#it also set her on her path to understand the human mind

[bluerosefox]

Drake Siblings

Have I read this prompt somewhere or was this a fever dream from my bored mind.

What if, now hear me out.

What if we bring up Dana Winters-Drake (whose confirmed to at least be alive in the DC verse but no one knows where she actually is)

What if instead of when she had a mental breakdown and getting committed to an Bludhaven clinc she wandered away before anyone noticed and by the time Tim or anyone did notice a lot of stuff started happening at once in both Gotham and Bludhaven (Steph dying, The Bludhaven crisis, etc etc)

Tim still tries to find her though but even with best resources it was like she just disappeared into the wilderness and the stress of trying to handle more and more problems get worse.

So when out of the blue, a couple of years later, he gets a call from an unknown number. On his private, only for friends and family, phone and when he answers he meet with a young girls voice on the other end.

A very young, maybe six or seven, girl who informs him about his apparently half-brother Danny Drake-Fenton. And how she loves Danny so, so, so much but knows her home is dangerous for him to be in.

Tim is stunned and before he could question her, she says Danny is Dana and Jack's baby and that her parents had adopted him years ago and put Dana's stuff that the hospital had away for him to look at when he was older but she just had to fight off their lunch from eating her brother and she knows he needs a better place to live and so she snooped around and found Dana's diary and that she had to unscramble the nonsense Dana wrote and found Tim's number with the words 'tell him about his brother Danny' hidden in it. And-

But before she could keep rambling she hears Danny screaming "JAZZY THE MILK WENT BAD AGAIN AND HISSED AT ME!"

Tim is left with silence after hearing Jazz yell to Danny to lock the fridge and step out of the kitchen as she gets the bat.

[kiwriteswords]

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

Part I in the Wicked Game Universe (Can be read on its own, though!)

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: I can't stop writing Hotch x 'someone from his past' stories. I loved writing this one, though. I'm really excited to share this one with you. I have taken a break from some of the shy!reader fics and really, truly leaned into a reader (I probably embarrassingly identify with too much)...the bold, unapologetically-flirty!Reader, who tends to let her mouth get her in trouble more often than not! Also, thank you to @spoonpine for walking through this idea with me in the comments of my o.g. post!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 11k

Tags/Warnings: Slow Burn, Fluff, Angst, Sexual Tension, Undercover Mission, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Banter, Teasing, Emotional Vulnerability, Flirting, Team Dynamics, Slightly Suggestive Themes, Brief Mentions of Violence (related to the case), Tension Build-Up, Slight NSFW, professor!reader if you squint

Sypnosis: After years away from the BAU, you return to the team you once called home. Some things feel familiar, but your dynamic with Aaron Hotchner has changed. What started as playful banter now carries an undercurrent of something more, and the line between professionalism and desire begins to blur. In a world where control is key, the tension between you and Hotch is about to reach its breaking point.

It had been years since you last walked the halls of Quantico. 

Back then, things were different. You were a profiler, standing shoulder to shoulder with the likes of Agents Gideon, Rossi, and Hotchner. 

You had a deep understanding of how the human mind worked—specifically, how it could be unraveled and manipulated. Your background in psychological torture had set you apart from most, and it wasn’t long before your work at the BAU made you a name within the Bureau.

But as the years went on, you found yourself taking a different path—one that led to the world of academia. Teaching at an Ivy League university seemed like the natural next step. It gave you the chance to share your knowledge, write books, and shape the next generation of criminologists. But as fulfilling as it was, something was missing.

The adrenaline. The stakes. The feeling of being out in the field, making a difference in real-time.

At the BAU, Rossi had seen it for a while now: the way Hotch carried the burden of the job, rarely letting himself relax. 

It wasn’t about setting him up with someone; it was about challenging him, waking him up again. You—sharp, confident, and always able to push his buttons—had a way of doing just that. 

Years ago, there had always been a fire between you, something unspoken yet undeniable. 

Rossi didn’t need to fan those flames—he just knew that having you nearby would reignite something in Hotch, force him out of his controlled, measured existence. You were one of the few who could challenge him in ways no one else could.

It wasn’t just about making Hotch feel young again but making him feel alive.

When Rossi reached out, you hadn’t needed much convincing. The new age of teaching wasn’t what it used to be anyway, and the BAU--it had always felt like home.

“Come on, kid,” Rossi’s voice crackled through the phone. “You know you miss the action. Sitting behind a desk teaching criminology to a bunch of Ivy League kids? That’s not you.”

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. “Don’t knock it, Rossi. There’s a certain charm in watching them squirm when they realize the real world isn’t as glamorous as they thought.”

“Maybe,” Rossi replied with a laugh, “but you belong in the field, not in front of a chalkboard. The team misses you.”

You smirked, unable to resist teasing him. “The team, huh? Or is this your way of saying you’re getting old and need someone to keep you on your toes?”

“Please,” Rossi shot back, “I’m timeless. But we could use a little more… fire around here. You always had a way of lighting things up.”

“Is that your way of saying you miss me, Rossi?”

“Maybe,” he replied smoothly. “And maybe Hotch could use the challenge, too.”

“Ah, now I see. You’re just trying to stir the pot,” you teased, your voice light. “Fine, I’m in. But don’t think I won’t be bringing my own brand of chaos.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Rossi said, a smile in his voice. “Welcome home.”

When you worked together years ago, before Hotch became Unit Chief, there had always been something between you—unspoken, simmering beneath the surface. The chemistry was undeniable, though you both kept it buried under layers of professionalism. 

At the time, Hotch was married to Haley, and you had been in a relationship of your own. The affection you had for Haley, knowing how much she meant to him, made the idea of crossing that line impossible. There was a mutual understanding that, no matter the tension between you, it couldn’t be acted upon. 

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t fun to play around. 

You were always a natural flirt. Charisma came to you as easily as breathing, and sometimes, you didn’t even realize you were doing it. 

But with Hotch… it was different. He was reserved, controlled, and steady in a way that made the small cracks in his composure so satisfying to witness. And it became impossible to resist pushing him, just a little. 

Watching him squirm under the weight of your words and subtle glances became a game—a game where you were always two steps ahead. 

You knew how to push his buttons, and he let you.

He always had.

The distance between you, built by circumstance and respect for your respective relationships, had kept everything in check back then. It was that very distance that allowed the two of you to maintain your professional connection without ever letting the attraction get in the way.

The two of you had kept in touch over the years--various bureau events…the typical bureaucratic crap that you two would often bond over rolling your eyes at. 

But now, things were different. There were no more barriers. Haley was gone, your own relationship had long since ended, and that old chemistry still lingered—stronger, maybe, after all the time and distance. And this time, there was nothing to stop it from burning brighter.

There was something freeing knowing you could push a little further. The idea of it, acting on this attraction you couldn’t even deny you’ve had over the years, was thrilling.

On your first day back, the team gathered in the briefing room. Rossi had greeted you like the old friend you were, a sly smile on his face as if he already knew what was coming. Hotch stood off to the side, arms crossed, his eyes catching yours as the rest of the team exchanged introductions. He stepped forward, and for a moment, it was like no time had passed.

“It’s good to have you back,” Hotch said, his voice steady but lower than usual, as if acknowledging the weight of the years that had passed since you last worked together. “Things have changed a bit.”

You shook his hand, feeling the weight of familiarity settle between you, his grip warm and steady. “Yeah, I noticed. You’re the boss now,” you said, tilting your head slightly, your tone playful but your gaze steady. “Guess I’ll have to get used to taking orders.”

Hotch didn’t respond immediately, but his brow lifted just slightly, a rare flicker of amusement in his eyes. His thumb brushed across your hand before he released it, stepping back. “We’ll see how well that goes.”

The others—Morgan, JJ, Reid, and Prentiss—had heard of you, of course. Your name was well-known in FBI circles, especially since you’d been one of the few women to pave the way for others in the Bureau. They respected you immediately, not just because of your accolades, but because of how you carried yourself—confident, self-assured, commanding respect without demanding it.

The case briefing began, and Hotch, ever the professional, gave the rundown of the unsub’s profile. You couldn’t help yourself. As he stood in front of the team, rattling off key details, you crossed your arms and leaned back in your chair, a small, teasing smile tugging at your lips.

“Still delivering profiles like they’re carved in stone, Hotchner?” you teased casually, just loud enough for the others to hear.

Hotch’s eyes flickered toward you, a brief flash of something behind them before he cleared his throat. 

“I prefer to think of them as accurate,” he replied, his voice smooth but with an edge. “Just like always.”

The corner of your mouth lifted into a knowing smile, and you saw it—the tiniest twitch of discomfort in his jaw. 

Oh, you still had him.

Rossi, sitting nearby, chuckled softly. “Watch out, everyone. The professor’s back.”

The rest of the team exchanged glances. JJ leaned toward Emily, whispering, “Is it just me, or is there something… more there?”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “You’re definitely not imagining it.”

In the days that followed, it became clear to the rest of the team that there was a thick tension between you and Hotch—an almost palpable current that crackled whenever you were in the same room. 

You couldn’t help the way you flirted with him. Sometimes, it was a subtle comment, a lingering glance, or the way you stood just a little too close during case briefings. Other times, it was more overt—a casual touch on his arm, a playful quip when you knew the team was listening. 

You’d always had a rebellious streak when it came to authority, sometimes you wondered how you got as far as you did in your career with that mouth of yours.

Hotch—rigid, rule-following Hotch—was just too tempting a target. You’d once jokingly referred to yourself as a “brat” when it came to pushing buttons, and in your case, that usually meant defying authority with a smile on your face.

But something was different now. Back when you worked together years ago, Hotch would brush off your teasing with calm professionalism, barely giving you a reaction. He’d remain composed, seemingly impervious to your provocations. Now, though, he seemed more willing to engage, to push back just a little more than you expected. 

You weren’t often surprised by people, but Hotch’s newfound ability to meet your wit with his own had caught you off guard.

It wasn’t just his typical stoic self anymore—there was an edge to his responses, a glint in his eye that made it clear he wasn’t just enduring your teasing; he was playing along. And it threw you off balance in a way you didn’t quite anticipate.

It wasn’t just in front of the team, either. In private, away from the others, Hotch’s responses had started to take on a different tone—quieter, more personal, laced with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. There were times, especially late at night when the office was nearly empty, when his voice would drop low as he answered one of your playful jabs, turning the tables on you in a way that made you squirm just a little.

And that was something new. You weren’t used to being the one caught off guard. Hotch had always been steady, collected. But now, you noticed the way his eyes would flicker down to your lips when you spoke, the way his voice dropped just a little lower when he addressed you directly. He never let it show, at least not on the surface, but you knew. You always knew.

It was late, the bullpen quiet save for the soft hum of computers and the occasional shuffle of papers. You had finished most of your report and were about to call it a night when you spotted Hotch still in his office, the faint glow from his desk lamp highlighting his focused expression. Naturally, you couldn’t resist.

You knocked lightly on his door, smirking as you leaned against the frame. 

“Burning the midnight oil, Hotchner? You know, even you need sleep sometimes,” you teased, the playful lilt in your voice familiar.

Hotch didn’t look up right away, but you saw the small smile tug at the corner of his lips. “Funny, I was going to say the same to you.”

You stepped into his office, crossing your arms as you leaned against his desk. “Well, unlike you, I still know how to have fun. Late-night drinks can be productive, you know.”

This time, Hotch raised his eyes to meet yours, his expression calm but something else lurking behind it. “Is that an invitation?”

You blinked, caught completely off guard by the unexpected shift in his tone. “I—what?”

He closed the file in front of him slowly, standing up from his desk to face you fully. His voice was steady, a quiet challenge in his words. 

“You said late-night drinks could be productive. If you’re offering, I might just take you up on that.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words, something that almost never happened. You could feel your pulse quicken, the confidence you usually wielded slipping as Hotch’s eyes stayed on yours, unflinching.

Recovering quickly, you gave him a slow, teasing smile, though your heart still raced. “Are you sure you could handle it, Hotch? You don’t strike me as the type to let loose.”

Without missing a beat, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering. “Maybe you’ve underestimated me.”

There it was. The subtle, confident way he turned the tables, leaving you scrambling for a response. You weren’t used to being on the receiving end of this kind of banter, especially not from Hotch.

You felt a flush rise in your cheeks, and Hotch’s eyes flickered down, just briefly, as if noticing. When he looked back up, there was a slight smile playing on his lips, but he didn’t push further, leaving the weight of the moment hanging between you.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied, your voice a touch quieter than you intended, the flirtation still there, but now with an undercurrent of something else. Something deeper.

Hotch simply nodded, his expression softening, though his gaze didn’t falter. “Good night, then.”

You turned to leave, feeling the warmth in your cheeks as you walked out of his office, your mind spinning from the unexpected encounter. You had always been able to push his buttons, but tonight… it seemed Hotch had learned how to push yours.

Over time, the team grew used to the rapport between you and Hotch, much like how they had come to accept the flirtatious banter between Penelope and Derek. But with you and Hotch, it was different—sharper, more restrained, but no less intense. 

The others would exchange knowing glances when your conversations got a little too charged, but they respected the unspoken boundaries you and Hotch danced around.

And the truth was, those boundaries wouldn’t stay unbroken forever.

There was this push and pull—a game of tug-of-war. You both knew how to push each other's buttons, but you also knew when to let go before the rope broke or one of you fell flat on your faces. It was a delicate balance, and somehow, neither of you ever crossed the line. At least, not yet.

It was late, and the harsh lighting of the local police station did nothing to alleviate the exhaustion that hung over the team. 

The case had finally been wrapped up, and now it was just a matter of packing up and heading home. Everyone was scattered around the room, collecting files and closing laptops, the weight of the long hours evident on all of your faces.

You were finishing up, leaning casually against one of the cluttered desks near Hotch, who was meticulously stacking paperwork into his briefcase. He always took his time—never rushed, even at the end of a long case. It was one of the things that both fascinated and frustrated you about him.

“Come on, Hotch,” you teased, watching him with a smirk. “You ever think about leaving the paperwork for tomorrow? Or are you afraid the world might end if you don’t have everything perfectly organized before we leave?”

Hotch looked up from his task, his expression as stoic as ever. “The sooner it’s done, the sooner we can all go home,” he replied, his voice even and calm.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Home? You mean you’re actually going to leave this place?” you asked, your tone playful. “I always thought you just… stayed at the office, brooding until the next case rolled in.”

Across the room, Morgan and Prentiss were packing up their own gear, but your voice was loud enough to catch their attention. Morgan glanced over, smirking. “Brooding’s definitely on-brand for Hotch,” he muttered to Prentiss, who hid a smile behind her hand.

Hotch closed his briefcase and stood up, straightening his posture as he turned to you, and this time, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that caught you off guard. 

“I don’t brood,” he said, his tone just a little too smooth. “And I think you’d be surprised at how well I can unwind.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown by the unexpected comeback. “Oh yeah?” you challenged, crossing your arms and leaning against the desk a bit more. “Guess I’ll need proof of that. Can’t have the Unit Chief pretending to be fun when there’s no evidence.”

Hotch didn’t miss a beat. He stepped closer, his voice dropping just enough that only you could hear, though the team was watching from across the room. 

“Careful,” he said quietly, his gaze unwavering. “You might not be able to keep up.”

