#second by second shot by shot taking in every microexpression

[technitango]

"He related to me so much that... I was a bit flustered. I've never experienced that before."

fatima aamer bilal // chen chen // georges bataille // kristina haynes // sk osborn

[ginawankenobi]

Lost asks:

❤️📝🙊

❤️ What is your favorite scene of your favorite couple?

(I really do need the essay thing, holy cow, but I apologize for nothing) It's so hard to choose, honestly, because every scene Suliet has together has some little nuance that I love. So honorable mentions to: - him checking her out before she tases him - him pouring out the water she throws him - the way she calms him when he's frantic about the well - her telling him to go away while she's trying to help Charlotte - "You screwin' Jack yet?" "No, are you?" - the way they stare at each other when she takes the case out of his hand - "enlightened, my ass" - him calling her a wise-ass and then three seconds later desperately trying to talk Charles out of cutting off her hand - HIM SAVING HER FROM FLAMING ARROWS - Her saving him from getting shot - the way she looks at him when he asks who's gonna get his back if she leaves - her little angry face when he implores her to deliver Amy's baby - how freaking proud he is of her after she delivers said baby - the kiss scene in lafleur - all of lafleur, really - literally everything, every second, every microexpression, okay But I think my faaaavorite has to be the vending machine scene.

📝 If you could change one part of Lost, what would you choose? How would you change it?

I would not kill Juliet. (Duh, lmao.) I have a million ideas, but um basically just...don't. kill. her. It's super easy. To not do that. AHEM. *cough cough* I would also not kill Shannon. At least not then, in that way. There are also a million more things, but that's what fanfic is for!

🙊 What is your favorite iconic line from the show?

I love "don't tell me what I can't do," but there are so many more as well.

[retrocontinuity]

"perfect blue" (1998)

on rewatch, this was both better and worse than i remembered. 

- no one does a transition/jump cut/juxtaposition, at least not in anime, like satoshi kon esp. in the opening minutes of this film, which transposes scenes from cham!'s last concert as a trio with mima's ordinary life post-idol. the juxtapositions are unexpected and not obvious, the beginning of the movie's long disorientation. and of course the unforgettable dream/delusion hybrids as mima begins to experience her life as an unending series of second and third takes. that the movie makes no attempt to validate your theories as to which scenes are dream, montage, and/or reality (at least, reality for the world of the characters) is what makes this film obviously pre-mcu. these days i'm sure there are 4 hour long youtube essays trying to tell you the "true" "perfect blue" timeline -- if they exist, don't watch them.

- a musing on the nature of animation/anime films: animation has improved (obviously) since 1997, but even with rotoscoping, digital technology, and animators who have spent all of their adolescent and adult life producing painstakingly detailed and well-articulated 30-second shorts on twitter tagged with "indie anime", it's still difficult (if not impossible) for animated faces to duplicate the microexpressions of a human face on screen. (if it were possible, chainsaw man (2022) would have done it.) you can fake it for a few seconds, with widening of eyes or a twitch of the mouth, and there are moments in "perfect blue" where we linger on a character's expression. but for the most part, the work of microexpressions is done through some small physical detail: the overpowering overhead lights of a set, rumi's cigarette ash falling, the lines on a tv screen as a tape is rewound, the particular way morning light might fall on your bed at certain times of the day.

i think a lot about how anime fakes us out and makes us want to say the word "cinematography" when there is no such thing. there is no camera in an anime film. no shot can ever be an accident; it is always fully formed by human hands (even more true of a film made in the 90s). in the first ten minutes of the film, you see mima walk to the outside corridors of her apartment building, open her door, clean out her refrigerator, run a bath, then flop on her bed. the "camera" wanders in 3-second still shots around her room, establishing shot after establishing shot. there is so much stuff, and it is all hand-drawn: perfume bottles, stuffed animals, lotions, stacks of cds, dried flower bouquets, rows of spices on the range, the rust stains from the stopper chain of her sink. i'm not saying a film director wouldn't have done the same, but these shots feel exceptionally "anime," of trying to work around the limitations of the animated cel. when you cannot ever capture motion by accident, when every gesture "on camera" requires what to a non-artist would be a herculean act of labor, when two characters cannot surprise you into having chemistry with their body language or energy, then everything becomes a matter of framing. 

the benefit of animation, though, is that you can easily traverse between illusion and reality. because the camera is not real, because you already are suspending your disbelief, no extra work is required for you to see illusion!mima as a real person. these days i complain frequently about live action adaptations of manga/anime that don't add to the story with its medium. though i've never read the novel on which it is based, "perfect blue" feels like one of those perfect moments when anime is in fact the best medium for adaptation. in anime, everything that is real is already unreal; so, too, is "perfect blue."

- in the early 2000s, if you liked "perfect blue," people would probably recommend "serial experiments lain" (which is actually what i watched pretty much right after "perfect blue," and i was too young for them both), "ergo proxy," or even the other satoshi kon films. but in 2024 i would say, you should watch "odd taxi." it has everything: the mindfuckery, the b-list pop idols, the murder, the musings on life and the cruelties of internet life, the fantastic soundtrack. "odd taxi" is coen brothers to "perfect blue"'s david lynch. did lynch watch "perfect blue" before making "mulholland drive"? the question now haunts me.

[mockiery]

ok but Steven's attempts at a Time Out mid-fight has gotta work eventually right?

.

Steven is talking. He's talking a lot, hands up and open, he and his bright white suit and mask a confusing vision to the armed infiltrators before him.

Marc is in a reflection of a pane of protective display glass, trying not to force himself to the front.

"When has this ever worked?" he tries, talking over Steven where only he can hear.

Between sentences about taking 'a minute to get on the same page, yeah?', Steven, under his breath, says "It's always worth a shot, innit? I've got this," and continues his somewhat meandering attempt at convincing these would-be-thieves to thieve elsewhere.

Marc groans. "Fine. But I'm not stepping in when you get stabbed this time."

(Steven knows he will, he has every other time. Even since Steven has learned to fight properly, Marc still won't let him take the brunt of the damage.)

Then, miraculously, it actually works. At Steven's explanation of what exactly it is they're trying to steal for their boss: valuable cultural artifacts, to be kept for status, for a personal, private collection, not even to /sell/? They step down, put away their weapons, and leave, not interested in putting their lives on the line for their bosses' self-aggrandizing colonialist decor that won't even earn them any money.

Steven's unsullied white suit, glowing eyes, and infectious energy juxtaposed against the unconscious, tied-up bodies of their rival gang's guards helped too, Marc figures, but he wasn't going to bring that up to Steven.

Once they're out of the warehouse, leaving Marc and Steven to themselves, Marc takes the front, dissolving the suit away. He refuses to look at the reflection of Steven in the display glass.

Steven doesn't wait for him to. "Told you it would work, didn't I?" He is radiating when Marc finally looks to him, pumping both his fists in victory. "All it takes is a little chatting to sort shit out sometimes, y'know?"

Marc sighs, rolling his eyes. He sets his jaw, maintaining his unamused expression as best he can. He's annoyed that Steven's right, but he's also holding back a smile at Steven's winning lap, moving from glass pane to glass pane, pacing in excitement.

"Kid's got a point." The not-yet-familiar voice comes out of nowhere, and Marc flinches hard, swearing as his shoulders seize up to his ears. He finds Jake opposite Steven in another reflection.

Marc barely hears Steven's, "Kid?" as he's recovering from the shock, exhaling all the breath and forcing (some of) the tension out of his body.

"I told you not to do that," Marc half-grumbles, through gritted teeth, gesturing pointedly with one hand at his newly acquainted alter.

Jake's flat expression shifts minutely, a suggestion of a shrug.

Marc exhales and stares. "What?"

"He said I have a point." Steven beams, seemingly over the "kid" thing for now.

"Yeah?" Marc side-eyes Jake, skeptical.

"Sometimes talking shit out is the best way to go." He shrugs fully this time, hands finding their way to the pockets of their jacket.

Marc makes a sound in his throat. "Thought you were more about bashing heads."

Jake scoffs, and if Marc didn't know better, he'd think Jake was offended. "I'll bash heads, sure, but I'm gonna fucking get out of a shit situation whatever way I can."

"So time-outs have worked for you?! More than once?"

"'Course. Everybody wants something. A little sweet-talk goes a long way." Another shrug. A small smirk, Marc thinks. He is still so un-used to seeing their face be used by another person, with his own range of microexpressions. "Cash too."

"Huh."

"That's aces, mate. Next time, you should step in and show us how you do it!"

"Uh. Maybe." Jake's sharp eyes land on Marc for a second, before jutting his head slightly to him for Steven. "If el jefe is good with it."

Marc pauses, turning in full to Jake's image in the glass.

"How come I'm 'kid' and you're 'the boss'?" Marc can hear Steven say over his shoulder, but he's focused on Jake.

It's still not easy to read him. Marc had never found it easy to read anyone, much less the brick wall of a man he'd only recently learned was living inside his head too. But as he eyes Jake, he thinks he sees it, what it means. He's reaching for Steven's outstretched hand, but asking for Marc's before he takes it.

The furrow of Marc's brow lessens and he stands a little looser. "Yeah, maybe. We'll see."

Jake nods curtly, and there's a shift in his eyes, a loosening of his expression. A softening, even. Marc gives a nod back.

Steven's reflection pokes into the pane next to Jake's, his soft grin turning down as he eyes the unconscious men on the floor. "Lovely. Now, what exactly are we doing with these blokes again?"

[chapscher]

What are ur thoughts on Goncharov's themes of time and isolation?

Holy shit I've been wanting to talk about this ever since I noticed something the other day and hoo boy do i have thoughts.

Okay, so, I've never been in film but I really love listening to commentaries and something that I've heard several directors mention is that including clocks in a scene is a *pain.* Unless the clocks are stopped or are only on screen briefly, then it becomes super obvious when there have been re-takes and edits. Even in films where time is *very important,* like High Noon (1952), the clocks aren't always synched up. There are only a few films I can think of where the clocks are actually consistent throughout - Kubrick's The Killing (1956) and Drew Goddard's Bad Times at the El Royale (2018) are two of them. Goncharov is devilishly good at this.

There are two moments that really stuck out to me. The first is when Goncharov comes home alone. He goes to the bedroom, to the vanity, uses Katya's makeup on the bruise, and turns away from the mirror. This moment I could go on and on about but i'm sure someone has already provided a more in-depth analysis than I could and I don't want to be redundant. Anyways, what I'm looking at is the delicate little clock beside him displaying 10:59. The shot lasts only one minute...

The second moment is in the train station after Andrey Experiences Consequences (you know what I mean) and he hides in the bathroom to be upset and alone. He does a line and stares at himself in the mirror, experiencing every single emotion in an amazing display of microexpressions. But, again, let's look behind him at the clock reflected in the mirror displaying 12:59. Again this shot lasts for only one minute and ends with him saying "you'll see me"...

And at 11:00 and 1:00 exactly, Andrey still staring not just at the mirror but deep into it, Goncharov turns and looks back at his reflection. We know these are different times but in the reflected mirror in Andrey's scene it looks like the same time. Throughout the film, time bridges conversations and meetings and deaths. But I really appreciate the mechanics that went into these two shots and how it fit into the larger concept of "the intimacy of isolation" - shared not just between subject and audience, but between subjects.

[sooibian]

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Pairing: Kyungsoo x fem!Reader ft. big brother Junmyeon, arch enemy Sehun

Genre/Themes: Established Relationship AU, Fluff, Crack, Loosely inspired by the anime Horimiya

Warnings: Sexual themes, themes of sadism and masochism (nothing explicit), slight swearing.

