#ssadado

[ssa-dado]

Umm… where do I even begin? THANK YOUUUUU!!! To each and every one of you (sending you all a big ollll’ smooch)

Sadly, I can’t ship a box of ragù and pizza to express my undying gratitude, so I’ll have to make it up to you in other ways

I am TAKING REQUESTSSSS for one-shots!!! YEEHAW!!

For now, I’m only writing Hotch x Reader

I won’t say I don’t write smut, but let’s just say I’m very fussy, very vanilla, and very boring about it. If you want to request some, we can chat in the DMs (sorry, I didn’t choose the sex trauma, the sex trauma chose me)

Everything else? Fluff, whump, hurt/comfort, angst? Bring it on.

One little disclaimer: I don’t think my brain is imaginative enough for full AU Hotch. I think that’s the right tag (I’m basically a boomer, don’t judge me) to clarify - I probably won’t write something like “Hotch is a firefighter and you’re the cat stuck in the tree,” but “Hotch is your son’s soccer coach” is fair game :))))

And finally - most of you probably know me from the burden of my existence, aka the Symposium series. If you want to send in requests for that universe, PLEASE DO. I will literally cry. I’m obsessed with them if you couldn’t already tell

(Edit: If you want to send in some Symposium ones, keep in mind that I’d like to script the main moments into the main chapters- first date, proposals, wedding, etc. However, I’m open to writing random dates, fiancé life, wedding anniversaries, etc.)

That’s it, I love you all, go forth and request! My inbox is open for each of you!!! (and so are my legs)

My inbox (and my legs) are opened until next Friday - but if you already have some requests send them in so I can already work on them!!!

[ssa-dado]

Barbri Legal Handbook - SOS

Aaron Hotchner × fem!bau!reader

Gernre: fluff

Summary: It's a surprise. Philosopher & Lawyer doing Philosopher and Lawyer things... (In the cozy warmth of their new home, amidst unpacked boxes and playful banter, a teasing challenge unfolds between you and Aaron Hotchner while you refuse to unpack his legal handbook)

Warnings: Don’t read this in public

Word Count: 3.2k

Dado's Corner: pHi wHy dO yOu oNly wRiTe sAd sToRiEs?!?! HAPPY? Now, brace yourself for another day or two of Philosopher for Lawyer content starvation. Set *REDACTED* years in the future, of course. Though, I must say, I firmly believe it's far more painful to know exactly how they are together rather than simply imagining it. Remember, ignorance is bliss!

masterlist

Boxes lay scattered across the room, illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun. The warm, cozy glow wrapped around you both as you worked amidst the chaos of unpacking, but your eyes remained fixed on the last unopened box, a box you had no intention of touching.

Aaron lounged comfortably in the armchair, wearing a short-sleeved polo that showcased his muscular arms, the veins visible beneath his skin every time he moved. His casual, relaxed posture made him look like a living sculpture, a Greek statue in repose, your favorite one.

“Love, you’ve been staring at that box for minutes,” he teased, his voice low and smooth, the dimples in his smile deepening as he watched you. “What’s wrong?”

You crossed your arms, pretending to be stern, but you couldn’t stop the way your gaze lingered on the way his biceps flexed with each shift. “I’m not touching your Barbri legal handbook,” you said. “I swear I’ll burst into flames if I even touch anything remotely related to law.”

Aaron’s lips twitched with amusement, his eyes shining with a familiar, teasing challenge. “That can’t be true,” he replied, deadpan. “You touched me last night - a lot - and yet, here you are. No signs of combustion.” The deliberate innuendo hung in the air as he watched the flush creep up your cheeks.

“Aaron Hotchner,” you gasped, caught off guard by his brazenness. “Someone’s sleeping on the couch tonight,” you shot back, attempting to sound stern, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. He knew he had you, and the triumphant glimmer in his eyes confirmed it.

His grin widened, the playful mischief in his gaze unmistakable. “I’d be fine with that,” he said, his eyes lazily scanning the room. “But we don’t even have a couch yet. All we have is this armchair - and honestly, I don’t mind, since you always end up right here,” he teased, patting his lap with a deliberate, slow movement.

You stepped closer, trailing your fingers along the back of the chair, feeling the fabric under your touch as you leaned in. “Maybe you’ll end up on the carpet, then, Hotchner,” you challenged, your voice dropping to a low, almost seductive tone as his eyes darkened, the playful atmosphere deepening with a palpable charge.