Your breath hitched slightly, your pulse quickening in response to the subtle challenge in his words. You weren’t used to Hotch pushing back like this, and it caught you off balance for a second. You had always been the one to make him squirm, but now… now, he was the one getting under your skin.

“Did Hotch just—” Prentiss began, her eyebrows raised as she glanced at Morgan, who looked just as surprised.

Morgan leaned back in his chair, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I think Hotch just played her at her own game.”

Prentiss smirked, shaking her head slightly in disbelief. “I didn’t know he had a game.”

Morgan chuckled. “Oh, he does. He’s just been keeping it locked away until now.”

Across the room, Rossi, who had been quietly observing the exchange, gave an almost imperceptible nod, clearly pleased with what he was seeing. He had known you would be good for Hotch, and seeing the dynamic between the two of you now only confirmed it.

You quickly regained your composure, leaning in just slightly as you shot back, “I’m pretty sure I could handle it, Aaron.”

Hotch’s lips quirked in a subtle smile, but he didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stepped back and grabbed his coat, leaving the challenge hanging in the air. 

“We’ll see,” he said, his voice calm, but there was a teasing undertone to it now.

As Hotch walked toward the door, the rest of the team finally let out the breath they had been holding.

“Wow,” JJ said, eyes wide. “Did we just witness Hotch flirting?”

“I’m not sure I believe it,” Reid chimed in, looking genuinely puzzled.

Morgan crossed his arms, a wide grin spreading across his face. “It’s about time someone shook things up around here.”

Rossi walked past you, slapping a hand on your shoulder as he did. “Keep it up, kid,” he said with a satisfied grin. “Looks like you’ve got him right where you want him.”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “I think he’s the one keeping me on my toes now,” you muttered under your breath.

As the team gathered their things and headed for the SUVs, you couldn’t help but steal another glance at Hotch. The way he had engaged with you tonight—subtle, teasing, but undeniably flirtatious—left you with a strange mixture of excitement and surprise. You’d always known how to push his buttons, but now? Now it felt like Hotch was finally ready to play the game.

And for the first time in a long while, you weren’t sure who had the upper hand.

Weeks had passed since that night, and though the tension between you and Hotch still simmered beneath the surface, the team had moved on to a new case, throwing you both back into the rhythm of work. The dynamic had shifted, but the game remained—unspoken but always present. Now, out in the field with Morgan, the familiar tension crept back in as you prepared to relay critical information to Hotch.

The case had taken a sharp turn, and every second mattered. You dialed Hotch’s number, knowing the information you were about to relay could be critical. But, as always, the tension had you slipping into your usual rhythm of teasing—almost like second nature when things got stressful.

Hotch answered on the second ring. “Hotchner.”

“Hey, got something for you,” you said, catching a breath. “We spoke to a witness. Black SUV, partial plates, seen leaving the scene about an hour ago. I’m starting to think I’m carrying this whole case. You sure you don’t need me running things for you while you take a day off?”

Morgan shot you a sharp look, trying not to laugh. The timing wasn’t great, and he fully expected Hotch to cut you off with a firm, no-nonsense response. After all, this was Hotch.

There was a brief pause on the line, and Morgan mouthed at you, “He’s gonna kill you.”

But then, Hotch’s voice came through, low and steady. “Careful,” he said, his tone calm but carrying an unmistakable note of amusement. “If you keep talking like that, I’ll start thinking you’re trying to get yourself reassigned to paperwork duty.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. That wasn’t what you expected at all. Was that… Hotch teasing you? It was subtle—typical Hotch—but unmistakable. Your mouth opened to respond, but for once, words didn’t immediately come.

Morgan’s eyebrows shot up, clearly floored. “Wait, did Hotch just—” he started, but you waved a hand to silence him, still processing the fact that Aaron Hotchner had just flirted back, in his own serious, dry way.

“Well,” you finally managed, “as long as I can file it in your office, I’m sure I’d manage just fine.”

Another pause. “I think you’d find my office much less entertaining than you imagine,” Hotch replied smoothly, the same playful edge to his voice.

Morgan let out a disbelieving laugh, throwing up his hands in mock defeat. “Okay, what is happening right now?”

“I—uh, yeah, I’ll get those plates to you,” you said, trying to regain control of the conversation, but there was a heat in your cheeks that wasn’t from the work. “I’ll, uh, check in when we’ve got more.”

“Understood,” Hotch said, his tone back to business, though you could still hear the amusement lingering beneath the surface. ���Keep me updated.”

Something shifted. The playful banter that had always come so easily felt heavier now, charged with something unspoken. For the first time, you both sensed it—this wasn’t just a game anymore. The teasing, the flirting—it had blurred the line between fun and something far more real. Neither of you said it out loud, but you could feel it in the weight of every word, in the way the silence lingered a second too long after each response.

When the call ended, Morgan stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “You gotta be kidding me. Hotch? The man barely cracks a smile, and here he is giving you hell?”

You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant despite the lingering warmth in your face. “He’s still my boss,” you said, playing it cool. “He’s just… keeping me in line.”

Morgan snorted. “Yeah, right. If I said half that stuff to him, I’d be doing desk duty for a month. You’ve got some kind of magic over him, I swear.”

Meanwhile, back at the local precinct, Hotch ended the call and glanced up to find Rossi watching him with a knowing grin. Rossi had caught the tail end of the conversation and didn’t need to ask to know what had just happened.

Hotch raised an eyebrow at him. “Something you want to say?”

Rossi chuckled, shaking his head. “Nothing at all, Aaron. Just nice to see you loosening up.”

Hotch gave him a steady look, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Someone has to keep her in check,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Sure,” Rossi replied, clearly enjoying the exchange far too much. “Though I don’t think you’re trying that hard to stop her.”

Hotch didn’t respond, but there was a quiet understanding between them. Rossi had always known how to read between the lines, and Hotch’s small smile confirmed that Rossi’s instincts were right.

Back in the field, Morgan still hadn’t let it go. “I seriously don’t know how you get away with it,” he said, shaking his head as you both climbed into the SUV.

You shot him a sidelong glance, the smirk creeping back onto your face now that you had recovered from the surprise. “What can I say? I’m special.”

“Yeah, well, you better be careful,” Morgan teased, pulling out of the lot. “Because if Hotch ever does snap, it’s going to be spectacular.”

You laughed, leaning back in your seat. “I think we both know he likes playing this game as much as I do.”

Morgan chuckled but didn’t disagree. As you drove away, you couldn’t help but think back to Hotch’s voice on the phone, how he’d turned your usual banter right back on you. For once, he had left you the one a little off balance.

Later that day, as you and Morgan returned to the bullpen, Penelope swirled into the room with her usual dramatic flair. 

"Well, well, well," she began, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I heard a little birdie tell me there was some serious verbal sparring going on between you and the boss-man in the field today. Dare I ask how it ended?"

Morgan chuckled, throwing you a knowing glance. "Oh, it ended alright. But for once, I think Hotch had the upper hand."

Penelope gasped in mock horror, her eyes widening. "Our resident queen of sass, left speechless by Hotch? This I have to see."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. "It’s nothing I can’t handle," you said, but the truth lingered in your mind. This was only the beginning, and even you didn’t know where it would lead.

As the days passed, you found yourself thinking more and more about that shift with Hotch, but before you could dwell on it too much, the next unavoidable event crept up on you—a formal Bureau gala.

It was a rare occurrence—one of those formal Bureau events where the invitations were non-negotiable, the kind you couldn’t avoid no matter how much you wanted to. This time, it was a benefit gala, an annual gathering of Bureau brass and political figures. Most of the team had managed to find a way out, but you, Hotch, and Rossi had drawn the short straws.

Rossi, ever the diplomat, had no issue attending these sorts of events—especially since Strauss had already invited him as her plus-one, an arrangement that left you and Hotch both slightly bemused.

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” you teased when you and Hotch were left figuring out your own arrangements.

Hotch looked at you for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then, to your surprise, he said, “You could come as my date.”

You blinked, caught off guard for a second. Hotch rarely flirted so openly, and the ease with which the words left his mouth left you momentarily speechless. 

“Your date?” you repeated, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You sure you can handle that?”

“I think the better question is whether you can behave,” Hotch replied, his tone measured but carrying that dry, teasing edge you were beginning to recognize more and more.

You raised an eyebrow, recovering quickly. 

“Behave? Where’s the fun in that?” you quipped back. “Alright, deal. But you better not leave me to fend off the Bureau’s old guard on my own.”

Hotch gave a small, amused smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The night of the gala approached faster than you expected, and soon enough, Hotch was back in his office, preparing for the evening ahead.

As Hotch finished straightening his bow tie, he heard the familiar knock on his office door. Rossi stepped in, leaning casually against the doorframe, his eyes sharp as ever.

“You clean up nice,” Rossi said with a smirk. “But that’s not what’s got me concerned.”

Hotch looked up from his desk, brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rossi stepped closer, his tone softening just slightly. “Aaron, I’ve been watching you. You’ve got that look—like you’re fighting something inside.”

Hotch sighed. He didn’t have to ask what Rossi meant. “It’s complicated, Dave.”

Rossi gave him a pointed look. “It’s only as complicated as you make it. Look, I know you. You’re holding back because that’s what you do. But maybe this time, you don’t have to. Let loose. Lean into it. You deserve that.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened. “I’m not sure I can afford to.”

Rossi smiled knowingly. “You deserve to feel alive again, Aaron. Don’t miss your chance.”

Hotch didn’t respond, but the words stayed with him long after Rossi left the room. He just continued to run through his thoughts as he grabbed his keys and made his way to the SUV to go pick you up. 

You’d never have imagined Hotch picking you up in a tux, let alone for a Bureau gala where you’d be going as his date. 

It had started as playful banter, something you never thought would lead to more. But the moment you accepted his offer to be his date, something shifted. There was a weight behind it, an unspoken connection that ran deeper than either of you had let on. 

And now, as you smoothed your dress one final time before he arrived, a flutter of nerves settled in your chest. This wasn’t just flirting anymore. You could feel it—something real, something that went beyond the game you’d been playing for months.

When Hotch pulled up in front of your place, he stepped out of the car to greet you, and the sight of him in a sharp black tuxedo made you momentarily lose your train of thought. He was always put-together, but tonight? Tonight, there was an extra edge to his appearance, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Right on time,” you quipped as he opened the door for you. “Very punctual, as always. Does that come with being Unit Chief, or is that just your way of keeping everyone else on their toes?”

Hotch gave you a small smile, his eyes flickering over your dress for just a second longer than usual. “Some habits are hard to break,” he replied evenly. “You look great, by the way.”

You slid into the car, throwing him a playful glance. “You too, Hotch. I didn’t even know you owned anything that wasn’t a suit. What, no bulletproof vest tonight?”

He chuckled under his breath as he started the car, his hands gripping the wheel in that familiar, controlled way. “I figured it wasn’t necessary for a Bureau gala.”

You leaned back in your seat, smirking. “Well, you never know. Some of those higher-ups look like they could start a fight at any moment. Good thing you’ve got me as backup.”

Hotch gave a small shake of his head, amusement flashing in his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll be able to handle yourself just fine.”

As the car sped through the city streets, you couldn’t resist pushing him a little more. “Come on, Hotch. You’ve got to be at least a little excited. Big fancy event, all dressed up. We might even see you smile tonight.”

He glanced at you, his expression calm but with that familiar, dry edge. “You might want to lower your expectations.”

You grinned, leaning a little closer to him as you teased, “What, are you saying I’m setting the bar too high?”

His eyes flicked to you briefly before returning to the road, and you caught that subtle tension in his posture. “I’m saying you always seem to enjoy pushing limits.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown by the way he’d turned the banter back on you. You opened your mouth to respond, but his quiet confidence left you feeling like he had gained the upper hand.

“Well, someone’s gotta keep things interesting,” you muttered, trying to regain your footing.

For the rest of the drive, you continued to pepper him with lighthearted comments—teasing him about his serious demeanor, joking about the politics of Bureau galas, you even talked about Jack a few times—but underneath it all, there was a tension growing. Each time Hotch shot back with his calm, dry responses, it felt like a game you were both playing, and you were starting to realize you might not be in control of it anymore.

When you arrived at the gala, Hotch stepped out of the car and opened the door for you, offering his hand as you stepped out. You were about to throw another teasing comment his way, but when you looked up at him, standing there in that tux, the words caught in your throat.

He met your eyes with a steady gaze, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The teasing, the banter—it all fell away, leaving behind the raw tension that had been building since he picked you up.

“You alright?” he asked quietly, his voice just loud enough for you to hear over the sounds of the city around you.

You blinked, quickly recovering. “Yeah, just… surprised that you’re really here, taking me as your date.” Your eyes flicked over him, taking in how good he looked, even though that wasn’t the real surprise. “But, I mean, you do clean up nice, Aaron.”

Hotch tilted his head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Surprised I asked you?” His voice was calm, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. “I thought it was about time.”

You smiled, the tension between you thickening. “Maybe I am

Inside the gala, the atmosphere was elegant, with the sounds of soft music and quiet chatter filling the room. You and Hotch had already made your rounds, engaging in small talk with Bureau officials and shaking hands with people you didn’t particularly care for. But through it all, the tension between you and Hotch lingered.

After an hour or so, you found yourselves at the bar, taking a moment to escape the crowd. You leaned against the counter, watching Hotch as he ordered a drink for himself and one for you.

“See?” you said, giving him a teasing smile. “This isn’t so bad. You’re surviving, and you even managed to crack a joke or two. I think we can count this as a win.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, “You’re the one who said I needed to loosen up,” he said evenly, his voice carrying that quiet, playful edge. “I’m just following your advice.”

You grinned, the energy between you shifting, the tension you’d been playing with all night coming to a head. Now was as good a time as any to test his limits a little further. 

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of advice for you, Hotch,” you said, leaning in just enough to catch his full attention, your voice dropping to something more suggestive. “And I bet if I really tried, I could get you to loosen up a lot more.”

Hotch’s gaze sharpened, lingering on yours longer than before. There was a flicker of surprise there—just for a second—but it quickly turned into something else. Amusement. Challenge.

“You might want to be careful,” he replied, his voice still smooth but now edged with something darker, something more dangerous. “You’re playing a game you might not be ready to finish.”

You laughed softly, unbothered by his attempt to warn you off. If anything, it only made you push harder. “I don’t think you’d mind that one bit,” you said, your tone bold. “Besides, I’m not the one who’s holding back.”

Hotch’s lips quirked into the faintest smile, but there was a glint in his eyes that told you he wasn’t going to let you off that easily. “Is that what you think? That I’m holding back?”

You tilted your head, “Oh, I know you are. You’ve been doing it all night.”

For a moment, there was silence between you, the tension thick enough to cut through. Hotch’s eyes flicked down to your mouth for a second before returning to meet yours, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, almost a growl. “You might be playing with fire.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and for the first time that night, you wondered if you had pushed him a little too far. But then again, that’s exactly what you’d been trying to do, wasn’t it? Test the waters. See how much you could make him bend before he snapped.

But Hotch didn’t snap. Instead, he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “I’m not the one who’ll break first.”

Your breath caught, and before you could respond, the bartender breaking the moment. You took a step back, trying to compose yourself as Hotch straightened, his expression calm and controlled once again—though the look in his eyes told you the game wasn’t over.