Description: It’s Sehun’s wedding party. Kyungsoo knew these couple of hours with you were going to be anything but pleasant, however, he didn’t expect things to spiral so quickly. 

A/N: Thank you @his-mochi-cheeks​ for encouraging me to upload this. Shy tagging my closeted dandanies @vampwrrr​ and @changshapatrol​​ since this one sparked joy.

Word count: 2.7k

*****************************************

To Kyungsoo, the best thing about weddings was the feast but since you sat sulkily sipping on green juice - whatever the fuck that monstrosity was made of - he couldn't muster the courage to gorge on bulgogi and galbi in front of you. Especially not since it was a "your side of the family" wedding and your big brother Junmyeon wouldn't quit looking at him as if he were a ticking time bomb.

He’d gone out with you for five years before finally asking you to marry him four years ago. As much as he tried, Kyungsoo failed to make peace with the fact that Junmyeon still hadn't warmed up to him. Kyungsoo firmly believed in cause and effect and he just couldn’t tell when and how he’d faltered to warrant such iciness from Junmyeon. Events like these made his thoughts tread deeper into the “where did I go wrong?” labyrinth with no escape in sight.

Kyungsoo’s stomach growled, the proximity to the buffet area wasn’t helping. He stupidly slapped a hand on it as if to stop the sound from reaching you but despite the loud music and raucous conversations, you noticed. So you offered him a sip of the disgusting green gloop which he politely declined.

Shrugging, you sing-songed mindlessly, "Oof the barbecue stall sure looks inviting."

He suspiciously studied the ever so slight movements in your features, every microexpression and chose the safest response of taking your hand in his, lacing your fingers together, and planting a soft kiss between your knuckles - conscious of the fact that he’d have to tolerate the hunger pangs for just a bit longer. He was dead sure you’d ask him to stop at a McDonald's on your two hour drive back home. None of these green gloop diets have lasted over twelve hours.

Resting his chin in his hand, Kyungsoo peered over his glasses and looked around the luxuriously and aesthetically decorated lawn. In front of the gazebo Oh Sehun and his bride slow-danced to a song he couldn’t recognise. Sehun's hand mischievously slipped down his bride's waist and she teasingly punched his chest in response. She giggled and swayed in his arms as Sehun looked into her eyes with all the love glimmering in his own. Thinking back to his own wedding day, Kyungsoo smiled to himself and planted yet another kiss on your hand. Features contorted by the nasty taste of the juice, to him you still looked just as radiant as you did on your wedding day. In the moment he wanted nothing more than to join the couples on the dance floor, wrap his arms around your waist, and sway to the rhythm of the romantic, soft beats.

So he turned to you and asked enthusiastically, “Lets dance?”

“Kyungsoo - ,” pinching the bridge of your nose, you only reacted with a scowl.

Your damp response instantly soured his expression. “Come on! Don’t be such a sourpuss!” He exclaimed, tugging at your arm.

Kyungsoo observed keenly as your gaze reluctantly turned to a euphoric Sehun. Through gritted teeth, you justified, “It’s my arch-nemesis’ wedding. What do you expect?”

Junmyeon was the Academic Director of Museum Studies at Seoul National University and Sehun was his favourite student, almost like a younger brother to him and as his biological sister, you somehow felt threatened by their relationship. Over the years, your insecurity had manifested in the way of an inexplicable resentment towards Sehun.

“Why did we even come, then?” Kyungsoo reasoned.

“To avoid having to listen to Junmyeon whinging and whining for an eternity,” you dead-panned.

“You mean the way I’ve been tolerating your whining ever since we received the wedding invite?” Kyungsoo grumbled.

Wagging your finger at him, you said, “That’s a low blow, Kyungsoo.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Kyungsoo pursed his lips and continued arguing with you, “Who even brings their own meal to a goddamn wedding?”

You rolled your eyes before listlessly scrolling through your phone. Kyungsoo understood exactly what you were upto. While you didn’t want anybody to fault you for skipping the wedding, you needed to make it known to everyone present that you were here merely out of courtesy.

On the other hand, Kyungsoo was quite fond of Sehun. The guy was fun and even-tempered and Kyungsoo truly admired people who were uncomplicated, people with whom he could freely speak his mind. It’s why he fell in love with you in the first place and stayed in love...despite all of your pettiness and quirks. Quirks that made Kyungsoo shake in his boots. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, pushed those thoughts out of his head and heaved a sigh of relief upon realizing that your eccentricity wouldn’t rear its ugly head at a family celebration.

He was jolted out of his reverie by Junmyeon who slammed a plate of dakgalbi in front of him. Kyungsoo immediately shoved his phone into an inside pocket of his blazer, inwardly reprimanding himself for behaving all the more suspiciously in front of your elder brother.

Squinting sceptically, Junmyeon remarked, “I didn’t see you at the buffet -”

“Ah - we’ve been meaning to -” Kyungsoo tried explaining the situation without having to put you in a spot. He thought, after an uncomfortably long pause, Junmyeon would drop the conversation, but he didn't. Kyungsoo gingerly ran his fingers over his brows to check if Junmyeon's intense glare had burned holes into his head. You on the other hand had your gaze fixed on your phone and didn’t break character even for a second - not even to help your husband out of an awkward conversation. So Kyungsoo picked up a pair of chopsticks to help himself to a piece of dakgalbi but Junmyeon slapped his hand away and snarled, “Ladies first.”

"O-of course," Kyungsoo stuttered, pushing the plate towards you.

"I don't wanna eat," you answered the two men, eyes now on a blank screen. Left with no choice, Kyungsoo slowly and sadly put his chopsticks down, his stomach making its annoyance known, while Junmyeon started to nag you for acting 'uppity as usual'.

Your show of indifference when Junmyeon animatedly whisper-scolded you, had started to make Kyungsoo anxious. The moment he tried to excuse himself to the bathroom, he felt your bare foot on his shoe and he froze into a still frame.

Kyungsoo shook his head at you and mouthed, 'Not now!' but you merely shot him a sweet smile in response.

"Are you even listening to me?" Junmyeon lambasted you.

"No and I haven't been listening for quite sometime now." Your reply sent a chill down Kyungsoo's spine. He was feeling a lot of things...all at once and with your toes boldly riding up his shin, he thought he'd burst at the seams. He made a mental note to have certain ground rules in place for situations like these - you weren’t much of a listener but this time he was sure to make himself heard.

"You won't be eating either?" Junmyeon asked Kyungsoo, shooting him yet another indignant glare. Kyungsoo smoothly moved his chair out of your reach but just as he extended his hand towards the plate, Junmyeon huffed angrily and walked away with it and Kyungsoo felt his heart sink to his stomach.

Tormenting Kyungsoo with a game of footsie for a while, you excused yourself to the ladies room. Ten minutes later, his phone chimed with a text from you.

'Can you come and get me? I think I'm lost.'

'No.' He replied. He was determined to not walk into your trap.

Kyungsoo clearly remembers the first time he was introduced to that side of your personality. Freshman year - it had been a few months since he'd asked you out. One evening, when things had gotten hot and heavy between the two of you, he had heard you say, 'Slap me, Soo.'

At first he thought he'd heard wrong so he ignored you but you said it again causing him to immediately pull away. Aghast, he asked, 'What did you say?'

'Slap me,' you blinked at him.

He intently studied your face - the most beautiful and the least punchable face he'd ever laid his eyes on. He wanted to do many things to you and all of them essentially involved making you feel loved and cherished and what you were asking of him was the exact opposite of how he felt about you. 

Eyes wide and lips pursed, you stood for a reaction but he would give you none. 

'Don't you love me?' You asked softly, batting your eyelashes at him. Little did you know, in that moment, he was too numb and too naked to make sense of the situation. 

At first he faulted his own personality. Kyungsoo was known to have picked a few fights here and there, had multiple piercings, and visible tattoos. Over the years, he got rid of it all and started dressing preppy but nothing changed. You still continued to ask of him something he was unwilling to give. So after a few ups and downs in your relationship, Kyungsoo finally reconciled with the fact that you were something of a sadist masochist only when it came to him.

His phone buzzed with your reply: 'The gardens at this hotel are ginormous. There's no staff here, I don't know how to find stupid lanky boy's stupid wedding party. I'm waiting by the restroom area please come and get me? ❤️'

Kyungsoo knew that you were directionally challenged. He'd test you at random and you could never tell left from right. Also, the lawn did sprawl over a considerable area but something just didn't feel right. Chewing on a hangnail, Kyungsoo sat thinking of a fitting reply only to receive another text from you.

A tempting one.

'If you come and get me now, we'll get out of here directly. No need to go back to the party.'

'What about your brother?' Asked Kyungsoo.

His phone blinked with a 'Pfft 🤪'

Patiently, he reiterated, 'I asked, what about your brother?'

'I promise I'll deal…'

'....?'

'Nicely 😘'

'Ok ❤️'

.

.

.

Kyungsoo gaped at you while you twirled his tie between your fingers and pleaded with him in a sultry voice, "Just once? Please?"

He was well aware that you knew for a fact he couldn't refuse you. Nevertheless, this time he firmly held his ground, "Are you crazy? Your entire family, your brother is just a couple metre's distance from here!"

"Kyungsoo please?" You caged him between a grainy concrete wall and your torso. The only respite to Kyungsoo in that situation was the fact that the area was poorly lit and there was not a soul in sight.

He cupped your face in his hands, planted a chaste kiss on your forehead and crouched down to whisper against your lips, "I'm not - I'm not sla- I'm not doing any of that here. Let's go home." After a lot of struggle, he finally managed to free himself from your Senior Superintendent General of Police grasp with a smirk on his face that said all your police training got nothing on him.

"Let's go," he held your hand and took a long stride towards the exit but you stayed firmly rooted to your place.

"Drag me out of here, then," you commanded.

You didn't budge and Kyungsoo wouldn't have caved under any other circumstance but…. he was hungry. Really hungry - making his stiff spine melt like candle wax. So he steeled himself, looked into your eyes, dropped his tone to a gruff, husky tenor, grabbed your wrist a little too tightly and threatened you, "Move your ass, __. Don't make me tell you again."

Exasperated, he rolled his eyes at the way yours twinkled at his crass behaviour.

"Gimme more," you said breathily.

The only way to get out of here was to stay in character so Kyungsoo did exactly that. He roughly pushed you against a wall (as gently as he could if it makes sense) and growled, "What makes you think you can act all buddy buddy with me, you ditz!" but before he could go any further he heard a man's voice yell, "How dare you!?"

Startled like a deer caught in headlights - in this case the flashlight of Junmyeon's latest iPhone - Kyungsoo turned around to find the brawny man leaping at him in attack mode at full throttle. Kyungsoo ducked, anticipating a heavy physical impact but it didn't come. He opened his eyes to you tackling Junmyeon to the ground and scolding him, "How dare you encroach upon our privacy and attack my husband!" while twisting his arm at every emphasis.

Very rarely was Kyungsoo grateful about the fact that you were a cop and this was one such occasion. He quickly moved to get you off of Junmyeon's back while the man cried out in pain, defending himself, "Pri-privacy? This is a bloody public place!"

Panting, you eventually let go of Junmyeon, fixed your hair and earrings and straightened your satin silk very pale pink dress (one that was almost white under the wrong lighting but despite Kyungsoo's repeated requests, you ended up in white at a wedding). But as soon as Junmyeon regained composure, he lunged to attack Kyungsoo again, screaming, "I always knew that there was something off about you!"