He arched a brow, his wicked smile broadening, dimples showing. “Fine,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sent a thrill through you. “But don’t pretend you wouldn’t join me there. You’d miss me too much.”

You moved even closer, the warmth of his body drawing you in, until you were only inches away. “Oh, I’d make you earn that privilege,” you murmured, your voice soft but teasing, your fingers sliding down to rest on the armrests, caging him in.

Your closeness heightened the tension between you - thick, unspoken, and electric.

Aaron’s hands moved deliberately, his fingers slipping around your waist to rest on your hips. He traced slow, lazy circles with his thumbs, the sensation sending shivers up your spine. “Would you?” he whispered, his voice rough with desire, pulling you closer until you hovered over his lap, the distance between you nearly gone.

“Absolutely,” you whispered, your breath hitching as you leaned in closer, your lips hovering just a breath away from his. The anticipation crackled between you like a live wire, drawing you closer until you could feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, the intensity in his gaze making your heart skip.

With a smooth, confident movement, Aaron pulled you down onto his lap, his strong hands guiding you to straddle him. A surprised gasp escaped you as your thighs brushed against his, his arms wrapping around your waist, settling you snugly against his chest. His muscles flexed beneath the fabric of his polo, and you could feel the heat of his skin radiating through your clothes, his steady breaths mingling with yours.

“Try me,” you murmured, your lips so close to his ear that they barely grazed it, your breath hot against his skin.

Aaron’s response was slow and deliberate, a deep, low chuckle vibrating through his chest as he lifted his face to yours. His lips found the corner of your mouth, brushing a teasing, feather-light kiss that left you wanting more.

Then, with a precision that only he could master, he began to move down - each kiss purposeful, perfectly aimed.

He traced the line of your jaw, lingering at the curve where your pulse fluttered, a gentle pressure that made your breath catch. He moved down the side of your neck, his lips lingering longer at each spot that made you shudder. It was as if he had memorized every inch of your skin, every place that sent a rush of warmth through you, every reaction mapped out in his mind.

He kissed lower, slow and controlled, the softness of his lips against the tender skin below your ear sending a shiver down your spine. He paused there, pressing a slow, savoring kiss as if daring you to hold onto your resolve. Your body betrayed you, your eyes fluttering shut, a soft sigh escaping your lips. You felt your defenses waver, but somehow you stayed firm.

“No physical contact for the first 30 minutes tonight,” you managed to say, though your voice was unsteady, breathy. A teasing smile curved your lips as you drew a finger down the center of his chest, feeling the strong, rapid thump of his heartbeat beneath your touch. You knew how much he needed you, how each carefully placed kiss affected him just as deeply as it did you.

Aaron’s gaze turned molten, his lips parting slightly as he caught your hand in his, pressing it firmly to his chest, holding you there as if to ground himself. “The maximum I can give you is five minutes,” he breathed, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur that made the air between you feel even hotter. His breath, warm and teasing, mingled with yours, making your pulse quicken.

“Ten,” you countered, your voice firm despite the thundering of your own heartbeat. You held his gaze, refusing to look away, the playful challenge lighting a fire in both your eyes.

Aaron’s expression softened with a deeper emotion - affection, desire, and a quiet challenge - as he leaned in closer, brushing a tender, feather-light kiss against the tip of your nose. The gesture was gentle, careful, as if relishing the anticipation, the build-up that had always been uniquely yours.

Then, he pulled back just enough, leaving you yearning for more, the tension simmering hot and heavy between you. “Deal,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive drawl that made your whole body feel like it was on fire. “But what you just did? That’s called a negotiation, Lawyer.”

Your fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, the heat between you sparking like a live wire. The space between you was practically nonexistent, your breaths mingling as the unspoken tension hung heavy in the air.

"Remind me again why I agreed to buy a house with you?" you asked, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you inched closer, your noses almost touching.

Aaron's eyes darkened with that familiar confidence, his voice dropping to a low, velvet tone. “Because of consideration, promissory estoppel, and the ironclad nature of mutual agreements,” he said, savoring your reaction, the way your breath hitched at each word. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “And let’s not forget the legal concept of specific performance, which ensures I get exactly what I want... every time.”