“Here you go. Anything else for the happy couple?” The bartender placed the glasses in front of you both.

You froze for a second, the bartender’s words hanging in the air. You were about to correct him when you glanced at Hotch, curious to see his reaction.

Hotch, to your surprise, didn’t immediately deny it. Instead, he gave the bartender a polite smile and said, “We’re fine, thank you.”

As the bartender moved on, you turned to Hotch, raising an eyebrow. “Happy couple, huh?”

Hotch shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “It seemed easier than explaining.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you leaned in closer. “I think you’re enjoying this a little too much.”

He met your gaze, his expression calm but with that unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes. “Maybe.”

The air between you felt heavier now, the flirtation and tension building to a point where it felt like something was bound to break. You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep up the banter without it tipping over into something more.

“You know,” you said softly, your voice dropping, “if we’re going to play the part, we should at least make it convincing.”

Hotch’s eyes flickered down to your lips for just a second before meeting your gaze again. “Is that what you want?”

For once, you weren’t sure what to say. The teasing had turned into something real, something you hadn’t expected, and now you were standing at the edge of a line neither of you had crossed before.

“I don’t know,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe.”

Hotch didn’t move, but the weight of his gaze stayed locked on yours, the tension between you stretching tight, waiting to snap.

“Are you ready for what comes next?” he said quietly, his voice soft but firm, and you knew—whatever happened next, you wouldn’t be able to go back.

Your pulse quickened at his words, but before either of you could act on the weight of the moment, the evening continued on, pulling you both back into the motions of the event. 

As the night was winding down, you and Hotch found yourselves standing with Rossi and Strauss near the exit. The tension between you and Hotch had been brewing all evening, and Rossi, as always, hadn’t missed a thing.

With a dramatic sigh, Rossi glanced between you two before smirking at Strauss. “You might want to start drafting those HR consensual relationship forms, Erin,” he teased, eyes twinkling. “Looks like there’ll be a couple on your desk by Monday.”

Strauss rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, and what about your paperwork, Dave?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow at their own not-so-subtle fraternizing.

Rossi grinned, unbothered. “I���m grandfathered in. But these two?” He gave you and Hotch a knowing look. “Better watch out.”

You chuckled, shaking your head, while Hotch remained calm, though you saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Duly noted,” Hotch said, his voice steady, but you could feel the charge between you.

Strauss sighed, giving one final glance between you and Hotch. “Just make sure I’m not dealing with fallout from both of you by Monday.”

Rossi patted her arm, chuckling. “Only if you sign the forms first.”

As Rossi and Strauss headed out, you turned to Hotch, smirking. “Looks like we’re on notice.”

Hotch’s lips curved just slightly. “Seems that way.”

You both shared a brief, knowing look, the tension still simmering beneath the surface.

The night had stretched on, and as the crowd in the ballroom began to thin, the tension between you and Hotch had reached a breaking point. 

The teasing glances, the subtle brushes of his hand, and the simmering heat had become too much. Hotch, ever composed, had kept his professional demeanor in front of the others all night, but you could feel the pull between you both—like you were walking a tightrope.

You both stood off to the side after the last round of handshakes, observing the room in comfortable silence. But out of the corner of your eye, you caught Hotch glancing at you, his expression unreadable, though there was something different in his gaze tonight—something less guarded.

“Need some air?” he asked quietly, his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

You hesitated for a second before nodding. “Yeah, I think I could use a break from all the small talk.”

Hotch didn’t say anything more, but you followed him as he led the way toward a quieter part of the venue, away from the buzz of the event. 

It was a subtle move, deliberate yet not rushed. You could feel your heart beating a little faster, though neither of you had said anything more.

He pushed open a door to a quiet, unused room, likely an office set aside for event staff, and gestured for you to follow him inside. You did, your breath catching slightly at the realization of how close you were now to being truly alone.

Once inside, the door clicked softly behind you, and the hum of the gala faded into the background, leaving the two of you standing in the dimly lit space. Hotch remained still, keeping a respectful distance, though the tension in the air was palpable. His body language was controlled, but the way his eyes flicked to yours made it clear he wasn’t unaffected by everything that had passed between you tonight.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice steady, but there was a subtle edge to it—like he was testing the waters, gauging where you stood.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, meeting his gaze. “Just… a lot tonight.”

Hotch nodded, his eyes lingering on you a moment longer. 

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” he said, his voice quieter now, low and controlled. There was no accusation, just a quiet acknowledgment of the game you’d both been playing.

Your breath hitched, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “You seem to be holding up pretty well.”

“Barely,” he murmured, his eyes flicking to your lips. His response surprised you, but also intrigued you. 

He moved in closer, his presence almost overwhelming as he pressed you gently against the wall, his hand bracing beside your head.

For a second, neither of you moved. His body was just inches from yours, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him. The tension, the push and pull of the game you’d both been playing, was about to snap.

Before you could say another word, Hotch’s hand moved to your face, his thumb brushing the corner of your lips, lingering there in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. His touch was soft but deliberate, and it took every ounce of restraint not to close the small gap between you.

Just as you leaned in, lips almost touching, Hotch’s phone buzzed in his pocket, the sound cutting through the moment like a knife. He sighed, the frustration clear, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he fished out his phone with his free hand, glancing at the screen.

“Hotchner,” he answered, his voice immediately shifting back to its usual authoritative tone, though his body stayed pressed close to yours, his hand still resting on your face.

You thought he might step back, put some distance between you, but he didn’t. 

Instead, as he spoke into the phone—likely discussing the logistics of the case—his thumb traced the curve of your bottom lip, soft and slow, like he couldn’t help himself. 

It was such a contrast to the professional tone of his voice that it made your head spin.

You tried to focus on what he was saying, but the heat from his touch, the way he stayed so close, made it impossible to think clearly. You felt every breath he took, the tension between you even more potent now that you were both so aware of it but unable to act.

After what felt like an eternity, Hotch finally hung up the phone, but he still didn’t pull away. His eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of the moment thickening all over again.

“We’ve got a case,” he said softly, his voice a little rough, like the weight of what almost happened hadn’t left him unaffected.

You exhaled, a frustrated but soft laugh escaping your lips. 

“Figures,” you murmured, your heart still pounding.

Hotch’s thumb brushed over your lip one last time before he finally stepped back, giving you just enough space to breathe again. But the tension between you remained, unbroken.

“We’ll finish this later,” he said quietly, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer before he turned toward the door.

As you both walked out of the room and back into the world of the FBI, you knew he wasn’t making an empty promise. Whatever had started tonight, it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Whatever was staring you two in the face was too good to ignore. 

Within the hour, the team gathered in the briefing room, the atmosphere charged with the usual mix of focus and adrenaline that came with starting a new case. You were still thinking about the gala—about how close you and Hotch had come to crossing that line before the case pulled you away. Now, the professional walls were back up, and things were business as usual. Or so you thought.

Garcia had laid out the details of the new case on the screen, and you listened as she explained the suspects and their patterns. The unsub was targeting high-profile events, blending in by posing as part of the upper-crust social scene while his victims were unaware. 

The most recent lead? A high-end party happening the next evening, where undercover agents would need to infiltrate to catch the suspect in the act.

Rossi glanced around the room, his gaze landing on you and Hotch, a spark of amusement in his eyes. 

“Well, looks like we need a couple,” Rossi said, his voice casual but with a teasing edge. “A couple that can really sell it. High-class, a little… steamy.”

You felt your stomach flip slightly, the underlying tension from last night creeping back in. Hotch remained composed beside you, his expression as unreadable as ever. But before you could respond, Morgan leaned forward, grinning like he knew exactly what was about to happen.

“You know,” Morgan began, his eyes darting between you and Hotch, “I think we’ve already got the perfect pair for this.”

You blinked, your eyes widening slightly as the attention in the room shifted toward you and Hotch. “Wait—us? No.”

Morgan leaned back, smirking. “You two would be perfect. Got that whole chemistry thing down already.” He gave a mock shudder. “Not sure I’m ready to see what happens when you actually lean into it, though. Might witness something real go down out there.”

Hotch shot Morgan a brief but sharp look, clearly unimpressed with the teasing, though you could see the faintest hint of discomfort in his posture. 

“I’m not sure this is the best idea,” Hotch said, his voice calm but firm.

Rossi raised an eyebrow, his expression amused. “Come on, Aaron. You and her? The chemistry’s already there. Plus, you’re both the best at keeping your cool under pressure.”

You opened your mouth to protest, unsure how this had suddenly turned into you and Hotch going undercover as a couple, but JJ spoke up before you could.

“They’re right,” she said with a soft smile. “You two could pull this off. If anyone can make this look convincing, it’s you two.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, but he said nothing. You, on the other hand, decided to lean into the banter, if only to diffuse the tension.

“Well,” you said with a grin, glancing at Hotch, “I guess I’ll have to be on my best behavior. Don’t want to push your buttons too much while we’re out there.”

Morgan let out a low chuckle, and even Reid smirked behind his stack of files. “I think the real question,” Morgan said, glancing at Hotch, “is whether he can keep it together when you start leaning into the role.”

Hotch’s eyes narrowed slightly, though his composure remained intact. “I’m perfectly capable of maintaining professionalism,” he said, though the tension in the room suggested that everyone—including Hotch—knew this undercover assignment was going to be anything but easy.

With the decision made, the plan was set: you and Hotch would pose as a couple attending the high-end party, posing as wealthy socialites while the team monitored from a distance.

As the meeting wrapped up, you caught Hotch’s gaze, the weight of everything unsaid between you settling back in. This assignment was going to test both of you, and it wasn’t just about catching the unsub—it was about how far you could push the chemistry that had been simmering between you for months.

As the team dispersed, Morgan walked by, shooting you both a playful glance. “Good luck out there. Just don’t make it too real, alright?”

You shook your head, giving him a light punch on the arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll try not to break your Unit Chief.”

Morgan laughed, but before he could respond, Garcia’s voice piped up from behind, her eyes wide with dramatic flair. “Oh, sugar, please keep it together out there. I don’t think the universe can handle you two actually playing couple for real.”

Emily smirked, glancing between the two of you. “I have to admit, I’m almost curious to see how well you sell it. Key word: almost.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll behave. Promise.”

“Better you than me,” Emily added, giving you a playful wink before heading off with Garcia in tow.

Morgan chuckled as he walked away, leaving you and Hotch standing there for a moment. The teasing from the team faded as the reality of the situation set in, the tension between you suddenly palpable.

“You sure about this?” you asked quietly, your voice carrying more weight than before.

Hotch’s eyes softened just slightly as he looked at you, but his voice was steady. “We’ll make it work.”

There was something in the way he said it that made you believe him, even as your heart raced at the thought of what was about to unfold.

The small, dimly lit prep room had been quiet as you finished getting ready for the undercover assignment. 

You adjusted the delicate lace garter holster on your thigh, securing the small, discreet weapon inside, while slipping the matching lingerie into place. The deep red fabric, though meant to be functional, added an unexpected level of sexiness to the outfit—a necessary piece of your undercover role, but one that made you feel the weight of the assignment in a different way.

You were just about to slip on your dress when there was a soft knock on the door. “It’s me,” Hotch’s familiar voice came through, steady and calm as always.

“Come in,” you called, expecting him to go over last-minute details. But when the door swung open, Hotch stepped inside and froze.

His usual calm composure faltered for just a moment as his eyes fell on you, standing there in nothing but your lingerie and garter holster, the silk and lace framing your body in a way that was far from professional. 

He didn’t speak right away, his dark eyes taking in the sight of you with a stunned silence that was so un-Hotch it made you smile.

“Cat got your tongue, Aaron?” you teased, feeling the tension rise between you like a thick fog. The way he looked at you—completely unguarded, caught off balance—was more of a reaction than you’d ever expected.

He cleared his throat, his jaw tightening slightly as he tried to regain his composure, but the subtle flush in his cheeks told you all you needed to know. 

“We have… ten minutes before we leave,” he said, his voice sounding a little rougher than usual.

You smirked, turning to grab your dress from the hanger. 

“I know. Just finishing up,” you said casually, like the air between you wasn’t crackling with tension. 

You slipped the dress over your head, the soft fabric falling against your skin, but the zipper in the back was out of reach.

Without missing a beat, you turned your back to him, lifting your hair with one hand and glancing over your shoulder. “Help me with the zipper?”

Hotch hesitated for a second before stepping closer, his fingers grazing the smooth fabric of your dress as he reached for the zipper. His touch was light but deliberate, and as he slowly pulled the zipper up, you could feel the tension building with every inch.

The proximity was dizzying, the heat of his body just behind yours making your pulse race. You could sense his restraint, the way his breath caught slightly as his fingers brushed the bare skin of your back.

When he finished, his hands lingered for just a moment too long, and you turned to face him, the atmosphere between you thick with unspoken desire.

“Thanks,” you said softly, your eyes locked on his. You could see it—he was fighting it, the same tension that had been building between you both for months.

Hotch stepped back, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable but his eyes giving him away. 

“We need to stay focused out there,” he said, his voice low, though there was an edge to it now, a struggle between control and something else.

You smiled, that familiar spark of playfulness returning to your voice. “Relax, Hotch. We’ve got this.” You took a step closer, your eyes gleaming with mischief. “Unless you want to practice playing the part before we go out there? You know… make sure we’ve got the chemistry down.”

For a moment, Hotch didn’t move, the weight of your words hanging between you like a challenge. His eyes flicked to your lips, his breath steady but shallow. The tension was unbearable, thick with everything unsaid.

He leaned in just slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “We both know there’s no time to finish what you’re starting.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could say anything else, he stepped back, the tension breaking just enough for him to regain his composure.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning toward the door, though his voice carried the weight of everything still lingering between you.

You smiled to yourself as you followed him out, knowing that the real game was just about to begin.

The ride to the event was quiet, the tension between you and Hotch hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you as you both stayed focused on the task at hand, but every glance he threw your way only reminded you of the moment back in the dressing room.

The team had set up their surveillance positions nearby, and you both stepped out of the car in full undercover mode. 

The luxurious mansion in front of you was buzzing with high-profile guests, and as soon as you stepped into the party, you both had to sell your roles.

It wasn’t hard for either of you to slip into your roles. The emotions you had to display today felt natural, blurring the lines between the act and the very real tension coursing through both of you.

Hotch offered you his arm, and you slipped your hand through it with a practiced ease, the two of you moving through the crowd like you belonged there. But as you leaned in to whisper in his ear, part of the act, the tension returned full force.

“You’re playing the part well,” you teased softly, your lips brushing just close enough to his ear that it sent a shiver down your spine.

Hotch didn’t falter, but you could feel the slight shift in his body. “Just doing my job,” he replied smoothly, though there was an edge of heat in his voice that didn’t go unnoticed.

As you mingled with the guests, you stayed close, playing the part of the affectionate couple. His hand rested on the small of your back, his touch burning through the thin fabric of your dress, reminding you of every charged moment you’d shared.

At one point, you found yourselves standing at the bar, close enough that your bodies brushed together as you ordered drinks, keeping up the charade. Hotch leaned in, his voice low in your ear. “We’re being watched. Stay close.”

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin, the moment too intimate for comfort—but necessary for the mission. You leaned into him, playing along, your fingers lightly trailing down his arm as you whispered, “I’d say you’re enjoying this a little too much.”