"Yah yah yahhhh!" You held Junmyeon back like you would do a violent criminal as Kyungsoo ducked again out of fear.

"Enough!" You shrieked at Junmyeon.

Kyungsoo's big brown eyes were fixed on your brother's terrifying demeanour as he barked, "I can't believe you're scolding me after what I just witnessed! That man, that man was hurting you!"

"That man? Better watch your tone Oppa, he's my husband!"

"You can't be that blinded by love or...whatever this is! Does he have something on you? You can tell me! You know I know all the right people to get you out of this mess -"

"Hyungnim -" Kyungsoo attempted to defuse the extremely tense situation but stopped short as you held your hand up at him.

"For heaven's sake, I'm happy, healthy, and safe in my marriage. That's all you need to know. Now go back to your baby brother's celebration and leave us alone!" Hand on your hip, you squeezed your eyes shut and pinched the bridge of your nose.

"I'm not going anywhere until you explain what just happened," Junmyeon glowered at Kyungsoo.

The younger man didn't know how to clarify this without embarrassing you and in a state of blind panic all he could think of admitting to some sort of a dissociative identity disorder. But before he could lose any more brownie points with your brother, you came to his rescue albeit not doing much to help his already strained relationship with Junmyeon.

"Kyungsoo, you don't have to tell him anything. You, Sir, talk to me. No need to drag my husband into this mess!"

Junmyeon scoffed before breaking into a hysterical laughter, "You're unbelievable, little sister. Unbelievable!"

Kyungsoo closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and started, "Hyungnim, I- "

"You have the unmitigated gall to still be standing here!" Junmyeon snapped at Kyungsoo, causing the younger man to bury his face in his hands. When the brother sister duo fell silent, Kyungsoo looked up again to find Jumyeon taking furiously long strides towards the wedding party.

"I told you this was a bad idea," Kyungsoo said quietly, rubbing the corner of his eye, as you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his chest.

"I'll fix it, I promise. I'll speak to him when he's calmed down a little," you replied, softly patting your husband's back, "Do you want to stop at a McDonald's on our way back?

Kyungsoo chuckled, squeezing you in a tight hug and kissing the top of your head, "I hate you."

"I love you, too!" You chirped, and his features lit up with his beautiful heart-shaped smile.

"So? McDonald's?" You asked coyly.

He cradled your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours. When you drew a staggered breath in response, he felt a wave of heat flushing through him. You giggled against his lips causing Kyungsoo to firmly pull your body to his. He scooped you up in his arms, kissing you with an increased fervour and rendering you breathless.

Gently pulling away, he answered in a husky, gruff voice, "Sure, dumb bitch. Took you long enough."

[goldentournesol]

The Receptionist and the Profiler (Six)

Chapter Six: Lifted Burdens

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

The word reverberated around her brain for days after she heard it. Her brain was mocking her and she knew it.

Girlfriend. Girlfriend. My girlfriend.

Over and over again.

A heartbroken Y/N went home that day to an extremely livid Penelope. Y/N was the one calming her down instead of the other way around.

“How could he be so stupid?! I mean, he’s a genius, but he’s still the stupidest person I’ve ever met! Oh my God, I’m gonna kill him! A girlfriend?! He’s out of his mind!”

And although Y/N agreed with every single word Penelope’d said, there was little she could do about it now. She had shown Ashley around just like she had with every other new agent. It would have been a lot easier to hate her if she wasn’t so...nice. You know, even though her father was a serial killer and all.

She was so normal. And Spencer seemed happy around her. That’s all she could ever ask for, right? So why was it still so painful every time the three of them were in a room together? Why was avoiding all the team members’ apologetic stares as they witnessed a moment between the couple turning into a sport? Well, she knew exactly why, but she didn’t really want to give that thought the time of day.

Derek was almost as livid as Penelope when he’d learned of the new relationship. It took everything in his power to not chew Spencer out.

Spencer, on the other hand, was convinced that this was the only way he’d ever get to get over Y/N. Besides, she’s married now, what’s everyone so upset for? Is his happiness too much to ask for? Although, he did find it odd that Y/N wasn’t wearing rings on any of her fingers. He would have thought that a newlywed wife would have been much more excited to show off her ring. It was also quite strange to hear that Anderson transferred to a different unit. But he stopped himself from thinking about her too much anyway. Stopped himself from thinking about how much her eyes stopped twinkling as much as they used to. Or how her smile always seemed a little less bright than he was used to.

Stop, Spencer. You have Ashley now. He reminded himself.

Ashley was a nice girl. They’d met a few times before they began dating. He first met her when Rossi took him to the Academy to speak with some of the recruits who were interested in joining the BAU. Then, after that, he’d ran into her while he was guest-lecturing at her university. She’d been taking extra classes to get her degree faster and ever since then, they’d kept in contact. They’d met again while Spencer was on his medical leave. He had practically begged Rossi to take him to any lectures. Despite being a homebody through and through, Spencer had had enough of sitting at home waiting for his knee to heal. He needed to get out of the house and do something. Ashley had been the one to suggest a date and Spencer was shocked to say the least, but he accepted. Who was he to deny a pretty girl a date when the love of his life was already married?

Coming back to work was exciting to say the least, even if he wasn’t authorized to go into the field yet. The rest of the team still had to go though, which made the bullpen kind of eerily quiet.

He tried to spend most of his time in Garcia’s batcave to be able to be a part of any video calls with the team, despite the fact that Garcia could barely look at him without wanting to crush the rest of his bones (it’s all in the name of love, she swears). Him being in Garcia’s cave made it practically impossible for Y/N to go in there as often as she normally would. She’d normally spend her entire breaktime with her, they’d chat, eat, and watch kitten videos on repeat. But now Dr. Genius was occupying her space there and it left Y/N sulking out in the empty bullpen. 

Now, Spencer wasn’t completely oblivious to the way the team was acting around him. He’d noticed a decrease in Penelope’s affectionate terms, he’d noticed Derek’s disapproving stares, even JJ was being short with him. Maybe it had something to do with him dating the new agent.

“Hey, Garcia?” Spencer asked from his seat next to her, he was currently going over a case file as she sorted through VICAP.

“Yes, Reid?” She asked, obviously not paying attention.

“Do you guys um, not like Ashley or something?” He asked tentatively, fiddling with his pen between his fingers. That got her attention because she turned in her chair and looked at him.

“What gave you that idea?” She asked with signature Garcia concern.

Spencer shrugged and pursed his lips together, “I don’t know, you’ve all just been acting super weird since I got back and every time I’m with her around you guys it’s super awkward.”

He saw Garcia take a deep breath and she slumped her shoulders, “No, Reid, we do like her a lot. I guess you can say we just weren’t expecting it. I mean, you’d just gotten shot and then came back with a girlfriend, it was kind of...surprising.”

“Why is it so surprising? Is it so surprising that someone actually finds me interesting?” Spencer almost scoffed, that had come out way meaner than he’d intended.

“No, of course that’s not what I meant, you know that!” She exclaimed, tears already threatening her eyes, “It’s just...we all thought it would...y’know, take you a while to get over Y/N.” She tiptoed around what she really wanted to say. Spencer held back a roll of his eyes.

“Well, I am. So...so you can all stop being so weird. Besides, what does it matter how long it takes me to get over her? She’s married now, remember?” Spencer said, not even trying to hide the bitterness behind his voice.

Garcia’s face drained of all emotion all at once, “What?”

Spencer analyzed her expression before shrugging, “What?” He asked, feeling like he was missing something.

Suddenly, she began laughing in disbelief, “No, no, no. There’s no way.”

Spencer’s impatience and irritability grew, “What are you talking about?”

“Spencer! Y/N has been living with me for the past 3 weeks, you big idiot! I’m not saying anything more to you. You need to be talking to her right now, not me.” He felt as though his brain took ages to process what she’d told him.

“What...why would she be living with you?” He asked, his brain raking through all the possibilities. Garcia shook her head and refrained from speaking to him for the rest of the day. The dread set in as he realized.

He’d only seen Y/N at her desk whenever he had to leave the batcave for something. Most times she’d just send him a polite smile but they rarely engaged in any conversation. Her energy has been cut in half lately. 

Near the end of the day, Spencer trudged all the way to the kitchenette on his crutches to make himself a fresh cup of coffee. While reaching up to grab his mug, he tried to balance on his crutches but was still very wobbly. The result of his wobbliness was a shattered mug on the floor of the BAU’s kitchenette. Spencer winced at the sound and sighed a deep sigh.

He heard quick footsteps to where he was, “Is everything okay? Are you hurt?” Y/N stood in front of him, taking in the scene. He hadn’t heard her voice in days, it was the closest thing he’d felt to relief hearing from her again.

“I-I’m okay, I just dropped a mug while trying to make a cup of coffee.” He huffed frustratedly, upset that his mobility was compromised.

“Spence, next time you can just ask me or something--or someone else, it doesn’t have to be me, but I mean, I don’t mind doing it, if you asked.” She stumbled lightly on her words, cheeks reddening. Spencer smiled in response and nodded, touched at her kindness, “Now, step back and let me help you clean this up before someone gets hurt.” 

Spencer took a step back, the feeling of guilt overwhelming him as he watched her pick up the pieces and sweep the floor, “I’m sorry...about that. You didn’t have to help me out, thank you.”

Her face cracked a smile and Spencer felt the hunch in his shoulders loosen slightly, “Come on, it’s really nothing. How’s the um, knee?” She pointed slightly as she brought down another mug and began to fill it with coffee for him.

He sighed, “It’s not great. It hurts sometimes, like a lot, but it could have been worse I guess.” He shrugged, unable to keep his eyes off her captivating face. If he thought the science of reading microexpressions was interesting, reading her face was on a whole other level.

“I’m sorry, Spence, I really hope you feel better soon.” She spoke while adding the perfect amount of cream and sugar. He could tell that there was something weighing on her heavily as she seemed to drift further away as she watched the swirls of the cream dance in the mug.

“Thanks, Y/N/N. Um, what about you? Are you okay?” He asked, noting the way she immediately snapped back into shape almost as if she’d been caught slipping. Her facade was back on as if it hadn’t slipped for a nanosecond.

“Yeah! I’m great.” She smiled, not meeting his eyes, Spencer was about to ask about her current living situation when she spoke quickly, not leaving a pause, “How about I walk this back to your desk for you?”

“Um, you don’t have to do that. I can take it.” Spencer frowned, feeling already guilty enough. 

She giggled slightly, purposefully glancing at both his hands wrapped around his crutches, “Got a third hand I don’t know about, Spence?”

Spencer grinned in defeat, realizing what she meant, “Right…” He sheepishly began to walk back to his desk, is Garcia needed him she would call. She set the cup down and flashed him a smile before turning around and walking right back to her desk where she stood for a few seconds as if contemplating something then continued on in the direction of Garcia’s office.

“Garcia...I did something bad.” She confessed sheepishly stepping into the office and closing the door behind her, feeling somewhat like a child who hadn’t followed instructions. 

Garcia turned around in her chair, “Oh no, sweets, what happened?”

“I talked to him…” She flopped down onto the chair next to Garcia’s and pouted. Garcia couldn’t hide her smile and shook her head.

“And…?” Garcia looked expectantly at her.

“I don’t think I can ever get over him, Pen.” She suddenly frowned, picking at a frayed thread on her skirt.

“Well it’s not gonna happen overnight, sugarplum. Tell you what, why don’t we have a girls night out when the team gets back tonight. Maybe you could get a little lovin’.” Garcia added suggestively but Y/N rolled her eyes and huffed playfully in response.