You laughed softly, feeling a warm blush spread across your cheeks. "Damn lawyers and their silver tongues," you muttered, though your eyes gave you away as they softened with affection. You pressed yourself closer to him, his warmth wrapping around you like a comforting cocoon.

Aaron’s gaze smoldered, his voice dropping to a husky murmur that vibrated through you. "You weren’t complaining last night… in fact, you seemed particularly appreciative when my tongue was somewhere else," he teased, each word deliberate, sending a flutter through your stomach.

“Don’t get too cocky, Hotchner,” you countered, though your fingers betrayed you, trailing slowly over the sharp line of his jaw, lingering as if savoring every inch. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and the subtle curl of his smile told you he noticed how much he affected you.

His expression shifted, his gaze sharpening with intensity as his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you just a little closer. His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles, sending sparks up your spine. “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, filling the space between you. “Pretending you don’t love every second of this - while you’re wearing my wedding ring, carrying my last name.” His words dripped with playful confidence, his eyes daring you to argue while knowing full well you wouldn’t.

Your heart raced, the heat of his breath on your skin making your pulse quicken. “Oh, I only did that because you wouldn’t stop bragging about how all the Hotchners are lawyers,” you shot back playfully, your voice barely above a whisper. “And someone had to keep Sean company. Besides, Jack needed at least one sane parent.”

A deep, rumbling laugh escaped Aaron’s chest, his forehead pressing gently against yours, the warmth of his touch igniting every nerve. “Lucky for me,” he whispered, his lips hovering just a breath away, “you’re the perfect balance of sanity and chaos.”

“Perfect enough to drive you crazy?” you teased, your lips barely brushing his as you spoke, the heat of his breath fanning over your skin. The anticipation between you grew unbearable, each second stretching out as the tension coiled tighter.

“Absolutely,” Before you could say anything more, his lips finally claimed yours, but it wasn’t rushed - it was slow, deliberate, and consuming. Each kiss unraveled the tension that had been building, his hands sliding up your back with practiced ease, pulling you tighter against him. His lips moved over yours with an intensity that left you breathless, every stroke and caress sending heat through your body.

He kissed you like he knew exactly how much you needed this, taking his time, teasing you with each deep, sensual movement. When you finally felt your control slip, he let you win, leaning into the kiss, surrendering just enough to let you feel that victory. His hands roamed, fingers pressing firmly into your back as though reminding you of his presence, the weight of his touch grounding you in the moment.

When he finally pulled away, you were left breathless, your foreheads still pressed together, the shared warmth between you radiating like a slow-burning flame. His breath mingled with yours, and you could feel the heat of his body pulsing through the closeness, the air heavy with the scent of him.

“Finish that box,” he murmured, his voice thick and low, his fingers brushing lightly along your spine, lingering at the small of your back, tracing slow circles. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold back.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, feeling the weight of his words hang between you, thick with unspoken promises. “Copy,” you murmured, your voice soft but full of playful defiance, a smirk tugging at your lips. “But let’s get one thing crystal clear - me touching that nasty legal handbook and putting it on the shelf? That’s a violation of my personal moral law, and believe me, I never violate my own maxims. This is not something I take lightly.”

 “There we go,” he murmured with a playful eye roll, he placed a gentle kiss on your temple, his lips warm and lingering against your skin as he pulled you closer into his embrace. His arms wrapped around you, strong and comforting, holding you so tightly you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest.

You leaned in closer, eyes gleaming with playful defiance, one brow arched. “Consider it undeniable proof of how much I love you, because compromising my own principles for anyone else? Not happening. You should feel special, because this is a serious breach of my categorical imperative,”

“And don’t get too used to it. I’m not in the habit of making exceptions to my ethical duty, but for you? Maybe, I’ll bend the rules. Once.”  you said, your voice light and teasing as your fingers roamed on the back of his neck.

 “Then I guess it's only fair that I return the favor,” he said, a teasing challenge lighting up his gaze. His thumb brushed along the curve of your jaw before he gently tilted your face up toward his. “How about I help you with that last box, my favorite Hegelian menace?” His voice was low and smooth, the nickname rolling off his tongue with just the right hint of mockery to make your cheeks flush.

You rolled your eyes, leaning closer until your noses were almost touching. “Actually, it was a reference to Kant,” you corrected with a grin, feeling the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. He chuckled, shaking his head with that familiar amused expression.