You couldn’t resist the teasing grin that spread across your face. “Should we put on a show?”

Before Hotch could respond, a voice crackled through your earpiece—Morgan's voice, full of amusement. “Easy, you two.”

His gaze flickered, caught between amusement and caution, and he opened his mouth to respond—but then your eyes caught a sudden movement in the corner of the room. Your heartbeat quickened, not from the tension between you, but from the job itself. One of the suspects.

You straightened, your body still close to his but your focus shifting, your muscles tensing. “Target spotted,” you said softly, your eyes never leaving the suspect.

Hotch’s hand lingered for a second longer before it withdrew, his expression sharpening, professional mode slipping back into place. His eyes met yours—still aware of the heat simmering between you both—but the job came first.

“Let’s move,” he said, his voice low and controlled, his attention now fully on the mission.

Just like that, the tension between you was replaced by the sharp focus of the mission, though the heat between you never fully disappeared. It was there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the next moment you’d be forced to confront it.

As you and Hotch made your way back to the car after the undercover operation, the air between you felt different—heavier, quieter. The playful tension from earlier had faded, replaced by something more serious. Neither of you spoke for a few moments, the sound of your footsteps filling the space.

Finally, Hotch broke the silence, his voice low. “You played the part well.”

You glanced at him, searching his expression. His usual guarded demeanor was still there, but the weight behind his words told you there was more he wasn’t saying. “So did you,” you replied softly, your own voice a little more vulnerable than before.

He nodded, his gaze fixed ahead. “It felt… real, at times,” he admitted, his words careful, like he was testing the waters.

You swallowed, feeling the gravity of what he was saying. “Yeah,” you said quietly, the teasing tone gone from your voice. “It wasn’t just an act, was it?”

Hotch stopped, turning to face you. His eyes met yours, and for the first time, there was no pretense. No game. “No. It wasn’t.”

The silence that followed was thick with understanding, and for once, neither of you felt the need to fill it with banter. This moment—whatever it was—was real.

The drive back to the BAU had been quiet, filled with unspoken words that neither of you seemed ready to address, but now, with the case behind you and the rest of the team gone, the tension that had built throughout the night felt heavier than ever.

The rest of the team had gone home, leaving the building unusually still. Hotch had stayed behind to finish reports, the soft glow of his office light spilling into the empty hallway.

Standing outside his office, Hotch paused, his hand hovering just above the door handle. For months, he’d kept this quiet, simmering tension between them at bay—tucking it away into the same compartment where he'd stored every personal feeling since Haley’s death. It had been easier that way. Safer. But now, with the team gone, the quiet hum of the building around him, and the weight of tonight pressing on his chest, it felt impossible to ignore.

Maybe he was tired of being safe.

Maybe, after everything he’d lost, he deserved to feel something again.

He pushed the door open.

You were sitting on the edge of his desk, legs crossed, a knowing smile playing on your lips as your eyes met his. The sight of you—so calm, so collected—sent a shock of tension straight through him.

“You’re here late,” he said, his voice low and steady, though the crackle of something darker threaded through it. He closed the door behind him, the lock clicking softly as if sealing the two of you in.

“I figured we had some unfinished business,” you replied, your fingers lightly tracing the polished surface of his desk. “And I’ve always wondered what it would be like to sit here.”

Hotch didn’t respond immediately, but his eyes darkened as he took a few slow, measured steps toward you. He kept his composure, but you could see the tension in his posture, the tightness in his jaw. He stopped just in front of you, his presence overwhelming, but still he held back.

“Why my desk?” he asked, his voice even quieter now, as if afraid of where this might lead but unable to stop it.

You leaned back, resting your weight on your hands, your gaze unwavering. “It just seemed… fitting,” you said softly, your voice filled with the same playful edge you’d always used to push him. “I’ve imagined this. Right here.”

Hotch’s breath hitched just slightly, his control slipping as he stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the desk beside you. “You’ve imagined this?” His voice was deeper now, his eyes searching yours as if he was still trying to convince himself this wasn’t happening.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a slow smile. “Haven’t you?”

His silence spoke volumes. The tension in the room was palpable, the space between you charged with all the things neither of you had said for months. He stared at you for a long moment, the weight of his hesitation hanging in the air—until finally, the walls he’d built around himself crumbled.

Hotch’s hand slid to your waist, tentative at first, as if testing your reaction. When you didn’t pull away, he stepped even closer, the heat of his body pressing against yours. “I shouldn’t,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your hip, though the way he looked at you said something entirely different.

You leaned in, closing the small gap between you, your breath brushing his lips as you whispered, “Then don’t.”

That was all it took. In an instant, the restraint he’d been holding onto for so long shattered. His hand slid up your back, pulling you toward him as his lips crashed against yours, the months of tension between you igniting in a kiss that was both hungry and desperate.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as his hands gripped your waist, lifting you slightly so that you were perched on the edge of the desk. His kiss was firm, controlled at first, but as you responded, matching his intensity, it deepened, the urgency between you building with every second.

His hands moved over you—up your sides, along the curve of your back—claiming every inch of you as if he was trying to make up for all the time he’d spent holding back. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, pressing your body against his as the kiss grew hotter, more demanding.

He pulled back for just a moment, his breath ragged as he looked at you, his eyes filled with something raw and unguarded. “You’ve been driving me crazy,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheek, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. “Good.”

Without another word, he kissed you again, this time deeper, more insistent, as if there was no going back now. He moved you farther onto the desk, stepping between your legs as his hands roamed your body, your lips parting for him as the kiss deepened.

The world outside his office disappeared, the only sound the soft, ragged breaths you both took between kisses. Hotch’s control had always been something he prided himself on, but now, in this moment, with you, that control was gone. The only thing left was the heat between you, the connection you had been avoiding for so long.

His hands tightened on your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer as he trailed slow, heated kisses along the side of your neck, his breath sending shivers down your spine. The feel of him, so close and unrestrained, made your mind race, the fantasy you had harbored for so long now becoming a reality.

When you whispered, “I’ve wanted this for a long time,” his movements paused for just a second. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, breath ragged as he took you in—your flushed skin, the hunger in your eyes. His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, dark and filled with desire.

“Is this what you imagined?” Hotch asked softly, his voice thick with heat as his hands slowly slid up your thighs, teasing, testing your resolve. He lingered close, the teasing tone in his words a rare show of vulnerability mixed with control.

You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat as the intensity of the moment deepened. “It’s better,” you whispered, your voice shaking slightly, your fingers tangled in his shirt as you tugged him closer. “But I was hoping we’d get to… the next part of my fantasy.”

Hotch’s lips quirked into the faintest smile, and he let out a low, deep hum, clearly enjoying the way you were unraveling beneath him. “The next part?” he murmured, his lips grazing yours as he spoke. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

You couldn’t help the small smile that played on your lips as you held his gaze, the tension between you electric. “I’ll show you,” you breathed, your voice filled with a teasing edge, daring him to let you take control.

Hotch’s eyes flashed with a mixture of amusement and desire, and he shifted slightly, his hands roaming back to your waist, pulling you closer. “Go ahead,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, “show me.”

The challenge was clear. He wasn’t going to stop you. He was going to let you guide him through the very fantasies you had imagined on so many long nights.

And with that, whatever was left of the restraint he’d been clinging to dissolved completely.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

[aphrmoosun]

Here is the list everybody needs. A list of my favourite Nomae fanfics (I must confess I have read more than once already):

1. Fates Entwined By The Stars

Set after the events of Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, Noa resumes his duties with the Eagle Clan, but one particular human woman, who has re-entered his life, continues to plague his mind.

2. Revelations

"Humans don't say 'copulate'; for us it's either having sex or making love."

Mae insisted that, although humans can do it purely for pleasure or relief, they also use it as a way to feel a connection with the person they love. Noa didn't understand then, but he does now.

3. The Conflict of The Planet of The Apes

This story take place 300 days after the event of The Kingdom of The Planet of The Apes.

4. Guilty As Sin?

“What if he’s written mine,

on my upper thigh,

only in my mind?”

In which, Noa can’t escape his dreams of Mae in her absence, so he seeks her company.

5. Echoes of Eden

This story explores the fragile hope for reconciliation in a world torn apart by fear and prejudice. Can Noa and Mae forge a path toward peace, or will the shadows of old wars darken the future dreamed of by the legendary Caesar?

Shout-out to all the Nomae nation that spend their time giving us this content. Even though we don't have a kotpota page on Ao3 nor the tags of the characters on the pota page and still we fight to get the page there and it is updated every day. I don't know what they are waiting for ...?

[absurdthirst]

The Weekend Getaway {Frankie Morales x F!Reader}

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Martial strife, anxiety, financial issues, mentions of drug issues, mentions of depression, mentions of therapy/counseling

Comments: Things are the best between you and Frankie, but your birthday is coming up. Giving him an opportunity to set things back on the right path with a weekend getaway.

🎉🎁🎊Happy Birthday @wardenparker!!!!! I hope you have a wonderful day and I love you so much! 🎉🎁🎊

|| MasterList || Frankie Morales MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It’s hard for Frankie to talk sometimes. The easiest thing for him to do is cross his arms and stonewall with the blank expression on his face that those who don’t know him read as unapproachable. The furrow of his brow hides the worry that edges his eyes. The downward pull of his lips distracting from the rounded shoulders as he sits quietly as the conversation floats around him. He doesn’t know what to say, how to say it. Not even when it’s his own friends. Men he considers brothers. 

“Frank?” His elbow moves, jarred by Benny’s bony one and it wakes him from the distracted fog that seems to settle over him when he’s preoccupied. “It’s next weekend, right?” 

“Huh?” His frown deepens, having no clue what the blonde is asking him about and Benny says your name. “It’s her birthday coming up, right?” 

Shit. A doomed sigh passes his lips and he squeezes his eyes shut as he realizes that he’s let your birthday sneak up on him again. The guys chuckle, murmurs that are supposed to be ribbing him are sounded around the table in the bustling little bar, but he doesn’t even hear them. His mind goes from almost blank to panicked like he’s just fucked up again. 

You two aren’t doing so well. You aren’t fighting, but��.he can see it. You’re tired of his shit. You’ve put up with so much. The deployments when he was on, the worry about him not coming home. Then the fucking drug charge he had gotten wrapped up in. The catalyst had been South America. 

He had promised it would be just a quick trip. An easy payday to help with the bills that seem to pile up after his license had been yanked and he had been unable to fly. A grounded pilot didn’t make jack shit and appealing this entire thing has been a long and expensive process. 

He had come home way past the expected time, without money and even more broken than he had left. It’s honestly surprising that he hadn’t come home to his shit in garbage bags on the porch and the locks changed, but the frostiness of the welcome home had proven exactly how deep in the dog house Frankie was. You didn’t really talk to him unless you needed to and even then, it was with a resigned aplomb. Like you were talking to the coworker you hated but had to interact with. He didn’t know how to change things. “Fuck.” 

“Damn, Fish, you forgot?” Benny whistles under his breath and his own beer is down to the last dregs, the third one of the night, so the exuberance of the evening had tempered down into a slightly more relaxed countenance on the human golden retriever. “You’ve got a week.” He offers helpfully. “Get her something nice.” 

Frankie shrugs, not even sure that a present would be welcomed right now. Not that he has a ton of spare cash lying around for a present in the first place. “I don’t know what to get her.” He admits. 

Pope snorts, the quick grin that he hides behind his own beer bottle tells Frankie that his suggestion is dirty. Something you definitely aren’t interested in. There hadn’t been any of that since before he had left for South America. “You know what to get her.” He huffs. “Give her that di-”

“Not that.” Frankie rolls his eyes, sighing and pressing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “We- we aren’t doing great.” He manages after a long moment of silence from the table. He knows without even looking that Pope, Benny and Will’s eyes are all trained on him with laser sharp focus, like they are being read in on a mission brief. They don’t say anything, waiting for him to continue and that’s when it’s honestly the hardest for Frankie to talk. He knows what to do on a fucking mission. There’s a clear objective. Marriage is a fuck-ton harder. The only rules are don’t cheat and make you happy. He’s been good about the first one and he’s failed miserably with the second. His snort of annoyance at himself rocks his body in the chair and it’s a fucking saving grace that the waitress comes by to check on them so he has a minute to pretend like he didn’t just open up Pandora’s box. 

Benny orders him another round, along with his own beer and Will and Pope decline, their beers still half full. Waiting until she bebops to another table and this time Pope doesn’t even watch her ass as she walks away. His frown is focused on Frankie as he hides behind his hand with the brim of his head seemingly lower than before on his head. “Frank?” He had been leaning back in his chair, but now all four legs are on the floor and he’s leaning in. “Talk to us.” 

The dreaded words. Ones that he used to hear from you almost daily. In every single tone he could imagine. Exasperation, pleading, anger, until now those words don’t come anymore. You don’t utter them, and he thinks that might be worse than when he thought he was going to die on that fucking mountain. 

He could try to wait them out, out stubborn them, but they are almost as hard headed as him. Maybe even more so in Benny’s case. Sighing, his elbows drop to the table and a hand comes up to push at his hat. “I don’t know, man.” He huffs. “We just….don’t talk.” 

Benny snorts, huffing out a derisive sound that sounds suspiciously sarcastic. “You don’t say?” Yep, definitely sarcasm. He spears the younger man, the one who has never been married, with a narrow look. 

He can feel Will’s eyes on him, waiting for more. It’s like a hot laser being focused on his face and he shifts. “It’s not- not all about that trip.” He admits after a moment. “I don’t think it is, but it didn’t help. She’s just-” He shrugs. “I’m fucking grounded, bringing home shit for money. Disappeared for nearly two weeks and came home again with no money. She’s tired of my shit. And I can’t-” He breaks off for a moment, pushing down the regret that threatens to expand in his chest when he remembers the shocked look on Tom’s lifeless face. “I can’t tell her about what happened. I don’t even know if she would listen.” He admits, feeling slightly mournful at that revelation. 

“Damn.” Pope frowns, looking down at his beer and his own guilt is evidence in his uneasy expression. This all leads back to him, to that fucking plan that had seemed so goddamn easy when he had first plotted it out. He had been so fucking smug and one of his friends is dead, and another is suffering because of it. “Have you thought about….counseling?” 

None of them liked to talk to counselors. It was a point of pride when they were younger. They were invincible. Nothing would get to them. Then they understood the implications of letting a counselor in their heads. They could be stood down. Removed from the duty roster and declared unfit. Unable to operate and do what they were trained to do. When ordered to attend any therapy, they pretended everything was okay, even when it wasn’t. Bottling things up and pushing them down. It’s always the healthy way of dealing with things, right?

Frankie winces, shaking his head slightly and blows out a sigh. “I thought about bringing it up, but…..I don’t know.” He feels lost, adrift. For so long you had been his anchor, even if he hadn’t appreciated it at the time. Now it feels like the rope is fraying and you are about to cut him loose. Leaning back, he drains the rest of his beer and thumps it down on the table. “So I don’t know if she wants me to do anything for her birthday.” 

Will leans forward, his own arms resting on the table. “Listen man, even if you aren’t in a good place, she will want you to do something.” He promises Frankie. “Show her that you give a damn. She hasn’t left, so try to breach that divide before she does.” His own engagement had ended because he wouldn’t open up and he didn’t want to see that happen to you and Fish. He knows that his friend loves you. 