“Yes to girls night, no to getting any “lovin’”, I don’t think my heart can physically handle anything else.”

“Ughh, alright. But um...there’s something you should know…” Garcia began.

“What is it?” Y/N pushed.

“So...you know how Reid is a certified genius and stuff...yeah...he’s quite possibly the most obtuse man I’ve ever met.” Garcia spoke.

“Yes, we know this, what is it, Pen?” Y/N asked, growing more impatient and anxious.

“I found out today that he had absolutely zero clue that you called off the wedding.” She said.

“What do you mean? How did he not know?” Y/N almost laughed at the absurdity.

“I guess no one told him. I think we all got so caught up with him getting shot that no one told him. Y/N, I’m telling you, up until 1:22 pm today, he thought you were married to Grant Anderson.” Y/N almost grimaced at the mention of her almost-husband.

“Well, what good is it now, he’s got little miss Ashley, who, by the way, IS NOT invited to girls’ night.”

But she was, of course she was. But it wasn’t just her, oh no, the entirety of the BAU had invited themselves out.

Everyone was stuck in their own little conversations around the table and Y/N felt like the odd one out. She looked up from her glass to see Rossi and Hotch deep in conversation, Derek and Penelope were in the middle of a story to which Emily and JJ were listening intently, and finally, the cherry on top, sitting directly across from her, was Spencer and his precious Ashley sitting practically glued at the hip with his arm around her shoulders. This was supposed to be a girls’ night out, and here Y/N was, feeling as miserable and insignificant as ever.

“I’ll be right back.” She said to no one in particular as she got up from the table, not that anyone noticed or heard. Spencer caught her leaving out of the side of his field of vision but Ashley quickly began telling him another story. Y/N had almost made it out of the bar when a familiar voice stopped her.

“Y/N, hey!” She turned to see none other than Anderson himself, looking quite put together and smiling very largely at her.

“Hey! Um, you out here too?” She smiled awkwardly and looked around for his friends.

“Yeah, came out for drinks with the guys from the White Collar Crimes division. Hey, you should come say hi.” He nodded his head towards a table full of men. Y/N glanced back at her table and saw that no one was looking for her so she shrugged and agreed.

She sat at the table and they all immediately brought her into the conversation, which made her mood lift significantly.

Had Grant always been this funny? She thought. As the guys settled down after their stories, Grant turned to Y/N.

“Can I get you a drink?” He offered nicely and she thought about it. She spent 11 years with this man, what could one drink possibly do? 

As they sat at the bar and chatted, Y/N noticed that Grant was being extra gentlemanly and just...nice.

“So, yeah, this is my life now.” He tilted his beer at the table they were at previously.

“They’re really nice guys, I’m glad you’re happy at work.” She smiled and nodded. Grant smiled back and studied her for a moment.

“Um, so...I was wondering...I mean, do you...are you still sure about all this?” He gestured between them, “It’s just that we get on so well and I um, really wouldn’t mind doing it all over again for you.” He ended his sentence with a genuine smile. 

Y/N’s smile faltered from a grin to a sad smile, her eyes flitting across the bar to look for Spencer, who had been keeping a close eye on her since she left in case she was in trouble. Their eyes met for a moment but nothing longer.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” She nodded with finality. Grant followed her eye-line and felt some jealousy stirring up inside.

“Wait--is this all about Reid?” Grant stared at her incredulously.

“What?! No! Of course it isn’t. We weren’t working out, I already told you.” She defended quickly, but Grant was unconvinced. He gave her a look and she avoided his eyes, “Me and Spencer are just friends, I promise. We kissed like, once, it didn’t even mean anything.”

“You kissed? When?!” Grant’s eyes immediately filled with rage, looking across the bar.

“It doesn’t matter, look, can we just step outside for a second, get some fresh air?” She tried to reason with him but before she knew it, Grant was out of the bar stool and marching his way over to the BAU’s table. Y/N followed him quickly, trying to minimize any damages.

“REID!” Grant yelled in the small bar, quickly alerting all the agents. Spencer’s worried eyes flitted to Y/N’s.

In one swift motion, Grant lunged forward to attack a still-seated Spencer, eliciting a frightened yelp from Ashley next to him. 

But thankfully, Derek was much quicker than Grant and effectively took him down yelling, “What the hell is wrong with you, man?” 

Hotch and Rossi visibly relaxed upon watching Derek drag a livid Grant outside the bar. Mortified, Y/N grabbed her things and ran out, unable to meet any of their eyes. She flagged a cab and tried to stop the sobs from tumbling out of her.

Needless to say, the next month was the most awkward month she’d ever been through. Anderson was lucky he’d only been suspended without pay and not actually arrested for attempted assault of an FBI agent. She was downright mortified after what had happened at the bar and had fully retreated into herself, having finally moved out into her own apartment. Her pickiness ended when she realized she couldn’t stay with Garcia anymore.

 Even JJ had tried multiple times to set her up with one of Will’s friends, but Y/N always refused. Invites to bar nights were turned down and ignored. Her days consisted of waking up, going to work, coming back home, pretending to unpack but in reality avoiding it and ending up sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream. The entire team felt for her, but Spencer especially felt for her as well as felt like an absolute moron. Not about what had happened at the bar, he didn’t really care if Anderson had beat him up, maybe he deserved it for making her feel this way. 

He watched curiously from his desk as Derek and Penelope walked through the glass doors of the BAU and stood at her desk. Penelope placed a heavy cookie tin on the raised part of the receptionist’s desk, the sound making Y/N look up from her computer.

“Morning, lil’ mama.” Derek grinned at her.

“Morning, D. Hey, Pen. What are you two up to?” Y/N’s gaze shifted between them suspiciously, “And what’s this?” She referred to the cookie tin.

“Oh, you know, just your favorite homemade chocolate chip cookies.” Garcia said with a smile. She watched as Y/N’s face lit up and immediately reached for the tin but Penelope held it securely.

“Uh-uh-uhh,” Derek taunted with a smirk.

“What? Why can’t I have the cookies?” Y/N huffed.

“These, my love, are a bribe and I’m not afraid to admit it.” Penelope said with a dramatic upturn of her chin.

“Oh no.” Y/N said.

“Oh yes.” Derek and Penelope both said. When Y/N rolled her eyes and was about to refuse, Penelope opened the top of the tin and Y/N took a peek and was hit by a whiff of heavenly chocolate chips.

“Fine, I will listen to your offer, but no promises.” She tried to stay strong even though the scent of the cookies was already driving her mad.

“We thought you might say that, which is why the entire tin is the bribe.” Derek said smoothly and Y/N’s jaw dropped.

“That is low, chocolate thunder!” She exclaimed and Spencer unwillingly smiled at her reaction.

“Anyway, you get this entire tin of cookies IF you agree to come to Rossi’s tonight.” Penelope offered and Y/N paused to think about it.

“I don’t know, Pen…” Y/N began.

“Come on, pretty girl, we miss you. You haven’t been out in ages.” Derek tried. Y/N’s heart pulled in her chest, maybe she did miss them too.

“Alright, fine, fine! I’ll come.” Y/N crossed her arms, trying to hide her smile as Derek and Penelope celebrated with a hug and a cheer, “Now, give me these!” She stood and grabbed a cookie, quickly taking a bite and visibly melting back into her chair from the taste.

“See? I told you that would work. No one can say no to my cookies.” Penelope whispered to Derek as they separated to begin their days.

She finally got some motivation to empty her bags and boxes when she returned to her apartment. It was mainly because she had to look for an appropriate outfit to wear. Ever since she’d moved, she’d been picking out her work clothes and pajamas from her suitcases, rewearing all the blouses and skirts that don’t need ironing, but it’s time to start taking care of herself again. Perhaps she felt like the clothes she was wearing didn’t belong to her anymore, she decided that she’d take herself shopping soon. After a relaxing shower, she picked out a black satin blouse and tucked it into a pair of fitting blue jeans.

Arriving at Rossi’s, she took a deep breath before ringing the bell.

“Ciao, bella!” Rossi graciously greeted, hugging her tightly, “We’re all so glad you could make it. Come on in, dinner is almost ready.” Rossi’s warm greeting eased the anxiety that bubbled in her chest. She was also greeted warmly by everyone in the room when she walked in. Penelope pulled her to sit next to her immediately.

“You look stunning!” Penelope complemented, making Y/N blush.

“I agree, you are looking hot as hell, mama.” Derek chipped in, making her laugh.

“Oh, hush, you two.” Y/N rolled her eyes and accepted the glass of wine that Emily offered her. She sipped on the wine, glancing at Spencer over the rim of the glass. He caught her eye and sent her a small smile. Y/N sent him a small one back before feeling herself shut down as everyone around her started conversations. She hadn’t noticed just how much she depended on Spencer for conversation in outings with the BAU until his attention was taken away. He would always stick to her side but now he had someone else’s side to stick to. With no Anderson and no Spencer, she really had to fend for herself. All night, she felt this indescribable weight on her shoulders. She did everything to try to get rid of it.

Soon, one glass of wine with dinner turned into two, then somehow turned into two rounds of whiskey. Before she knew it, she was up dancing with Derek and Penelope in the middle of the garden. They all had migrated into the backyard after dinner, where most people were chatting and eating dessert.

“Spencer, are you listening to me?” Ashley’s voice cut through Spencer’s daze.

“I’m sorry, what?” Spencer turned to her, he’d been caught up watching them dance, secretly wishing it was him she was grabbing onto for support instead of Derek. If it wasn’t for his damn knee, he would have joined them in dancing.

“I asked you if you wanted another slice of cake.” Ashley said, with a small smile on her face. She was nice, but she wasn’t her.

“Oh, no thanks, I’m good.” He shook his head and reverted his attention to the dancing trio. She was finally smiling, he hadn’t seen her smile that wide in so long. Her laugh was heard across the garden and somehow it seeped right into Spencer’s bloodstream. The familiar feeling of jealousy creeped up on Spencer as he watched her twirl herself in and out of Derek’s arms.

“See? Aren’t you glad you came out tonight?” Derek smiled as she twirled back against his chest. 

She nodded and smiled, a tad bit too tipsy, “Yeah, I guess.”

Penelope grinned and pulled her away from Derek, “Alright! Quit hogging her, I wanna dance with her too!” Y/N laughed and wrapped her arms around Penelope, burying her face in her shoulder.

“Thank you for everything, Pen.” They swayed and Penelope squeezed her harder.

“Anytime, sugarplum.”

“Alright, I’m just about beat. I need some dessert.” Y/N said, pulling back and dragging them both to where everyone was.

While eating dessert, she watched as Spencer continued to converse with Ashley and felt her blood boiling beneath her skin. Or maybe that was the alcohol, she wasn’t sure. It was like a cloak of clarity cascaded upon her. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of everyone and speaking loudly, loud enough to halt the ongoing conversations. With her eyes on Spencer, she only ever had her eyes on Spencer.

“Spencer, I called off my wedding because of you. And now we’re not even friends. You were my best friend, the closest person to me. I don’t know what happened, but I miss you. I don’t want things to ever be this weird between us again. And--and I shouldn’t have been with Grant, I know that. There were so many reasons not to marry him, but the truth is I was ready to ignore every single one until I met you. I asked myself why I waited so long to get married and I thought I just wasn’t ready but I knew I didn’t want him,” she paused to swallow, her tears blurring her vision, “I want you. And now you’re with someone else, and that’s fine. She’s wonderful and she makes you happy and that’s fine,” A few tears escaped and she realized what she was doing, “and I think I’m drunk and I shouldn’t be driving home so if someone could drop me off that would be great.” She dropped her plate on the table and quickly made it inside, leaving a group of agents completely stunned.