“Well then,” he said, his fingers sliding up to tangle in your hair, his touch gentle yet firm, “that’s even more reason for me to avoid calling you that, isn’t it?” His lips were inches from yours, teasing, and you couldn’t resist the playful challenge glimmering in his eyes.

“It’s a pity you didn’t get it right,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. “If you had, I might have canceled on Rossi and told him we were too sick to make dinner. But since you didn’t…” You trailed off, your voice dropping to a whisper, savoring the way his hands tightened on your waist.

“Oh no,” Aaron teased, his forehead resting against yours, his warm brown eyes locking onto yours with a playful intensity that made your pulse quicken. “We can’t cancel on Rossi, especially since someone insisted on bringing him a bottle of wine. And we both know how he loves to open his gifts and share them with the entire table,” he added, his smile deepening as he brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “All because someone - who I happen to be married to - refuses to drink his own stash.”

“This secret never leaves this room, Love” you teased with a soft laugh, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until your bodies were flush against each other. You sealed your warning with a fleeting kiss, your lips brushing his in a way that promised more, but ended all too soon. His breath hitched, and you felt the subtle shift in his posture - he wanted more, and you knew it.

“Not just the wine,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvet rasp that sent a thrill through you, his eyes dark and smoldering with unrestrained desire. His hand slid from your waist to your inner thigh, his fingers squeezing gently. His thumb moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm, back and forth, back and forth, sending waves of warmth pooling through you. “Someone spent the whole drive home last time critiquing Rossi’s carbonara-like it was a crime against Italian culture,” he said, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your neck, the warmth of his breath making you shudder. “All because someone,” he continued, his voice thick and tinged with longing, “once lived in Italy and now thinks they’re an expert.”

“Only a fool would put parsley and onions in carbonara,” you said, shaking your head with exaggerated disbelief, a wicked smile dancing at the corners of your lips. “And Rossi thinks he’s Italian? Please.” Your tone dripped with playful disdain, and you shot him a teasing, pointed look, arching an eyebrow in a mock challenge that you knew would get under his skin.

“I thought marrying the boss would come with a few perks, you know,” you continued, your voice dropping to a low, flirtatious whisper as you reached down and grabbed his hand - the one that had been resting on your thigh. You intertwined your fingers with his, halting the distracting movement just before it could make you lose your focus. “Definitely didn’t expect to be met with all this criticism instead,” you added with a smirk, your eyes locking onto his as you leaned in closer, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“That’s why you married me?” he asked with a faux look of betrayal, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “I thought it had something to do with that ridiculous bet we made…”

“Oh, speaking of which,” he added with a mischievous glint, “is now a good time to bring up your dreadful track record?” His grin widened, that playful confidence sparking in his eyes.

“You still haven’t told me what your secret is,” you replied, deflecting smoothly as you leaned back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers now toying with the collar of his shirt.

He leaned down, his lips brushing softly against your ear, his voice a deep, intimate murmur. “I love you,” he whispered, his tone warm and sincere, each word sinking into your skin like a promise. He followed it with a slow, lingering kiss to your temple, moving with such deliberate gentleness that it sent a shiver down your spine, leaving you breathless.

Before he could pull away, you moved swiftly, locking him between your thighs as you slid on top of him, your movements quick and confident. The surprise flickered across his face, but it was quickly replaced by that familiar, irresistible smile - the one that deepened his dimples and made your heart race.

His hands instinctively settled on your waist as you straddled him, and now, face-to-face, you could drink in every detail of his expression, his eyes filled with affection and something more primal.

You rested your hands behind his neck, your fingers tangling gently in his hair as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his just enough to tease him. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice soft but laced with playful accusation, “but you’re deflecting.”

Without giving him a chance to reply, you closed the distance, your lips crashing onto his with a deep, urgent need that stole both of your breaths. The kiss was slow but intense, each movement of your mouth over his filled with a longing that had been building for far too long. His hands slid up your waist, fingers tightening with a possessive intensity as he pulled you closer.

The way his body responded to yours, the soft, eager press of his lips, felt like he was trying to memorize the taste of you. You moved together, perfectly in sync, and the world outside blurred until it was nothing but the heat radiating between you, the scent of his skin, and the steady, intoxicating rhythm of your breaths mingling.

Time seemed to blur, stretching out around you as the kiss deepened further, each second a heady mix of anticipation and surrender.

There was nothing else.