“How about you get away?” Benny suggests. “Take her someplace for her birthday.” 

“We are barely paying the bills.” Frankie admits, closing his eyes. “Some fancy weekend away isn’t in the cards.” Guilt settles into his gut again, feeling like a failure more and more every day. If he hadn’t promised you that he wouldn’t touch the coke again, he would be drowning himself in it. He sighs softly and wonders what the hell he can do. 

A look passes between the two blonde haired men. Blue eyes communicating with words and there’s a small nod from Benny. 

“You know….” Will shifts in his seat, drawing Frankie’s attention from the bubbles that were popping in his beer. “We have that cabin in the mountains.” He makes it sound casual, like an off hand comment, but it’s clear to see where he’s leading. 

“I can’t do that-” Frankie shakes his head, feeling even more guilty for making his problems his friend’s problems too. 

“You can and you will.” Benny snorts, making Will roll his eyes. 

“You’d actually be doing us a favor.” Will explains. “It’s been awhile since we’ve used it. We need an excuse to air it out.” 

It’s probably a lie, and an inconvenience, but something has to change. “I don’t know…..” He sighs. “It’s hard to do anything with the baby.” 

“I’ll babysit.” The offer comes from the most unlikely source. Every man’s brow lifts as they turn back towards Pope. “What?” He shrugs. “I like kids. I’m good with them.”  He huffs, like he’s offended that they don’t believe that he could watch over a kid for a few days. How hard could it be? “We could all pitch in.” Will adds, aware that there's safety in numbers. “Take the baby, let you two get away.” Frankie still looks like he’s going to refuse again, so he leans in to drive the point home. “Fish, you need to fix this. You need time together, just the two of you. Take it. Reconnect with your wife.” 

It makes him stop, looking around at the men that he calls brothers, family. Men who would and have put their lives on the line for his and that he would do the same for in a heartbeat. Men who know what is hidden in his heart, even the things that he’s not been able to share with you. They are still here beside him, still believing in him. 

“Okay.” He nods, looking down at his hands for a moment and then back up at them. “Thanks.” A simple thank you will never be enough, but it is. 

****

“Are you really not going to tell me what we are doing?” Frankie winces slightly at the rough tone to your voice, wondering if you are really annoyed or if he’s just overly sensitive to anything when you talk to him. 

“I thought it could be a surprise.” He shrugs and instead of walking to the driver’s door of the smaller, practical SUV that you had bought when you realized you were pregnant, he moves to the passenger door to open it for you. 

You seem so surprised by the move, something that makes his heart ache, wondering how deeply he has hurt you over the years with his selfishness if you seem so suspicious of the simple gesture. He wonders when he stopped opening the doors for you, when he stopped trying to show you in the small ways that he loves you. 

He shuts the door behind you and circles the front of the SUV, hoping that you don’t hate the getaway. Hoping that it might spark some conversations, some kind of connection between the two of you. 

“Are you sure that they will be alright?” You look worried, that little crease between your eyes when you are upset deep and he nods as he closes the driver’s door and reaches for his seat belt. 

“Oh yeah, the guys have it covered.” He promises, chuckling slightly. “They outlined their objectives this weekend like they were working up an op.” He shakes his head. “Pope has a fucking binder.” You don’t say anything, but he hears a small snort. A good sign, probably the first little sound of amusement that he’s heard in months and he wants to reach over and take your hand but he concentrates on starting the car and pulling out of the driveway. 

Benny had driven up to the cabin yesterday, making sure that it wasn’t too dusty and to put clean sheets on the bed in the main bedroom. He had even told Frankie that he was stocking it with some groceries and refused to take any money for it. Making Frankie both ashamed of his inability to really pay him back, and proud that he has a friend who cares so much. 

The interior of the car is silent, but not exactly in that oppressive, tense kind of silence. You are on your phone, the radio is on. Turned to the easy, classic rock station that both of you like, turned down a little lower than he would normally listen to if it was just him in his truck. The blue sky is clear with the exception of the puffy white clouds and the sun shines brightly to make it a gorgeous day. Maybe a day that both of you need. 

It takes a couple of hours to get there, Frankie concentrating on the road as you put your phone away after checking with Will on the baby. Taking the exit from the highway and turning off on a little country road. He’s been here before, a fishing trip with the guys and it’s a gorgeous little spot. It’s isolated, the lake down in the valley about two miles away, but the view from the large back porch is the real winner. It looks out over the valley, across the lake and the surrounding mountains. It's serene, calming. The best kind of place to sit in a rocking chair and have a cup of coffee as the morning light fills the valley. 

You shift in your seat when he pulls off onto the long road up the mountain, your head turning as you look out the windows. The road is only paved about halfway up, then it’s good that your little crossover has all wheel drive. Frankie slows down and turns to look at you, watching your curiosity get the best of you as he climbs the little road up to the cabin. 

You’re quiet when asphalt gives away to gravel. The crunch of the surprisingly smooth graded road is loud under the tires as he slows down a little more. He can feel the questions that are practically vibrating off of you, but you still don’t ask. Waiting, anticipating. He wonders if it’s a nervous thrill that is curling in your stomach like it is his. If you are wildly speculating what could be at the end of this road. Hopefully you aren’t disappointed. 

He hears it the second you see the small cabin nestled among the trees. The sharp inhale of breath, the yearning. You lean forward into his peripheral vision as you inspect the clearing. “Frank….” Your voice is soft, making his heart skip a beat. It’s been a long time since he’s heard that tone. The one that says that you are both happily surprised and impressed. 

He puts the car in park and presses the button to turn off the engine. Looking over at you and opening his door to get out. “Come on, sweetheart.” He urges as he unfolds himself from the seat and gives a little groan as his back pops. 

Getting into the cabin is easy, Frankie produces the key with a small grin when you frown, opening the door with the duffel bags on his shoulders and pushing it open. “Here we are.” He offers, letting you go inside before him. 

It’s rustic, but you’ve never claimed to need five star accommodations or 1000 thread count sheets. There is a comfortable looking plaid couch with a coffee table, board games underneath the wide wooden top. A small bookshelf off to the corner with a surprising number of paperbacks stuffed on its shelves. There’s a fireplace, logs already set in the grate even though it’s probably too hot to light it. Although it might cool down once the sun goes down, it is cooler up here on the mountain that home after all. Cozy. That’s the word and he glances over at you to see what you think. 

“It’s- we’re staying here?” You ask softly, looking around and absorbing with a look that Frankie can’t quite decipher. 

“Yeah.” He shuffles, wondering if you are disappointed by the lack of grandeur. It’s not whisking you away to Paris or splurging on some fancy excursion. “I thought we could-” he breaks off and shrugs slightly, feeling a little raw. “Just relax.” He finally murmurs. 

“Just relax.” You rock your jaw as you contemplate his answer and look around the cabin, nodding slightly. “I can’t remember the last time that happened.” You admit. 

“We have all weekend.” Frankie adds. “There’s groceries in the fridge, nothing to do except what we want. Oh…uh, give me a second.” He turns around and drops the bags before he hurries back out to the trunk of the car to get the little cooler he had put in there. Despite Benny stocking it with everything you like, Frankie had wanted to bring one thing himself. 

The cooler in his arms, he hurries back inside. Bringing it over to the counter and setting it down before opening the lid to pull out a beautifully decorated cake that protected from the ride in its plastic container. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.” He offers shyly, setting it down on the counter and looking over at you nervously. “I know it’s early, but this is your weekend.” 

He watches, waiting for you to say something, anything. Hoping that not everything is lost and there’s still a small ember of love that you have for him. Something that he can nurture and fan back into the flame that still burns in his own chest for you. 

“Frank…..” 

****

“Good morning.” You look out from the cozy chair you are curled in. The nip of the morning air doesn’t dispel the almost magic of the dew and haze of the low lying clouds hovering over the mountain. A cup of coffee appears in front of you, smoke curling into the air and its strong fragrance teases your senses. Waking you up out of the almost dreamlike meditation to reach out and take the offering. 

“Good morning.” Your lips curl into a soft smile, even as you bring the cup to your lips and your eyes slide up to find Frankie’s. It’s perfectly doctored to the way you like it, making you hum in approval as he slips into the chair beside yours. “Thank you.” You offer. 

His own smile is gentle, a flash across his face, but it lingers in his eyes as he looks out over the valley. “Of course.” 

This weekend has been good for you. Good for both of you. The hard conversation had come that very first night. The surprise of being thought of turning into tears. Tears turning into pleas for you to talk to him. So you had. 

You had laid out all of your disappointments. All of your hurt. Telling him exactly why you had pulled away and started to rely more on yourself than you did him. Why you had honestly started to pretend that you were a single unit. A single parent. 

Both of you cried. Especially when Frankie had finally talked to you. Opening up and laying his heart bare, to tell you the things that haunted him. Following him around like a spector and made him close himself off. 

Things aren’t perfect. They never will be. That’s not the way that life works, but there is hope. There will be a path to forgiveness for both of you. Counseling will help, both of you going and working together as well as individually. Working on improving your communication and the issues that aren’t magically fixed because of a sweet gesture. 

After talking, healing can happen. Has been happening. Sleep helps. You have been so sleep deprived, you had started to think that you would never sleep a full night ever again. Intimacy slowly starting to become more than a distant memory.

Smirking slightly, you unfold your legs and stand up from your chair so you can move Frankie’s arm and slip into his lap with your own coffee still in your other hand as you loop the other arm around his neck. His eyes immediately find yours again and still have that deep, loving look that you have always loved even when you weren’t sure that you still loved him. 

“Thank you.” You hum softly, leaning in to press your lips to his. “You already thanked me, sweetheart.” He reminds you, huffing a soft chuckle. “You like the coffee that much?” 

You sigh softly and shake your head. “Not for the coffee.” You hum, kissing him again and curling into his chest. “For this. For loving me.” 

Frankie sighs, leaning his head against yours and closing his eyes. “Baby, you don’t ever have to worry about that.” He promises. “I’ve always loved you. Always.” 

Things aren’t perfect, but with a weekend getaway and a little open and honest conversation, you both know that you will get back to where things are easier. “Happy birthday to me.” You murmur, knowing now that everything will be fine. 

[lilu787788]

There is something hypnotically compelling about Aleksander—something that has stayed in my mind ever since I watched the series in 2023 and read Demon. The more I think about him, the more certain I am: Aleksander is not only a fascinating character, but someone who truly belongs in stories written for adults. Stories that do not shy away from the complexity of human nature and dare to hold its gaze. He is perfect not because he is easy to love or simple to understand, but precisely because he is not.

Aleksander challenges the simplistic labels of “hero” and “villain” that fiction for younger audiences often relies on. He exists in that grey space where most of us find ourselves when the world stops being black and white. And in that space, he reigns. He is power and sorrow, a visionary and a warning. He embodies the contradictions that adulthood brings like regret, responsibility, longing, and compromise. He has lived for centuries, bearing witness to the repeated cruelties of history and still clinging to the hope that things could be different. That his people, persecuted Grisha, could live in safety and freedom. And yet, the means he chose to protect them are exactly where many draw the line. But that is what makes him so exceptional. In characters like him, I see a kind of honesty that is rare and precious.

Aleksander made me ask uncomfortable questions: What would I do if I had the power to protect those I love? Would I make different choices? Would ambition, pain, and revenge affect me too?

These are questions for people who have lived a little, who have made mistakes, who have loved deeply and maybe lost, who understand that life is rarely tidy. Aleksander belongs in stories for adults because his arc demands a certain emotional depth to be fully appreciated. While young protagonists often wrestle with first love or the discovery of who they are, Aleksander already knows who he is and has come to terms with the cost of that knowledge or at least tries to. That internal conflict, that painful self-awareness, makes him a rich subject for a mature narrative.

His suffering and his struggle against a brutal, merciless world where passivity would have meant annihilation are a perfect example of how he fits the mold of a tragic hero. His tragedy stems from a deeply human, heartbreaking need to protect, to fix what is broken, even at the cost of great personal sacrifice. He is morally grey in the truest sense: not because he is edgy or cruel for shock value, but because he follows a path carved by grief, necessity, and an unrelenting sense of duty. He carries the weight of hatred because someone had to. Because the enemy left him no choice.

Even his relationship with Alina is full of nuance. It’s not just about light and shadow, it’s about power and vulnerability, longing and the tragedy of being misunderstood. There is desire and deep love, yes, but also deep respect and recognition. He sees her not as a symbol or savior, but as a person. That alone sets their bond far apart from the oversimplified romances often depicted in fantasy. What exists between them isn’t pure or innocent but it matters. It reflects a kind of love that adults understand: shaped by pain, loss, and difficult choices.

Aleksander’s story deserves to be told without compromise. A story where we sit with his silence, his anger, his tenderness. Where we not only witness his actions, but understand them. He is the kind of character who would flourish in a narrative that doesn’t shy away from harsh truths or emotional complexity. His origins, the way grief shaped him, the weight of immortality, the slow petrification of a heart that still dares to hope - these are not footnotes. They are the core of the story.

Even in a fantasy world, Aleksander feels real. His choices reflect the hard decisions many would rather not face. And that is why he belongs in adult literature, not as a side note or a caution, but as the beating heart of a story that embraces complexity. A story that understands that heroes don’t always wear white, and that sometimes, a line must be crossed so that others can sleep safely at night.

Aleksander is not a fantasy. He is a mirror. And he deserves to be seen clearly.

[navybrat817]

Epinephrine

Summary: Bucky races to win as you watch with anticipation.

Pairing: Motocross!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: Over 1.5k Warnings: Nerves, K-I-S-S-I-NG, swearing, POV switch, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @saradika. Bucky edit by Nix. Moodboard by yours truly. A/N: My third Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 3) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse for @buckybarnesevents! Set in my Dialed In AU, but can be read as a standalone. Apologies for any inaccuracies, but I'm human and still had fun writing this.❤️ Thank you @targaryenvampireslayer for the POV switch suggestion! Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Epinephrine. Both a hormone and a neurotransmitter, the chemical messenger transmits nerve signals to prepare your body for fight or flight. Most call it adrenaline. Some liken it to pre-race jitters.

Bucky considered it his own personal fuel.

Just breathe.

It amazed him how so many wrote off motocross as just another sport without considering the physical and mental training they put into it or how dangerous it was. Position, weight distribution, and correct form on the bike were all things to consider when practicing and racing. Not to mention no two tracks are alike, the conditions constantly changing. You had to take the hills, jumps, turns, and distance for your own safety and those around you.

He mentally wished Steve and the others a safe race, even Rumlow. Prick or not, he didn’t want the guy to get hurt. He sure as hell didn't want to lose to him either.

"For what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t hit him. Because he would have won and guys like him don’t deserve to win."

No, he doesn't.

His heart raced a little faster, his right palm starting to sweat as the nerves and excitement clashed in his chest. The knot in his stomach settled as he waited for the race to start, his focus on the path in front of him. The rough terrain ahead called to him, urging him to unleash whatever anger, fear, joy, and anything he had built up inside. He would go all out, leaving no regrets in his path.

All leading to you after he crossed the finish line.

"Good luck."

Gave me all the luck I need, Spitfire.

With your voice in his mind, it quieted any doubt that lingered. He knew his strengths and even his limits when it came to the sport. Getting back on the bike after his accident already proved that he was a winner. He didn't need to prove himself to anyone else.