And just like that, the weight she’d grown so accustomed to seemed to dissipate from its place on her shoulders.

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[lochtayboatsong]

The Jesus Christ Superstar essay absolutely no one asked for.

Last weekend, I watched the pro-shot of the 2012 arena tour of Jesus Christ Superstar starring Ben Forster, Tim Minchin, and Melanie C, because it was Easter and it was up on YT for the weekend.  I never managed to do my annual listen-through of Leonard Bernstein’s Mass this year, as is my usual Easter tradition, so I figured “Why not watch/listen to this instead?”  It was my first time seeing and hearing JCS in full, and Y’ALL, it has been living rent-free in my brain ever since.  I have a mighty need to get my thoughts out, so here they are, in chronological order by song.  

1) Prologue: I love the way JCS 2012 makes use of the arena video screen.  The production design and concept clearly took a lot of inspiration from the “Occupy ______” movement, which makes it feel a bit dated now.  But every single production of JCS is a product of its time period, so this is a feature and not a bug.  

2) Heaven On Their Minds: This is a straight-up rock song.  It wouldn’t be out of place on any rock and roll album released between 1970 and 2021, and it boggles my mind that Webber and Rice were both in their early twenties when they wrote it.  Also, the lyric “You’ve begun to matter more than the things you say” hits hard no matter the year.

3) What’s the Buzz: A+ use of the arena screens again, this time bringing in social media to set the tone.  Also, this song establishes right from the outset that Jesus is burnt out and T I R E D by this point in the story.  Seriously, can we just let this man have a nap?

4) Strange Thing Mystifying: Judas publicly calls out Mary and Jesus claps back.  Folx, get you a partner who will defend your honor the way Jesus defends MM in this scene.  Also Jesus loses his shoes and is mostly barefoot for the remainder of the show.

5) Everything’s Alright: Okay, this is one of the songs I have A LOT to say about.  First, it’s important to know that I was a church musician throughout all of my adolescence and into my early adulthood.  The pianist at the services I usually played at was a top-notch jazz pianist, and also my piano teacher for about six years while I as in high school and undergrad.  (Incidentally, I had a HUGE crush on his son, who was/is a jazz saxophonist and clarinetist and also played in the church band, but that’s a story for another day.)  One of the hymns we played a few times a year was called “Sing of the Lord’s Goodness,” which is notable for being in 5/4 time.  Whenever this hymn was on the schedule, it was usually the recessional, or the last song played as the clergy processed out and the congregation got ready to leave, so we were able to have some fun with it.  After a couple verses the piano player and his son would usually morph it into “Take Five,” a famous jazz standard by Dave Brubeck which is also in 5/4 time.  Anyway, the first time I listened to this song in full, it got to Judas’s line “People who are hungry, people who are starving,” and I sat bolt upright and went “HOLY SHIT THIS IS ‘SING OF THE LORD’S GOODNESS/TAKE FIVE.’”  And I was ricocheted back in time to being fourteen and trying to keep up with this father/son duo in a cavernous Catholic church while simultaneously making heart-eyes at the son.  Final note: This is the only song in the musical to feature all three leads (Jesus, Judas, and Mary Magdalene) and is mostly Jesus and MM being soft with each other in between bouts of Jesus and Judas snarling at one another.

6) This Jesus Must Die: I LOVE that all the villains in this production are in tailored suits.  LOVE IT.  Also, Caiaphas and Annas are a comedy duo akin to “the thin guy and the fat guy,” except in this case it’s “the low basso profundo and the high tenor.”  Excellent use of the arena video screen again, this time as CCTV.

7) Hosanna: My background as a church musician strikes back again.  It honestly took me two or three listens to catch it, but then I had another moment of sitting bolt upright and going “HOLY SHIT THIS IS A PSALM.”  Psalms sung in church usually take the form of call-and-response, with a cantor singing the verses and the congregation joining in for the chorus.  If I close my eyes during this song, I have no trouble imagining Jesus as a church cantor singing the verses and then bringing the congregation in for the “Ho-sanna, Hey-sanna” chorus. 

8) Simon Zealotes: This is part “Gloria In Excelsis” and part over-the-top Gospel song.  Honestly it’s not my favorite, but it marks an important mood change in the show.  The end of “Hosanna” is probably Jesus at his happiest in the entire show, and then Simon comes in and sours the mood by trying to tip the triumphant moment into a violent one.  Jesus is not truly happy again from this moment on.

9) Poor Jerusalem: Also not my fave.  It kinda reads like Webber and Rice realized that Jesus didn’t have a solo aria in Act I, so they came up with this.  But it has the distinction of containing the lyric, “To conquer death you only have to die,” which is the biggest overarching theme of the story.

10) Pilate’s Dream: Pontius Pilate might be the most underrated role in this entire show, and I love that this production has him singing this song while being dressed in judge’s robes.  

11) The Temple: The first half of this is one of the campiest numbers in Act I, at least in this production, and it’s awesome.  The second half is one of the saddest, as Jesus tries to heal the sick but finds there are too many of them.  Also the whole scene is almost entirely in 7/8 time, which I think is just cool.

12) I Don’t Know How To Love Him: Mary Magdalene’s big aria, and one of the songs I knew prior to seeing the full-length show.  This production has MM taking off her heavy lipstick and eye makeup onstage, mid-song, which is kind of cool.  Melanie C says in a BTS interview that MM’s makeup is her armor, so this is a Big Symbolic Moment.

13) Damned For All Time: The scene transition into this song is played entirely in pantomime, and I love it.  The solo guitarist gets to be onstage for a bit, A+ use of the video screen again to show Judas on CCTV, etc.  Love it.  And then this song is Judas frantically rationalizing what he’s doing, and what he’s about to do, with Caiphas and Annas just reacting with raised eyebrows and knowing looks.

14) Blood Money: This is where the tone of the show really takes a turn for the dark.  I think this might be one of Tim Minchin’s finest moments as Judas, because his facial expressions and microexpressions throughout this scene speak absolute volumes.  And the offstage chorus quietly singing “Well done Judas” as he picks up the money is a positively chilling way to end Act I.

15) The Last Supper: Act II begins with major “Drink With Me” vibes.  (Except JCS came WAY before Les Miz, so it’s probably more accurate to say that “Drink With Me” has major “The Last Supper” vibes.)  Jesus and Judas have their knock-down, drag-out fight, and it’s honestly heartbreaking, thanks again to Tim Minchin’s facial expressions.  A well-done production of JCS will really convey that Jesus and Judas were once closer than brothers, even though their relationship is at breaking point when Act I begins.

16) Gethsemane: This is Jesus’s major showpiece and one of my faves.  Jesus knows he has less than 24 hours to live, he knows he’s going to suffer, and worst of all, he doesn’t know whether it’s going to be worth it.  It’s an emotional rollercoaster to watch and to perform, and it goes on for ages: something like 6 or 7 minutes.  Fun fact: the famous G5 is not written in the score.  Ian Gillan, who played Jesus on the original concept album, just sang it that way, so most subsequent Jesuses have also done it that way.  Lindsay Ellis has a great supercut of this on YT.  John Legend notably sang the line as written during the 2018 concert.  

17) The Arrest: Judas’s Betrayer’s Kiss is played differently across different productions.  The 2012 version is pretty tame - I’ve seen clips and gifs of other productions, including the 2000 direct-to-video version, where they kiss fully on the mouth and have to be dragged apart by the guards and it is THE MOST TENDER THING.  Then the 7/8 riff from “The Temple” comes back and the 2012 version lets the video screen do its thing again as Jesus is swarmed by reporters.

18) Peter’s Denial: Not much to say about this one, as it’s basically a scene transition.  But it’s a significant moment in the Passion story, so I’m glad they included it.

19) Pilate and Christ: The 2012 production continues with the theme of Caiaphas, Annas, and Pilate all being bougie af, since Pilate intentionally looks like he just came from tennis practice during this scene.  Also he does pilates...hehehe.

20) King Herod’s Song: Tim Minchin says in a BTS interview that JCS works best when Jesus and Judas are played seriously and the rest of the production is allowed to be completely camp and wild and bizarre all around them, and he is bloody well CORRECT about that.  Case in point: King Herod.  There is not a single production of JCS that I know of where Herod is played “straight.”  He’s been played by everyone from Alice Cooper to Jack Black, and everyone puts a different zany spin on him.  In JCS 2012 he’s a chat show host in a red crushed velvet suit, who is clearly having the time of his LIFE. 

21) Could We Start Again Please: This is another of my faves.  Just a quiet moment where MM, Peter, and the disciples try to grapple with the fact that Jesus is arrested and things are going very, very badly.  This is also my favorite Melanie C moment of the 2012 show.  Her grief is very real, and the little moment she has with Peter at the end is very real.

22) Death of Judas: This is basically Tim Minchin screaming for about five minutes, and incredibly harrowing to watch on first viewing.  

23) Trial Before Pilate: Possibly my single favorite scene in the entire 2012 production.  This is another harrowing watch, but there’s so much to take in.  The “set” that the entire show takes place on is essentially just a massive staircase, and the people with power are almost always positioned above the people without power.  In this scene, the crowd shouting “Crucify Him!” is positioned above Pilate, which is a very telling clue to Pilate’s psychology during this scene.  Jesus is at the very bottom of the stairs, of course.  Excellent use of the video screen once again during the 39 Lashes, to show the lash marks building and building until the entire screen is a wash of red.  Pilate’s counting also gets more and more frantic, especially starting around “20.”  And all the while the guitar riff from “Heaven On Their Minds” is playing.  Jesus’s line “Everything is fixed and you can’t change it” is played quite differently in different productions - here it’s defiant, but elsewhere (in JCS 2000 for example) it’s almost tender, like Jesus is absolving Pilate for his part in the trial.  But it always ends the same - with Pilate almost screaming as he passes the sentence and “washes his hands” of the whole sorry business. 

24) Superstar: The most over-the-top number in the show.  Judas, who died two scenes ago, comes back to sing this.  There are soul singers.  There are girls in skimpy angel costumes.  The parkour guys from the prologue are back.  Judas pulls a tambourine out of hammerspace midway through the song.  And Jesus is silently screaming and crying as he gets hoisted onto a lighting beam while all this is going on.

25) The Crucifixion: More of a spoken-word piece than a song, it’s Jesus’s final words on the cross over eerie piano music, and another harrowing watch.

26) John 19:41: An instrumental piece in which Jesus is taken from the cross and carried, at last, to the top of the stairs, before being lowered out of sight as the video screen turns into a memorial wall and everything fades to black.

So.  I know I’m anywhere from three to fifty-one years late to this particular party, but I am on the JCS bandwagon now and I’m thoroughly enjoying myself.  :)

[browniefox]

Poker Playing Family Time

@wrightfamilyweek day 6 - Routine.

The Wrights enjoy some bonding time at the Borscht Bowl Club. Can also be read on AO3 right here :)

oOo

It’s kind of a miracle that, despite it all - despite Daddy working five days a week at the Borscht Bowl Club and the other two with his Secret Project, and then Trucy (once again, in the new school year) trying to do a single show every-other weekend and then school on the weekdays - that there’s still ever a chance for Trucy to help Daddy out with his poker games.

Daddy has made some kind of deal with the Borscht Bowl Club over the years so that he’ll only take on the more serious poker players once a month; a saturday evening, the last of the month, when Trucy didn’t have a show. Trucy was more than willing to move around her schedule at the Wonder Bar as she needed to go with Daddy on those days. Daddy had told the staff he just liked bringing his daughter with him, his good luck charm. It was normal, after all these years, and none of the staff nor the usuals so much as blinked anymore at her trailing after him.

