CEO's office, and leave a message.

You can email robert.grossman@nyulangone.org. You can also send an email using the linked website template.

If you are in the area, there is a demonstration at 6:30 PM at St. Vartan Park at 1st Ave & E 35th St. This demonstration is being endorsed by 16 organizatons, including the New York City Democratic Socialists of America, ACT UP, PFLAG NYC, and more.

[Updated as of February 3rd, 2025, 4:14 PM EST]

Hello, my name is [Name], and I'm a concerned [patient/parent/trans person/ally/New Yorker]. I'm calling about NYU Langone's reported cancellation of gender-affirming care appointments for trans patients under 19.

This preemptive policy change, in response to an executive order that is not settled law, is harmful and cruel.

I urge you to reverse this policy immediately and reinstate care for trans adolescents.

This decision directly contradicts your hospital's mission to provide exceptional care and your oath to do no harm.

It is very likely illegal under Article 1, Section 11 of the New York Constitution as amended in 2024 by the equal rights amendment.

The American Medical Association and the American Academy of Pediatrics consider this essential care. Gender-affirming care is proven to be life-saving. A 2022 peer-reviewed study published by the AMA found that it reduces depression by 60% and suicidality by 73% among trans youth.

Canceling these appointments puts the mental and physical health of trans youth at serious risk.

As someone who [is trans/cares for a trans person/wants New york to remain a safe place for trans people], I want to emphasize how vital this care is. I urge you to act now to protect trans youth. I hope to see NYU Langone lead with integrity by reinstating these appointments immediately.

Thank you.

[phonesuite]

Never miss a beat, stay updated with email & SMS notifications for hotel services. Receive timely alerts for room reservations, check-in/checkout reminders, special offers, and more. Offers a reliable and efficient way for hotels to communicate with their guests. Stay connected and hassle-free with our convenient notifications system. Learn More...

[phonesuitedirect]

In this blog post, we’ll discuss how leveraging the next generation of Wi-Fi 6E helps enhance user experiences, reduce operational expenses, and offer insights into why now is the time to embrace 802.11ax in your hotels. Read More...

[peeweekey]

8:05 | SAM

word count: 3.2k

summary: sam’s ten heart event with a twist.

tags: winter, developing relationships, fluff, swearing, cuddling, hiding from his mother in his bed lol

a/n: this spiralled out of my control and into 3k words… enjoy!

it’s cold.

the fleece coat you’ve bundled yourself in cannot protect goosebumps from forming from the biting chill of the valley’s winter nights. your breaths come out in cloudy puffs of air, the heat slowly draining out of every exhale. it’s dark out, poorly spaced lampposts providing the bare minimum amount of light to navigate.

you got sam’s letter earlier, a clumsily written note that was stuffed haphazardly into your farm’s mailbox—the yellow lined paper he used, all crumpled and ripped.

meet me in front of my house! at 8 pm, i’ll be waiting. there’s something i want to tell you.

the ending sentence is somehow even more sloppily written compared to the ones before it. as if he was debating whether or not to add it in, but ultimately decided for it—it’s funny to imagine him hunched over his desk, stressing over what to write to you.

well, you won’t deny feeling excitement over the possibility of whatever sam has to say. if the subtle skip in your step is anything to go by.

you walk through the silent night of the town, it seems like everything’s frozen in place during the colder times of the year—everyone’s safe at home, toasty under their covers and you’d imagine thoroughly enjoying going to bed at 7 pm.

you do too, sometimes. there’s less to do when the ground is too frozen to plant any crop.

there’s a lot more free time out of the farm during the winter. you’ve really started integrating yourself with the townspeople—helping haley find her bracelet, befriending sam’s prickly coworker shane, and even discovering a shadowperson named Krobus in the town sewers. it really is starting to feel like home.

walking, you cut the corner passing by emily and haley’s house—and there he is.

he looks devastatingly handsome all dressed in winter clothing. his regular denim jacket switched out for a dark woolen coat, his pants are unripped and, surprisingly, not smeared with dirt.

though what you like most about his winter attire is his hair. those wild golden locks are laid flat under a woolen beanie—a stark difference from the spiked updo he usually does (though you like that one too). the tips of his hair are slightly curled upwards, revealing that family trait of curly hair.

you creep closer, just watching him wait for you—the way he folds his arms in an attempt to warm up, and the little shuffle he does on his feet. you laugh softly, he must’ve been waiting a while—just like you have for him.

sam turns at the sound of your laugh, his body unconsciously tilting towards you, like a magnet’s uncontrollable attracting to metal. “you made it,” he breathes, his nose, ears and cheeks pinkened by the cold.

you nod, unable to stop a bashful smile from forming on your lips. “i made it.”

a big grin splits his face, mimicking yours. underneath the lone lamplight he looks jaw-droppingly handsome. you feel yourself become warm just in proximity to him.

“i wanted to talk to you in private,” he says. sam’s buzzing with energy, surveying the dark streets before meeting your gaze with his. “it’s kinda cold out here though… i, um—i can sneak you into my room…”

your heart skips a beat, like you’ve skipped a step on a staircase. “what?” you croak.

your eyes catch onto him wringing his fingers, a nervous habit you can’t help but always notice (not because his hands are nice and interesting to look at, not at all).

“you don’t wanna?”

“no!” you inhale, trying to alleviate the twisting sensation in your gut. “i do wanna, ahem, lead the way.”

sam smiles at you, dimples and all. he leads you towards the tiny bedroom window in front of his house. the window is already open—you assume that’s where he jumped out of to meet you.

he climbs through the window with minimal effort, landing on the flooring with a dull thump!

you raise a brow. “have you done this before?”

sam stretches his hand out to you, waiting. his smile turnt sheepish. “i mean, i think we were all rebellious teenagers once.”

you resist the urge to snort—sam’s nervous, you can tell. he doesn’t have his quips and jokes tonight. and he’s shy, but eager. like a puppy, excited and curious about the world.

“o-kay,” you say, one hand in his hand the other set firmly on the windowsill. “make sure i don’t fall please.”

sam nods, eagerly. the curled ends of his hair shake along with the motion as he does.

how endearing.

you tighten your grip on his hand, hauling yourself through the small window, trying your damn best to not make any sudden noise. which is successful for the most part, only a tiny huff of exertion escapes you.

annoying, yes. but the chill of winter burns through any energy you have faster than other seasons.

your feet connect with the wood of his floor, hand still clasped in his and the chill merely at your back. it’s warm inside, with him.

his room is the same as it’s always been when you’d visit before—shelves, band equipment, posters—but the ambiance is different. a little more charged with tension so thick you could cut through it with a knife.

sam does not bother turning on his light, you don’t mind it all that much. but it takes some effort to avoid tumbling over stray objects that clutter his bedroom floor.

“look, I know I’ve been about nothing but the band for a while now…” he starts. “but I don’t want you to think that’s all i’m interested in.”

you chuckle, clasping your fingers behind your back. “it certainly takes up a big chunk of your interests.”

he pouts, literally pouts. it must be the love bug you caught because you think it’s just plain adorable. “i’m really trying over here!”

“sorry!” you grin, “okay, continue.”

“well, um… shoot, this is kinda hard, huh?” he forces an awkward chuckle. “and nerve-wrecking… but what i’m trying to say is…”

“i’m really happy that we’ve grown this close, and well…” sam looks at you, he’s stupidly red—the color spreading all over his face. “i—i’m just wondering, do you think of me as… just a friend?”

your breath stutters, and you feel yourself blushing before you can do anything to stop it. you stare at him as he does with you. the two of you locking eyes for a second, it feels like it’s just you and him in the world.

you feel your shy admittance at the tip of your tongue. no, you’d say, you’re more than that for me, if you want to be.

sam smiles at you, shy but so, so overwhelmingly bright—it’s blinding. your head is running a mile a minute when you finally get the courage—

“sam!” you hear jodi’s groggy voice from outside the door. your stomach drops with dread. “somebody’s at the door! go and check please?”

you lock eyes once again, this time for entirely different reasons, and with entirely different feelings.

“oh my god, sam,” you whisper hurriedly, panic gripping you. “your mom doesn’t know i’m here—what do we do—”

“hold on—” he replies, with the same sense of urgency as you. “okay, okay—i have a plan, just trust me, ‘kay?”

you think you might break out into a cold sweat. you look at him quizzically, “what?”

sam gives you an apologetic smile with that stupid beautiful face of his, he moves forward, grabbing you by your wrists, and moving you with him—towards his bed.

“sam!” you hiss, alarms are blaring in every corner of your mind as sam all but drags you under the toasty covers of his bed. he lifts the blanket and stations you by the edge, covering you in the blanket—which is now a lumpy mess.

this is his childhood bed you’re in, where his mother and brother are just by the door.

and his mother is calling him.

“i’ll get this over with quick,” he says to you, already heading towards the door of his room. “hang on tight, ‘kay?”

you breathe a sound of agreement, way too jittery to formulate any proper response as you quieten under the covers.

though the sheets do feel nice, and smells overwhelmingly of that specific cologne he uses (stolen from joja inventory, he told you once). you will yourself not to relax and melt into the sheets so fast. instead, you listen for each and every sound that may give hint to whatever the hell is happening.

there’s a commotion that you can hear happening, the door swings open, the hinges creaking along with it—this whole surreal experience feels a little like the confrontation part of a horror movie, the helpless victim hiding and the heavy footfalls of the killer.

though in your case, it’s not one set of footsteps, but two.

“what are you two doing here?”

“you’re the one who called us over, remember?” you can recognize the band’s shut-in pianist’s voice from anywhere. “you were all like, stop skipping practice, seb.”

sam’s voice is oddly pitchy when he responds. “…well, tonight’s no good!”

you hear the other person huff, you strain your ears harder to listen. the huffing person clearly fed up with the strange behavior sam’s putting out right now.

“my mom and vincent are asleep,” he adds hurriedly. “they’d wake up—”

you resist the urge to groan, stifling your mouth under a sweaty palm. jodie was just speaking to him minutes ago, there’s no way they’d buy that. he cannot be a more obvious liar.

thankfully they gloss over the fact. “sam, why are you acting so damn weird?” sebastian asks, straightforward as ever.

“yeah,” the other voice adds. feminine but strong. which you now identify as abigail’s, you hear a pinch of impatience in her voice. “and why are you red? did you sit outside in the snow or something—”

sam chokes, which he tries to conceal as an odd sounding cough. abigail pauses mid-sentence. the shift in the atmosphere is palpable. you screw your eyes shut, hearing the rapid rate of your heartbeat. it’s so loud you’re almost convinced the trio can hear the thumping from your hiding spot under the sheets. this is it, they’re going to discover you.

“oh, oh i see,” abigail grins. “on second thought, i wouldn't risk catching all those germs. i’m feeling starved, let’s hit the saloon, seb.”

the aforementioned man grumbles, seemingly puzzled by the sudden switch in abigail’s attitude. “huh… why?” abigail must have whispered something to him—you can barely hear over the muffle of sam’s blanket comforters. “ugh, alright. fine. you owe us one, sam.”

“oh, of course! mhm, yup,” you cringe at the immense awkwardness of sam’s response, feeling the overwhelming urge to pull out your own hair. “i’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah? now shoo! wouldn’t wanna get you both sick or somethin’…”

“huh?” sebastian replies, rightfully puzzled as they’re forcefully pushed out of the room. “why would we see you tomorrow if you’re sick—”

“well seb,” abigail says smugly. “let’s just say sammy here is taking care of some important business—”

“okay, bye!” you hear the door click shut. to your utter bewilderment, sam shut the door in their faces.

the room is deathly quiet, the air is stagnant and stuffy. once you feel it safe enough, you crane your neck out of the blankets to check over him. to trace any lingering feeling the sudden visit might’ve given him. sam’s got his back rested against the wood of his door, his back slumped.

“i—i wasn’t expecting that,” you say quietly from your hiding spot on his bed. peeking the top half of your face, watching the door carefully. “kinda nerve-wracking.”

and embarrassing.

“i know—i’m sorry,” he sighs, rubbing his temples. “i didn’t expect them coming over.”

“sebastian said you invited them for practice, though.” you point out.

“maybe i did,” he admits, creeping closer to you on the bed, even if he’s guilty and embarrassed. “i totally forgot—i mean, i was really nervous! my mind blanks when i get nervous…”

sam stops right by the side of the bed, as if he’s waiting for your permission to get in with you—in his own bed. and to be perfectly honest, you really want him to.

“kinda ruined the atmosphere too,” he looks away from you, eyes downcast and melancholy. “i had this whole thing planned too, and i, just… ugh…”

your eyes soften. “sam, it’s really fine. okay, maybe a little shocking but you know it’s not enough to scare me away.”

he looks down at you, worried. his eyebrows are ever so slightly pinched—you wish you could run your fingers over it, and smooth it out yourself.

“plus,” you murmur, reaching over the small amount of space between the two of you to clasp his wrist. “i’m not just gonna leave… just tell me what you were going to say—before the… interruption.”

that gives you the final push to gather your courage to tug him into bed with you. sam follows, flopping onto the empty bedding next to you without a fight. for a moment, it’s just the two of you, side by side, slowly huddling closer and closer for warmth.

and sam is warm. he’s practically radiating comfy heat you wish to burrow into—or wrap yourself around. the perfect bed-partner for winter nights like these.

you find yourself becoming addicted to the feeling.

sam angles his body towards you. you on your back and him on his side, it feels intimate and special. and for some reason, it feels familiar—like you’ve always belonged by his side.

“i think you know already,” he tells you, his eyes are not clear in the dim light but you know, there are practically hearts in them. “that i like you.”

you giggle softly. “and i think you know the same about me.”

sam tentatively grasps your hand, the freezing fingertips thawing under his careful touch. the caress of his hand on yours sends tingling electricity down your spine, your whole body feels alert—alive.

he speaks again, but this time his tone is a whisper of what it usually is. “stay awhile?”

“yeah,” you swallow, squeezing his hand in your grip. a small smile on your lips. “yes, i want to.”

“good,” he smiles, his eyes crinkle at the edges so softly and the dimples on his cheeks deepen. there really is no one else who can compare for you. “hey, you’re really cold… let me warm you up?”

you turn to your side, facing him. at this angle, your faces are mere inches apart. you can trace every dip, line and curve of his face, and he yours. your hand tingles with the overwhelming urge to reach for him and squeeze.

“it is cold,” you agree. “i’d very much like that.”

“phew,” he softly sighs. sam drags his fingers up your arm, stopping at your elbow. wherever he touches, a whisper of him lingers on your skin—a bone deep imprint you yearn for him to spread all across your skin.

you roll into him with little to no effort at all. sam drags you to his chest, your ear perched right above his heart, you can hear the steady thump! of his heartbeat from underneath. sam winds his arms around you, intensifying the heat you feel by tenfold—it’s not uncomfortable at all, though. you like it.

your bodies fit perfectly together, just like puzzle pieces. a mess of limbs tangling together. the warmth of him making you shudder in honey-like delight. it feels syrupy and soft and warm wrapped in his arms.

his hand at your back travels downwards, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake you feel even through the thickness of the fabric separating the skin of your back and his fingertips. his hands feel rough and calloused at the small of your back—from playing guitar and his skateboarding incidents—but you enjoy the feeling.

you trail your fingers under the thick fabric of his jacket and shirt, feeling the smooth skin underneath—the action has no deeper meaning than you wanting to feel.

sam’s uncharacteristically quiet. his breaths are slow and long, like he’s on the verge of sleep. yet his arms are wound tight around you—like he never wants to let go of you. your nerves make you feel like a slow simmering soup. warm and slowly cooking over the fire.

you two stay entangled for a while, in comfortable silence. sometime during the night you’ve matched your breathing to his, and he pulled you somehow even closer to his body.

but, a thump comes from his window, a light tapping sound. soft but persistent. the two of you opt to ignore it, in favor of snuggling closer to each other. yet the taps continue, and become louder and faster.

disrupted by the noise, sam mournfully throws the covers from over him to check, untangling himself from your grip. leaving a very him-shaped indent on the bed left in his wake. you groan, sticking your bottom lip out, you miss the warmth of him already.

“oh shit.”

the expletive makes you sit up in his bed, the comforter draping off your middle. you can make out the shape of him even with the dimness of the light—sam’s back is towards you, and if your eyes dare deceive you, he looks like he’s shrinking into himself a tiny bit.