Just his hands, his lips, his breath mingling with yours in a rhythm that felt timeless, both of you giving in to the undeniable pull between you.

The Barbri legal handbook, abandoned and untouched, would stay in that box a little while longer.

In that moment you two had a much more important situation to handle.

---

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

A special ragù kiss to @c-losur3 who came up with the idea of "Damn lawyers and their silver tongue". Genius. Extraordinary. Camp. Showstopping. Beautiful. Jessica Pearson. Looking forward to our next little brainrot 😼😼

[ssa-dado]

Colors of Symposium ; Vision Guide

masterlist

[ssa-dado]

MY ITALIAN MOM & “HOTCH NEVER FUCKS”: a case study

(Rant + I need your help)

- TESTIMONY REPORT

Last year, my mom and I decided to watch Criminal Minds together. Based on some promotional photos, I thought she’d thirst over Hotch as much as I did. But after 10 episodes of absolutely zero interest on her part, we switched to another show (this is what happens in my household - if the woman doesn't thirst over a man after 10 eps, we switch the show). Recently, I was rewatching an episode on my own when she wandered in and was shocked to find out that I liked Hotch.

“HOTCH? Really? I thought you liked the Broomstick!”

For those needing clarification, she was referring to none other than Dr. Spencer Reid. Yes, Reid. The Broomstick.

“…How can you like him? This guy never fucks. He’s too serious!”

Since then, every time I mention Aaron Hotchner, she hits me with some variation of “he never fucks.”

Naturally, I defended him, valiantly, into the trenches. But my mom, a visual learner, demanded proof.

“Is there an episode where he actually fucks? Or at least where he’s naked?”

And so, I did what any devoted fan would do: I cued up "the fisher king pt1" Because that’s as close as Hotch gets to “fucking” on screen. Plus, there’s that one 30-second-long nipple scene in dim lighting that since 2005 (?) has been the holy grail of Hotch thirst content.

I thought it would win her over. It didn’t.

We watched Part 2, and after 40 minutes of me pointing out all of Hotch’s deliciously Hotch moments (evidence below) she hits me with:

“He goes there because at home, he doesn’t fuck.” (“There” being Elle’s apartment to clean up her blood.)

The audacity (S3 Rossi kind of sass), and she asked me:

“Is there an episode where he shows his shoulders? His legs?”

I immediately pulled out the iconic Hotch Marathon™ scene in less than a second. Her only comment?

“He has no ass.”

I mean, yes... but he has an athletic ass #justiceforflatasses

“And skinny legs.”

Supermodel legs.

Still, I counted it as a win when she deflected my comments about his broad shoulders and arms and the fact he has body hair (she a fond appreciation for hairy men), but then she hit me with:

“He’s skinny.”

That’s peak S7 Hotch appeal, so I pivoted, pulling out the dad bod Hotch content™ (S10Ep20). That tight shirt. The one that’s this close to bursting. BOOBIES. ARMS. MUSCLES. BOOBIES. GUCCI TIE. BOOBIES. AND MORE BOOBIES.

We watched the entire episode because she got invested in the case, but at the end, her verdict?

“So, where was the hotness? These aren’t even tight shirts. You can’t see anything, not even a dick outline.”

... GIRL ...

(I was three seconds away from showing her The Gif™ from Love and Human Remains, but I restrained myself)

- THIRSTY HOTCH DATABASE

Which brings me here, Hotch humans. I need your help. I’m building a Thirsty Hotch Database™ to convert my mom (and for personal research reasons too)

What are the hottest Hotch moments I could show her? Episodes, scenes, gifs, pics, anything.

(Mind you, she admitted Thomas Gibson is a handsome man but insists Hotch “has no sex appeal because he never fucks.”)

I refuse to let Hotch’s honor be dragged through the mud like this. Also, I’m genuinely curious about your picks for Hotch’s hottest moments. (Are you creeps like me who find the scene where he passes out in the ER in S4Ep01 oddly attractive, or are you normal people?)

Please reach out however you’d like - DMs, asks, comments, tags, reblog this, carrier pigeon - I’ll take any leads.

And if you’re interested, I’ll keep you updated on The Case of Hotch vs. My Mom.

OPTIONAL BACKGROUND MATERIAL:

- THE PROFILES

Unsub #1: 52, female, Italian, loves crime shows, self-proclaimed connoisseur of “male bums.” After thirsting over Bridgerton’s Duke, she now binges no-ad TV shows during family dinners. Builds harems of fictional men, only continues shows if at least one character is “thirst-worthy.”