Usually, Daddy drives places now, but on Big Poker Nights, when he’s with Trucy, they walk from the office to the club. They leave right after Trucy gets home from school, walking down the street, chatting about Trucy’s school day and the bits and pieces of Daddy’s Secret Mission he’s willing or able to tell her. She rattles off the countries in the North American continent with Daddy checking her answers on the practice sheet. When she’s done, Daddy complains about annoying people he’s had to meet with or talk to - never by name - and practices a heavily-edited version of some speech with each recital of it getting goofier and goofier until they’re both laughing as they walk through the club doors, out of the warm sun and into the cold.

“Evening Phoenix, Truce,” Ms. Vanessa greets them, and Daddy makes a token effort to quiet down his laughter, “There’s an early competitor tonight. I know you don’t like other challengers on the big-shot nights, but he’s dumb and paid top dollar, so how could we say no?”

“Well, I suppose a warm-up can’t hurt,” Daddy shrugs. He looks over at Trucy, eyes half-lidded, his performance appearance in place since they left home. He nods over to the Hydeout, “You want to watch this one too, or stay up here and work on homework?”

“I’ll come along, Daddy!” Trucy chirps.

“Alright then, right this way, Wrights.” Vanessa bows comically low and leads them to the poker room. They pass by the piano on the way, and Trucy’s backpack is place on top of it. She waves to the staff and they all wave back, most of them smiling at seeing her. Daddy has said they like her more than they like him, and he’s right.

After all the times she’s been down there, Trucy could find her way to the Hydeout in the dark, which she kind of always does every time, considering the dim lighting on the stairs.

“He talked a big game when he showed up earlier today.” Vanessa says to Daddy, and he nods.

“So you’re throwing me a soft ball to start with tonight, huh?”

“Now, you of all people should know better than to assume anything about an opponent before you see them.” Vanessa half-heartedly reprimands.

“But Daddy’s gonna blow him out of the water, huh?” Trucy says and gets a chuckle from Vanessa.

“Yeah, he probably will.”

The dealer stands during the poker games, but Trucy’s extra chair is already down here. Like the other two, it’s a swivel chair, and she hops into it and twirls around a few times.

“I thought I was going up against Phoenix Wright, unbeaten Poker Champion, not some kid.” The man who’s already sitting at the table sniffs, and Daddy finally comes in through the door.

“Sorry, but these days Phoenix Wright’s also a full-time dad, I hope you can pardon my little darling being here.” It’s worded like an apology, but it’s clear that Daddy is absolutely not at all sorry about it. Trucy smiles innocently, like a perfect angel, and the man turns up his nose with a sniff and a ‘hmph’. Ah, so he’s going to be one of those guys.

“Really, letting a kid in here? Your own daughter? Well, ‘darling’, I hope you like watching your dear old dad’s reputation come to an end.” The man brags. Daddy just blinks slowly at the man, unimpressed, while Vanessa rolls her eyes and takes her place at the side of the table. Trucy rolls her chair to be next to Daddy and he ruffles her hair.

“Mr. Allen, Mr. Wright, are you both ready?” Vanessa asks, and the game starts after they both nod.

Trucy mostly keeps her eyes closed. Slipping into her tell-catching ‘mode’ comes so easily at this poker table, but she needs to be on her top form for the real competitor later tonight. She listens as the cards are shuffled, as soothing and familiar as the sound of rain, and then are dealt out. She half-listens to the match as she leans against her daddy. She opens her eyes every-so-often, mostly to see where the chips are standing at the moment. Trucy catches some of Mr. Allen’s tells, big and noticeable movements most of the time that there’s absolutely no way Daddy misses.

It ends with Mr. Allen angrily flipping the table over and spitting vulgarities at Daddy while he cover’s Trucy’s ears, even though they both know she’/ already heard all those words.

“Well he seemed nice,” Daddy jokes and Trucy giggles, “Alright, let’s get some borscht, yeah?”

They spend the next four hours on the piano. Trucy is allowed - encouraged, even - to plunk around on the instrument whenever and however it suits her fancy. A small stack of extra cash grows next to him from people who refuse to listen to her daddy’s terrible music while eating. Trucy gets some homework done, taking up nearly the entire table next to Daddy that they’d used to eat dinner. As Trucy makes her way through worksheet after worksheet, the staff member on the other side of the table cycles through whoever is best at the subject. Math homework is always fun, because it always creates a whole crew of people ignoring the tables they’re supposed to be waiting and the jobs they’re supposed to be doing as they try to solve the equations. Not that Trucy usually needs all that help, but they seem to like to try either way.

You can always tell the moment when the big, important player enters the building. The staff suddenly stand up straight, all eyes on the person, ready to wait on that person like a king. Daddy gets tense, but that kind of tension nobody but Trucy ever seems to notice.

This time, it’s a large woman with a long braid of colored hair. She looks around the club with a sort of honest curiosity that’s hard to come by with people like her, and when she spots Daddy at the piano, the woman smiles and comes right over.

“Oh, Phoenix Wright! Oh my, the legend himself, in the flesh! Well, I thought I’d never be here, but here I am, and there you are! Oh, right at the piano, just like they said you’d be! You can’t play, right? Or is it ‘Wright’? Hehe, do you get it?” The woman chuckles at her own pun. Daddy gives a shrug.

“I hope you didn’t come with too many expectations. Rumors have a way of getting a little out of hand.” Daddy says. Daddy never tells his challengers how true the undefeated poker champion title really is.

“Well, I mean, six years undefeated? It’s a little much to try and sell, huh?” The woman winks at Daddy and laughs again.

“Has it really been six years already. Ah, time, you cruel cruel mistress,” Daddy mourns, playing a chord on the piano. By now Vanessa has come over, and Daddy stands up, slouching with his hands in his hoodie pocket, “Well, Ms. Jackie, shall we get this show on the road?”

“Oh, of course, of course. I mean, I’ll probably stay around and try the food afterwards - do they really only have borscht here? I’ve never had it. Is it any good? What does it taste like? - but I mean, why stall? I’m so excited to see the legendary Wright in action.” Ms. Jackie rambles on as Daddy and Vanessa slowly start to head towards the Hydeout for the second time that night. Ms. Jackie walks right next to Daddy, talking about how she’s from out of state and so very excited when she heard the rumors - undefeated! Six years! How remarkable! How insane! How intriguing! - and now she was here and she was so very very excited.

It isn’t until both Daddy and Ms. Jackie have taken their seats that Ms. Jackie seems to even notice Trucy as she takes her own, the chair already right next to Daddy.

“Oh, and who is this little angel?! Oh my, isn’t she just precious with her little cape!” Ms. Jackie coos to Trucy.

“I’m Trucy Wright. I like watching my daddy play poker. I hope that’s okay.” Trucy tilts her head and smiles sweetly. Ms. Jackie practically melts.

“Ooooh, how sweeeeet! Well, I’m Jackie Blackerly, sweetie.” Jackie reaches across the table and Trucy shakes her hand kindly. She likes Jackie, she decides. But liking the opponent has nothing to do with the poker match itself, unfortunately, and Trucy doesn’t tell Jackie that she’s well out of her league. Maybe Daddy holds the champion title, but they both know that it’s really Trucy who never loses against the high-ranking opponents.

“Is it okay if I sit here? I’m Daddy’s good luck charm, you know.” Trucy tilts her head.

“Oh of course, of course! Oh my, nobody ever mentioned Mr. Wright has such an adorable daughter!”

“Are you both ready to start?” Vanessa asks. The cards are beyond well shuffled by now. Daddy nods, and then just like that, the warm and pleasant emotions disappear from Jackie’s face, like they’ve just been shut off, a blank mask over them.

“I’m ready.”

The cards are dealt, Trucy’s hand wraps around her Daddy’s arm, and just like that, the game, the tells, the truth, everything just slips into focus. She’s done this hundreds of times now, the world almost moving at a crawl to watch the little twitches and microexpressions. The code for telling Daddy what to do, a squeezing of his arm for different amount of times, is simple enough, and basically muscle-memory. Part of Trucy thinks she’d actually struggle a bit to do poker on her own and forget that she’s the one who’s supposed to actually be making the decisions and playing the round, not just delivering the information. She’s played this team version of the game many many more times than she’s ever played it ‘normally’.

Their winning the game is practically inevitable, but to be fair to Jackie, she clearly knows what she’s doing as well. Her tells are subtle, small, and take Trucy a lot of focus to find.

It’s a shame, really. Trucy had been hoping to maybe talk some more with Jackie after the game, but tonight is not going to be one of those. Already, Trucy’s head is pounding like the beating of a drum, feeling drained from the hard work. She curls up in her chair as the results are called, pretending she’s a little girl who is just tired and sleepy instead of someone trying to block out the sound of Jackie congratulating Daddy. Her chattiness, something Trucy had found fun and endearing, is now the last thing Trucy needs. Jackie heads up while Vanessa cleans up the cards and Daddy gently rubs Trucy’s back.

“How you doing, kiddo?” Daddy whispers. Trucy shakes her head. She feels him shift next to her, and then him saying, “Vanessa, think Trucy and I are gonna head out now.”

“Poor kids all tired again, huh?” Vanessa says. With her eyes closed, Trucy can’t see any tells or anything, but sometimes she wonders if Vanessa has caught on to their little trick here, “I’ll finish up here, get the kid back home and in bed.”

“Thank you, Ms. Vanessa.” Trucy says, making an effort to open her eyes up, the dim lighting of the Hydeout not yet searing with the migraine still in its early stages.  Daddy slips his hand into Trucy’s, and together they go back up to the bar.

Trucy makes a token effort to help Daddy get her homework together from where it’s strewn out all over the table. Ms. Jackie comes over and is saying something, a lot of ‘Oh, are you leaving already? Oh my I was just amazed, you were amazing down there! Have you always been a poker player? Now that I’m thinking, you look sort of familiar. Have I seen you somewhere?’ And Daddy says ‘Haha, yeah, gotta get my little Trucy to bed, you know. You clearly know what you’re doing. Nah, but I’ve always been great at bluffing. Must be your imagination, I’m nobody important.’

She sneaks a peak at Daddy at that moment and sees his little tell, looking down with his eyes shielded by his hat, a sort of melancholy smirk marring his face, a little twitch of his fingers. He’s lying. He was somebody important; maybe not in the big grand scheme, maybe not a world-famous magician, but he was important to some people. Trucy wants to say “you’re my Daddy, you’re important to me,” but the pain in her head spikes and she squeezes her eyes shut again.

After a moment, Daddy grabs her hand again, and she keeps her eyes closed as he leads her out of the white and annoying noise of the bar and out onto the street. It’s still warm, even at night, and she realizes she forgot to grab a grape-juice bottle. Daddy seems to notice the same thing, letting go and telling her to wait there as he runs back inside.

He’s back in a second, the cold bottle pressed into Trucy’s hand, and she puts it against her forehead as they walk. It’s beautifully numbing to the pain there, and she zones out, focusing on the feeling as they walk down the street, completely silently this time, back to the office.

Recently, after so much practice, Trucy’s been getting better. She doesn’t always have a migraine after games, especially against the easier players. But Ms. Jackie had been good, and so Trucy is tired again. She wonders if her grandpa would’ve been able to teach her how to do this without getting a headache if he was still alive, he always seemed to understand Trucy’s little trick, but there is no way to know now.