But he hoped you would see his worth.

And as the gate dropped, he smiled behind his helmet.

You grabbed Natasha's arm as the riders took off, keeping an eye out for Bucky. She didn't pull away or make a comment when you dug your nails in. You appreciated her a bit more because of that. You also didn't understand why you were nervous when you weren't the one on the track.

I've seen plenty of races, but I didn't have anything at stake before.

"Sorry," you muttered as you let the redhead go.

"It's okay. He's got this," she assured you.

You nodded, doing your best to give her a smile. A mile and a half long course and likely a twenty to thirty minute race and extra lap, you knew it was standard. But watching the dirt fly as you focused on Bucky's helmet, your heart felt like it was in your throat. You didn't just want him to win, you wanted him safe.

Just breathe. He knows what he's doing.

"If he gets hurt, I'm kicking his ass," you said, sucking in a breath as another rider got close to his back wheel.

"And nurse him back to health," Natasha teased.

"Yeah. With a uniform and all," you teased, actually kind of into the idea.

Down girl.

You got uncharacteristically quiet after that, your stomach dropping when Maddox gained on Bucky. He was still in a good position, his friend, Steve, up there with him. It was almost like witnessing a roller coaster ride, the ups and downs, the twists and drops. Adrenaline pumped through your veins and you could only imagine how the guys out there felt actually experiencing it.

Exhilarating.

As the riders got close to the final lap, you jumped up. You somehow stayed on your feet when your head spun, but you weren't going to miss this. Bucky and Maddox were almost neck-in-neck, but Maddox probably thought he had it in the bag. That kind of cockiness didn't always pay off.

You sure as hell didn’t want it to pay off today.

"Come on, Hothead," you whispered.

While Maddox turned his head to look at Bucky, the latter kept his head facing forward and elbows up. As if he didn't care that his competition was there. He raced smarter, not harder, as you watched with bated breath. He kept his lead toward the finish line as you couldn’t help but smile.

Bucky Barnes won the race.

He won. He fucking won.

"Fuck yes!" you shouted, uncaring of your language as Bucky took first, his left fist pumping in the air. The way everyone else cheered, they probably didn't notice. But you finally felt like you could take a proper breath, the mental ride coming to a stop. "For the record, I'm just happy he made it across the finish line. This has nothing to do with the date."

I can actually smell my own bullshit.

"Wow. You managed to say that with a straight face. Impressive," Natasha said, nodding toward the course as the race wrapped up. "Come on. Let's go congratulate him. And by we I mean you."

"He raced a good race. It was very exciting," you said evenly, but you eagerly pulled her along to get out of the stands and through the crowd.

You weren’t sure if you were actually allowed to go up to greet him, but people moved to let you through. Was it your strut or Natasha’s subtle stare that made everyone jump out of the way? As you got closer to Bucky and the other riders, you felt like your heart was going to race out of your chest when you stopped at the edge of the course. Especially when took off his helmet, a light sheen of sweat on his face as he shook his hair out.

Fuck me in the dirt, please.

“Go,” Natasha encouraged after some of the guys congratulated Bucky, except for Maddox who stood feet away with a glare on his face.

Sore loser doesn’t look good on him, but he’s not why I’m here.

Holding your head high, you locked eyes with Bucky when he looked your way. Seemingly forgetting the others around him, he walked toward you to meet you halfway when you stepped in the dirt. The two of you stood there for a long moment before he smirked. A slight one, but still a smirk.

“Looks like I won,” he said, his voice rough.

“You did. Congratulations,” you said, stepping back to hold out your hand. “And it looks like you get to go out with me, so double congratulations,” you simpered, previous annoyance that he bet a date with you completely forgotten.

“Are we shaking on it?” he chuckled, his gloved hand reaching for yours. A spark of electricity moved up your arm once he took it and you refused to deny your attraction at that moment.

“You could say that,” you smirked, yanking him close. “But I prefer to seal it with a kiss.”

You took a moment to appreciate how soft and warm his lips felt when you initiated the kiss this time. You allowed his tongue to slip inside and explore when you parted your lips, feeling the beat of his heart as he pressed his chest against your body. It wasn’t hard or urgent, but excitement and passion consumed you. It didn’t matter if he got your clothes dirty. Or that a few of the riders whistled and cheered at the display.

He smiled against your lips when you had to take a breath. “I thought you said you weren’t a prize.”

“And I thought you said your ass was all mine after you win,” you reminded him, almost wishing you reached around to squeeze it. Even dirty and sweaty, he still looked and smelled amazing. It was a phenomenon.

“I did and I meant it,” he said, sneaking in another kiss before he had to pull away. “You sticking around?”

“I’ll be with Nat. Go do what you have to,” you said, turning away to back to your friend. She had a smile on her face. You had one on yours, too.

“I still have to get your number, so don’t go anywhere!” Bucky called after you.

“Who said I was giving you my number?” you asked over your shoulder. “I never agreed to that.”

“How am I supposed to take you on a date without it?” he asked.

“You seem like a smart guy. You’ll figure it out, Hothead,” you teased, egging him on just a little.

“Want me to get on my knees, Spitfire?”

Yes and split me open with that talented tongue of yours.

“She’ll give you her number,” Natasha said, waving Bucky on as you laughed. You may have checked his ass out again because he did say it was yours. And he no doubt checked yours out as you walked away. “You are giving him your number before we leave.”

“I will,” you promised, giving her a small smile. “I’m glad you introduced me to him,” you added gently, looking forward to getting to know him more.

“And I’m glad you put a smile back on his face.”

Hearing that felt like a victory.

I guess we’re both winners today, Hothead.

Yay! He won! Was there ever any doubt? More to come. Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[ozzgin]

hai,baby ...I know your request is closed now. And if you don't mind, can I leave my request when your blog is open? ( If no that's okay,you can delete this request) alright....So, I really like the butterfly demon that you made for Inuyasha and Sesshomaru on request.And I thought what if the fem s/o butterfly demon had met Sesshomaru and Inuyasha ( separate please) when they were little (the fem s/o butterfly demon was also still a child at that time) Dancing on a hill or mountain with the moonlight shining on her and her beautiful butterfly wings,Instead of being surprised by them Femin s/o elegantly stretches out her hand to invite them to play or dance in the middle of the forest . ( Headcannon)

Definitely! I’m very glad you enjoyed the idea, all of my requests are always so creative! I wouldn’t write so much if it wasn’t for all the vivid prompts. The whole atmosphere you described immediately reminded me, for some reason, of this song from 'A Troll's Fairy Tale' Otome game. It just set up the whole mood of the story.

Inuyasha/Sesshomaru x Butterfly Demon! Reader Headcanons: First meeting

Featuring a young Inuyasha and Sesshomaru and their first encounter with the child demon.

Inuyasha

Inuyasha was never a child to cause trouble. He always clung to his mother's soft sleeves, quickly following behind her as his tiny footsteps barely made a sound against the polished tatami. So whatever possessed him that night is, to this day, beyond his understanding. Nonetheless, on a certain night with full moon, he snuck outside and ran across the tall grass and up the hill until he reached a glade.

It was almost as if someone had called him by his name, a mumbled, merely audible whisper echoing from the distance. He’d been to this place many times before with his mother, yet now it looked entirely different. His small body cowered before the crooked, swaying shadows of the tall trees and he wanted to run away, doubting his intentions. That’s when the clouds cleared and the patch of open greenery was once again bathed by pale light. He hadn’t noticed the other person. A child, like him, carelessly and effortlessly dancing around, indifferent to the world. Although it couldn’t have been a human. Inuyasha was very much familiar with demons given his own family, but he’d never seen one like this. Adorning her back, a pair of sheer, colorful wings fluttered gently in the wind.

He must’ve been staring rather intently, because the mysterious nocturnal artist finally noticed his presence. You seemed pleased by the idea of having company, so you enthusiastically skipped and twirled your way over, extending an inviting hand. He barely grazed his fingers against yours when the worried shouts of his mother startled him out of his trance. “I think I have to go back home”, he muttered apologetically. “Mom is looking for me.” And with that, he begun sprinting away, occasionally looking back to see if the butterfly girl would still be there.

Sesshomaru

Even as a child, Sesshomaru had always been aloof and independent. It wasn’t uncommon for him to disappear at random times, so no one would question it, especially given he’d always return safely. Sometimes he just needed time to himself and away from others, in order to gather his thoughts and also train, hoping to close the gap between him and his father. Other times he’d wander out of pure curiosity, out of the desire to explore.

It was during one of his nightly expeditions that he felt the sudden desire to follow along a certain path. He knew very well where it led, to one of the cozily hidden glades he’d visit for his sword training. Though he’d never been there after dark, so this was a first. Once he reached the forest clearing, he shuddered slightly at the cold wind. It was unexpectedly chilly for late spring and the cherry blossom branches creaked with the breeze, scattering clumps of petals. He surveyed the area with his big amber eyes and spotted some movement ahead. A girl his age. Or rather, a demon. He involuntarily reached for his sword, expectantly. You were too focused on your movements to realize his presence. A pirouette under the moonlight, and your wings spread open theatrically once you were finished. Sesshomaru was mesmerized.

You heard the quiet gasp and turned to your audience, chuckling at the young boy’s baffled expression. “You can join, too. I won’t mind.” You said reassuringly. Sesshomaru huffed, embarrassed to be caught so beguiled. “Why would I do something so silly?” He retorted, trying to play it cool. He folded his arms and looked away, uninterested. “You can just say you don’t know how to dance.” You teased, cheekily. This seemed to have hit a nerve, as the boy glared at you and answered with a puffed up chest, “S-so what about it, I’m a warrior, not a dancer!” You shrugged and hopped on a nearby rock for some elevation, continuing your little dance. As annoyed as he sounded, Sesshomaru continued to observe you, a faint blush warming his cheeks.

[mrhaitch]

hi mr. haitch!

i was wondering if you could do a character analysis on suguru geto? i have a hard time understanding how his ideology changed, specifically when he takes it to the extreme and wants to eliminate ALL non-sorcerers. i’d also like to hear your thoughts on the dynamic between gojo and geto… their conflicts and how they drifted apart but never permanently resented the other. lastly, if possible, could you touch on how loneliness affected the two and if it had any impact in their actions, both after riko’s death and after their argument when they split paths

thank you so much,

a curious anon

My knowledge of the series is pretty limited so I can only answer with what I've seen and understood, but Geto and Gojo can be looked at as two different reactions to the same trauma: one blames himself and the other blames everyone else.

That's the core to the changes both of them underwent after Riko's death. Gojo was recognised and elevated as the strongest from birth - the linchpin that holds his society together. Despite the swagger and the ego, beneath is a powerful loneliness and detachment. He has been reduced to a function, with no choice other than to fulfill it, and there's a lot of resentment towards Jujutsu society as a result - they took his childhood, his humanity. His whole identity is based on being the strongest, and yet when he found something he wanted to protect - he failed. Since Riko's death we see evidence of constant effort to master his abilities, to better fulfill his role but at the cost of sinking deeper into the expectations of others. Even so, Gojo comes away with a greater appreciation for the vulnerable, especially children.

Geto, however, did not suffer the same societal pressure - everything about him, his place in the story, is a result of choice and agency. He wants to be a sorcerer, wants to get stronger to protect the weak, he wants to work with Gojo to better the world. When we first meet him, he views his abilities as a means to realise his desires, his ambitions, and - fundamentally - his values.

Riko's death, and everything that followed, robbed him of that ability to choose. Her death meant nothing, a new vessel was found, the world didn't end, everyone moved on. Gojo internalised his feelings of failure and forged on - seemingly unmoved. Geto threw everything he had at saving and avenging her and it changed nothing.

I'll pause here and say that I think Geto and Gojo saw different things in Riko: Gojo saw someone weaker than himself forced into fulfilling a role, Geto saw someone exemplary and unique murdered by the powerless. Perhaps (and remember I'm not an expert here) she came to stand for all of Jujutsu society in his mind - someone with an inherent greatness or importance sacrificed for the sake of people who lack the strength to protect themselves. She was the ultimate realisation of his early beliefs (the strong serving the weak) and it proved to be horrible, far removed from what he envisaged.

But let's focus on their reactions: Gojo went further into himself, into his role, aspiring to realise his full strength to protect others. Geto stopped growing - became bitter, twisted, blaming everyone but himself. He thinks himself a liberator, but in truth he is motivated by an endless appetite for revenge - to take his pain and inflict it on everyone else. It's a response common among men who struggle to regulate and manage their anger and personal set-backs, looking to displace their own negative emotions and push them onto someone else: believing it'll lessen their own pain.

All of this is just supposition, though. Fundamentally Geto is a violent racist, with a fascistic worldview built around strength as some kind of valorous ideal - gleefully inflicting pain and suffering on others. We can empathise with his journey, but we don't have to forgive his actions.

[femalefemur]

Ambrosia

18+ minors do not interact!

warnings: kidnapping, minotaurs, please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 2k

A/N: This is the first part of this work.

There’s a legend in your village about a secret labyrinth hidden into the side of one of the mountains on the outskirts of town. They say that this labyrinth contains a minotaur so fierce that no man or demigod has ever been able to defeat him, and for that reason the entrance of the labyrinth was hidden by the gods and would only appear to those deemed worthy enough to defeat the beast. 

You’re not sure how it happened, you had been going for a walk to clear your head after spending the entire day preparing for the upcoming festival to celebrate Demeter and thank her for the bountiful harvest. As much as you enjoyed the preparations, being around so many people for the entire day had worn you out which is why you had slipped out and decided to take a walk alone down the path leading out of the town and towards the mountains. 

You really hadn’t meant to walk so far but you had gotten lost in your thoughts, thinking about what other preparations you had left to do and which peplos to wear, that you hadn’t realised how far out you truly were, only when you saw the base of a mountain did you truly realise how far you had walked. 

It was an odd feeling that made you keep going despite the rapidly setting sun and the small voice in the back of your mind that told you to turn around and go back home. Ignoring the voice and pushing on, you walked further towards the mountain base, the trees around you swaying in the breeze, the noise of their leaves filling your ears as you walked, almost as if they were watching you and chattering amongst each other about the human who had entered their home. 

A jolt ran through your body, like Zeus himself had struck you with one of his precious lightning bolts, the hairs on the back of your neck and arms standing up as the breeze and trees stilled. A sense of anticipation in the air as you trod further on and reached the mountain base as the sky changed colours with the setting sun, a purple hue casting onto the mountain side. 

The voice in your head screamed at you to turn around, to go back the way you had come and yet your body moved forward, almost as if of its own accord. Until you reached an impossibly smooth portion of the mountain face, the stone seemingly unnatural as you stared at it. The purple of the sky coloured the stone perfectly as you moved closer and closer until your hand made contact with the rock, feeling the cold smoothness under your fingers with fascination until you felt something move. A gasp pulled from you as the rock gave way to a dark hallway and as much as you knew it was a bad idea, you walked into it, the structure shaking subtly again as the wall closed behind you and left you in the dark until an oil lamp flickered to life a few paces ahead. 

The hall was cold, all the walls and flooring made of limestone which seemed to echo your footsteps as you walked towards the lamp and picked it up. As you held up the lamp and looked closer at the walls, you could see intricate carvings in the limestone. Some were in a language you couldn’t understand, others though were in Greek and as you took your time to walk through the hall you saw one word that made your blood run cold and the stories you were told as a child come flooding back into your memory. 