“what is it?” you whisper-shout to him.

he slowly turns to you, wide eyed, his shoulders stiff. sort of resembling a kicked-dog. sam bows down his head—with what you think is shame, for what reason, you can’t tell. rubbing your eyes of sleep, you furrow your brow, craning your neck to look out the window behind him.

abigail and sebastian are there, waving wildly at you. your eyes widen. abigail and sebastian are waving at you with smug smiles plastered on their faces.

your stomach drops for the umpteenth time that night. you honestly feel too horrified to speak.

you bury yourself under the sheets, a feeble attempt to conceal your mortification. so that’s why abigail was playing along with sam’s urgent ramblings—she knew (not that sam was any good at keeping a cool facade, he is totally incapable of lying smoothly). you groan, you feel like a rebellious teenager again, only the part where you get caught and utterly humiliated.

outside, you can hear the loud roaring laughter of the duo through the glass, alongside the awkward, embarrassed chatter of your newly-minted boyfriend. (not technically official, but the title succeeds to relieve your horror by the tiniest bit)

still, you stay put. through the mortification and embarrassment you still stick yourself to sam’s side, or more literally, on his bed—because you know, there’s no other place you’d rather be.

you spare another glance out of the covers at the trio—to your surprise, sam’s beat you to it. looking at you with heart eyes and the most lovesick expression (you’re pretty sure yours looks the same).

you know there’s going to be a lot more explaining to do in the morning. but it doesn’t matter to you, not right now when you’re in sam’s bed on the verge of sleep.

not when you feel so warm.

a/n: shoutout to the ass trio for making an appearance in the fic! i love you abby and seb.

[ad-caelestia]

Crystal Meanings A - Z 🔮 [long post]

Correspondences for commonly used / mentioned crystals and minerals [updated 11/28/24]

A 

Agate (All types): Protection, good luck, balance body/mind/spirit, perceptiveness, strength, inspiration, awaken talents.   Healing lore: Insomnia, teeth/gums, digestive/circulatory/endocrine system, stamina. 

Ajoite: Peace, harmony; heal old emotional wounds, overcome sorrow, anger, and fear; connect with Higher Self, meditation, remove and release negative energies, transformation.   Healing lore: Powerful healing booster. 

Alexandrite: Inspiration, willpower, self-respect, self-esteem, purification, renewal, creativity, imagination, soothing emotions.   Healing lore: Reproductive system, nervous system, endocrine system, liver stimulation, detoxification. 

Amazonite: Truth, honor, communication, integrity, and trust; Enhances intuition, psychic powers, creativity, intellect, and psychic ability. Lessen stress and self-destructive behavior by calming and building self-esteem. Heals emotional disturbances and trauma.   Healing lore: Preventive energy for general health, colic, cardiovascular problems, calcium deficiency, pregnancy, eczema, muscle cramps, nervous system, decreasing tooth decay, osteoporosis. 

Amber: Soothing, calming, cleansing, remove toxins, wisdom, purification, intellect.   Healing lore: Detoxification, addictions, alcoholism, stress and anxiety related problems, poisoning, bone problems, cardiovascular problems, circulation, ears, hearing impairment, endocrine system, fibromyalgia, intestinal/digestive disorders, renal system, genitourinary system, respiratory system, general healing. 

Amethyst: Addiction of all kinds; Stability, peace, calm, balance, courage, and inner strength. Protection against psychic attacks. Stimulates telepathy and psychic abilities; good for meditation and dreamwork, past life work, or to help visualize your life path. Ease pain and grief/bring upon happiness. Beneficial for legal problems and money issues/leads to prosperity and abundance. Protection for travelers.    Healing lore: Addictions, alcoholism, headaches, insomnia, arthritis, pain relief, circulatory system, endocrine system, chronic fatigue, fibromyalgia, immune system deficiencies, asthma, migraines, phobias, pregnancy/preventing miscarriage, menopause, PMS, and general healing. 

Ametrine: Intellectual stimulation, attunement, optimism, remove negative energy, releasing, dispelling tension, connecting, psychic abilities, remove prejudice, inner peace.   Healing lore: Boost immune system, chronic fatigue syndrome, blood cleanser; repair DNA/RNA, depression. 

Andalusite: “The Seeing Stone;” Clarity, scrying, enhance memory/recall; brings chivalry, moderation, and balance. Helpful for meditation and centering.  Healing lore: Immune disorders, eye problems, deficiencies in calcium, iodine, and oxygen; water retention, edema. 

Angel Aura Quartz: Serenity, love, harmony, spiritual communication, ease emotional distress, mental clarity, self reflection, transformation Healing lore: Immune disorders, illness related to pollution, UV rays, laryngitis, pharyngitis, tonsillitis, thyroid problems, asthma, upper neck and back pain.

Anthophyllite: Releasing, especially when things to be released cause problems or pain, cleansing, aura cleansing, writer’s block.   Healing lore: Colon/lower digestive tract issues, absorption of nutrients. 

Apatite: Intellect, achieving results, healing, insight, humanitarianism, meditation, balance, creativity.   Healing lore: Skin/nails, allergies, arthritis, bone problems, cellular regeneration, calcium absorption, teeth/cartilage, suppress appetite, raises metabolism. 

Apophyllite: Spirituality, mysticism, meditation, astral travel, purification, protection, mindfulness, self-realization.  Healing lore: Stress, anxiety, respiratory system. 

Apple Aura Quartz: Growth, expansion, prosperity, intuition, stability, balance, letting go, severing ties, release, protection from emotional or psychic attacks. Healing lore: Immune system, lymphatic system, spleen.

Aqua Aura Quartz: Psychic skills and awareness, meditation, telepathy, psychic healing, distance spiritual energy healing, communication, awareness of one’s own motivations, success, prosperity, protection from psychic attacks.   Healing Lore: Throat problems, stress-related illness, immune system deficiencies, and thymus gland. 

Aquamarine: Courage, luck, purification, peace, intuition, inner strength, self-expression, balance, relieve fear, calms communication, angel communication, preparedness, protection during travel on water.   Healing lore: throat, speech, chronic fatigue, eyes, eyesight, fluid retention, edema, headaches, intestinal/digestive health. 

Aragonite: Magick charms, increase energy, boost self-confidence, diminish anger, and relieve stress.  Healing lore: Chronic fatigue, hair loss. 

Astrophyllite: Self-acceptance, self-awareness, breaking bad habits, grounding, calming, protection, honesty, fidelity, positivity, astral travel.  Healing lore: Hyperactivity, weight loss, seizures, cellular regeneration. 

Aventurine: Healing, money, mental agility, see potentials, happiness, peace, opening heart, creativity, imagination, motivation, leadership, friendship, gambling luck, good fortune, career success, protection.   Healing lore: Strong healing, vision/eyesight, blood flow, headaches, sleep disorders, circulatory system.

Azeztulite: Very high vibration, angelic, ascension stone, raise vibrations, expand consciousness, light energy, project positive energy, never needs cleansing, remove energy blocks.   Healing lore: Disease of all kinds, cellular regeneration and rejuvenation.

Azurite: “Stone of Heaven”, intuition, dreams, healing, insight, stilling the mind, concentration, self-transformation, meditation, control energy.   Healing lore: Prevent cancer, liver, arthritis, joints, depression, sinuses, and skin problems.

B 

Binghamite: Good fortune; holds the energy of Elves and Fairies.   Healing lore: Regenerate energy flow in the body; cellular regeneration, Theta brain wave patterns, burns, convulsions.

Biotite: Rationality, responsibility, mental clarity.   Healing lore: Disorders caused by disorganized cell patterns, eyesight, shrink growths, bile regulation. 

Bloodstone: Courage, survival, adaptability, release blockages, renewal, strength, victory, intuitive decision making, banishing, and abundance.   Healing lore: Intense healing, emotional trauma, anemia, blood diseases, blood pressure, cardiovascular system, endocrine system, renal system, genitourinary system, physical trauma, post-surgical recovery. 

Blue Lace Agate: Tranquility, grace, higher spiritual planes, calming, gentleness, ease communication, public speaking, perform miracles, protection.   Healing lore: Arthritis, headaches, digestive issues, skin issues especially eczema, growth, and bones. 

Bronzite: Protection, grounding, self-confidence, harmony.  Healing lore: Emotional/mental disorders, muscle tension, iron assimilation  

C 

Calcite: Amplify energy, lessen fear, reduce stress, purification, peace, calming, emotional healing, compassion, memory, awareness, and appreciate of nature.   Healing lore: General healing, physical energy, back pain, physical strength, teeth/bones. 

Carnelian: Creativity, sexuality, manifestation, good luck, precision, analytical capabilities, verbal skill, protection, protection from anger, jealousy and fear, peace, spirituality, reduce sorrow.   Healing lore: Abrasions/scrapes/cuts; tissue/cellular regeneration, rheumatism, kidney stones, other renal problems, gall stones, colds, pollen allergies, neuralgia. 

Celestial (tanzan, tanzine) Aura Quartz: Celestial magic, intuition, psychic abilities, dreamwork, inner vision, spiritual communication, astral travel, overcoming boredom, reclaiming passion. Healing lore: Anxiety, emotional distress, memory, neurological disorders, connective tissue disorders, physical strength.

Celestite (Celestine): Angelic communication, serenity, verbal skills, healing, compassion, calming, growth, intuition, hope, emotional protection, decrease negativity.  Healing lore: Eyesight, mental disorders, detoxification, digestion, cellular disorder. 

Chalcedony: Relieve depression, lessen hostility, kindness, miracles.  Healing lore: Emotional and mental stability, heavy metal toxicity, senility, dementia. 

Champagne Aura Quartz: Cleansing, protection, grounding, resolving conflicts, harmonious communication and relationships, dissolving negativity, transforming negative thinking. Healing lore: Endocrine system, hormones, eases musculoskeletal pain, relieves headaches, purifies environmental pollutants.

Charoite: Spiritual growth, dreams, endurance, courage, emotional healing, inspiration, transformation.   Healing lore: Headaches, hepatic problems, detoxification, muscle cramps, cardiovascular problems, insomnia. 

Chrysocolla: Easing heartache, harmony, stamina, wisdom, peace, love, communication, vitality, inner strength, purifies a place, removes negativity, reduce fear anxiety and guilt.   Healing lore: Asthma, emphysema, TB, pneumonia, muscle cramps, arthritis, childbirth, pregnancy. 

Chrysoprase: Good fortune, prosperity, balances opposing energies, love, grace, compassion, clemency, personal growth, mend broken heart.   Healing lore: Eyesight, immune system, fertility, gout, mental illness, fevers, temperature regulation, reproductive health. 

Citrine: Success, intuition, comfort, creativity, physical energy, wealth, mental awakening, clarity, protection, good fortune / luck, decrease nightmares, remove toxins.   Healing lore: Depression, mood swings, trauma, digestion, sleep disturbances, thyroid, general health, heart, kidney, liver, muscles, strength, endocrine system, circulatory system, tissue regeneration, genitourinary system, immune system, fibromyalgia, addictions, OCD. 

Cobalt Aura Quartz: Contentment, removing blockages, overcoming obstacles, self expression, creativity. Healing lore: Immune support when an illness has become unresponsive to treatment; kidneys, pancreas, liver, spleen; vitamin absorption.

Coral: Diplomacy, wonders of nature, creativity, optimism, understanding of purpose, quieting emotions, visualization.   Healing lore: General healing, blood disorders, circulatory system, renal system, genitourinary system, epilepsy, bones/bone marrow disorders, eyesight, respiratory system. 

Covellite (Covelline): High energy, psychic, intuitive, meditation, past life recall, rebirth, see solutions to problems.   Healing lore: Depression, anxiety, ears, nose, mouth, sinuses. 

Cuprite: Awareness, teaching, spiritual messages, will power, security, confidence, sexuality, morality, past life experiences, heals father relationship.   Healing lore: Thymus gland, cardiovascular system, blood metabolism, muscle tissue, skeletal system, oxygenation, stamina, renal system, menstrual cramps, vertigo, water retention, edema, addictions, alcoholism. 

D 

Danburite: Peace, stress relief, interdimensional travel, love, calm, tranquility, acceptance, positive outlook on life, restful sleep.   Healing Lore: General healing. 

Diamond: Courage, strength, healing, protection, spirituality, mental abilities, love, bond relationships, abundance, amplification, hope.   Healing lore: Genetic disorders, bed-wetting, lower cholesterol, flatulence, constipation, exhaustion, hair loss, lower fever, athlete’s foot, prevent gallstones and kidney stones, gout, dizziness, seasickness, rheumatism, shingles, lumbago, hot flashes, sciatica, corneal inflammations, knee pain, headache, varicose veins, bronchitis, indigestion, paralysis, cramps, prostate, back pain, strains, sunburn, gums, cysts. 

Dolomite: Calm, balance, focus, grounding, optimism, emotional stability, generosity, kindness, alleviate negative emotions.  Healing lore: Cardiovascular system, circulation, oxygenation, reproductive health, hearing impairment, muscle/bone strength, adrenal glands, renal system, insomnia, calcium/magnesium balance. 

Dumortierite (Blue Quartz): Self-reliance, mental clarity, stamina, patience, recognition of potential, understanding, communication of ideas, spiritual development.   Healing lore: Throat, thyroid, parathyroid, detoxification, overstimulation, blood, spleen, hyperactivity, endocrine system. 

E 

Eliat Stone (King Solomon’s Stone): A combination of Chrysocolla, Malachite and Turquoise from Israel near Eilat. Aligns subtle bodies; heals hurt, fear, stress, and loss; stress relief and anti-depressive.  Healing lore: Cardiovascular system, respiratory system, depression, thyroid, bones, fevers, sinuses. 

Emerald: Love, domestic bliss, sensitivity, loyalty, memory, mental capacity, harmony, focus, eliminating negativity, romance, memory, faith, truthfulness.   Healing lore: Remove mental causes of disease and unwellness, general healing. 

Epidote: Transmutation of negative energy, memory, enhancing energy, manifestation, attracts the same energy you put out into the world.  Healing lore: Clear energy blockages/congestion, balance energy, absorption of nutrients, digestion, general healing and recovery, immunity, dissipating tumors, weight loss from modifiable source. 

F 

Fire Agate: Vitality, creativity, sexuality, implementation, safety, calming, attraction, expression, protection.  Healing lore: Circulation, depression, lethargy, concentration, metabolism, digestive system, endocrine system, sexual activity, sleepwalking, epilepsy. 

Fire Opal: Passion, creativity, sexuality, vitality, removal of negative energies, removal of emotional/mental toxins.  Healing lore: Adrenal glands, PMS, menopause, renal system/detoxification. 

Flame Aura Quartz (Rainbow Aura Quartz): Focus, confidence, courage, awareness, spiritual attunement, inner strength. Healing lore: Diabetes, immune system, skeletal system, blood cancers.

Fluorite: Stability, peace and calm, impartial reasoning, responsibility, concentration, spiritual wholeness, psychic development, meditation, mental blocks, aura cleansing, protection from psychic attack, self-love.   Healing lore: Overall health, skeletal system, muscular system. 

Fossil Stone: Accomplishments, business, communication, innovation, breaking old habits, quality, excellency, telepathic.   Healing lore: Paranoia, schizophrenia, abuse recovery. 

Fulgurites: Direct and channel energy, leadership, weather manipulation, communication with extraterrestrials.   Healing lore: Immune system, ears, nose, and throat ailments, eyesight, thymus gland, tumor reduction. 

G 

Galaxite: Protect and cleanse aura, astral travel.   Healing lore: Stress-related illnesses, anxiety disorders, CNS disorders, digestion, metabolic illnesses. 

Garnet: Remove negativity, romantic love, passion, sensuality, intimacy, career success, self-confidence, protection from evil, awareness, commitment, regeneration, order, insight.   Healing lore: General health, cellular regeneration, blood disorders, cardiovascular system, respiratory system. 

Goldstone (glass): Calming, easing emotions, generating energy, deflecting unwanted energy, manifestation, achieving goals.  Healing lore: Circulatory and skeletal system. 

H 

Hematite: Mental attunement, memory, calming, balance, grounding, centering, focusing energy and emotions, peace, inner happiness, transforming negativity.   Healing lore: Temperature regulation, blood disorders, CNS disorders, insomnia, spine alignment, mend broken bones, and anemia. 

Hemimorphite: Empathy, emotional healing, communication, joy, bliss, personal growth, good fortune, self-esteem, psychic visions, enlightenment, balancing feminine/masculine energies, banish regret.  Healing lore: Overall health, blood disorders, ulcers, hormones, PMS, weight loss. 

Herkimer “Diamond” (Herkimer “Diamond” Quartz): Attunement, Mind/Body/Spirit Balance, manifestation, power, inner vision, purification.   Healing lore: Pain relief, metabolic disorders, cellular disorders, physical exhaustion, immunity, eyesight. 

Howlite: Awareness, calm, emotional expression, observation, patience, eliminating negativity, selfishness, creativity.   Healing lore: Bones/teeth, calcium levels, leg cramps. 

I 

Infinite Stone: Soothing, calming, healing, protection, revitalization, regeneration.   Healing lore: Strong healing, emotional/mental stress relief, pain relief, fatigue, joint pain, connective tissue damage, cellular regeneration, restful sleep. 

Iolite (Water Sapphire): Intuition, spiritual growth, balance, releasing discord, awakening to inner knowledge, visions.   Healing lore: Strong healing, addictions, sobriety, detoxification, sore throat, varicose veins, blisters. 

J 

Jade: Fidelity, dreams, realization of potential, peace, accord, resourcefulness, accomplishment, emotional balance, protection.   Healing lore: Cardiovascular system, renal system, general illness. 