When they get to the office, Trucy goes right to her room. The blinds were already closed earlier, before they left, just in case, and the curtains are closed to further block out any of the last beams of light. Her room is almost pitch-black. Daddy takes the bottle from her and hands her the little rice-filled frog they keep in the freezer, and the froggy friend rests on her forehead. Some medicine and a glass of water is placed in her bedside table, and she makes an effort to take it. It doesn’t always help, but sometimes it does something.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Truce.” Daddy whispers. Trucy cracks her eyes open, and from the light of the open door just barely catches Daddy blowing her a kiss.

She’s happy she’s able to help Daddy. She doesn’t care if she gets a terrible headache from it, because he’ll take care of her until it’s over, and even through the pain, she can’t wait to spend time with him again next month.

[spencers-renaissance]

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.2

hell is empty, and all the devils are here

Chapter One

This is the second chapter in my new ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Last Chapter: Spencer's disordered and depressed thoughts were introduced, he was shot, Foyet stabbed Hotch, and Spencer ended up alone in his apartment :(

In This Chapter: we get to see Hotch's view of the events of early season five.

TW: aftermath of violence, recovery, spousal death, grief/mourning

Word Count: 3.4k

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

AARON

All but mariners plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel, then all afire with me: [he] cried, 'Hell is empty and all the devils are here.' — William Shakespeare, The Tempest

The team is working on the case.

Aaron tries desperately to remember this when the fear starts to rise in his chest again, squashing his lungs and pressing violently against his already groaning heart. The team is working on the case, they always solve the case, and he trusts them with his life because, at the end of the day, that’s what’s at stake here, isn’t it? Haley and Jack are all he has in this world; he absolutely cannot lose them.

The team is working on the case.

Frustration builds as he lays in a hospital bed, completely incapacitated during the most important case of his life, and it’s only made worse by the knowledge that Spencer is hurt, too. He was absolutely furious when he eventually found out after asking his whereabouts on his third day of hospitalisation, having realised he hadn’t seen him once at the hospital.

Rossi had deliberately omitted Spencer being shot from his account of the case. Why, he had no idea. Did he not think it important that one of their own was seriously injured? Aaron hopes not. Did he think he was unable to handle the information at that point? Certainly more probable, but still infuriating.

It was all exacerbated by the guilty expression on JJ’s face when he asked who’d been visiting him. She’d told him that there hadn’t been time, that they were working on the case 24/7, that Penelope had heard from him and he was fine, but it wasn't enough to satiate his rising anger. Aaron doesn’t quite understand the blistering fury he still feels when he thinks about Spencer injured and alone, abandoned by his team, but he expects it’s because he still feels protective over the youngest member of the team.

That’s almost definitely it.

He takes a month off from work, but he has no idea what to do with himself, especially once he's discharged from hospital and returns to a lonely apartment in which he was brutally attacked by the FBI’s Most Wanted Serial Killer. He’s miserable without seeing Jack regularly and fearful of the length of time he’ll have to wait until he can see him and Haley again as he tries desperately not to think of the possibility that he may never see them again.

A lot of time is spent touring his DVD and box set collections and passing the time by cooking and exercising as much as his healing body will allow him. Every functional moment, every spare shred of brain power he has to spend, though, is directed at the Foyet case.

Finding Nemo is playing on the TV when there’s a knock at the door a week into his stay at home — admittedly, his collection is not all that large and he’d exhausted the more age-appropriate films far too quickly — so he turns it off and peels his exhausted bones off the couch. Most of the team have dropped by at various points, bringing food and gifts and comfort in the worst time of his life, so he’s expecting Emily or Rossi or JJ, but instead, it’s Spencer standing on his doorstep.

He doesn’t have the time to school his expression so his surprise is written all over his face, and Spencer must see it because he immediately cringes and deflates, as though suddenly doubting whether showing up out of the blue was a good idea after all.

“Hi.” Aaron smiles welcomingly to try and counter the negative thoughts that are almost certainly worming their way into Spencer’s mind. “Come in.” He steps aside and allows him to hobble awkwardly into the living room, his crutches dragging slightly along the carpet, the telltale sign of someone not quite accustomed to them yet.

“I hope it’s alright I came,” Spencer says shyly, almost apologetic. “I should have texted but I dropped my phone under the sofa and I can’t get down on the floor to retrieve it.” He blushes at his admission but gratefully accepts Aaron’s invitation to sit down.

Aaron smiles as warmly as he can manage, joining him on the couch. “You're fine, don't worry; it’s not like I’m up to much. I’m just happy to have some company.” He almost confesses that he was watching a children’s film before Spencer showed up, but decides that’s perhaps revealing just a little too much. “How have you been doing? I did message you, but I suppose your phone gathering dust under a couch explains the lack of a response.”

“You did?” Spencer’s eyes meet his and he looks utterly bewildered for some reason, seemingly surprised that Aaron would do such a thing. “Sorry, I— yes, that would be why, uh.” He looks down, clearly trying to gather himself as he plays with his fingers. “I’m fine, though. Obviously, the leg is a little sore, but. I’ll be back to work on Monday.”

“Good,” he replies, though he knows a gunshot wound will still be more than a little sore only two weeks after the initial injury. “How long do you have that?” He gestures vaguely to the brace around Spencer’s left leg.

“Not really sure,” Spencer says, looking sort of bemused by the contraption. “It’s pretty inconvenient, so I hope it isn’t too long.”

Aaron can’t help but smile at the small grin on Spencer’s face as he looks down at the brace. It looks… genuine. He doesn’t have the wherewithal to contemplate why that’s so endearingly surprising. “Are you looking forward to going back?” he asks, settling back into the couch cushions as he feels his muscles protest against his strained position.

Spencer seems to struggle for a response, unsure how to answer him. If he wasn’t so damn exhausted he might try and figure this slightly odd behaviour out, but the inherently complicated puzzle that is Spencer Reid feels like one too many right now. “I’m looking forward to not being quite so bored,” he eventually replies with a short, self-deprecating laugh. Aaron almost flinches at the sound, so foreign for Spencer’s gentle soul.

He’s fiddling with his crutches and the profiler in Aaron is screaming at him to decode what’s going on, but he forces himself to push it to the side. Spencer is a capable man. He’ll be fine. Aaron, on the other hand, needs to try and save his energy for his family.

“I can understand that,” Aaron says diplomatically, careful to not reply too emphatically one way or another. “The boredom’s crippling sometimes. Thankfully, the team coming round has been saving me from having to watch too many movies.”

Spencer seems to sort of shutter down as the words leave his mouth for reasons he doesn’t know or comprehend, but he does know that the resulting silence is awkward and he feels like he’s stuck his foot in his mouth by saying something totally innocuous. Has he had a falling out with someone or something? Is it something to do with not having many visitors in the hospital? He wouldn't blame him at all if that's still a sore spot.

“I’m going to have a coffee, I think,” he says, getting up carefully from the sofa and heading towards the kitchen despite the pain in his torso begging him to sit down. “Do you need anything?”

Spencer’s head snaps up, suddenly back and engaged. “Uh, no, I’m alright,” he says, and he sounds almost… choked up? “I should probably get going, anyway.”

“Oh, uh, okay,” Aaron says, a little surprised. His mind is too foggy with pain and grief to process the microexpressions and endlessly odd behaviours Spencer is exhibiting. He knows how much Spencer appreciates his company usually, so his leaving so soon is just wrong.

He doesn’t want him to go, he loves spending time with the younger man, and even if he is acting a little strangely, he’d much rather Spencer be with him than away from him, especially when the world seems so much more personally dangerous than it was before. At least if Spencer is close to him then he knows he’s safe, and that’s all he deserves, really. To be safe.

“Say hello to the team from me,” he says, fumbling with the door handle and awkwardly making his way out. He briefly turns back, “bye, Hotch,” before he’s closing the door behind him. Aaron can hear the plastic click of the crutches on the linoleum of the corridor as he hurries away from the apartment.

Before he can think much of it, though, he’s drawn to the couch, exhaustion overtaking his body. He’s asleep in seconds.

Eventually, he goes back to work and for a small amount of time, things seem like they’re going to be okay. Emily picks him up and takes him in, Penelope gives him homemade cookies — not that he didn’t already have an ample supply of the fruits of her kitchen waiting to be eaten in his fridge — and sure, he’s a little stressed and abrasive throughout the first case, but no-one holds it against him. It’s a little tricky when he doesn’t manage to stop Darin Call from shooting his father, but he’s calmed down by the time Emily walks him back to his apartment.

“He’s not alone,” she says as they stand in his small living room, talking about Call but looking rather pointedly in his direction. They both know what she means.

Penelope and Sam, the marshall looking after his family, help him see Jack again on his 4th birthday — granted, over one of her many computer screens — and he has to swallow down a sob at the sight of him swinging in the park, looking happy as ever. He tries to be furious at Haley for uprooting Jack again, causing them to move to a halfway house because of a few phone calls to her mother, but there’s nothing left in him. Anger at the inevitable takes energy he simply doesn’t have. It’s why he simply accepted it when the money for the counter-surveillance against Foyet ran out. Fighting seems pointless.

He does manage to get angry, though, when he finds out Spencer lied to him by telling him he was cleared to travel when he wasn’t. He’d put himself at risk for deep vein thrombosis or other complications, so he calls him out as soon as the initial debrief ends. He looks sort of relieved to be staying behind with Penelope, which is a little strange since he’s always so eager to be in the thick of the action, but he brushes it off and they get on with yet another case.

Of course, it’s significantly harder to deal with when the Bureau questions him as Unit Chief of his beloved team. He takes a step back for the sake of the team, and he’s glad he does, but things don’t feel quite so good, quite so positive. He’s suddenly following Morgan’s directions instead of giving them, no longer a leader, and it’s… humiliating.

Still, he trusts Morgan. He trusts the team in general, and they still solve cases, and they still gel together like a well-oiled machine. Things are okay. There’s still hope.

But then.

Then Karl Arnold sends him a message.

Then he agonises, fights, wrestles, swims against the current to try and save his family in time.

Then Haley dies.

🌧

Aaron thanks every god he doesn’t believe in that Jack is too little to really understand what’s happened. He knows Mommy isn’t around anymore, he knows something bad happened, that Daddy is sad, but beyond that, he has no real comprehension of the situation.

In the first days after Haley’s death, he spends a lot of time cuddled up in bed, holding Jack as close to him as he can, hugging close all he has left of his ex-wife, desperately gripping onto the one person he loves more than anything else in this world.

Once he’s cleared by the Bureau, he can at least breathe a little easier in knowing his job is safe; he can provide for his baby boy. What follows, however, is less pleasant than job security.

Watching his team cry at her funeral and seeing Haley’s family in pieces almost does him in. He’s not usually the kind of man to show emotion, but he can’t help swallowing a choked sob as he tells everyone gathered just how incredible Haley was, how lucky he and Jack and everyone who knew her were, and just how much he loved her.

“If Haley were with us today, she would ask us not to mourn her death but to celebrate her life. She would tell us… she would tell us to love our families unconditionally, and to hold them close because, in the end, they’re all that matter.”

As he reads his speech, he can’t help but think of his team. For years, they've been his second family — arguably, as much as it pains him to admit it, the family he prioritised the most — and now, they're all he and Jack have. All of them have reminded him of that over the past few days, between helping with funeral arrangements and making food for them both, constant check-ups and distractions and messages of love and support. Having his back in the moment that mattered most.

“Okay, you can go ahead,” he murmurs to Jack as he lifts him up onto his hip, the last two standing at her coffin. He watches as his son places his white rose on his mother’s coffin before following suit, stomach constricting with grief as he does so. “Blow Mommy a kiss.”