The word Minotaur stared back at you as you stood there, the oil lamp in your grasp shaking slightly before you gently placed it down, careful not to break it or you would be left in the darkness and if the writing in front of you was truthful, then also with a minotaur, who would not hesitate to kill you if the stories were to be believed. You slumped against the wall and slid down until your bottom hit the floor, a deep breath leaving you as you watched the shadow from the lamp flicker against the opposite wall as you let your thoughts consume you. 

All you knew was that you were currently in a limestone structure, a labyrinth to be exact, one with a minotaur no less, and your only chance of seeing the outside world again was to make it through the labyrinth with no weapon. Not that a weapon would have done you much good if this minotaur was as strong as they said. Though maybe it would have bought you some time to slip away somehow, to run as fast as you could and hope you didn’t hit a dead end and make it back to the forest at the base of the mountain. 

Your fingers absentmindedly picked at the dead skin on your lips as you thought, trying to figure a way out of the labyrinth without having to face the minotaur and meet an untimely demise. The only thing that pulled you from your thoughts was when your fingers picked a little too hard and caused your lip to bleed profusely. 

Frowning you sucked your lip into your mouth to stop the bleeding, tasting the metallic tang of blood as it filled your mouth and your eyes wandered around you. The only idea you had at the moment was to take your shoes off to soften the sound of your footsteps and hope that the minotaur wouldn’t hear you. Your fingers worked to slip your shoes off your feet and tuck them into the belt at your waist as you pushed yourself up and picked the oil lamp back up, the familiar scent of burning oil bringing you some comfort as you started down the hallway. 

Your footsteps were softer now, the cold of the limestone against the soles of your feet didn’t help your growing anxiety and feeling of dread as you walked as softly as you could further into the labyrinth. Stopping when you came to a diverging pathway and looking down both options as you felt a chill run down your spine causing your head to whip to the left, your eyes searching the seemingly never ending darkness for what had made your body react in such a way but finding nothing. 

A small sigh left your lips and you decided to take a right pathway, hoping to avoid whatever had made you on edge in the left pathway, despite the feeling of now being watched. The flame of the oil lamp flickered as you walked on, you walked for what felt like hours, your body growing tired but refusing to stop moving as the ever growing feeling of terror consumed you. 

What ifs filled your mind, what if you never made it out of the labyrinth? It was after all an almost impossible maze and you had no map, what if you ran into the minotaur and he ripped you apart with his bare hands? The thought made you shiver as you pushed on only to hit another dead end, your brows starting to hurt from the ever deepening frown on your face before you closed your eyes and took a breath. Pressing your fingers to the frown as you smoothed out your expression and turned to continue on, your eyes darting around again as you felt yourself being watched again but finding nothing in the darkness. 

You tried to reassure yourself as you took the alternative path, surely if it was the minotaur watching you then he would have killed you by now so it couldn’t be him. It had to be nothing, just your body on edge due to the unfortunate circumstances you now found yourself in. 

You sighed and walked on for another few hours, the oil in the lamp almost completely burned out which worried you as it would leave you in complete darkness and there didn’t seem to be any other light source in the awful place. So you picked up your pace, almost running as you tried to find the exit but also keep the flame from extinguishing, a gasp leaving you as you reached the centre of the labyrinth. 

There was a large marble table in the middle, some furs scattered on the ground and a large pile of furs in one of the corners in what seemed to be a makeshift bed, it would seem that the minotaur had decided to use the space as his personal room. There were various lamps around the centre room, illuminating the space well as you stood there stunned for a moment and took everything in before moving forward to place your nearly empty lamp down. Reaching for another which looked mostly full when a deep, rumbling voice made you freeze, your limbs refusing to move as you stayed where you were, only your eyes turning towards the voice and seeing the minotaur standing there. 

“You’ve done well so far” The minotaur grinned at you as he spoke, moving closer as he crouched down next to you and looked you in the eyes, his large hand coming up to cup your face and felt the soft skin of your cheeks. 

You stayed frozen, taking shallow breaths as his hand rested on your face, your mind racing as you registered his words and confusion settling on your features as you stared at him. 

“Thank you?” Your words came out more questioning than you would have liked but who could blame you when you were most likely going to die in the coming moments, your eyes searched his before taking in the rest of his appearance. He was attractive you realised, he may have the head of a bull but his physique was one that made a dampness grow between your thighs. He was strong, muscular but in a way that a comfortable layer of fat rested over his muscles, he was tall and dark hair covered his body, growing thicker as it trailed down his stomach and dipped below the improperly worn himation. 

Your eyes flickered back up as the heat grew on your cheeks, feeling almost as if they were burning, surely he would be able to feel it under his fingers. It would have seemed that you were correct as he let out a small chuckle and let his hand drop back to his side. “How did such a pretty thing come to be in my labyrinth?” He watched you carefully, his eyes following the way yours wandered over his body, the way your thighs clenched slightly as you looked at his arms and the way your eyes glazed over ever so slightly as they flittered over his thighs. 

“I…The wall just opened, I don’t know…Are you going to kill me now?” You took a deep breath and slowly let it out as you tried to calm yourself, shifting to sit on the floor rather than on your legs when you heard him laugh. “What’s so funny?” Confusion on your face as you watched the minotaur shake with laughter, for a moment he seemed ethereal, beautiful in his laughter as his eyes closed and his chest shook, the deep rumbling of his voice like a beautiful song, it took your breath away as you watched him in awe. “I’m not going to kill you, sweet flower” He huffed out as the last of his laughter died, a smile remaining on his lips “I might just keep you though” the minotaur grinned as he leaned closer to you, his hand reaching out to rest gently on your thigh as he leaned over you.  “Keep me?” A gasp of disbelief left your lips as you watched him, raising a brow as he put his hand on your thigh “you can’t just keep me! If you’re not going to kill me then let me go, I can’t stay here” You huffed as you brushed his hand away as you stood, glancing around the room as you tried to decide on which pathway to take, not noticing the way the minotaur watched you with amusement.

“Oh no you don’t, you’re going to stay with me, my sweet flower” The minotaur stood and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you so close to him that you were flush against his body “I’m not letting my gift from the gods go that easily, you’re mine now.”

[powdermelonkeg]

Clerics in D&D, as I understand them, differ from BG3 mechanics in that they pick one domain (as a subclass) and the domain HAS to belong to the god they worship. For example, Lathander's domains are Life and Light, so you could be a Life Domain Cleric or a Light Domain Cleric, but NOT a Tempest Domain Cleric. You want to be Tempest, you have to pick a god that claims Tempest.

Anyways.

This is going to be a set of 4 polls. I'm going to use the seven cleric subclasses from the Player's Handbook, with their descriptions from BG3.

Hylia (also called the Goddess of Light) is the main protector goddess of Hyrule. She was tasked with guarding the power of the Triforce, and went to battle against the demon Demise until her last breath to keep it safe, before sending it skyward with the surviving humans. She then reincarnated herself as the first Zelda, and is the reason all Zeldas until now have had light abilities and sealing powers. She also created the sword that would one day become the Master Sword.

Besides this, she's also somewhat associated with time, as it takes time travel through gates that bear her seal in order to follow the path of destiny she laid out for the Hero.

Domain descriptions below the cut:

Knowledge Domain

"Adaptable and adroit in all manner of languages and skills, your mind is an intellectual cup brimming with exquisite knowing."

Life Domain

"Tasked with the holy edict of preserving the body, mind, and soul, your god grants you a plethora of healing magics."

Light Domain

"Gods of primordial flame bathe you in resplendent light, providing magics to dispel darkness and immolate enemies."

Nature Domain

"You embody the vast viridian power of the natural world, an avatar of the subtle divinity of fruitfall, avian migration, woodland silence, and the landslide's roaring fury."

Tempest Domain

"Your faith has made you the very thunder that quakes the black firmament, the lightning coursing through the veins of a terrible storm."

Trickery Domain

"You wield the unorthodox divine tools of deceit and illusion in worship of your chosen deity."

War Domain

"Fortified by holy zeal, you brandish an arsenal of sacramental savagery to use against those you deem unrighteous."

[blackmosscupcakes]

I'm fascinated by how this arc of The Wizard the Witch and the Wild One has really flipped the narrative on who's in the right and wrong compared to the first arc, because the key thing is NONE OF THEM are acting differently than they did then--they're all acting incredibly true to character traits that were established from the get go--the only thing that's changed is the surroundings and the context of the backdrop around them.

Out in the world, among ordinary people, Suvi often came across as imperial-minded, deeply indoctrinated, and carrying a feeling of being superior to those who weren't of the citadel. Her feelings and actions were understandable, but the reaction of the audience was often to read her as being overly hostile to the other two and determined to cleave to the Citadel and the beliefs of her upbringing to a degree that was detrimental to their task.

Ame and Eursulon showed a willingness to go off half-cocked and act impulsively based on their feelings in the first arc just as they did in this latest episode, but in the context of the wider world this often came across as deep empathy with ordinary people and spirits and a sense of responsibility to deeper matters beyond the politics of humans. Sure, their actions were a bit reckless and had some negative consequences, but they were acting with their hearts and for the right reasons and everyone was down for Quest Fever!

And then last night we see exactly the same dynamic play out once again--Suvi trying to balance the needs of her adoptive mother and her home and the entire institution in which she grew up against the needs of her friends, while her friends run off and literally blow up the Citadel's shit in absolute defiance of everything Suvi was raised to believe. Now, standing there alone and reeling from a curse as her friends tear off leaving destruction in their wake, she seems understandably hurt, as well as obedient, measured, restrained, sensible, if perhaps a little too blindly trusting in Citadel processes*. And likewise, amidst the context of seeing how the Citadel runs and how generally well it's treated Ame and Eursulon, the two of them seemed reckless, ungrateful, disrespectful, and short-sighted with an unwillingness to play along with the realpolitik of going through the proper channels. Instead they (quite literally) burned important bridges and damaged Suvi's life in the process (though it's also understandable that in light of the revelations about Eursulon's sister they rightly felt unsafe even if Steel was understanding).

It's fascinating how incredibly similar the climactic sequences from these two arcs have been. The characters have followed their natures and it's led them down exactly the same path twice in a row. But the context surrounding their actions is VERY different this time, and each mirrors and recontextualizes the OTHER occurrence. People were largely on Ame and Eursulon's side last time, and they're largely seeing Suvi's side this time. It's been a really complex ethical and practical tangle to navigate both times (and good on Brennan for setting it up that way), but I feel like seeing the two together helps us understand and respond to ALL of the characters in a better way than just having one of these situations would have. It's been really cool to watch, and I've been absolutely loving reading all the thoughts and opinions from people on every side of it. It's already been some of the best fandom discussion I've seen about a TTRPG show.

*I read an interesting perspective from someone who believed they would have had to escape even if they'd trusted Steel, as she already went from "meet me at this time" to "give me more time to talk to the diviners" and they thought she would have continued to delay and delay in order to check all of the Citadel's bureaucratic boxes--I'm not sure whether that's what would have happened but it's an interesting possibility, and one that prevents Steel being used as basically a deus ex machina powerful ally any time they're in trouble.

[altades]

Vashwood rant

I can't sleep so why not analyze vashwood in the middle of the night

Now, this analysis is mostly of the manga, with maybe small takes from 98 and tristamp

To start let's look at the boys from their respective beginnings

Vash is so cruelly mischaracterized as a child, and it might be a little bit of trismaps fault, even though i do love it, or maybe people are just putting characters into boxes without really thinking about it but Vash is so not soft-shy-nice little baby brother. The whole thing with him being younger is so insane to me, i get why if Nai was born like 10 minutes earlier he would make it his whole personality (very sibling thing to do) but it's just so stupid. No, they have 0 age difference and it doesn't affect their dynamic cuz the are literally twins for the love of god. And, really, when you look at the manga as kids Nai was the emotional one! And he still is!

Nai is plagued by fear and anger and resentment and those emotions are what drive his every decision. Vash, on the other hand, is much more in control of his feelings and doesn't show them as much. That is to say that pre-tesla nai is the one worried about their relationship with humans, about their future, he's the one crying after talking to Conrad (what a sweet child he was) while Vash seemes much less scared.

And when they find out about Tesla Nai is the one who faints - he’s the more reactive one, the emotional one. And that small difference is what sets their paths so differently. Because Vash actually gets a chance to talk to Rem and figure things out.And that talk is so very important because it makes Rem, who already was everything to Vash, even more important. 

Now, I want us all to think about how terrified Vash was after seeing Tesla cuz he probably thought his own mother was going to dissect him and his brother. But then she saves him when he tries to end his own life, proving that no she’s not gonna kill him, because she, as every human, has the capability to learn from her mistakes and make better choices. (too bad Nai didn’t get that lesson lol)

And then we get to the big bad things. (it’s genocide) But the important part from that whole ordeal is Rem’s sacrifice. Because, listen, I love stories where humanity is shown to be capable of change and forgiveness is a virtue and love and pussy and all that but oh man can it be so so unrealistic and a little bit insane to watch (su im looking at u (i love su but oh boy that is not how the world works unfortunately)) but Trimax manages to make it work so well. I believe that’s cuz Vash is a very kind and loving man but is also completely out of his mind and has horrendous mommy issues. At least half the reason he doesn’t kill people is because Rem has died to save them, and killing them would make it all be for nothing. If he kills these people or if he lets them die would that mean that Rem died for nothing? Did she sacrifice her life to save these people only for her own son to end their lives? AND you know I’m right cuz he literally says it in the manga but also BECAUSE HE DOES THE SAME FOR WOLFWOOD (also he did kill Nai when he had the chance but we don’t have time to unpack that)

All of that is A LOT and very complicated (i love Vash he’s so well written he’s my perfect little meow meow) now let's talk about Wolfwoooooooooood /twirls hair/

WW is much easier to understand and analyze cuz he is, just a guy,, WW is just a normal person who gets insanely unlucky and gets in THE WORST possible situations (If he ever played DND he would roll straight 1s). That is to say that his story is sort of a way to show how much life in the badlands sucks, but also that there are good things even in the worst places (the orphanage) And WW reacts to situations in the most rational way possible way - he kills to survive. he doesn’t want to but he doesn’t get a say in it. If he could chose he would just live with his family and friend and do whatever. And that, him being so normal in such a violent and bloody world is what makes him suffer all the time. His inner moral compass is screaming at him what a terrible person he is and he promptly ignores it.

That is until that moral compass manifests itself in the form of a tall, blond and handsome stranger that he’s supposed to lead to his death. The stranger who turns out to be the most compassionate and kind man WW’s has ever seen. Who he’s supposed to kill. It’s like finding an oasis in the desert and being forced to burn it to the ground. And WW doesn’t want to do that, and he refuses to believe that the oasis is not a mirage so he tries to get Vash to kill someone, even if it’s WW himself. (It doesn’t work.)