Jasper (All Types): Protection, nurturing, joy, awareness, relaxation, tranquility, wholeness, astral travel, Yin/Yang.   Healing lore: Hepatic system, digestive system, gallbladder. 

Jet (Black Amber): Grief, mourning, protection from evil negativity and psychic attacks, banishing, financial safety, depression, sympathy.   Healing lore: Epilepsy, migraines, stomach pain, colds, glandular problems, lymphatic problems. 

K 

Kansas Pop Rocks: Release blockages, energy alignment.   Healing lore: Arthritis, back pain, general healing, cellular regeneration, adrenal glands, chronic fatigue. 

Kunzite: Understanding, communication, heals “broken heart”, stress, anger, love, peace, harmony, removing obstacles.   Healing lore: Strengthen circulatory system, respiratory disorders. 

Kyanite: Energy alignment, channeling energy, altered states, dream recall, visualization, loyalty, honesty, tranquility, diminish anger, ease confusion, and remove energy blockages.   Healing lore: General healing, cardiovascular system, throat, eyes. 

L 

Labradorite (Spectrolite): Alignment, success, dreams, reduce stress and anxiety, spiritual growth and awareness, transformation, mental clarity, peace, progression, psychic development, discernment, protection, intuition, creativity, wisdom. Healing lore: Stress related illness, sensitivity to cold, anxiety disorders, gout, colds, rheumatic fever, blood pressure regulation. 

Lapis Lazuli: Manifestation, wisdom, truthfulness, openness, communication, inner power, intuition, spiritual evolution, virility, self-confidence, objectivity, dreams, purity, serenity, guardian spirits, love & fidelity within marriage, protection.   Healing lore: Sinus ailments, insomnia, depression, recurring fevers, vision, hearing impairment, throat, lungs, immune system. 

Larimar: Freedom, peace, energy.   Healing lore: Throat, upper respiratory system, schizophrenia. 

Lavender Aura Quartz: Meditation, spiritual growth, tranquility, peace, harmony, relaxation, restful sleep. Healing lore: Insomnia, other sleep disorders, nightmares, overall health and wellbeing.

Lepidolite: Hope, stress reduction, birth, peace, acceptance, spirituality, physical strength, luck, protection, emotional balance.   Healing lore: Bipolar disorder, stress, anxiety, depression, manic-depression, despondency, PTSD, anger, traumas, panic attacks, addictions, glands, immune system, skin, nails, hair, DNA, enzyme balance, alcoholism recovery, pregnancy/childbirth, general healing. 

M 

Magnesite: Meditation, visualization, relaxation, calm, harmony, self-love, recognizing unconscious thoughts. Healing lore: Detoxification, magnesium absorption, muscle cramps, headaches, clotting disorders, heart disease, regulation of body temperature. 

Malachite: Transformation, insight, spiritual evolution, protection during pregnancy and childbirth, clarifying emotions, fidelity, loyalty, practicality.   Healing lore: Radiation sickness, asthma, arthritis, tumors. 

Marble: Charitable actions, original thinking, alleviation of sorrow, universal love, ancient wisdom, self-control.   Healing lore: Postpartum depression, bones/teeth. 

Merlinite: Luck, magic power, subconscious thought, clear psychic visions, past life recall, cleansing, wisdom, balance.  Healing lore: Skeletal system, improves blood flow, physical growth, lymphatic system, respiratory system. 

Mica: Recognize flaws with love, improve visions, mystical clarity, eliminate negative personality traits, enhance flexibility in all realms, personal growth, lessen anger and nervous energy.   Healing lore: Purposeful fasting, insomnia, mononucleosis symptoms, dehydration. 

Milky Quartz (Snow Quartz): Good fortune, calming, soothing, meditation, looking within, purification.  Healing lore: Immune system health. 

Moldavite: Enhance inner journeys, channeling, cosmic consciousness, crystal consciousness, extraterrestrial and interdimensional contact, transformation, raise vibrational level.   Healing lore: All healing, hair loss, fertility issues, promotes new cell growth. 

Molybdenum: Reliability, stress relief, communication, balance.   Healing lore: All types of healing, stress-related illness. 

Moonstone: Introspection, reflection, beginnings, insight, tenderness, harmony, peace, travel, intuition, psychic abilities, protection (especially during pregnancy, childbirth, travel at sea), substitute for pearl in crystal healing.   Healing lore: Pituitary gland, digestive system, obesity, water retention, edema, hormonal problems, menstrual problems. 

Morganite: Angel stone, heart stone, bring love or rekindle old love, communication with angels, compassion, empathy, self-control, patience, ease separation pain.   Healing lore: Emphysema, tuberculosis, cardiovascular disease, respiratory problems, throat problems. 

Mother of Pearl: Mental clarity, intuition, sensitivity, imagination, adaptability, cooperation, psychic, protection of children, purify environment.   Healing lore: High blood pressure, dizziness, vision, cataracts, wound healing. 

N 

Natrolite: Spiritual growth, psychic abilities such as telepathy, clairvoyance, clairsentience, clairaudience, and automatic writing, absorbs toxic energy.  Healing lore: CNS disorders, water retention, edema. 

Nebula Stone: Memory, removes fear, let go of the old, grounding, vitality, “cosmic window.”   Healing lore: Vitality, detoxification, emotional balance. 

Nuumite (Nuumit): Protection from negative energy, shielding, remove energy blockages, clear aura, synthesizes psychic wisdom and intellect.   Healing Lore: General healing, infections, purifying blood, kidneys, insulin production regulation, eyesight, and CNS disorders. 

O 

Obsidian: Clarity, deflecting negativity, protection, healing, grounding.   Healing lore: Buried emotions causing illness, stomach, intestines, muscle tissue, bacterial infections, and viral infections. 

Ocean Jasper: Transmutation of negative energy, stress relief, relaxation, physical/emotional healing, tranquility, clear thinking.  Healing lore: Internal organs (including reproductive system), PMS, teeth/gums, tumors, skin conditions, digestive and lymphatic system. 

Onyx: Self-control, decision making, conquer challenges, intuition, recognition of personal strengths, grounding, and protection.   Healing lore: Stamina, childbirth, wound healing. 

Opal: Creativity, inspiration, hope, spontaneity, relationships, memory, happy dreams, changes.   Healing lore: Eyesight, Parkinson’s disease, depression. 

P 

Pearl: Purity, faith, charity, innocence, integrity, focus, wisdom, spirituality, sincerity.   Healing lore: Fertility, childbirth, digestion, muscular system. 

Peridot: Warmth, friendliness, understanding, openness in love and relationships, regulation of cycles, ESP, find what is lost, protective shield.  Healing lore: High healing energy, slow aging, ulcers, digestion problems. 

Phenacite (Phenakite): Extremely high energy, third eye, clear energy centers, meditation, intuition.   Healing lore: Spine, throat, hypothalamus, amygdala, carotid arteries, and jugular veins. 

Phlogopite (Phlogopit): Speed evolution, flexible perception, adaptation, channeling, remove spiritual blocks.   Healing lore: relieve mental anguish, back pain, muscle relaxation, dental health, and mononucleosis symptoms. 

Pietersite (Tempest stone): Relaxation, relieves worries, courage, improves memory, tenacity, work with angels, astral travel, and release deep emotions calmly.   Healing lore: Body fluid balance, nutrition, gastrointestinal functions, endocrine glands, hormones, PMS, menopause. 

Psilomelane (Crown of Silver): Gazing, scrying, astral travel.  Healing lore: Correct behaviors/emotions that are not useful/harmful, lungs, pneumonia, diabetes. 

Pyrite (aka Fool’s Gold, Healer’s Gold): Defense, prevention, protection from negativity, leadership, psychic abilities, memory, shields from physical danger.   Healing lore: Physical wholeness, lungs, inflammations, stamina, digestion, circulation. 

Q 

Quantum Quattro Silica: Healing, grief, depression, trauma, energy alignment.   Healing lore: General healing, immune system. 

Quartz (Crystal Quartz, Rock Crystal): Power stone, intensify energy, spiritual development, healing, raising consciousness, protection.   Healing lore: Pain, arthritis, bone injuries, depression, fibromyalgia, digestion, mental and physical energy, stamina, physical strength. 

R 

Rhodochrosite (Rhodocrosite): Love, emotional balance,“Stone of Love and Balance”, cleansing, renewal, relaxation, expansion of consciousness.   Healing lore: Digestion, kidneys, thyroid, pulse rate. 

Rhodonite: Grace, elegance, peace, generosity, attention to details, calming, unconditional love, service to mankind.   Healing lore: Emphysema, joint inflammation, light sensitivity, strep throat, cardiovascular disorders. 

Rainforest Jasper (Rhyolite): Change, variety, progress, creativity, transcending barriers, Yin/Yang.   Healing lore: Hepatic cleansing, throat, general healing. 

Richterite: Calm, relaxation, strength, anxiety, balancing action and reaction, deeper meditation, internal communication, higher states of awareness.   Healing lore: PTSD, circulation, glandular problems especially thyroid, respiratory problems, parasites, fevers, typhoid. 

Rose Aura Quartz: Joy, attraction, self-love, release, kindness, consideration, tranquility, peace. Healing lore: Emotional healing, healing from past trauma, protection from radiation and static energy, anger issues, self esteem.

Rose Quartz: Love of all kinds including self-love, protection during pregnancy and childbirth, peace, happiness, gentleness.   Healing lore: Emotional wounds, cardiovascular system, circulatory system, fertility, headaches, renal disease, migraines, sexual dysfunction, sinus problems, throat problems, depression, addictions, ear aches, slows signs of aging in general, reduces wrinkles, spleen problems, fibromyalgia, and reaching one’s ideal weight/weight loss. 

Ruby: Integrity, generosity, nurturing, spiritual wisdom, attainment of values, economic stability and prosperity, protection from distress, home and contents protection.   Healing lore: Emotional problems, fever, constrictions in circulatory system, cardiovascular system, blood flow, muscular system, throat, parathyroid glands, CNS. 

Ruby Aura Quartz: Energy, strength, power, courage, passion, vitality, focus, transmute negativity, protection against aggression. Healing lore: Sciatica, lower back problems, endocrine system, degenerative disc disease.

Ruby in Zoisite: Energy amplification, psychic power.   Healing lore: Cardiovascular disorders, physical vitality. 

S 

Salt (Halite, Sea Salt, Volcanic, Himalayan, and others): Protection in general, protection from evil, protection of the home, purification, dispelling negativity, magical and traditional rituals, and clairvoyance. Release attachments, grounding and centering, abundance and a rich home life.   Healing lore: Blood disorders, hypotension (low blood pressure), diarrhea, physical strength, intestines, and to stimulate the meridians. 

Sapphire: Joy, peace, beauty, creative expression, meditation, intuition, prosperity, fulfillment of dreams, mental clarity.   Healing lore: Relieve depression, lower fevers; reduce inflammation, burns, hearing impairment. 

Sardonyx: Optimism, confidence, strength, courage, creativity, mental clarity, grounding, integrity, absorbing information, will-power.  Healing lore: Respiratory system, allergies, immune system, water retention, edema, skeletal health, depression, anxiety.  

Schorl (Black Tourmaline): Ground excess energy, purifying, transform negative energy, protection, protection from black magick and the evil eye, deflect radiation from electronics, dispel fear.   Healing lore: Obsessions, neuroses, emotional stability, immune system, heart disease, arthritis, brain tumors, and gout. 

Scolecite: Manifestation, improve relationships, inner peace.   Healing lore: Circulation, blood clotting, clogged arteries, bruises, mental imbalances, eyesight, respiratory system, intestine, misaligned spine, and removing parasites. 

Selenite: Mental clarity, mental flexibility, decision-making, angelic guidance, access past lives, good business practices, removes energy blocks, love, clear and charge other stones.   Healing lore: To remove blockages for healing, skeletal system, seizures, epilepsy. 

Seraphinite: Regeneration, self-healing, angelic connection, love, personal relationships, conflict resolution, peace, harmony, understanding.  Healing lore: Respiratory/cardiovascular system, systemic illnesses, improves blood flow, hepatic/renal detoxification, release of tension in the neck and back. 

Serpentine (aka “New Jade” and other trade names): Attract love and money, emotional cleansing, psychic powers, protection vs snakebite, poison and venom, meditation, restore self-confidence.   Healing lore: Parasitic infections, snakebite, venom and other poisons, cellular regeneration, balance hormones, milk production in those who are nursing. 

Shungite: Purification, protection, healing, grounding, calming, relaxing.  Healing lore: “Cure-all:” benefits all body systems. 

Silver: Soul mirror, intuition, psychic, improve speech, eloquence, enhance and store energies of gemstones, draw out negative energies, moon energies, feminine/yin energy.   Healing lore: Hepatitis, detoxification, headache, rheumatic pain, nausea, gastritis, obesity, diabetes, increase assimilation of vitamins A and E. 

Smithsonite: Stress relief, relaxation, soothing, emotional healing, rebirth, love, guidance, protection.  Healing lore: Anxiety, depression, panic attacks, immunity, skin problems, respiratory/reproductive/endocrine/digestive issues, addiction. 

Smoky Quartz: Dissolving emotional blockage, clearing the mind, cooperation, grounding and centering, banishing, personal pride, joy in living, attentiveness to the moment, protection, and good luck.   Healing lore: Renal system, digestion, pancreas, reproductive organs, menstrual cramps, fertility issues, water retention, edema. 

Snowflake Obsidian: Balance, serenity, protection, gently brings issues to the surface.   Healing lore: Veins, skeleton, and smooth skin. 

Sodalite: Wisdom, logic, calmness, healing, stress reduction, companionship, self-esteem, work in groups, heal communication breeches, truth, intelligence, knowledge, learning.   Healing lore: Glands, digestive system, insomnia, calcium deficiency, head colds. 

Sugilite: Love, emotional healing, spiritual growth, wisdom, psychic advancement, calmness, peace of mind, dispelling negative energy, protection.  Healing lore: CNS disorders, mental disorders, learning disabilities, inflammation, headaches, pain relief. 

Sunset Aura Quartz: New beginnings, creativity, joy, confidence, trust. Healing lore: General health and wellbeing; emotional distress and heartbreak.

Sunshine Aura Quartz: Recovering from past trauma, optimism, joy, acceptance, energy, expansion. Healing lore: Digestive issues, matters of the liver, gallbladder, spleen, pancreas, and neurological system; aids in vitamin absorption.

Sunstone: “Leadership Stone;” Alleviating fears & phobias, energizing, cleansing, strength, decrease stress and depression, good luck, abundance, negative energy and psychic attacks turn to positive energies, personal power, life force energy, animal guides, spirit guides.   Healing lore: General health, physical energy, sexual dysfunction, increases sexual energy. 

T 

Tangerine Aura Quartz: Energy, creativity, catalyst, manifestation, joy, uplifting. Healing lore: Problems with intimacy, sexual matters, fatigue, brain fog.

Tanzanite: “Workaholic’s Stone;” Communication, intuition, protection, symmetry, decision-making, spirituality, slow down and take it easy, relieve stress, composure, harmony, poise.   Healing lore: Stress-related illness, high blood pressure. 

Tektite: Wisdom, knowledge, withstand mental or emotional “stumbling,” overcome challenges with mental processes, extraterrestrial communication, astral travel, lucid dreaming, strengthening one’s energy field. 

Thulite: Emotional healing. Healing lore: Central nervous system; coordination, concentration, dexterity. 

Tiger’s Eye: Self-discipline, practicality, protection, grounding, peace, clarity, intelligence, intuition & psychic powers, new experiences, financial stability, calmness, releasing inhibitions, integrity, willpower, prosperity, personal power.  Healing lore: Heal wounds/bruises, digestion, stomach problems, eyesight, night vision, pain relief, alcoholism, reproductive system. 

Tiger Iron (Mugglestone): Artistic abilities, creative projects, balance, beauty, endurance, motivation, vitality.   Healing lore: Low energy, tiredness, muscular system, white/red blood cell balance, natural steroids in the body, chronic fatigue. 

Topaz: True love, success, manifestation, understanding of interrelationships, expression of ideas, trust, health, personal expansion and growth, creativity, individuality, hope, spiritual peace.   Healing lore: Gout, blood disorders, hemorrhages, poor appetite, tuberculosis, reverses aging, tissue regeneration, endocrine system. 

Tsavorite: Manifestation, destiny, prosperity, spiritual world, benevolence.   Healing lore: Cell growth, quick healing, cardiovascular problems, disorders of the five senses. 

Tourmaline: Energizing, soul-searching, releasing, banishing, flexibility, happiness, objectivity, serenity, dispel negativity, ease grief, calm nerves, charisma, compassion, tolerance, psychic channeling, protection, raises vibrations.   Healing lore: Endocrine system, reproductive system, cancer, genetic disorders, peaceful sleep. 

Turquoise: Spiritual attunement, cleansing, communication, healing, protection, valor, soothing, peace of mind, guidance through the unknown, romantic spontaneity.   Healing lore: “Master Healing Stone”, prevents illness, bipolar disorder, panic disorder, all health issues in general. 