Unsub #2: 22, demisexual (that’s me). Crime show addict, inherited taste from Unsub #1. Chooses shows based on cast thirst-potential, only to end up sexualizing Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner and dedicating a Tumblr to his idolization.

- VICTIMOLOGY

The victims: Any tall conventionally attractive middle-aged man with broad shoulders, hairy (but no facial hair), an athletic or dad-bod build, and, preferably, a “fat bum.”

Please, for the love of Hotch (and justice for flat asses), help me win this case. You are my last hope.

[ssa-dado]

Hopefully, between tonight and tomorrow, I'll wrap up editing c.22 (Act 2 finale AAAAAAAAA) For those curious, the word count SO FAR is 23.3k - 16.6k if you're a minor

Interpret that however you'd like.

(Depending on my mood it could either drop or increase)

(Really if you’re a minor do not interact with the chapter or I will ground you)

(Very anxious on posting it since it's my first time writing some actual [REDACTED] - idk I'm scared)

[ssa-dado]

WIP - VERY SENTIMENTAL WIP - VERY SPOILER-Y WIP

♫ Look at where we are, look at where we started ♫

Me crying like a baby when it's time for the slow burn to finally burn

[ssa-dado]

I was going to keep this to myself since most of it doesn’t make any sense, but in the end, I decided it’s just too cute not to share

Last night, I dreamed about Aaron Hotchner rescuing a kitten at a crime scene, that cute quadruped so tiny it could fit in ONE PALM OF HIS HAND 🥺🥺🥺🤌🤌🤌

(Of course, my dream-brain completely went off the rails later, because I'm an unhinged biz BUT I REMEMBER ONE SCENE CLEARLY)

There was this one moment where Hotch was in his office doing paperwork, and right beside his desk was an improvised pet bed he made out of a cardboard case file box 😭😭😭 and that tiny kitten was just sitting there drinking milk AAAAAA

At some point, Rossi randomly said he was going to adopt it (okay grandpa sure, again you guys it’s a dream, don't even ask me why), but then my brain jumped to another scene where the kitten was still in the office...so I guess it officially became the BAU cat (?) idk I should ask my subconscious

(Knowing Hotch, he’s probably training the beast to strategically puke furballs all over Strauss’ office)

[ssa-dado]

An unexpected update for Symposium that I realized I might need while writing the skeleton of part 16 - I used memes so it's less traumatizing

I don’t think you will get rid of me any time soon unfortunately...

It seems like my brain is all about Thesis and Antithesis... maybe I should learn Synthesis too if I don't want this to end up as long as an actual book.

[ssa-dado]

Act 2 Finale & Interlude Visualiser and Main Themes

20. Logic

21. Physics

22. Ethics

Aaron Hotchner is often described as stoic, a word that sounds undeniably cool and fits perfectly with his work persona. But does anyone actually know what Stoicism really teaches? Well, forget just using 'stoic' as a throwaway adjective. 😐

It would be a disservice if, in this story, I didn’t delve deeper, wouldn't it?

Welcome to Philosophy 101.

You signed up for this.

---

Edited by yours truly (and yes, it's in my handwriting because I'm a boomer who didn’t know any better, hope you can read it)

And yes pt. 2 these are going to be Thesis, Antithesis, Synthesis 2.0.

See ya in a few hours for the one shot!

[ssa-dado]

Symposium Series - Expanded Timeline

Warnings: Spoilers Ahead!

I’ve decided to finally expand the timeline, and I’ll be updating it as I write more chapters. I did my best to make everything align, but if you notice anything missing or any inaccuracies, feel free to (kindly) let me know!

■ 1992

You meet Peter Rogers for the first time at your mother's lecture.

Peter chooses (*Tara's voice*) your mom as his thesis supervisor.

■ 1997

You join the academy.

You meet Peter again at a conference.

Peter leaves for his overseas undercover operation.

Your father dies, Peter can't come to the funeral.

■ 1998

B.C.D. (Before Coffee Deal)

You join the BAU one week after your 21st birthday; you meet Aaron Hotchner, your new desk-mate.

At the end of your first case, Aaron calls you 'partner' for the first time.