As we all know WW changes his mind because of Vash’s influence. And he dies for it. Because even though Vash’s beliefs are born of human virtues, no man is made to walk his path, for he is not human and any mortal who tries to follow an angel to the skies is doomed to crash. WHAT YOU DON’T EXPECT IS THAT THAT MAN WILL BRING THE ANGEL DOWN WITH HIM

There is this line I wrote for an art i’m planning to make and if you’ve read this far you deserve a lil spoiler - “have you found absolution in bringing an angel to his knees?” and it captures perfectly what i'm thinking. And also Vash spends so much time trying to be closer to people but I think him killing Legato might’ve been the most human thing he’s ever done. Cuz it’s is so beautiful in the way he does it for the memory of the person he loved and yet so ugly in it’s cruelty.

I’ve said this before but most of the time when there is a human/ some immortal powerful creature relationship I don’t think the human is that special but WW HE SO IS. Maybe it’s the way that he’s just as deep in the nuclear bombs with personality business as Vash is, being one of said nuclear bombs, but still remains a normal person with relatively good morals that he can anchor Vash to a sort of normality that he doesn’t get often. Like what other guy would get hunted by all sorts of freaks with you, get in trouble all the time, get shot and etc and etc and then go for a drink with you like it’s a normal wednesday? Wolfwood. Or maybe it's that WW learns of every worst part of Vash, he sees him be on the brink of losing himself, he knows Vash has actually caused the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people and ALMOST did it again after Julai, and still stays with him? He sees Vash become something that is not human at all and still stay? Idk MAYBE IT’S ALL OF THAT but WW is just so important and so down bad but we all know that already so i’m not gonna add to that

Anyways, I got this all out of my system gn

[blessed-curse]

MC's Connection To The Last Survivors.

The Last Atlantean & Their Bond with Azhur, Veyna, and Kaelus

During the three brutal years of experimentation, the Last Atlantean (MC) formed an unbreakable bond with the only three other survivors—Azhur, Veyna, and Kaelus. The pain, torment, and shared suffering forged a connection deeper than blood, a family born not of lineage but of agony and survival.

Azhur – The Warrior’s Conviction

Azhur was the strongest of the group physically, a born warrior who had served as a captain in the Atlantean military before being betrayed and thrown into the experiments. Unlike MC, who had been imprisoned for years, Azhur had known battle, loss, and war. He was fiercely protective, acting as a shield for the others whenever he could. Despite his hardened exterior, he harbored a deep admiration for MC's will to live despite being caged for years. They often sparred when given the chance, Azhur teaching MC how to fight with fists instead of words.

However, as the experiments progressed and their bodies transformed, Azhur became increasingly vengeful. He saw their suffering as a divine trial, a reason to destroy the Atlantean King and take his rightful place as a god. MC and Azhur frequently clashed in ideals—MC sought freedom, while Azhur wanted conquest. Even so, they remained allies, bound by shared torment.

Veyna – The Heart and The Scholar

Veyna was one of the few woman among them, a brilliant mind who had been taken into the experiments due to her extraordinary intellect and mastery of Atlantean sciences. Where Azhur was strength and MC was will, Veyna was wisdom. She deciphered the King's intentions before any of them and realized early on that they were being groomed for something far more sinister. She often comforted MC, reminding them of the knowledge lost to time, of the beauty of Atlantis before its corruption.

Unlike Azhur, Veyna did not seek war but rather enlightenment. She dreamed of a world where they, as immortals, could guide humanity toward prosperity, a utopia where suffering like theirs would never exist. She and MC shared long discussions in the dark cells, dreaming of what could be—though MC, deep down, doubted that peace would ever be possible for people like them.

As the King attempted to erase them after perfecting the immortality process, Veyna sided with MC in the decision to destroy Atlantis, though she mourned what had to be done. She was the first to attempt to restrain Azhur when his bloodlust grew too strong.

Kaelus – The Silent Shadow

Kaelus was the quietest of the group, a man who had once been a philosopher and healer, taken for experimentation due to his unique understanding of the human body and life force. He rarely spoke, but when he did, his words carried weight. He was the first to notice how the experiments were not just altering their bodies but also their souls, turning them into something beyond mortal comprehension.

He and MC often sat in silence, neither needing words to understand the other. Kaelus, despite his peaceful nature, was the most pragmatic—he accepted that they had become something else, something no longer truly Atlantean. Unlike Azhur, who saw their new existence as a path to power, and Veyna, who sought to use it for knowledge, Kaelus believed they were a mistake of fate. He theorized that their immortality came at a price they did not yet understand.

As Atlantis crumbled, Kaelus did not weep. Instead, he simply watched the ruins sink beneath the waves and whispered a single truth to MC before they parted ways: "We are not gods. We are the echoes of a world that should have never existed."

The Aftermath – A Tragic Separation

After the fall of Atlantis, the four stood among the ruins of what was once their home, staring at the endless sea that had swallowed their past. Azhur, consumed by his desire to shape the world, set off to carve an empire that would bow to gods. Veyna, with sorrow in her heart, left to preserve what knowledge she could. Kaelus, accepting that they were forever cursed, vanished into the shadows, seeking meaning in their unnatural existence.

MC, unable to bear the weight of their own actions, abandoned Earth entirely, retreating to the Moon for 12,000 years.

Each of them had become something different. Each had taken a different path.

And in the end, all but MC perished at the hands of their own descendants—gods who had long forgotten the ones who first bore their name.

[candrey]

Another (small) rant about Viktor's actions being unethical from the beginning.

Viktor was "healing" people physically and mentally, raising their body and mind to the "perfect human standard". However a lot a fans only took into account the "healing bodies" part, and ran with it, acting as if Jayce unfairly disturbed a small, peaceful community.

But, him "healing their minds" embodies why the path he set himself on was wrong from the start. Fear, ambition, greed, jealousy, all those negative emotions are also what makes you human. As you can see multiple times, those healed by Viktor lost all these "bad" personality traits.

For example, Salo (I honestly don't remember much about him from season 1) has always being painted as this ambition state's man, he wanted power, he wanted to lead, he wanted to be the one chosen by Ambessa. But you're telling me that after being healed, after finally being given the opportunity to (may I say) "compete in the political game" again, he genuily accepted to become Viktor's "busboy" and fetch Hexcore parts for him? (I had to use this word I'm sorry it just sounds lovely, anyway)

The Salo we saw in episode 5 was a washed down, selfless, holistic version a the man presented to us in season 1.

And that's the case for every character that was healed by Viktor, for example, the kid Jayce threatened when he first arrived in the community. Once again, the Perfect Human has no fear, the Perfect Human is understanding, empathetic, doesn't have any of those bad emotions listed above.

Same goes for Huck and every citizens "healed" by Viktor. Viktor stripped them of their individuality, of their humanity.

And when he finally accepted Singed's transformation, he did the same to himself, which is why Sky said that he won't miss her, because that would rid him of his already dwindling humanity.

Btw, the reason why they lost in so many timelines is because the Hexcore "healed" Viktor's mind and stripped him of his humanity. While we don't exactly know what happened in the other timelines, we know that Jayce was the key to end the war. Viktor quickly became a powerhouse, making it obvious that the only way Jayce could win was to convince Viktor.

However, the Hexcore built a shield, a mask around Viktor, making him, like his patients, devoided of emotions.

And because in this timeline, Ekko used his knowledge from the acceleration rune, was able to figure out time travel, and was also able to bring a piece of the-other-universe Arcane (?) with him, they managed to break the mask around Viktor, allowing Jayce to emotionally reach him.

I really love the setting/story-telling of episode 9, how strong of an enemy Viktor was, how Ekko literally had to use time travel to even reach him (!!), how even with all that, they won because Viktor came to his senses.

The whole fight was simply an alignment of stars, where the wrong rune, or the wrong turn could lead to their loss. It really explains why Mage Viktor tried so many times, with different runes each times.

(Once again, English is not my first language so please forgive me and let me know if I made any mistakes !!)

[acourtofthought]

Do you have any theories about who will be High King/Queen? If SJM does go with that story

Rhys seems like an obvious option but I wonder if that's too obvious. The fact that Sarah wrote Cassian thinking "No other male who would be a fairer ruler than Rhys" and Amren saying, "But know that the Cauldron's benevolence will be extended to you only for so long before it's offered to another" has me thinking she's just begging the reader to say, "I know someone!!!!"

I think Lucien is a possible option because of that. He is 100% a male who would be a fairer ruler than Rhys, maybe even more so. Rhys has a complete bias towards the NC, especially Velaris. I'm not saying I don't understand why, he's been the one responsible for the safety of his people for centuries however, he's already made a negative name for himself in other courts because of things he's done, he's not trusted. Lucien, on the other hand, seems to be more concerned about doing the right thing for many courts. Spring, the NC, he shows remorse for letting down the people of Autumn in regards to Jesminda's death, he spent his youth making friends with the sons of other HL (who at this point might even be HLs themselves), he went out of his way to help the humans after the war, etc. Because Lucien doesn't have sole loyalty to any one place, I think he'd be the least biased ruler.

I also think people forget that Sarah has slowly but surely been setting Lucien up for something big. "He was barely in SF! Sarah forgot about him!" Lucien has been one of a handful of characters around since book 1. Even Az / Cassian / Amren / Mor weren't in Sarah's mind when she wrote book 1 and Sarah didn't think the sisters would be more than cardboard cutouts of wicked sisters in book 1. That means Lucien, even before the IC and the sisters, was a fully fleshed out character for her, someone she tells us has always one of her favorite characters. And Lucien has been the only male character since book 1 outside of Rhys who remained a good guy versus Tamlin who Sarah sent in a downward spiral. While Tamlin was left behind in Spring, Sarah had Lucien travel with Feyre to the NC. Sarah had Lucien as the one who met Papa Archeron and Koschei (since she retconned him meeting up with Vassa/ Papa A at a later point and instead had him at the lake with their father). Sarah changed his father so that instead of a tragic backstory that connected him to the Autumn Court, he now has a tragic backstory in the Autumn Court AND a secret Day Court heritage, setting him up to be a possible future HL where he not only has strong powers from his mothers line but that of Helion powers as well. Since I can't imagine Sarah writing Helion off, Lucien is going to need a purpose. In the same book she wrote Helion and Rhys as BFF's, she connected Helion to the Pegasus and Trove items (which are connected to the history of Theia and the Starborn fae) and introduced the High King plotline. And through all of that, she has continued writing Lucien as literal perfection. I'm not even saying that with bias, I'm saying it based on how all other authors / screenwriters write many heroes. He is snarky and sassy while also respectful and humble. He's genuinely good and decent, apologizes and feels remorse. He's intelligent and brave and tries to help out wherever he ends up but is never overly cocky. He's "I want to help however I can because it's the right thing to do" not, "you clearly need me because I'm the best". We as the reader know he's got all sorts of hidden powers that he isn't aware of though he constantly feels like he's not good enough, not strong enough to stop the people he badly wishes he could stop.

The reason Lucien was in the background in SF is because he's not meant to be a major part of the NC. He's not meant to be best friends with Nesta or Cassian. He's not there to serve Nesta's healing arc. It's not difficult to understand that Sarah is setting Lucien up for his own path. There are so many characters connected to the NC but that leaves Lucien as having alllllllll the connections to alllllll the places outside of that. While he is an ally to the NC, he's also the contact for Spring, for the Human Lands, he's going to have strong connections to Autumn because of his brother and mother, he's going to have connections to Day because of his father. Rhys and Feyre will be family to him because I strongly feel Elain and Lucien are endgame but Sarah doesn't need to write Lucien as relying on the NC for anything because they already rely on him for a lot of information. Therefore, we didn't need Lucien having major page time in a Nessian book, Nesta did not serve Lucien's future arc in any way. Cassian did not serve Lucien's arc in any way. And he did not serve their arcs (Valkyrie / Illyrian related stuff) in any way. But that doesn't take away how Sarah when is ready to write about all the other places on their world map (outside of the NC), she already laid the groundwork for Lucien to be the most connected to it all and because of that, I can't imagine anyone who would more easily slide into the role of High King, someone who has already shown he cares about more than just one court and someone who has the experience of being in charge since he kind of ran Spring for Tamlin half the time.

Or maybe Sarah will go a completely different route and put Mor in place as High Queen rather than High King. We know she's of a royal lineage as her bloodline was of the ruling family of the NC before Rhys, we know she was an ally to the humans long ago, we know that she's not 100% committed to the NC and NC alone (since Rhys tells us in ACOFAS that he could see the noose tightening around her neck in the NC, that he could sense her need to roam beyond the borders of the NC.

[violeteclipseboaty]

So I recently went to go watch KOTPOTA again. I wanted to share my thoughts overall on the film, I couldn't properly do it before because I had forgotten some stuff lol

The pacing: at first watch I though it was kinda weird but watching it again I realized it pretty much went straight to the point, if anything I wanted MORE but you know the movie would've been too long but I wouldn't have minded either way. I mean, I've watched the Avatar and Harry Potter movies, so yeah I could've handled that lol

I really like the environment they set up with the eagle clan; their culture, their tradition with the eggs, and their bond with the eagles. I hope we get to see more details in the next movie.

The cinematography was amazing, they really nailed it. The sceneries were outstanding. A lot of that stuff reminded me back to Rise, back when it was filled with human life, now sadly the structures are abandoned and overtaken by nature but look pretty either way. The action scenes omg were so engaging and just done so well.

Let's talk about the main characters:

Noa: Great character. He's curious, smart, brave, and compassionate. I know a lot of people wanted him to be Caesar's descendant but i didnt really care about that. I'm excited where his next journey will take us if they have the chance to make a sequel (please 🙏) I'm pretty sure at the end of the film, Noa now has a new view of the world he lives in and now questioning his entire existence lol

Raka: loved him!! I really like how he truly understood what Caesar stood for. I did notice some things he believed were wrong lol but he's got the spirit and would lighten up the mood after what happened with Noa's clan. He's got a good heart, he sacrificed himself for Mae despite knowing her for a very short amount of time after all. Also I refuse to believe he's dead so there's that also and I hope he comes back to guide both Mae and Noa onto the path for the coexistence of both apes and humans.

Soona: I really wish we could've gotten more scenes with her, but I really like her. She's brave, sweet, and a ride or die for both Noa and Anaya. I hope we get to see her more in the next film

Anaya: yall already know cause I made a seperate post lol but loved him and I wish we had more scenes with him as well! I felt so bad for him when we see him again with Proximus, he's been through enough!

Proximus: he was a great villian and I did not like him, which is good! Not all villians need a sad backstory, this dude was clearly only hungry for power. He was twisting Caesar's words, enslaving other apes, killing humans, and wanted access to technology capable of bringing destruction and chaos. He's smart and knows how to be resourceful. I find it funny that he was talking smack about humans yet his way of thinking and actions are similar to the bad side of humanity. I only wish we could've gotten more scenes with him; he was underused and I thought he would have a much bigger role based on the trailers, but I enjoyed his presence overall.

Mae: I've already made a seperate post about her character and I still sorta feel the same way about her. Rewatching it again, I got to sympathize more with her situation. She's a survivor who clearly grew up and was taught misinformation about apes, but after meeting Raka and bonding with Noa; i truly believe she'll come around and change her mind. I believe in her, and I hope we get to see her again and get more of her backstory to understand her better.

The movie was great. The plot, visuals, and acting were so well done. I took about 5 years for them to work on this, and it SHOWS. Their dedication shows that when enough time is given; movies that involve CGI can be done properly. I'm sick of projects being crunched and the visuals ending up looking like 💩 because the teams/artists aren't appreciated enough. I definitely recommend watching at least twice, and I pray for a sequel.