U 

Ulexite: Clairvoyance, balance, actualization, telepathy, channeling, creativity, inspiration, imagination.   Healing lore: Eyesight, pineal gland, balance, nervous system. 

Unakite: Balance, rebirth, foresight, emotional balance, release blockages.   Healing lore: Reproductive system, healthy pregnancy, development of unborn child. 

V 

Variscite: “True worry stone;” eases fear, anxiety, tension, worry, impatience, stress and depression. Provides inner strength and self-reliance. Psychic perceptions, meditation, intuition.  Healing lore: Cell/tissue strength, hematological issues, nervous system, renal system, musculoskeletal system, reproductive system, impotence. 

Vauxite: Peace, relaxation, calm, mental clarity, memory recall, meditation, trance, easing nightmares. Healing lore: Nutrition, renal system, fevers. 

Verdite: Growth, harmony, past lives, joy, enthusiasm, calming. Healing lore: Eases vertigo and dizziness.

Violet Flame Opal: Spiritual awareness, clairvoyance, clairsentience, intuition. 

W 

Wavellite: Clarity, enhanced decision making, logical thinking, self-acceptance, calms anger, unveiling suppressed emotions.  Healing lore: Improves blood flow, stabilizes blood counts, dermatitis. 

Wulfenite: Transfer energy, white magic, emotional blocks.   Healing lore: Reproductive system, energizing and revitalizing the body systems. 

Z 

Zoisite: Trust in the universe, release fears, dispels laziness.   Healing lore: Vitality, adrenal glands, reproductive organs, and strengthening the heart. 

© 2024 ad-caelestia

[ssa-dado]

23 - Ethics

Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluff, slow burn (though at this point, the ragù has been simmering so long it's practically ready to serve), hurt/comfort, miiiiiild angst Summary: Hotch somehow finds himself standing in the middle of a winter night, wearing a short-sleeved polo, all because you called (read: expertly manipulated) him into joining the team at the bar. He hadn’t wanted to come. And yet, between the past few weeks of damning evidence he’d been collecting against himself and the undeniable proof unfolding right in front of him, he’s just cracked the hardest case of the last ten years: his true feelings for you. Warnings: alcohol consumption, some cuss words here and there, mentions of what happens in 3x19 and case talk involving SA, Hotch steals a bite of your cheesecake Word Count: 16.6k Dado's Corner: This is the first part of the Act Two finale (yayyyy), the second part will be up in a few hours, as soon as I finish editing (and hunt down some S3 Hotch pics/gifs for the thumbnail - help a girl out if you’ve got any I can use in sequence like these two). Some details aren’t meant to be overlooked… and the same ones remain unresolved. Never trust an unfinished case

masterlist

In Stoic philosophy, ethics (ethikē) examines the principles of virtuous living, focusing on how individuals can align their actions and character with reason and nature, ultimately achieving a harmonious life.

For the Stoics, the pursuit of virtue was essential, emphasizing self-discipline, moral integrity, and the cultivation of wisdom to navigate life’s challenges.

The Stoics believed that apatheia - freedom from destructive emotions - was central to living virtuously. By cultivating rational detachment and understanding the nature of desires and fears, individuals could transcend emotional turmoil and align their inner state with the rational divine order (logos).

It was all your fault.

His fault, technically, for now being stuck in DC’s late-night traffic at 11 PM, singing - more like yelling - along to a mishmash CD he’d burned himself: everything from The Beatles to random musical soundtracks, and - he fully blamed the divorce for this one last addition - Taylor Swift.

But the rest? That blame fell squarely on you.

You, who’d managed to yank him out of his solitary cocoon with a single phone call - wielding the same authority he’d use to haul you out of your pajamas for a case at ungodly hours, except your urgent mission revolved around meeting the rest of the team at a bar.

“Come on, Aaron,” you’d insisted over the phone, timing impeccable as always - right after he’d swapped his work slacks for his own pajama pants. “You haven’t left your house in two weeks, it’s not healthy. The only social contact you’re getting is from serial killers and uncooperative detectives.”

And, apparently, a nagging life coach he didn’t remember hiring.

“Don’t forget Strauss,” he’d muttered, unbuttoning his shirt.

“Worse than psychopaths,” you’d quipped. “Do it for my peace of mind, please?” you’d added, with a note of genuine concern creeping in.

He was grateful this was all happening over the phone - you couldn’t enhance your request with those devastating puppy eyes he could imagine far too clearly.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back against the couch. “I’m fine. Really. Maybe next time.”

“Exact same words you told me last Friday,” you shot back without missing a beat. “Aaron, please, I’m on my knees here.”

He really did not want to picture it... too late.

“I’m already in my pajamas,” he replied cheeks blushed, hoping you’d give up - only for you to burst his eardrum with a deafening “OH!” that made him freeze.

“Rossi just texted me he’s coming too,” you pressed on, clearly not letting this go. “You have to be there. Derek is ovulating and will be glued to the dance floor. That leaves Rossi alone with Spencer. With alcohol. Aaron, alcohol. You don’t want Rossi to quit again do you?”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” he caved, already twisting the shower knobs. “I’ll be there.”

“You’re the best,” you cooed. “I’m texting you the address now. And, of course, the first round’s on me - my apology for so heartlessly interrupting your thrilling evening of pajamas and solitude.”

“Oh, you’re spoiling me,” he replied dryly, though the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed him - not that it had anything to do with you, of course. “Bye, see you soon.”

“See you!” you chirped brightly, and just before the call ended, you added with a playful, heartfelt, “I love you, bye!”

He told himself the reason his heart skipped - not one, but two beats - was because the shower water was still running, and the bill would be astronomical if he didn’t get in soon.

Yet, it still took him a minute to step into the shower and another ten to wipe the ridiculous, boyish smile off his face.

Details. Minuscule, insignificant details.

As insignificant as the fact that, even though he’d wanted nothing more than to stay in, he ended up taking his sweet time getting ready, using a little less gel in his hair and swapping out his usual zip-up for a black polo that fit just a little too well. Short-sleeved too.

And now, here he was, stuck in traffic - less than usual, but still traffic - drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, singing his heart out to a soundtrack from a musical.

Not 70s rock. Not The Beatles.

Loud enough to rattle the windows, his voice carrying the tune with no regard for key or pitch.

For once, he didn’t care. Not about his hair, ruined by the head-bobbing, or his volume, which would mortify him in any other context. He was too caught up in the rare freedom of it all, the raw, unfiltered honesty of being alone in his car.

And by the time Aaron stepped into the bar, the scene was exactly as he’d expected - or, more accurately, exactly as you’d described it during your excruciatingly persuasive phone call.

On his left, Penelope and Emily were swaying to the music, drinks in hand, throwing occasional glances at Derek, who was - using your precise words - ovulating on the dancefloor. Aaron could barely make him out through the crowd of women gathered around him.

But his eyes didn’t linger there.

They found you quickly - though apparently, it took you even less time to spot him because you were already standing up from your seat and waving with a smile so warm it made the crowded bar feel a little less suffocating.

From the moment he saw you, Aaron couldn’t decide whether to be grateful you’d dragged him out of bed or curse you for subjecting him to the sight of you in that dress - without so much as a warning.

It seemed to conspire with the dim bar lights, luring his gaze far too easily to every curve it chose to flaunt or hide just enough to drive him mad.

He told himself he was just trying to figure out the color - that was the only reason his eyes lingered, surely, to where the hem flirted with the middle of your thigh, hovering just close enough to tempt but never quite touching because, unlike his thoughts, your dress had boundaries.

Or why he felt a flicker of embarrassment - no, mortification - when his gaze, against every ounce of his better judgment, dropped to the necklace you always wore.

Somehow, today, it looked… different. Distracting. Suddenly worthy of deep, thorough analysis.

And by deep, he meant he’d probably memorized the exact number of loops in the chain, the way they caught the light, the faint sway against your skin… not that he was staring.

It wasn’t the faint curve of your collarbone the chain rested against that caught his attention.

Definitely not.

And it wasn’t the faintest suggestion of cleavage beneath it that made his mouth go dry.

Absolutely not.

No, clearly, this was about something else. Something important. Pressing. Like… the chain itself. Yeah. It was just a nice chain. Very symmetrical. Perfect craftsmanship, really.

At least, that’s what he told himself, and maybe it was time to move on. His mind should’ve been occupied with something else, anything else. Like… murder investigations. Team dynamics. Bureau politics. You know, actual priorities.

Except, wait. The color of your dress.

Right. That.

He hadn’t quite cracked it yet. What a coincidence. Probably worth another look.

Maybe two.

By the time he reached the booth where you sat with Spencer and Rossi, he was proud - no, smug - to say that he could, with almost scientific certainty, declare that the dress was black. Definitely black.

Just to confirm it wasn’t some tricky, dark navy blue, he stole another glance.

Maybe two, again.

...Nope. Black. Absolutely, positively black.

“Grazie a Dio, Aaron, you’re here!” Rossi groaned the moment Aaron reached the table, grabbing his face with both hands like a long-lost relative and planting two theatrical kisses on his cheeks, Italian style.

Aaron barely flinched, turning toward you instead. He didn’t even think about it, his eyes just started seeking yours like a reflex, searching for the one person who could make the absurdity of this greeting feel even remotely bearable.

And there you were.

Your eyes met his before he could even fully look, as though you’d been waiting for it.

The twitch of your lips, the teasing sympathy in your smile, was all it took to push him to the brink of laughter.

He caught himself, barely. It wasn’t supposed to be this funny, but somehow, it was.

Rossi patted Aaron’s shoulder, as if testing whether he was truly there to save him or just another hallucination brought on by sheer desperation. “If I hear one more random fact from this drunk kid,” Rossi said, gesturing toward Spencer, who was slumped in the booth, cheeks flushed and waving sloppily in Aaron’s direction, “I’m going to throw myself in the fryer.”

“Are you alright, Reid?” he asked cautiously as he slid into the seat next to yours. You shifted slightly to make room, your knee brushing his in a way he tried very hard not to notice.

“Alright?!” Spencer giggled, eyes wide with unrestrained glee. “Phenomenal!”

Then, without missing a beat, he turned to Rossi, leaning in with an exaggerated wobble. “Ooooooooooh, Rossi, speaking of drinking - did you know that the concept of 'drinking to get drunk' is a uniquely modern phenomenon? In Ancient Greece - hic - they diluted their wine with water. If you drank it undiluted, you were considered barbaric. So technically - hic - we’re all barbarians right now. Except for you, Hotch! You…you just arrived.”

Aaron stared, his lips pressing into a flat line to suppress a laugh. Phenomenal. Sure, that’s one word for it.

“How many drinks did he have?” Aaron asked, glancing sideways as he felt your arm brush his.

“Technically one,” you replied with a pitying smile that somehow made his chest feel both lighter and tighter at the same time.

Aaron raised a skeptical eyebrow. “That’s impossible. How did-”

You cut him off, leaning in closer, resting your elbow lightly on his shoulder, your breath brushing his ear as you spoke. “He just wanted to loosen up a bit… Derek told him his mission tonight was to ‘find him some.’”

You paused to take a look at his reaction, pulling back just slightly, which made him instinctively turn toward you.

He hadn’t realized how little space you’d left until your noses touched… fuck.

“…And he got nervous,” you continued back in his ear, as though the proximity hadn’t left you as flustered as it had him. “So he ordered the cocktail that, according to his ‘scientific and cultural data,’ had the least amount of alcohol.”

Aaron turned his head just enough to speak, the movement brushing his nose against yours again. “Well, he’s more than just loose.” The corner of his mouth twitched into the faintest smirk, though his pulse was anything but steady.

He half-expected you to pull away now, to laugh and break whatever spell was weaving between you. But you didn’t. If anything, you seemed just as still, as if you hadn’t noticed - or didn’t mind - how close you were.

“Let’s just say the bartender was very generous with the vodka,” you said softly, your hand patting his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Except it wasn’t.

Your touch burned in a way that felt entirely unfair.

“So, uh… here we are.” You said, finally pulling back from him.

Your eyes met, holding for just a moment longer than necessary, the bar suddenly so quiet he swore he could hear his pupils dilate. “Don’t worry, he ate all of mine and Rossi’s fries. He’ll hopefully sober up soon.”

“Did you know, Hotch,” Spencer slurred, his voice brimming with childlike enthusiasm, “that your brain processes alcohol at an average rate of one standard drink per hour? But genetics, age, and body mass - hic - can totally change that. You might process it slower because you’re, uh…” He squinted, his face scrunching in concentration. “Old.”

The look Aaron shot him was enough to make even a tipsy genius backtrack immediately. Spencer immediately flailed into damage control, his hands waving erratically. “Older! Older…er!” he stammered, his voice pitching higher in panic. “Like, statistically, your metabolism is probably, um, slowing down a tiny bit. Nothing drastic! Just, you know, the natural process of… life.”

Sure, ‘popular…lar’.

Aaron arched an eyebrow. “Fascinating, Reid. Anything else you’d like to analyze?”

Spencer, who barely understood sarcasm when sober, let alone in his current state, widened his eyes, thinking Aaron had actually prompted him to elaborate for once. “You know… there’s this thing called nonverbal communication. It’s like… 60-65% of all human communication. And yooooou’re… you’re doing a lot of it right now, Hotch.”

Aaron froze, his brow furrowing. “What are you talking about, Reid?”

Spencer tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned forward. “With the professor! It’s fascinating!” he insisted, now fully in observation mode. “The eye contact! Did you know prolonged eye contact – hic - increases oxytocin levels? That – by the way – it’s also called the cuddle hormone. It’s sooooo cool. Your brain could actually be tricked into thinking you’re falling in lo-”

“Spencer,” you interrupted, your voice pitched higher than usual, “I think it’s time for more fries. Want to come with me?”

Before he could even reply, you grabbed Spencer’s arm and practically hauled him out of the booth, your pace hurried enough to suggest you weren’t about to take no for an answer. As you reached the edge of the table, you glanced over your shoulder, your eyes landing on Aaron. “Aaron, want a beer too?”

“Yes, thanks,” Aaron replied automatically, already beginning to rise from his seat.

But you stopped him with a light press of your hand to his shoulder, the touch so casual, so natural, that it sent his brain skidding into a corner. “No, no,” you said quickly, “you stay here. You and Rossi can… talk about that sport where 22 grown men chase a ball around for 90 minutes.”

...Soccer?!

Aaron didn’t want to be left alone with Rossi.

By the way the older man was already giving him that look - the one that made him feel both exposed and deeply irritated - it was obvious Rossi had no intention of letting him off easy. It didn’t help that you were still standing there, waiting for him to respond while his thoughts were stuck looping around the fact that your hand had just been on his shoulder.

“Soccer?” Aaron asked finally, arching a brow in an attempt at nonchalance.

“Yes, that,” you said, flashing a quick smile before turning toward the bar. As you walked away, dragging a wobbly Spencer under your arm, you threw a mischievous glance over your shoulder at Rossi. “I heard someone’s favorite team didn’t qualify for the Champions League semifinals.”

And just like that, you were gone.

Rossi shook his head, swirling the last of his bourbon with a smirk. “Cheeky.”

The best. How someone like you even existed, Aaron had no idea. And how lucky he was - unreasonably, undeservedly lucky - to share the same earth, the same air, the same fleeting moments as you.

“She’s relentless,” Aaron replied, his tone carefully neutral, though by the smitten look he had on his face he certainly wasn’t fooling anyone - not Rossi, but hopefully still himself.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Rossi quipped. “Relentless suits her. Works on you, clearly.”

He started stroking the side of his index finger with his thumb - an unconscious habit he was positive Rossi had already clocked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means she’s the only one who could drag you out of the house tonight, and we both know it,” Rossi said, tapping his fingers lightly on the edge of his glass.

Amazing. Subtlety, as usual, was nowhere on Rossi’s game plan.

Aaron shot him a warning look, but Rossi, as always, pressed on. “The rest of us have been trying to get you to come out for weeks, and you’ve shot us down every time. But her?” He nodded toward the bar, where you were now laughing at something Spencer said - or, God help him, did. “One phone call, and here you are.”

Aaron clenched his jaw. He’d shut you down before. Several times, in fact… and every single time, he’d felt guilty about it. He’d almost called you back afterward, too – almost though.

“She caught me at the right time,” he said finally, his tone flat, though his thumb hadn’t stopped brushing against his index finger. He kept his focus on the fake wood grain of the table, pretending it was infinitely more interesting than Rossi’s smug expression.

Right time. Sure. That’s what it was. A half-truth was still technically a truth.

And yet, before he could stop himself, his gaze lifted toward the crowd, scanning the bar until he found what he was looking for… not you. Definitely not you.

He was just… checking if Derek had started one of his signature dance moves yet. That was it. Because it wasn’t a night out until Derek was doing the spin or the body roll. Just keeping tabs on his team. Responsible leadership and all that.

With the very corner of his eye, maybe, he caught a glimpse of you at the bar. Pure coincidence. A side effect of good peripheral vision.