0 - 75 A.C.M. (lat. in anno ab capulus multum ; In the Year of The Coffee Deal)

Hotch proposes "the coffee deal": for every day he arrives at the office before you, he owes you a coffee, until the day you finally get there before him.

Rossi confesses to Gideon that he was the one who suggested sending Peter, Hotch's former desk partner, on the undercover operation. They then make the decision to officially partner you with Hotch at work.

After the Guggenheim case, you and Hotch start to refer each other as 'partner'

76 - 199 A.C.M.

76 coffees later, Peter comes back at the BAU from his undercover operation.

When Hotch overhears about the passing of your father, he shares of his own past. This leads to the two of you getting to know each other on a personal level.

Peter makes a bet with you: if he won, he would get a date with you. Hotch meets Haley again.

You go back to your hometown to visit your father’s grave for the first time since the funeral.

Hotch places a Guggenheim Museum replica on your father’s grave.

You realise you have a crush on Hotch

■ 1999

200+ A.C.M.

200 coffees later, Hotch surprises you with a pen to mark the “anniversary” of your long-standing competition. He then introduces “the coffee deal 2.0”: if he manages to beat you to the office for a thousand days straight, he’ll have to propose to you.

You and Hotch do the devil's tango

Rossi leaves the BAU, Hotch becomes a lead profiler. You and Hotch agree to keep things strictly professional to ensure that your working partnership remains unaffected.

■ 2000

Aaron marries Haley.

■ 2001

726 A.C.M.

You decide to leave the BAU to take on a new role, teaching Behavioral Sciences courses across Europe.

You and Aaron start exchanging letters.

■ 2005

Jack is born

You are engaged to Peter

■ 2007

The team discovers that you’re scheduled to give a guest lecture in Quantico, which leads to a reunion with Hotch after six years apart.

You accept the offer to permanently teach at the Quantico F.B.I. academy.

Aaron reaches out to you for assistance on a case, and you provide your consultation over the phone.

After admitting your past feelings for each other, you decide to distance yourself from Aaron, pushing him out of your life. The two of you go nearly a year without speaking.

■ 2008

When Aaron is suspended for two weeks, Strauss asks you to step in as Unit Chief temporarily during his absence. You and Aaron make up.

[ssa-dado]

The reason I may or may not have shed a few tears this morning (19 - WIP)

Gideon 🤝 Philosopher ; Rossi 🤝 Lawyer

(It’s ironic how Gideon tells her this to say goodbye on what’s supposed to be her last day at the BAU, when in reality, it’s his last day - the final time they’ll ever speak. She doesn't know yet, but he's the one truly leaving for good.)

Tell me if you also want to read already the very reason I want to beat Peter up for good

[ssa-dado]

3x07 IDENTITY - CRIMINAL MINDS - Aaron Hotchner (FBI daddy)

Edit by yours truly

[ssa-dado]

symp-themed lockscreen! because why not

now imma go back to write the next part :)

i'm not a graphic designer, i've never used illustrator for anything but architecture illustrations :)

here's the super sexy etching drawing i used as background! made by Pietro Testa (Italian, Lucca 1612–1650 Rome)

[ssa-dado]

For me personally, the Hotch that definitely fucks is season 11 Hotch. He's been through some shit and I don't know - I can't explain it, but the vibe with S11 Hotch just really tickles my fancy lmao. Early seasons Hotch is gentle, vanilla, he makes sure you get yours, sure, but 9-11, ESPECIALLY 11? Yeah he fucks and he's rough (in the best way possible lol) 😂

My brain could only come up with one word, so let's play a game... guess what it is!

Difficulty level: hard

Hint: I want to bury my face in them

B__B__S

(It’s not bubbles)

The man’s absolutely furious, dealing with a preteen at home, squinting at every report because he can't see shit anymore, but will still gladly chop your jalapeños.

Honestly, the hottest he’s ever been.

[ssa-dado]

I'M SORRY FOR Y'ALL GRAPHIC DESIGNERS, I HAVE SINNED

1 month of symposium!!!

1 month an architect tries pretends to be a graphic designer

official cover? idk

made by yours truly on illustrator hahaha

[ssa-dado]

Symposium - sneaky parallels while you wait for the next part.

masterlist

part 10 - The Reaper Aftermath / part 13 - Soulmates

It's funny how Philosopher always points out something on Lawyer's face, and it's always on his left side... What could it mean? 👀