Rossi snorted beside him. Aaron didn’t need to look to know the man had caught him mid-definitely-not-checking-on-you “Sure kid,” Rossi said, his tone dripping with disbelief. “Did she also catch you at the right time when you casually decided that tonight was the night to show off those biceps you’ve been hiding under your button-downs all winter.”

Aaron shook his head, exhaling sharply. “You’re reading too much into this.”

“Am I?” Rossi countered, his grin softening into something closer to understanding. “Or are you just trying too hard to pretend you don’t feel anything for her?”

Aaron didn’t respond, just tensed, jaw tightening as he reached for his glass of water - the one you had left for him before he even got here, because you knew his throat tended to go dry after car rides. Weren’t you just the most thoughtful person on the planet?

He took a slow sip, pointedly avoiding Rossi’s gaze.

“How long are you planning to keep this up?” Rossi continued, his voice gentler now, though still laced with exasperation. “It’s already been ten years, Aaron.”

Oh, fantastic.

Ten years.

Thanks for the reminder, Dave.

Of course, he knew. He’d been planning to ask you to dinner to mark the milestone, even going so far as to dial your number - only to chicken out halfway through because, heaven forbid, you might think it was something more.

Actually, scratch that - he wasn’t just afraid you’d think it was something more; he was terrified you’d reject the idea that it could be something more and vanish from his life entirely. Because, you know, losing ten years of friendship over one misstep made perfect sense.

So here he was: milestone uncelebrated, phone call abandoned, still trying to think of a way to commemorate the occasion without it coming off as a grand romantic gesture.

Devious? Maybe.

Necessary? Absolutely.

Likely to end in disaster? Well, that was the theme of the decade, wasn’t it?!

Aaron froze for half a second, his grip tightening on the glass. “It hasn’t been a decade.”

Rossi arched an eyebrow. “Oh, no? She walked into the BAU ten years ago. Sat down at that desk right in front of yours. And you’ve been looking at her the exact same way ever since.”

“That’s not true,” Aaron said quietly, though even he could hear the lack of conviction in his voice.

Rossi leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his tone softening further. “Aaron, you might be fooling the others, but not me. So, what is it? Why are you holding back?”

Aaron sighed, setting the glass down. “Because it’s complicated, Dave. You know that. She’s… she deserves better than this. Better than me.”

Forty-two - just old enough for the years to start showing. A single father who barely saw his son once a week. Divorced. Obsessed with his job. Exhausted. Guarded. Haunted. Broken. Your boss.

Rossi hummed, sitting back again. “And you think ignoring how you feel is what’s best for her?”

Aaron didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the table - locked in, really, to the point where he was actively analyzing the artificial wood grain, bitter.

Years of progress in manufacturing, and they still couldn’t make it look real… oh. Rossi was staring at him.

“I get it,” Rossi said after a moment, his tone softer now. “You’ve been through hell, and I know you don’t want to risk losing her if you take the big step. But the way I see it, you’re already losing her - piece by piece - every time you convince yourself to keep quiet.”

Aaron’s shoulders stiffened, his jaw tightening as his fingers curled tighter around his glass.

“Don’t overthink it, kid. Just… stop fighting it.” Rossi added, his voice almost gentle. “Before you let another ten years slip by. And maybe think about telling her the truth about what happened two weeks ago.”

Aaron’s eyes snapped back to Rossi, his posture stiffening instantly. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on,” Rossi said, feigning exasperation. “You don’t think I know about the Rocher interrogation? The trip up to Riverhead to pick her up? Whatever that was?”

Aaron’s jaw tightened, his mind flashing back to the moment—standing in your doorway, the look of confusion and sleep still etched into your features.

“She told you about that?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“She didn’t need to,” Rossi replied. “I saw the way you were when you got back. The way you looked at her. Like you’d been reminded all over again why you feel the way you do.” He leaned forward, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “So, what happened?”

Aaron hesitated, his throat tightening. “Nothing happened.”

Exibit A: Gregory Rocher ☆ ★

You loved your job.

Maybe if you kept repeating that to yourself, the phrase would eventually trick your brain into ignoring the fact that your phone was ringing before sunrise - on your day off, no less.

“What do you want?” you grumbled, your voice still thick with sleep, raspy enough that you secretly hoped Hotch might mistake you for someone else and end the call.

“I need you.” His voice was steady, firm, and yet his choice of words couldn’t have been more… devious.

Anyways, you loved your job.

You loved how it gave you a hero’s excuse to avoid your mom’s bland Christmas dinner, complete with undercooked turkey and her interrogation about why you’d dropped the engagement to “one of her most brilliant students.” A student who, coincidentally, had also been the most pompous ass you’d ever met.

But you didn’t love being summoned at four in the morning.

“At four in the morning?” you shot back, your inhibitions still fast asleep, leaving your attitude free to roam - hopefully not too much, or he’d start comparing you to Rossi. “I’m in Riverside, Hotch. It’s going to take-”

Six hours.

It was going to take six hours to get to Washington, assuming the traffic gods were merciful and you magically developed the ability to teleport into clothes instead of the mismatched pajamas you were currently wearing.

“I’m coming to get you,” he cut in, his voice sharp and decisive. “You have one hour.”

You had never been more awake in your life.

He didn’t tell you why it would only take him an hour - because he wasn’t driving from D.C. That would’ve meant he left at 11 PM, and surely Aaron Hotchner had better things to do with his evening at that specific time.

No, he wasn’t in Washington. He was driving from New York. Specifically, Long Island City. Kate’s apartment.

Not that he’d ever tell you that. Heaven forbid you learn he was starting to see someone after the divorce. It wasn’t like it mattered or it was a big deal - according to him, anyway.

Instead, you were treated to updates about Jack’s latest obsession with olives - because that, of course, was vital information. Why? Because Jack’s father lived in constant fear he’d choke on one.

“What? Did you even sleep? What time did you even get out of your apa-”

Ten minutes ago, but of course, he wasn’t about to admit that. Still, you weren’t wrong - he hadn’t slept.

“I’ll wait for you outside your door,” he said briskly, his voice as clipped as ever. “Be quick.” And just like that, he hung up.

You loved your job.

You loved that your boss was such a gentleman to pick you up himself, unprompted, at four in the morning - truly, the epitome of chivalry.

You’d have to thank him for his thoughtfulness by offering him one of your mom’s infamous homemade Christmas cookies, knowing full well they could double as blunt-force weapons. The image of him trying to bite into one, only to realize he’d underestimated the hardness scale of baked goods, was enough to make the early wake-up call almost worth it.

He needed you? Well, you needed to see the look on his face when reality - and your mother’s culinary prowess - hit him square in the teeth.

You loved that he didn’t even bother to tell you what this was about. Instead, you were stuck in the passenger seat of his car, trapped in the limbo of the unknown for the next hour, trying to decipher if whatever he “needed” from you would require leaving an apologetic note for your mother.

Not that you cared what she thought - though her constant jabs at your career choices were getting painfully unoriginal. At the very least, you’d be giving her some fresh material to work with.

Instead, Hotch figured that shoving the file of one of the country’s most prolific serial killers into your lap would save him from enduring your commentary on the sheer absurdity of the situation.

The situation being, of course, that he’d let himself take advice from your nosy, wise-beyond-her-years neighbor Mrs. Lee. And maybe, she was right. Maybe there was something wrong with him.

Because it wasn’t just the big things, it was the smallest things that sent him spiraling. Like how his heart raced every time you walked into the bullpen, the way he couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances, or - God help him - the fact that he caught himself smiling like an idiot just because you’d shown up wearing a brand-new shirt.

It wasn’t rational.

It wasn’t like him to feel this way, to lose focus over something so mundane, to feel his chest tighten when you were around as if the very air you breathed was somehow different from everyone else’s. He was better than this.

He had to be.

It wasn’t because of feelings.

Of course not.

That would be ridiculous.

It wasn’t because he’d look for you in every room, or because he felt lighter when your laugh broke through the tension of yet another exhausting day. No, it wasn’t that.

It was something simpler, more primal, more explainable. Something like the fact that it had been far too long since anyone had touched him - not a handshake, not a brush on the shoulder, not anything. That’s what it was.

It wasn’t that he was unraveling because it was you. No, it was the absence of human contact.

The way it made every small gesture you threw his way feel magnified a hundredfold, leaving him raw and exposed.

It was about sex. Plain and simple.

That’s why he’d started cancelling on the team’s weekend plans. Not because he was rotting away in solitude, staring at the four walls of his house. No, it was because he’d started spending those mornings in someone else’s bed.

Kate. Quiet, predictable, uncomplicated Kate.

It was funny how, when he woke up in her bed, the ceilings always looked the same. For a brief moment, his mind would trick him, letting him believe he was back in his old house and Haley was still sleeping on his chest.

But some mornings, his mind played crueler tricks. Some mornings, it made him think it was your ceiling. That it was you shifting closer to him in the sheets, your arm brushing his as you searched for warmth.

Of course, it wasn’t you.

It could never be you.

Kate barely talked, and when she did, it was only about the job. That was fine. They didn’t need to talk. They didn’t have the time, and, frankly, they didn’t have the desire. They had better things to do.

And it worked.

It worked because now he didn’t unravel when your hands brushed his. He didn’t falter when you and he sat far too close at yet another precinct, staring at yet another case board. He didn’t catch himself lingering when he leaned over you, his arm brushing against your legs as he reached for the markers on your side of the table.

It worked because he could tell himself none of it mattered anymore. At least, that’s what he kept trying to convince himself.

Because if it wasn’t just about touch, if it wasn’t just the absence of connection, if it was something deeper, something more dangerous - then it would destroy him. And he couldn’t let that happen. Not again. Not with you.

“I assume you brought coffee,” you teased, rubbing your hands together for warmth as you slid into the passenger seat.

Without a word, Hotch reached into the cupholder and handed you a steaming cup, his fingers brushing yours briefly.

“Oh, you truly are the love of my life,” you joked, taking a noisy sip. It was perfect - exactly how you liked it, without even have to tell him.

Hotch instead stayed silent, focusing on the road ahead, more intense than usual.

Why did your words ache and swell in him at the same time? They were a joke - of course, they were a joke. You hadn’t meant anything by them.

But the quiet of the early morning, the faint glow of the first rays of sunlight spilling over the horizon… it amplified everything.

That it was just the two of you.

Alone in his car.

You were clearly dressed for work, but the early hour lent the kind of casualness that felt almost disarming. Like this wasn’t a job, but a road trip. No one else on the road, the occasional twinkle of Christmas lights still flickering from the houses you passed.

You broke into the infamous tin of cookies, offering him one like it was some peace treaty. He took it reluctantly and discovered that, when drowned in coffee, they were… tolerable. Barely.

It was warm, but not the warmth of coffee. Not the air conditioning humming in the car. Definitely not the double layers of undershirts he was wearing.

It was you.

You were a kind of warmth he didn’t know how to define. It was in the way your eyes lit up as you gazed out the window at the familiar landscapes of your childhood, pointing out places he hadn’t thought twice about. To him, they were just small-town markers: a gas station here, a church there, but you narrated them with the same enthusiasm his son had when describing his favorite superheroes.

Would you have been this close if he’d met you before? Like… when you were six?

Oh. Right.

He’d been eighteen then - one of the top students at GWU, buried under a mountain of coursework and juggling internships. Those days felt like a lifetime ago, nothing more than a distant blur. The only tangible reminder of that chapter was an old t-shirt he hadn’t laid eyes on in years.

And you? At six, you were probably busy mastering your third language – because everyone on this Earth knows 3 languages fluently at that age - and putting everyone else in your class to shame. Basically what you still did nowadays. Especially with Morgan.

Twelve years of age difference. Yeah.

On second thought, this whole scenario was horrifying. He’d have been a stressed-out college freshman, and you’d have been… what? Some tiny, smug, baby genius correcting his grammar with crayon-stained fingers?

Absolutely not. Forget he even thought about it.

And so he reached behind his seat, pulling out the file. The reason - the only reason - you were in the passenger seat beside him. Not because he needed an excuse to spend time with you. Definitely not.

Gregory Rocher.

This wasn’t a road trip. This wasn’t casual. This was work.

Your fingers hesitated before flipping the file open. “What’s this about?” you asked.

“Rocher claims there are more bodies,” Hotch said, his voice steady, but slightly tense. “He’s asking for a meeting.”

Rocher wasn’t just prolific - he was vile. His victims - women, all of them - had been strangled, violated, and discarded like garbage. Classic misogynist.

Unsurprisingly, you remembered the case as if you’d been there yourself. Hotch had made sure of that. It was one of the first unsubs he’d caught without you, and clearly, he hadn’t been handling it well.

The letters he’d sent about it read less like updates and more like a full-blown PhD thesis, packed with so many details you half-expected an appendix and a bibliography. It had been his way of coping, drowning you in enough information to make it feel like you were right there with him.

Sweet, when you first received them.

Almost sweet, looking back now.

My dearest, philosopher,

I miss you. Though I’m told this is a natural side effect of tolerating someone for so long, I can’t say I approve.

My new partner snores. Loudly. I’m fairly certain the sound violates several Geneva Conventions, but HR disagrees. He also insists on “bonding” over lunch, which I suspect is a euphemism for wasting my time.

It’s strange solving cases without you. This one - a nightmare of strangulations and discarded lives - had me up for nights. If you’d been here, I might have slept more. Or less. Let’s be honest, knowing us, probably less. But at least you’d have been there with some infuriating insight, turning the whole thing into a metaphor for humanity’s collective failings. You’d have annoyed me. And, somehow, made it better.

I hope Europe is treating you well. It better be extraordinary, or I’ll have to take issue with an entire continent. Write back soon, if only to remind me there’s someone out there who can still hold an intelligent conversation. Until then, I’ll just keep surviving this... barely.

Take care of yourself. I mean it.

Yours,

Aaron.

And if at the time, the sentence for Rocher was life without parole, recently, the courts had upgraded it to the death penalty. That change sparked all kinds of debates - within the team, the system, everywhere. Rocher didn’t care, though. He never cared.

He’d been taunting the justice system since the day they locked him up, and now, with his execution looming, he was claiming there were more victims. His final power play.

What always stuck with you, though - what made your skin crawl - was how he didn’t flinch when they handed down the death sentence. Not a twitch, not even in his eyes, no tremble in his hands, not even a flicker in his gaze. He gave no one the satisfaction of seeing a monster come undone.

You’d called that apatheia.

The Stoics had this concept, this ideal state of being, where you freed yourself from destructive emotions - excessive anger, fear, grief, or pleasure. Apatheia wasn’t about feeling nothing, but about staying so unshaken by success or failure, by fortune or tragedy, that you became untouchable.

That was Rocher. Or at least, that was the face he wore - unbothered, calm.

It was twisted, wasn’t it? The same man who had committed his murders in explosions of emotion, drowning in irrationality, now stood there in coldness.

And yet, maybe that was what had made him so dangerous - even in death, even at the mercy of a system he couldn’t control, he had still tried to grab the reins, to steer the narrative.

Requesting that interview? That had been his final-

Wait was that…

“Why’d you stop?” Hotch’s voice broke through the quiet of the car, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror before he turned his head slightly, glancing at you over his shoulder.

“I-” You faltered, your thoughts scattering as you noticed the faint curve of his lips. “You were smiling.”

“Was I? Really?” His brows lifted slightly, genuinely surprised.

His hands tightened just a fraction on the wheel, barely noticeable - just like the subtle flush creeping up his neck, blooming beneath the collar of his shirt.

That man was so ridiculously easy to fluster, which would’ve been endlessly entertaining if he didn’t immediately cut your fun short by pivoting to “important matters.” Suddenly, it was all about interrogation tactics and the riveting nuances of Rocher’s profile.

As if you hadn’t already skimmed the backstory a dozen times while he nitpicked through mock-interrogation scenarios like this was some FBI debate club. Really, your boss truly did suck.

Because by the time he’d finished dissecting every possible angle, there were still two hours left to endure… now what Unit Chief?!

“How’s your mother?” Hotch asked suddenly, his voice so soft it almost sounded like he was apologizing for bringing it up.

“Oh, she’s fine,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “In less than five minutes after I got there, we’d already hit the classics: worrying about my job, reminiscing about my failed engagement, and of course, lecturing me about how I don’t visit often enough. Because, you know, even when she’s not working, she’s still a professor.”

Hotch’s lips twitched, a near-smile that quickly faded. You’d told him about her before - how she was relentless, how she’d shaped you into the person you were today, constantly pushing you to know more, achieve more. And in the end, it worked, true.

On the surface, you always joked about it, like it was no big deal – even now. But he knew better. He knew what you meant when you said things like that – that if you ever stepped outside her carefully crafted expectations, you weren’t enough for her.

And while you’d perfected the art of shrugging off her comments, throwing back one of your usual biting remarks to dismantle her criticisms, he was sure it wasn’t that simple. He’d seen the way they lingered, even if you didn’t realize it yourself… you wouldn’t bring it up if it didn’t sting not even a little, right?

Or maybe that was just him being overly perceptive. Or worse - overprotective.

Him? Overprotective about you? No. He was just… looking out for you.

Like an older sibling would. A sibling who, admittedly, sometimes let his imagination wander into places it shouldn’t.

“Of course… I’m guessing you handled it with your usual grace,” he said dryly, already bracing himself for whatever sharp response you had locked and loaded. When it came to the things that came out of your mouth, “grace” was often a loose interpretation at best.

“By ‘grace’ - do you mean biting my tongue to avoid commenting on the absolutely astounding leap she made from talking about biologically cultivated vegetables to my ‘biological clock’? Then yes, Aaron. Loads of grace.”

Hotch let out a huff of air, something caught between a sigh and a laugh, shaking his head. “Why does she still press you like that?”

After all, you were in your thirties, with more degrees and certifications than he had fingers on one hand. You were financially independent, had built a career that people admired, and, honestly, you were the most incredible woman he’d ever met.

One of the most. You were a great friend. An invaluable colleague. An efficient subordinate. Subordinate.

Because he was your boss. And you were off-lim-

“I think she’s just bored,” you continued, glancing out the window at the passing scenery. “She’s semi-retired, her favorite golden boy student turned out to be a disaster, and I’m not exactly giving her grandkids to micromanage. So, she channels all that leftover energy into reminding me, repeatedly, of my poor life choices.”

“They’re anything but poor choices,” he said firmly. “Do you know how many agents I walked through the BAU last month because of a certain professor who inspired them so much they decided this was a career worth pursuing?”

You blinked, caught off guard. Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you turned your gaze out the window, shrugging in an effort to downplay his words. “Could’ve been anyone. Not necessarily me.”

"After the fifth one in a row quoted Plato at me when I asked them why they wanted to be a profiler, I’m positive they got that from you." He countered.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re just trying to cheer me up because you had the nerve to call me at 4 a.m. to help you interview a psychopath.”

“If that were true, I’d have said something much more flattering," he said, too offhandedly, like it wasn’t even something he had to think about.

You arched a brow, your lips curving into a smirk. “Such as?”

He shot you a brief glance, raising an eyebrow, having already profiled your blatant attempt at fishing for compliments. "Nice try, s-"

He bit his lip just in time.

“Oh, come on,” you pressed. “This is a safe space, it’s just the two of us. You can let it out.”

"You really think I’m going to fall for that?" He shook his head, praying to every deity ever worshiped by mankind that you weren’t referring to what had been seconds away from slipping past his lips.

“Fall for what?” you asked, all wide-eyed innocence. “My charm?”

Hotch chuckled, his eyes still focused on the road ahead, even though his fingers were tapping idly against the steering wheel. “Much more than your charm.”

Much more?

Weird.

Very weird.

And it wasn’t the only thing off about him that day. It got progressively more odd, more noticeable, especially when you were both sitting across from Gregory Rocher.

He had personally requested to speak with Hotch, insisting he would only cooperate with him. That wasn’t surprising. What was surprising - at least to Hotch - was that the moment you both stepped into the room, it was you Rocher greeted first.

“Oh, that’s the teacher?” he said sheepishly.

Before you could react, before you could even fully register the recognition in his tone, Hotch was already stepping in front of you, his arm coming up instinctively, shielding you.

“It’s professor,” he corrected, his voice flat and deadly. “Sit back down.”

And Rocher obeyed.

But his wording stuck with you, even as Hotch launched into the preliminary questions. Teacher - not agent, not even professor. Strange.

You didn’t have time to dwell on it. Rocher wasn’t going to give up the location of the extra body without a performance, dragging you both into whatever twisted fantasy he had planned - a game of control. No surprise there. You had prepared for this. Over-prepared, maybe. If only Hotch were sticking to the damn script.

Because the moment Rocher’s focus landed on you - his gaze drifting back to you more than once, even while Hotch was speaking - the Unit Chief shifted. He started talking more, cutting in faster, interrupting where he normally wouldn’t.

And Rocher noticed.

“How is it like to work with someone like him?” he asked you, slipping the question in the middle of detailing location specifics, as if he wasn’t aware of what he was doing.

Hotch barely let you breathe before biting back, “Don’t waste our time, Rocher.”

“See?” Rocher grinned. “Isn’t he way too controlling?”

Funny, coming from a man who strangled twenty-seven women with his bare hands.

You exhaled slowly, refusing to take the bait. “Where’s the body?”

But Rocher was enjoying himself now, stretching out as much time as he could, his focus was more on how the two of you were conducting the interrogation rather than the questions themselves. “She’s completely different from you, Agent Hotchner,” he mused, again, completely ignoring your question. “How does it work between you?”

“It’s none of your business,” Hotch said, his voice sharper now, edged with something harder. “Answer her question.”

Rocher ignored him, gaze still locked onto you. “Do you know what they say about opposites, Professor?”

For the sake of-

You tilted your head slightly, unimpressed. “There are completely contradicting interpretations throughout history and culture. You might want to be more specific.”

At that, Hotch turned his head sharply toward you, his posture tightening.

Rocher noticed. He grinned wider, feeding off the shift in energy.

“Oh, look,” he cooed, mockingly delighted. “The protector is mad that you’re engaging with me.” His eyes flicked back to Hotch, studying him. “Why don’t you scold her, Agent Hotchner? Bring her out of here, discipline her for misbehaving with her superior.”

“Really?” You sighed, unimpressed. “Are you also going to suggest he strangle me? Like you did with the other twenty-seven women?”

Rocher’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened.

“Oh, that’s hard, Professor,” he taunted, voice sing-song. “Considering he can’t even look you in the eye since you came back from Europe.”

Hotch’s entire body went rigid.

Rocher leaned in slightly, head tilting as if savoring the reaction. “Tell me,” he murmured, watching Hotch carefully, testing him, “Did he have to take an issue with an entire continent to be like this now?”

You froze. Choice of words – again - familiar.

Something at the back of your mind was screaming at you, urging you to put the pieces together, but Hotch was already moving.

“This ends here,” he said, voice flat, final. He rose from the chair, his hand pressing lightly against your back, signaling you to get up.

You didn’t move.

You were still hardly staring at Rocher, still listening, still piecing something together, something that wasn’t just a power play. Rocher exhaled, amused, shaking his head as his gaze flicked back to Hotch.

“She’s smarter than you,” he commented lazily.

Hotch barely reacted, but you heard it. The way Hotch said your name again - soft, almost pleading. You felt it. Soft... and hard? Opposites-

You turned back to Rocher. “What were you saying about opposites?”

His eyes glinted, gleeful. “What do people say about opposites?” he prompted.

Clearly, all those hours spent studying philosophy had been leading up to this - a discount fortune cookie moment with a serial killer. Truly, a proud academic achievement.

“Opposites attract,” you answered, immediately regretting it - because, fantastic, now you sounded like one of those corny motivational quotes slapped onto a coffee mug, probably collecting dust in your mother's kitchen cabinet.

Hotch called your name again, firmer this time, but even he hesitated when Rocher’s grin turned knowing. “Do you believe that, Y/N?”

Speechless.

Hotch stiffened.

His voice dropped, threatening. “You don’t get to call her that.”

Rocher chuckled. “Jealous you’re not the only one who can?”

His hand slammed down on the metal table, the crack of impact ricocheting off the walls and straight into your ears. Rising from his chair, he leaned over the table, his frame so massive that it cast a shadow over Rocher.

"Shut up."

Goosebumps.

Hotch was one of those people whose voice didn’t need to be loud to be lethal.

But this time, it was.

For the first time since you’d met him, you heard him raise his voice too.

Although Rocher was still smiling.

Hotch stared him down for a few seconds, the lights in the room only making his face look harsher - his eyes darkened, accentuating the bags beneath them and the sharp line of his brow bone.

His nostrils flared, his mouth slightly parted, and then he said, “I don’t play games, Rocher. You collaborate, or you go back to rot. Now.”

“Funny, Agent Hotchner. I am cooperating. You’re the one getting all worked up.” Rocher’s tone was infuriatingly smug, but then his gaze slid back to you. “One of you is actually listening. The other is too emotional to see what’s right in front of him.”

You knew you’d hit rock bottom when, against all logic, you actually felt a flicker of pity for a serial killer - because he had just made the monumental mistake of calling Hotch emotional.

Without even a second thought. Without realizing what that meant.

What Hotch would do with that.

What Hotch would do to him.

No - you were terrified. And, somewhere deep inside, maybe even slightly tur-

“You’re stalling,” Hotch bit out, still leaned over the table.

“Oh, come on. I can’t spoon-feed two grown adults.” Rocher lifted his hands. “I already gave her something 'vital' - let’s just say that.” His smirk sharpened as his eyes flicked back to Hotch. “But at least she’s trying. You? You’re absolutely blind.”

Did it mean you were getting closer?

A flicker of something cold crawled up your spine. Opposites. A push and pull. You and-

The realization crashed into Hotch first, though. “There are two bodies.”

Rocher’s smile widened.

Oh, fuck him.

You and Hotch reached the same inevitable conclusion. Duality. Equilibrium.

The fundamental nature of opposition. Nothing exists in isolation - light is meaningless without darkness, fire without ice, predator without prey.

That’s why Rocher had been so fixated on it.

Why he had pushed you so relentlessly.

Why he had asked you - again and again - to define opposites.

Because one cannot exist without the other.

Because contrast is the foundation of meaning.

Because the presence of one demanded the existence of its counterpart.

Which meant-

Your throat tightened. “A woman… and a man.”

Rocher’s grin split open like something rotten. “Surprise.”

Surprise his ass.

The blood in your veins turned to ice. This wasn’t just different. This wasn’t just a twist.

This was a complete deviation of his M.O.

Rocher killed for sexual gratification. That was his entire pattern, his entire psychological makeup. He had a very clear type, a very clear need - and men weren’t part of it.

So, why?

You shot Hotch a look, and he was already thinking the same thing.

“Need a moment alone?” Rocher grinned.

Before you could respond, Hotch grabbed you by the wrist - completely unnecessary, honestly - and pulled you out of the room.

“Why the change in M.O.?” you asked at the exact moment he said, “Are you okay?” His hand settled on your shoulder - gentle, steady, ever so caring, apparently.

You blinked. “I’m fine, Aaron. You’re the one I’m worried about.”

Because, honestly? The image of him completely losing control out there was still playing on a loop in the back of your mind.

But for some reason, he didn’t answer.

Instead, he exhaled sharply, shaking his head, back to business. “It doesn’t make sense. He has a very specific victim type - all single women in their thirties. He finds them, seduces them…”

“Lures them to dates,” you continued, your voice quieter now, like saying it aloud made it heavier. “He needs control so badly he violates them before and after they’re dead. Strangulation - it’s not just about the kill, it’s about feeling the life leave their bodies. He wants to experience everything.”

Hotch’s expression hardened, his voice dropping to a murmur. “A serial rapist doesn’t just become an omnivore.”

“No… and we’re also assuming he used strangulation on both victims,” you pointed out. “For all we know, he could have changed his method.”

Hotch nodded along, already processing it. “He must have focused more on the woman. Maybe the man was a casual vic-”

“Philosooopheeer.” Rocher’s voice rang out from the monitor in a sing-song tone.

Your breath caught.

What the hell?

And yet - despite the weight pressing down on your chest, despite the sudden static in your mind - his name still slipped past your lips.

Barely a whisper. Barely a breath. But it was there.

“Aaron-”

Rocher’s voice hummed through the speakers again. “Philosopher, the opposites.”

Your pulse pounded against your ribs.

Loud. Drowning everything else.

“Aaron-”

Softer this time. Shaky. Uncertain.

Then - warmth.

The solid, steady warmth of his hand on the curve of your back.

“You’re the only one who calls me that.” You swallowed hard, not even glancing at him, eyes locked onto the monitor. “How does he know?”

Hotch’s fingers curled just slightly against your back. “Don’t let this affect you,” he murmured.

But even he wasn’t unaffected.

Even he wasn’t untouched.

Because now, beneath the steady mask, he felt guilty of bringing you there with him in the first place.

At this point, Rossi made a mental note to reward himself with that indoor pool he’d been dreaming about - because if he managed to get even one step forward with Aaron Hotchner, Denial Incarnate, he deserved a damn medal.

“It’s crazy. They’ve been grid-searching an entire forest for a week, and still - no bodies,” Rossi declared, shaking his head.

“I fear it’s only going to get worse now that Rocher’s dead,” Aaron said, voice low. “Everyone’s starting to believe it was his last move to buy himself more time.”

“To feel in control one last time,” Rossi mused.

He caught how it took a second too long for Aaron to respond. “I guess so…”

Except, judging by the way Aaron was suddenly hyper-focused on Rossi’s hair - definitely not admiring its painstakingly maintained perfection, which, by the way, was an absolute waste tonight, considering he’d already lost the woman he’d been eyeing for the past five minutes thanks to all this foolery - Rossi figured something else was going on.

And sure enough, when Aaron parted his mouth, Rossi was pretty damn sure it wasn’t to ask about the elite hair-gelling techniques he’d been mastering since the '70s.

No, it was because, right behind him, at the bar, a man - a male specimen - was currently eyeing you and Spencer.

Rossi sighed, barely hiding his smirk.. “You’re an ass-clown, Aaron.”

Just a clown in a short sleeved polo and jeans, watching a circus only he cared about.

“Can I pay for what that lovely lady and her magic broomstick ordered?” a voice drawled behind you, oozing with the kind of misplaced confidence that could only belong to someone deeply unburdened by self-awareness.

Spencer froze mid-sentence.

You turned around, only to be met by a tall, dark-haired guy, probably around your age. Objectively good-looking, sure - too bad he’d skipped cologne and decided to marinate in eau de fragile masculinity before stepping out tonight. A bold choice. Didn’t suit him. Didn’t suit anyone, really.

“Damn, the front view’s even better,” he smirked, his gaze shamelessly scanning you from head to toe. Funny how his ‘scanner’ seemed to jam conveniently at your cleavage, lingering just a second too long - one second away from you deciding to poke his eyes out yourself.

You crossed your arms, leveling him with a look that should’ve sent him scurrying back to whatever hole he crawled out of. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that if you just tell me how much it was.”

He chuckled, leaning a little too far into your personal space. “Oh, don’t be like that, sweetheart. Just letting you know what I see. And what I see…” His gaze dipped again, lower this time, his lips curving into a grin that made your skin crawl. “…yeah, worth every penny.”

You set your jaw, your voice firm. “The bill.”

The human dumpster tilted his head, his smirk widening, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Aw, come on. Don’t be so cold. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing with him anyway?” He gestured lazily toward Spencer behind you, who was watching the exchange with wide, nervous eyes. “Bambi doesn’t even know how to treat you right.”

Spencer opened his mouth, his face reddening as he tried to stammer out a response. “Well, actually, the concept of ‘leagues’ in relationships is a social construct based on arbitrary perceptions of-”

…attractiveness and compatibility. In fact, research suggests that successful relationships are more strongly correlated with shared values and emotional intelligence than with surface-level traits… if only he’d let him finish.

“That’s enough,” you snapped, your hand twitching toward the pint of beer next to you - the one that was supposed to be Aaron’s.

Not that he’d technically mind if you repurposed it as a blunt-force weapon, but a small, rational voice in the back of your mind reminded you that he’d probably prefer it stayed in the glass rather than all over this idiot’s face.

Probably. Maybe. Jury was still out.

“Oh sweetheart don’t talk to me like that, I think of something a whole lot better to put in that mouth of yours.” He leaned in closer, his breath heavy with whatever cheap whiskey courage he’d choked down earlier.

He was dead.

“Get out of my face before I find something to shove into yours,” you snapped, your voice icy, “like my fist.”

And honestly, you weren’t just threatening.

You were ready.

Hand cocked, trajectory planned, already envisioning the satisfying sound of his ego shattering like glass.

But before you could even lift said fist, Spencer, sweet, wonderful Spencer, decided this was his moment to intervene, bless him. He probably thought he was saving this guy from imminent destruction, or maybe just delusional a warning might actually work to make him shut his mouth.

“Sir, I think you should-” Spencer started, his voice trembling slightly.

“Stay out of it, Einstein,” the man snapped, dismissing him with a lazy wave. “I’m just messing around. Though, I gotta say…” His voice dropped lower, his gaze doing yet another thorough inspection of everything except your face. “I kinda like it when you’re fiery.”

Oh, he was really begging for it now. Just as you were about to test out the self-defense moves Derek had been teaching you - already savoring the thought of your fist making satisfying contact with his smug face - you heard it.

A steady, deliberate rhythm approaching, marked by the kind of authority that sent most people scattering before they even knew why.

“Apologize,” came the voice from behind you.

Aaron. And you didn’t have to turn around to confirm it. You’d know that voice anywhere - overprotective party pooper.

The man scoffed, trying to laugh it off, but there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “Hey, man, I was just joking around-”

“No, you weren’t.” Aaron cut him off. “It was predatory.”

The man probably just learnt a new word judging by the look on his face. “What the fuck do you mean, buddy?”

“That you’re pathetic.” Aaron said, giving him one of his best stares. “That because your mother never bothered to hang your drawings on the fridge when you were a kid, you’ve spent your entire life demanding validation from people who want nothing to do with you - just like her. Pathetic. And predatory.”

Damn, brutal - judging by the way the guy flinched, Aaron had nailed every single assumption. Truly, the best profiler you knew. “What the fuck are you? A shrink? You don’t know me, man!”

Aaron didn’t flinch. “I don’t?” he said coolly, tilting his head slightly. “I know you’re addicted to porn because it’s easier for you to objectify women than to accept that no one can stand to be around you in for more than five minutes. The only people who tolerate you are the three equally repressed guys you met at the gym - guys as shallow as you are.”

And speaking of porn, that was officially the hottest thing you’d ever heard come out of Aaron Hotchner’s mouth. It ranked right up there with “We can take the rest of the weekend off” and “You’re right.”

And he even kept going “You’re the reason the average IQ in this country keeps dropping. And guess what-”

Oh, my God. Say more things. Call him shallow again. Please.

“What you just said constitutes sexual harassment under federal law.” Aaron turned slightly to Spencer, who straightened immediately, as if on cue. “Reid, would you mind explaining the legal repercussions for this kind of crime?”

Spencer despite being still a bit dizzy, started. “Suuure. Under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act and most state laws, sexual harassment is a punishable offense, particularly when the behavior is hostile or unwanted - like in this case.” He made sure to raise his finger at that, just to be clear of course. “Penalties can include fines reaching thousands of dollars, and in some cases, jail time, especially for repeated offenses or behavior involving threats.”

“And rest assured, I will personally ensure you face the maximum penalties,” Aaron said, his voice smooth and deadly. “Every aggravating factor: your persistence after being told to stop, your blatant disregard for boundaries.”

Oh, wow.

Hot.

Even hotter because you knew how meticulous Aaron was about getting every detail perfect.

You shouldn’t have been thinking it - not now, not here - but damn. His tone. His precision. The sheer, undeniable power behind every syllable.

Impossible not to notice. Impossible not to feel.

You could practically see it: in his office late at night, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, meticulously piecing everything together. File after file laid out in perfect order, his jaw tight, his brow furrowed. He’d pause only to sip his coffee, the tension in his frame so palpable it made your stomach flip just imagining it.

And no, you really shouldn’t be sexualizing your best-friend-that-also-happened-to-be-your-boss-haha-so-funny in the light of day.

Or night.

Or ever.

Anyways - whenever Aaron spoke like that, it was objectively impossible to ignore how magnetic he was. You could try to deny it, lie to yourself, pretend you were above it.

But deep down? He could get it.

Anytime.

Your respect, of course.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen.” he said, his voice cold and commanding, “You’re going to look her in the eye and you’re going to apologize. Then, you’re going to walk out that door and disappear. Because if I ever hear your name in connection with behavior like this again, I will ruin you. And trust me - I’m very thorough. Do I make myself clear?”

The man nodded hurriedly, his head bobbing like a puppet on strings. “I-I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Aaron’s gaze hardened. “Louder.”

“I’m sorry!” the man practically shouted, his voice cracking under the pressure.

“That’s a start, but you owe him an apology too.” You nodded toward Spencer, who had been standing slightly behind you, watching the exchange with wide eyes.

The man blinked, his head snapping toward Spencer. “I-I didn’t-”

“Oh, but you did,” you interrupted, your tone calm but firm. “You insulted him, called him names, and dismissed him like his voice didn’t matter. That’s harassment too, in case you didn’t realize.”

The man hesitated, looking like he’d rather crawl under the nearest table than follow through. Aaron shifted slightly beside you, crossing his arms. “I don’t think she was asking.”

The man’s face flushed with a mix of anger and humiliation, but he turned to Spencer, his shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry,” he said, though the words still sounded like they burned his tongue on the way out.

Spencer nodded, then, with a dramatic flick of his wrist, popped a fry into his mouth. “Aww, thank you,” he said, voice dripping with exaggerated politeness. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were having a perfectly pleasant evening before you decided to ruin it.”

The man and his fragile masculinity didn’t need any further encouragement. Still, Aaron’s eyes stayed on him until the bar’s entry door slammed shut behind him. Without even turning, he extended his fist toward Spencer. “Thanks for the backup, Reid.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he bumped it awkwardly with his own, the exchange so stiff and adorable that it was officially the cutest thing you’d ever seen.

“Are you both alright?” Aaron asked, his eyes lingering on you just a second longer than necessary.

Spencer, still gripping his fries like a lifeline, blinked up at Aaron with wide eyes. “I think I’m sober now,” he said matter-of-factly, shoving another fry into his mouth like it was a medical prescription for trauma.

“Leave it to you to use fried food as a coping mechanism,” you teased, though couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, it’s scientifically proven that carbohydrates can temporarily reduce stress,” he replied, ever the scholar. “And given the situation, I think this is a perfectly rational response.”

Aaron’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile as he looked at Spencer. “Whatever works,” he said, his tone quieter now.

Without thinking, you rested your hand lightly on Aaron’s shoulder. “Thank you,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his. “For everything.”

Aaron started to respond, but you barely caught it. Something along the lines of apologizing for stepping in when you could have handled it yourself - but he’d done it anyway because, apparently, you were about three seconds away from punching the guy.

You nodded along, but the words barely registered because your mind was already spiraling.

Don’t do it.

Don’t say it.

You’re going to make it awkward.

Yes, he’s your best friend, but also your boss.

Your very capable, very professional, very in-control boss. And when he went all out like that – damn - it was so ridiculously hot that you wanted to - NO. STOP IT.

Too late - you cleared your throat. “We’re off duty, right?” you asked, your voice more casual than it had any right to be.

Aaron blinked, slightly thrown, but nodded anyway. “Yes… why?”

You hesitated for a split second, your better judgment screaming at you to back out, but you ignored it, throwing caution straight into the wind. “Is it awkward if I say out loud that what you just did was extremely hot?”

You immediately regretted your word choice.

You should have said “said” instead of “did.”

You absolutely should have said “said.”

Aaron blinked – again - his lips parting slightly… probably because you hadn’t reached for some obscure 18th-century adjective like you usually did. Maybe because - oh.

His cheeks were turning pink.

Aaron Hotchner was blushing.

“That depends,” he said smoothly - too smoothly for someone whose face was actively betraying him - “how ‘hot’ are we talking?”

Oh. Oh.

He reused your stupid adjective. On purpose. Just to shove it back in your face.

Classic Hotchner.

And there it was again - that casual, teasing push and pull.

The ephemeral flirting that was supposed to be a joke. The kind that had been happening a little too often lately.

You grinned, leaning in slightly, lowering your voice to a whisper, playing the game. “You don’t want to know.”

“If you say so,” he replied, and made it worse by flashing you his dimples.

You opened your mouth, ready to fire back with something clever - or, at the very least, something that sounded clever in your head, but all of a sudden-

“OOOOOOH! Teach, Hotch!” Spencer’s voice sliced through the tension like a buzzer going off at the worst possible time. “Did you know that the term ‘hot’ as an expression of attractiveness has roots in medieval metaphors? They often associated passion with heat, and by the 19th century, it evolved into a colloquial term for desirability.”

Aaron cleared his throat, sitting back slightly, though the faint blush on his cheeks lingered. “Thank you, Reid”.

Spencer nodded earnestly. “Well, I figured since you were discussing the term, it was relevant.” He popped another fry into his mouth, clearly pleased with his contribution.

Aaron turned to you, his lips twitching again. “Educational and perfectly timed.”

A joke, as usual, a much more felt in your chest kind of joke.

“Right,” you replied, fighting back a laugh. “Nothing like a bit of etymology to really set the mood.”

Spencer blinked, tilting his head. “Set the mood for what?”

And that’s when it all started going downhill.

Because by the time you got back to the booth, Rossi had already vanished - true to form - leaving behind nothing but an empty glass, a generous tab for someone else to pick up, and the faintest whiff of cologne that somehow still managed to reek of wealth and desperation.

The entire team, instead, apparently driven to madness by the frustration of the past week, had decided to collectively ovulate.

You barely had time to sit down before Derek swooped in, snatching Spencer by the collar of his shirt.

“C’mon, Pretty Boy, found the one for you,” he announced, dragging a very confused - but at least mildly more sober - Reid toward some unsuspecting woman who, by some miracle, actually seemed to enjoy his rapid-fire tangents about quantum mechanics.

Oh, how you loved women in STEM.

“Good luck, Pretty Boy!” Derek called over his shoulder, already abandoning Reid in favor of sweeping his babygirl onto the dance floor. Penelope had been waiting all of five seconds before declaring, “Finally! Our song!” and yanking Morgan into a routine that was absolutely choreographed.

No way it wasn’t.

Emily, to her credit, lingered just long enough to trade a few snarky remarks with you and steal a sip of your drink before the woman she’d been eyeing all night finally gathered the courage to summon her over.

“Go get her,” you encouraged her, raising your glass in mock cheers.

“Don’t wait up,” Emily quipped, slipping out of her seat, but before she could take two steps, Aaron chimed in, his tone entirely too dry.

“Work at 8 a.m. tomorrow,” he reminded her.

Emily stopped mid-stride to roll her eyes before, for some reason, winking at you. “Yes, Sir,” she mocked, before sauntering off - uncharacteristically giddy.

And just like that, it was you and Aaron, sitting in a room thick with mating hormones. Not exactly ideal.

You’d survived through worse, at least. And still had nightmares of what happened a week ago.

Exibit B: Charcoal Grey ☆ ★

Never in your life had you been so thoroughly out-lawyered as the day you went to witness Hotch’s testimony in the trial of Brian Matloff - the unsub who’d awakened from a coma that had kept him blissfully unconscious since 2004. Now, armed with focal retrograde amnesia, the man claimed he didn’t remember committing the crimes. Convenient.

And because of that, along with a healthy dose of masochistic curiosity to see Lawyer Hotch in his natural habitat, you found yourself sitting next to Spencer in the courtroom, breathing the same oxygen as not one, not two, but three lawyers.

First, the defense attorney, who would inevitably deploy every slimy lawyer trick in the book to defend a man who killed innocent girls.

You could already feel your blood pressure rising just imagining how he’d try to mess with Hotch’s head, distorting the truth under the guise of legal gymnastics. All perfectly sanctioned by the law, of course, which made it even more infuriating.

Then there was Cece Hillenbrand, the prosecutor.

She’d just called Hotch to testify, and honestly, it went so well the jury looked about two seconds away from throwing roses at her feet. Too bad she was still a lawyer, and your opinion of lawyers hovered somewhere between mild distrust and praying for the meteor.

The blonde bob didn’t help either at all – for some reasons it felt way too reminiscent of Haley. Maybe that’s why Hotch was looking at her with what you could only describe as way too much eagerness, which she’d obviously mistaken as her golden ticket to his ride. Literally. That kind of ride.

You could also pretty much tell she was smitten.

Not that you could blame her.

Objectively speaking, Hotch was perfect.

Tall. Dark hair with those infuriatingly handsome streaks of gray that somehow made him look even more distinguished. That one single white eyelash on his left eye that was unfairly cute. Long eyelashes. The adorable crease in his brow whenever he was focused. A side profile Michelangelo would’ve killed to sculpt. That deep, warm voice capable of commanding a courtroom into instant silence. Veiny forearms. Big hands. Hairy hands.

And… other intimate physical details that you were definitely not going to let your brain linger on right now.

Oh, and yes – smart, of course. Brilliant, actually.

So perfect it almost made you want to warn her off. About how You’d been fooled by those kind, relentless hazel eyes yourself. But then again, she was a lawyer. And lawyers didn’t deserve such precious life-saving advice.

Or maybe it was because you simply did not have the guts to tell a complete stranger something like that without sounding like an absolute creep.

Over a man, of all things.

Worst of all possible fates.

And to complete the dreaded lawyer triumvirate - last but certainly not least - there was Hotch. Aaron. Lawyer.

If you started unpacking your thoughts on that man, you’d probably end up writing a book longer than War and Peace. Though one recent chapter might be titled: “How the numbers didn’t add up.”

Why, exactly, did he insist on dragging you to Virginia with Spencer and himself for this trial?

You hadn’t worked the original case back in 2004, and you definitely didn’t have any legal expertise to speak of. And yet, here you were.

But hey, whatever the Unit Chief wanted, the Unit Chief got, right?

Maybe it was because of the PhD you shared with Spencer in psychology - though if tactical strategy was the goal, the smarter choice would have been to leave you back in Quantico, far away from the courtroom circus.

Not that you were making the calls here. Clearly, this was all part of Hotch’s master plan to make you suffer among a sea of insufferable lawyers. Brilliant move, really.

“Now, my client ran from the police, A behavior that you called” the defence attorney stated as he looked into the file on the table “’A strong indicator of his guilt.’”

“Yes, that's correct.” Hotch confirmed.

Why was he even always so proper…

“Were you aware that he had an outstanding warrant at the time of his arrest?” the defense attorney asked, striding toward the testimony stand where Hotch sat, calm and composed.

“Yes. I believe it was for an automobile accident, a hit and run,” Hotch responded.

“So isn’t it possible that Mr. Matloff fled, not because he was guilty of murder, but because of this other warrant?” the attorney pressed.

You almost wanted to stand up and applaud the sheer stupidity of the question. Really, it took a special kind of talent to ask something that idiotic.

Unfortunately, Hotch couldn’t call him out for it - officially, anyway. “There were eight law enforcement officers in bulletproof vests. I doubt any reasonable person would assume-”

“A yes or no answer will do,” the attorney interrupted, smugly cutting him off mid-sentence.

“Fuck him,” you muttered under your breath, bristling as Hotch was forced to answer, “Yes, it’s possible.”

Beside you, Spencer turned, his eyes wide with shock. “Language!” he whispered harshly.

“I just can’t stand when rhetoric is used to distort the obvious,” you muttered defensively.

“They didn’t seem to bother you much earlier when it was Lawyer Hillenbrand using it,” he pointed out, voice barely audible but definitely smirking for reasons you were ignoring on principle.

“Because she’s supposed to be on our side,” you shot back. “I’m morally obligated to support this lawyer madness when it benefits us.”

“Are you sure it’s not about the fact that he interrupted Hotch?” Spencer pointed out quietly.

Well. Yes, of course… but it wasn’t just that, was it?

How could you be this mad over an arrogant idiot cutting someone off mid-sentence? Must be something more. Must be all these lawyers overcomplicating something so simple.

…As if you could talk.

“Are you sure it’s not cumulative frustration?” you shot back with a smirk.

Spencer tilted his head, considering. “Statistically, it could be both.”

You barely suppressed a laugh, biting the inside of your cheek as you turned your attention back to the stand.

Hotch, as always, remained calm and collected - but you still caught it. That faintest twitch in his jaw. The only visible sign of frustration as the attorney continued talking down on the very thing that had shaped all of your lives.

The very thing that was the reason why a ring was missing from Hotch’s hand.

The reason Spencer barely got to see his mom.

The reason you were alive today - and also why your life was constantly at risk. Opposites.

But sure. Let’s frame behavioral analysis as a pseudo-science. Let’s ignore the countless lives it had saved, the crimes it had prevented, the killers it had caught, just so this smug bastard could spin a cheap courtroom trick, already sensing the “If the FBI has gotten profiles wrong before, how can they be trusted now?” incoming from a mile away.

Oh, truly. Suck it.

But what really burned was the fact that to make this argument, he was standing there undermining Hotch’s credibility in a room full of people.

Hotch - who was the best profiler you knew. Bias or not, that was just a fact.

And now, you had to sit here, behave decently, and watch this clown parade his bullshit like it meant something.

“Having been wrong on those cases, isn’t it possible that you were wrong about Brian Matloff?” he attorney pressed on, undeterred.

“No,” Hotch replied simply.

“The fact is,” the attorney continued anyways, “behavioral analysis is really just intellectual guesswork. You probably couldn’t tell me the color of my socks with any greater accuracy than a carnival psychic.”

Hotch shot him a look that could have frozen water, and it almost made you laugh. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him, you thought, seething internally.

Oh, how you wished you were a carnival psychic right now. They always had crystal balls, and one of those would be just perfect to shove right up-

“Charcoal gray,” Hotch said.

You couldn’t help but smile. It didn’t even matter if he was right or not; it was so Hotch – that determination to prove he was right, no matter what. And of course, he had to do it with that understated sass.

God, you loved that about him.

The attorney, however, wasn’t as charmed. He spun on his heel and raised the hem of his pants, exposing his socks to the jury. “Well, look at that,” he said smugly. “He got one right.”

Hotch barely blinked.

“You match them to the color of your suit to appear taller. You also wear lifts and have had the soles of your shoes replaced. One might think you're frugal, but in fact, you're having financial difficulties. You wear a fake Rolex because you pawned your real one to pay your debts. My guess is to a bookie.” His tone was calm, measured - but the glint in his eyes told an entirely different story.

And God help you, you couldn’t look away.

This was the Hotch you first met.

The man who never held back when proving a point, who used logic and intellect as a weapon without ever raising his voice. Who didn’t need theatrics, just cold, undeniable facts to dismantle someone completely.

It was a pity, really - how he let others do most of the talking these days. How he stepped in only to make the big decisions, rarely taking the floor himself. You'd almost forgotten this side of him.

The side that made him who he was.

And watching him now - fully in his element, effortlessly dismantling someone with nothing but facts and razor-sharp precision - it was intoxicating.

And there was no point in even trying to deny it.

The attorney bristled, his face reddening. “I took this case pro bono. I am… one of the most successful criminal attorneys in the state,” he shot back defensively.

You nearly rolled your eyes.

Amateur mistake.

If there was one thing you’d learned in nearly a decade of bickering with Hotch, it was that the second wave always hit harder than the first.

And, predictably, it did.

“Your vice is horses,” Hotch continued, unbothered. “Your BlackBerry’s been buzzing on the table every 20 minutes, which happens to be the average time between posts from Colonial Downs. You’re getting race results. And every time you do, it affects your mood in court. And you’re not having a very good day.”

“That’s because you pick horses the same way you practice law,” Hotch concluded after a brief pause, his voice dropping ever so slightly. “By always taking the long shot.”

Next to you, Spencer whispered in awe, “Wow, that was so-”

Hot. Panties dro-

“Fascinating,” you cut in quickly, glancing at Spencer as he gave you a curious look.

The attorney, meanwhile, looked like he’d been sucker-punched. He opened his mouth, floundering for a response, but Hotch wasn’t done.

“If I’m not mistaken,” Hotch said, his gaze calm but piercing, “the results from the fifth race should be coming through any minute.”

Right on cue, the BlackBerry on the attorney’s table buzzed loudly, the sound slicing through the silence in the courtroom.

“Why don’t you tell us if your luck has changed?” Hotch asked smoothly, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat.

Because that – that - was your move.

He had picked up your habit—the one he teased you about constantly - of ending arguments with a question.

It was something that had been ingrained in you for years, thanks to an almost obsessive love of Socratic gnoseology - the idea that knowledge is not something you hold, but something you uncover through dialogue.

And your personal interpretation of it in which truth exists in the space between two minds, constantly shifting, constantly evolving.

So when a conversation ended, it didn’t really end - because there was always a question left hanging in the air, an invitation for the next step in the process.

And you did it all the time.

"That’s not how psychopathy works," Hotch had told you once, after you’d suggested a suspect might be forcing himself into emotional relationships as a way of imitating normalcy. "True psychopaths don’t feel the need to mimic emotions that serve no function for them."

"But if the imitation itself brings him a sense of control, doesn’t it serve a function?" you had countered, arching an eyebrow at him.

Hotch had opened his mouth, closed it again, then just shook his head.

"You always do that," he had muttered.

"Do what?" you’d replied

"Leave the conversation open-ended." He’d observed, looking into your eyes

“I do?” you’d replied, leaving him inhaling through his nose to avoid the urge to… do something about it… take the matter in his own hands.

Or there was that time on the jet, after a particularly difficult case.

You’d been sitting across from him, still dissecting the nuances of the unsub’s psychology, pulling apart the threads like you could unravel the truth if you just tugged hard enough.

"He killed because he needed to prove his own autonomy," you mused, more to yourself than to him.

"Or he killed because he was incapable of existing outside the parameters of control," Hotch countered, leaning back slightly, arms crossed, ever the counterweight to your theorizing.

You nodded, thoughtful, then tilted your head at him.

"But if control is a construct, then what does that say about our ability to assign guilt? Can you truly be responsible for something if the very foundation of your actions was never yours to begin with?"

The second the words left your mouth, Hotch exhaled sharply through his nose, then scrubbed a hand down his face.

"You know what it feels like talking to you sometimes?" he muttered, shaking his head.

You raised an eyebrow. "Do enlighten me."

He let out a long-suffering sigh. "Like I can physically feel your fingers poking around inside my brain."

A slow grin spread across your face. "Did I rub the spot that itches?"

The look he gave you could’ve scorched metal. "No."

His glare was so Hotchner™ that it sent you completely over the edge. You laughed – loudly - and the unexpected force of it was enough to make Derek, who was sitting across the aisle, rip off his headphones with a frown. "Did - did Bossman just make a joke?"

Hotch turned to him with the exact same withering stare, as if that alone was enough to erase the last minute from existence. Which only made you laugh harder.

You wiped a tear from your eye, struggling to breathe. "He’s hilarious, isn’t he?" you managed between gasps, leaning back into your seat, while Hotch sat there looking like he was seriously considering whether the seat next to Rossi was available - and if relocating mid-flight was a viable option.

And yet -

Here he was now.

Doing the exact thing he’d always scolded you for.

Ending with a question.

Leaving it open-ended.

Again - like truth itself was something that couldn’t be pinned down - something that lived in the dialogue between two forces rather than in any single answer.

Like the moment you were sure you’d found it, it had already shifted into something else.

And much to your utter surprise - Hotch was looking directly at you as he said it. Was it acknowledgement?

Or maybe he’d finally started to see what you’d always known.

The best arguments never really ended, they just evolved.

Much like this cross-examination.

“Your honor, this is-” the attorney began, his voice strained.

“What do you want me to do?” the judge interrupted, giving him a stern look. “Either show us your Blackberry or cut him loose, counselor.”

The attorney swallowed hard, his confidence now thoroughly shattered. “Nothing further,” he muttered, retreating to his seat.

“Wise decision,” the judge said dryly. “Court will be adjourned until 9 a.m. tomorrow.” The gavel came down with a sharp crack, signaling the end of the session.

As the room began to empty, you stole another glance at Hotch, who was helping Cece Hillenbrand to gather their notes, completely unbothered by the absolute public execution he’d just performed. If you weren’t careful, you were going to need a good excuse for why you couldn’t stop smiling.

When the case finally wrapped, a few days later, you, Hotch, and Spencer were busy putting files back into the box for the drive home when Cece made her way over, phone in hand.

“It’s over,” she announced, a satisfied smile on her face. “Matloff’s pleading out.”

“Congratulations,” Hotch said, his tone polite but neutral, as she stepped closer - closer specifically to him, as if the rest of the room – ergo, you and the Doctor - didn’t exist.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she added, voice warm, eyes locked on Hotch like he was the only person in the room.

Which was fascinating, considering you and Spencer were also standing right there.

Not that she seemed to notice - because apparently, furniture didn’t get acknowledged. You shot Spencer a side-eye just to confirm he was catching this absolutely shameless display.

He was.

"First round’s on me," she added, flashing an even wider smile, completely ignoring the fact that -unbelievably you and Spencer had also worked on the profile. But sure. All Hotch.

He barely held back a laugh, suddenly finding a very unnecessary interest in the files in front of him.

Meanwhile, Hotch didn’t miss a beat. "No, we’ll take a rain check. We’ve got a long drive," he said casually, already reaching for the evidence box. "Maybe another time."

A long drive?

Sure. If you considered three hours and forty minutes long.

You’d done worse on less sleep. Honestly, if Hotch wasn’t so insistent on driving all the time like it was some kind of sacred duty, you could’ve shaved at least forty minutes off that easily. And if he got tired, he knew you’d switch - just like you always did.

No. This wasn’t about the drive. Definitely not.

And the realization made your heart feel just a little lighter.

The moment Hillenbrand was out of earshot, Hotch turned back to you and Spencer with the nonchalance of a man who definitely hadn’t just sidestepped the most obvious invitation to spend the night with a woman who, by all accounts, was exactly his type.

"Where are we staying for dinner?" he asked, tone all business.

You raised an eyebrow. "Here?" You gave him a look that, if translated, would read: Are you serious?

"If it gets late, I can drive on the way back so you can rest," Hotch said, so earnestly matter-of-fact it was almost convincing—almost.

Either he completely missed your point, or he was choosing to ignore it.

Thankfully, Spencer wasn’t one to let things slide.

"Didn’t you just implicitly tell Mrs. Hillenbrand you couldn’t stay up late?" he asked, brows furrowed in genuine confusion.

You bit back a laugh, leaning casually against the table. "Yeah, Hotch," you echoed, tilting your head toward him with exaggerated innocence. "I thought we had a long drive ahead of us? Wouldn’t want to keep you up past your bedtime."

Hotch shot you and Spencer one of his looks, the desired effect unfortunately ruined by a twitch of his lips. “I figured you’d want a real meal before we hit the road”

Before you could throw another quip his way, Hotch lifted the evidence box and reached the door first, holding it open for you and Spencer. As you stepped through, you felt it - his hand, settling lightly at the small of your back, guiding you forward.

Brief. Fleeting. But it sent a shiver down your spine you tried to brush off the best you could.

It wasn’t the first time he’d done it – all of these overly-polite, instinctive gestures like that seemed second nature to him - but lately? It had been happening a lot more.

"Thanks, Hotch," you said, not sure whether you were thanking him for the touch or for the fact that chivalry just seemed to effortlessly exist within him - either way, you didn’t dare look at him.

"Of course," he replied.

Weird.

Again.

Still - not as weird as when he seemed to completely break character at the diner later that night.

It had started off normal enough - ordering, small talk, Spencer rattling off statistics about late-night dining habits until Hotch shot him a look that had him switching to stirring his coffee instead.

And then? Then Hotch had stolen a piece of your dessert.

Just casually reached over with his fork, sliced off a bite of your cheesecake like it belonged to him, and popped it into his mouth before you even had time to register what had happened.

"What the-" you stared at him, utterly scandalized.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look remotely guilty. Just set his fork down neatly and said, "To celebrate the victory."

You blinked. "That was my celebration."

"You were taking too long," he said, so matter-of-fact you almost choked.

Spencer, across the table, looked back and forth between the two of you like he was watching an alien encounter.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, Hotch leaned back in his seat, sipping his coffee, and went off on a full tangent about his time in law school.

As if you hadn’t had enough of lawyers in the past few days because of him.

As if he hadn’t just stolen your damn dessert.

And yet - you let him talk.

Because there was something almost soft about it, the way his voice dipped slightly as he recounted late nights, textbooks, memorizing case law until his head ached. He wasn’t bragging - just reminiscing. Something about the way he spoke made it feel less like he was listing facts and more like he was inviting you into a part of his life that he rarely, if ever, shared.

And then, just as you were starting to enjoy it-

"You know," Spencer interjected, "technically, eating from someone else’s plate without permission is a form of food aggression, commonly observed in pack animals."

Hotch didn’t waste a second. "If you want a bite too, Reid, you can just ask the Professor."

Spencer went bright red.

You grinned, rolling your eyes. "Sure," you said easily, nudging your plate an inch closer. "And while you’re at it, go ahead - take another bite yourself. Since we’re apparently just ignoring the rules of polite society now."

Hotch met your gaze, unreadable for a moment. Then—without breaking eye contact—he reached forward with his fork, deliberately sliced off another bite of your cheesecake, and ate it.

Slowly.

Your jaw dropped.

You gasped, scandalized. "Aaron."

He barely blinked. "It’s a very good cake."

Your outrage. Your absolute disbelief. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to fight him or-

No. Fighting. Definitely fighting.

"So uncivilized…," you muttered.

You had never hated a man more in your life. He would pay for this. Someday.

"Well," you said finally letting out a nervous laugh, acknowledging the obviously abandoned booth empty except for you, Aaron, and was that… yes. Emily’s scarf. "Looks like it’s just the two of us."

Aaron smirked, looking straight into your eyes. "So it seems."

And of course you had to smile back, trying to keep things casual despite the very real, very undeniable fact that his gaze lingered just a second too long. Or maybe two – or three.

Must have been the beer - even though you knew far too well it would take a lot more than a few drinks to knock Aaron Hotchner into nonsense.

Especially when the silence that followed felt… weird.

Not uncomfortable, just strange enough to make you want to do something about it - something you’d been itching to do all night but hadn’t been able to, because apparently, you had to unpaidly babysit Spencer and entertain Rossi until the very man sitting across from you finally graced everyone with his presence.

"So…" You exhaled, tilting your head toward the dance floor. "Are we just going to rot in this booth all night, watching everyone else have fun?"

Aaron shook his head, already defensive. "I don’t rot."

"Oh, forgive me," you said." Incorrect wording choice, my dearest sir. Are we to simply remain here, languishing in solitude, whilst the rest of our merry company partakes in revelry and joyous abandon?"

Although, judging from the look he gave you, despite the linguistic accuracy, he wasn’t really fond of your impeccable sense of humor.

You sighed and gestured toward the dance floor, further solidifying your case. And - just in time to really drive your point home - even Spencer was now being dragged into the chaos in real-time. The Unit Chief truly could not rely on semantics this time.

A phenomenon so shocking that Aaron actually sat up slightly, his mouth opening as if to intervene, even before you could ask, "I don’t dance," he said.

You scoffed. "Liar."

Because oh, you would never forget the day you first found out that him, of all people, was actually a very good dancer.

Which was exactly why you should have known better.

If only you had been thinking with your brain instead of getting distracted by the way his biceps and veiny forearms flexed when he leaned his elbows on the table, you might have realized what he was actually saying:

"I don’t dance… with you."

Not tonight.

Not when he was still, every once in a while, subtly checking to see if your dress had somehow shifted a shade darker shade of navy blue - or if it was still black.

So thorough, Aaron. Really.

And so, instead of admitting any of that, he just huffed, reaching for another excuse. "They don’t play old songs for old people like me."

An impressive effort - really. Especially considering the Rihanna song currently blasting in the background.

Even more impressive? The fact that this exact song - the one he had just written off as not for his demographic - was one of many he had been singing at full volume in the car on the way to the bar.

And he had felt so relieved that you’d never come to know that particular detail. Which made it all the sweeter when, instead of humoring him, you simply-

Stood up.

No teasing. No cat and mouse. Just turned on your heel and disappeared into the sea of sweaty, dancing bodies.

That…

That wasn’t the plan. Or, at least, it was supposed to be his win.

Except now, he was the one sitting there.

Alone.

In that rotting booth.

Watching the dance floor.

Watching for you.

Catching glimpses of you as people moved, blocking and unblocking you like a shifting tide.

And he hated it. Truly.

So when, inevitably, a song old enough to be considered "an old song for old people like him" - despite being a timeless disco classic and released eleven years after he was born (but hey, that’s the oldest a bar DJ could get) - started playing through the speakers…

He knew his fate was sealed.

Dancing Queen. How ironic. This must have been the national holiday of "let’s all make fun of Aaron Hotchner."

And so, because his earlier conditions had been rendered completely inefficient, you were back at the booth within seconds, ready to claim your hostage.

Quite literally the happiest hostage.

"I do not dance," he tried again, but it was already too late, you were grinning, already tugging him up by the arm.

"Come on," you insisted, already swaying, already singing - "’Cause you can dance, you can jiiiiiiiive…’"

You linked your arm through his, looping it like something straight out of a Regency-era ball, because if the man was so insistent on playing up his age tonight, then he might as well fully commit, embracing some proper old-fashioned social etiquette while you were at it.

He half-protested, half-laughed - despite himself - as you dragged him toward the dance floor.

On the outside? He looked like a dried prune.

Scowling.

Trying desperately to suppress every ridiculous flutter in his stomach as you danced right next to him - casually grabbing his shoulders, sliding your hand along his biceps, anything, really, just to let him loosen up.

And, most importantly, since you were a rancorous little thing, to embarrass him.

So, carefree, you pointed straight at him during the chorus, belting out, "Dancing Queen, young and sweet, only seventeen!"

…Really?

Aaron faltered, frowning. "I’m forty-two."

And somehow, that tiny moment of confusion cracked his defenses.

He laughed.

And just like that, you had him - always had him, if he were honest.

It’s just that this moment - maybe in its genuineness, in the memories that pulled him back - was making it so much harder to fight.

Because just like now, you had dragged him onto the dance floor nine years ago, on that ridiculous night when you had somehow convinced him to dance to that choreographed routine of "It’s All Coming Back to Me Now."

Again, how ironic, because now- as he danced with you, nowhere near as gracefully as that night, but laughing anyway, belting out off-key lyrics with you, twirling you just for the joke-

It was all coming back to him.

No need to fight the fall anymore.

You were both undeniably off-key, the dance moves were questionable at best, and there were far too many exaggerated hand gestures and mock performances happening between the two of you.

But for once, he wasn’t overthinking.

Wasn’t pulling away.

Wasn’t bracing himself against the idea of enjoying something just because.

Because, just like he could be himself alone in his car, singing off-tune with the windows rolled up, so could he be himself with you.

No fear, no hesitation. Just this. Falling for someone in a way that wasn’t grand or poetic.

Not a bunch of doves trained to spell your name in the sky.

Not a dramatic sunrise over a canyon shaped like a heart.

Not a sweeping declaration in the middle of a rainstorm.

Not the kind of love that finds its pleasure after pain.

Just a bar, a stupid song and you.

He was yours.

But would you be his?

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