And he walks, his son clutched desperately in his arms, towards the wake.

(The team leaves the funeral, called to a case that — despite everything that’s happened — he can’t help but long to be a part of even if he knows he’d be no use right now, lost in the haze of grief and the massive life change that is suddenly being a single parent, the sole carer for his son.

He uses the time off to pack Jack’s things and move them into his own flat, trying as hard as he can to keep life as normal as possible for a little boy who just lost his mom. Actually having time to be with Jack feels like the only possible good thing to come out of this situation, and he tries to be present in the moment as much as humanly possible, grateful for every second he spends chattering away with him about the dramas and dilemmas of being four-years-old, or playing dinosaurs with him, or stroking his hair while he falls asleep.

Strauss visits, says hello to Jack, and then offers him early retirement. With a heavy heart, he promises he’ll think about it.

Jessica offers to stay with Jack while he’s away. He calls Strauss, and he declines.)

Almost as soon as the team gets back from their case in Tennessee, Spencer shows up again. This time he’s only leaning heavily on a cane instead of awkwardly wrestling against two crutches, and his brace is gone.

“Hi,” he breathes, smiling hesitantly at Hotch. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sorry to show up unannounced again. This time I don’t have a dusty phone to use as an excuse, I just wanted to come as soon as possible and see how you and Jack were doing.”

“It’s fine, Spencer, don’t worry,” he says reassuringly, opening the door wide enough to allow him into the sitting room. Truthfully, he’s glad he’s turned up. Spencer’s a soothing presence; innocent, almost, in his openness and honesty, how trusting he is of everyone around him despite how hurt he’s been in the past. And while the others always scoff and groan at his academic and overly factual rambles, he’s rather fond of them.

“I don’t know if you heard,” he says as he takes a seat on Aaron’s sofa again, “but we solved the case.” His leg is clearly bothering him still: he’s subconsciously rubbing it through the fabric of his trousers and his facial expressions are showing subtle indicators of pain.

“I never doubted it,” Aaron says, face soft and open, happy to have Spencer here. He joins him on the couch. “How is it, working cases with the injury?” He wonders whether asking about work will have the same response as before, but he seems slightly calmer this time around. He hadn’t noticed anything amiss when he’d gone back, though he had, of course, been a little preoccupied; there's plenty he could have missed.

Spencer considers for a moment, looking marginally more subdued than the last time he’d sat on his sofa. “It’s… not easy, but I’m sort of used to it now. I don’t mind sitting out the fieldwork too much; besides, I get to talk to Penelope more.” He looks like he’s not saying something, averting his eyes as he talks but Aaron doesn’t push. He doesn’t want Spencer to bolt, but he makes a mental note to keep an eye on him when he eventually gets back to work again. “I heard through the grapevine that Strauss offered you retirement.”

He looks up at Aaron with wide, hesitant eyes and for a moment, his heart clenches tightly, a rush of some emotion he can’t quite place flooding his chest and squeezing the breath out of him. It’s only for a second: the moment’s over before he can actually process it, but it leaves him floundering for a response.

“I— ah, yes. She did,” he affirms, nodding his head, “but I declined.”

“You did?” Spencer asks, suddenly looking far brighter and another flash of that feeling flares in his chest.

As such, he can’t help the fond, private smile that spreads across his face. “I did.”

Spencer looks like he’s about to say something else but he’s interrupted by Jack dashing into the room, flying his toy plane around the room. As soon as he spots Spencer on the sofa, he dashes over, eager to show off his toy.

“Wow, that’s amazing, buddy,” Spencer says, looking as interested in a wooden replica of an aeroplane as an extremely well-educated adult possibly could. That’s probably because, Aaron thinks with a smile, he actually is.

Before Aaron knows it, he’s watching him be dragged towards his son’s new bedroom to inspect all his other toys. Jack has always loved Spencer and Spencer has always loved Jack, sharing a bond over an interest in all things scientific and mechanical, albeit at vastly different levels.

He hadn’t noticed how dull Spencer’s been looking until he brightens so considerably as soon as Jack is engaging with him, and his brows furrow. Trusting Jack to keep Spencer well entertained for the next few minutes, he fills a glass with water and leans against the counter of the kitchen, sipping it quietly as he thinks it over.

Now that he considers it properly, Spencer has seemed rather downcast and far quieter than usual recently. Not that he’d had the energy to address it, or even really clock it, the last time Spencer had turned up at his apartment, but his weird, abrupt departure was clearly triggered by discussion of the team. He starts to get some food out for lunch as he resolves to keep a much closer eye on things when he gets back to work.

He only thinks it over for a few more minutes before Spencer emerges into the kitchen, one hand clutching his cane and another gently holding Jack’s. He’s still bombarding him with questions about planes and trains and cars, but Spencer fields them expertly, managing to actually get an answer in before another question takes its place, a skill Aaron has yet to master. His chest clenches for the third time in the small period Spencer’s been in his flat as he watches the two together.

“Would you like to stay for lunch?” he offers, taking in Spencer’s small frame and dark eye bags; he can’t help the protective desire to feed him and make sure he’s happy and healthy.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Spencer says, looking pleased with the offer, mouth twisting into a little smile. Aaron probably shouldn’t feel quite so delighted at his acceptance, but he brushes it aside and turns to face his son, who is watching them curiously.

“Hey Jack,” he says, crouching down to face him, “how about we get you some lunch, yeah? You can continue asking Spencer some questions while we eat. How does that sound?”

Watching Jack’s face light up as he nods happily and looking up to see Spencer’s small smile still firmly pasted on his face makes him feel, for the first time since Haley died, like there’s a future for him. A good one.

Chapter Three

If this chapter brought anything up for you, hotlines are in the endnotes of the AO3 version of this fic. Bigger countries are listed and a link is included if you live somewhere else in the world. I love you all, see you next Saturday! <3

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @marvel-ous-m @oliverbrnch @sbeno22 @aaron-hotchner187 (taglist form)

[qvid-pro-qvo]

do you have a favorite Criminal Minds episode overall? Do you have a favorite for each character?

mmmmmmm very good question to think about as i comfort rewatch :) also, probably gonna do favorite here and not best, because i think those are two separate questions. you’ll also see my bias toward earlier episodes here. whoops. 

favorite episode overall - this is a tough one, but i LOVE the episodes where we see the work of profiling, and in some episodes this is really shown as an art form. i would have to say “seven seconds” (3x01). i love the enclosed space the mall serves as geography, i love how they interview the family, i love the way they bounce off of each other. i could watch this episode every day. shit like this is why criminal minds is great. there are other episodes that i could classify as favorites but probably fall into the category of character episodes. 

this unsurprisingly got long, like novel-lengthy, so i’m sticking the individual characters under a cut.

hotch 

aaron hotchner. there’s a reason i write fic for this man, besides the fact that i feel like in later seasons he is the epitome of one note most times. we see him smile every so often, but i also think i latch onto earlier episodes because we see so much of his care for those he cares for. i LOVE “lessons learned” (2x10) for him. i LOVE the way he is so blatantly shown to adore haley and jack. i think this is one of the episodes that speaks volumes across the show, even as his humanity kind of gets stripped away in the later episodes. i think this is a great intro for emily prentiss, too, but i don’t put it with her because while she does shine, i like other episodes for her better. the foyet storyline, of course, all the way through its conclusion in “route 66” (9x05). i really love the way we see his adoration for haley and jack, i love the way we see him grapple with his guilt, and. fuck. i just care about aaron hotchner a lot. also i can’t not say “it takes a village” (7x01) - beard hotch? inspired my first ever fic for him? yeah.  also, i think it also shows the things he is willing to do for his team, because i truly think that if any member of the team was in that situation, he would be there for them and do the exact same thing. hypothetically. 

rossi 

rossi isn’t my favorite character for a variety of reasons, namely because i never really felt connected to him and i think he... is a tool for the writers to bring things out of left field. but i think a huge growth moment for him and for me in terms of appreciating him as a character is “zoe’s reprise” (4x15). the rossi that comes back to the bau is definitely one who is a lot of things, and this episode pretty much expertly breaks down every wall that he’s put up since he left. we see him empathize with a victim, see him get told off when he tries to use money to fix the situation, we see him reflect on the consequences of his actions and the way that even though he’s kind of an ass when he first comes on, there’s more underneath. like i said, he’s not my favorite character, but this episode does a good job of working in much needed humanization of him. also, of course, the dinner scene in “proof” (7x02) could be an episode all on it’s own. “as a family.” you’re so right, rossi, you’re so right. 

derek 

god, i fucking love derek episodes. i love, love, love derek morgan. i high-key think that shemar moore does some of the most incredible/versatile acting on this show, and i’m not even speaking in hyperbole. we can talk about microexpressions from hotch and mgg’s portrayal all we want, but the way shemar moore delivers a man who suffered from some of the worst childhood trauma and creates a layered character with some of the most incredible empathy towards others on his team and victims is just jaw-dropping. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again - derek is the most emphathetic character and the most in tune with the rest of the team. he is 100% the character who knows what others are feeling and actually acts on it. his relationships with spencer and penelope and emily -

but the episodes. there are tons of points in episodes focused on other characters where he shines (”penelope” and “mayhem” are two that come to mind) but honestly? “profiler, profiled” (2x12). not because of the trauma, but because how derek reacts to the trauma. we see him go through the five stages of grief when it comes to watching his persona, his shield, crumble around his team. we see him get taken apart and put himself back together. it is one of those episodes that makes me cry every time i watch it. derek confronting carl buford, that scene - f u c k. that’s all i have to say. 

penelope 

i absolutely adore my girl penelope. her character-centric episodes are some of my absolute favorite in the show. and it’s more like, i see a lot of myself in her even if i don’t absolutely identify with her personality (i am not nearly as sunshiney, unfortunately). so for her, i have to go with the classic “penelope” (3x09) for one. first of all, i think that the way the team cares for her is so vital. she is the heart of the team. and this episode shows it. more than that, i think it also shows how important a role she plays when she’s fully functioning, and we get reminded of how much she so desperately cares for others. i rewatch this episode often. another one for her is “exit wounds” (5x21). once again showing how much she cares for others, and also a really good/great/awesome derek and penelope moment. i love how often we get reassured that the team wants her exactly how she is, and she doesn’t have to change to catch the bad guys, and the moment where she says she looked into that man’s eyes so he could see something brilliant and bright as he died? god. sticks with me. 

emily

now. i’m not gonna lie. i think while i simp for hotch, emily is the most interesting character in the canon besides derek. i think while there are some problems in terms of continuity in her storyline, i think her journey in season six is one of my absolutely favorites to rewatch. i love watching her manipulate doyle. do i think the show could’ve done more in terms of fallout? yes. do i care? not totally. it’s a procedural, i get it. i love emily prentiss (probably am in love with her). i think her introduction in “lessons learned” is expert. while “demonology” (4x17) isn’t my favorite episode overall (i felt a disconnect with the story they were trying to tell in terms of unsub), i think for emily it’s such a brilliant look into her psyche and the way she thinks about her past. and i think “lauren” (6x18) is awesome at making the audience really look, watching her grapple with the consequences of her actions, her breakdown when she hears garcia’s message and having to quickly put herself back together... yeah, i love it. another one? “minimal loss” (4x03). i LOVE minimal loss. not only because of the story and the unsub, because emily throwing herself verbally in front of spencer to protect him is one of the top tier moments in the show. her and spencer’s relationship... fuck, so good.

spencer

there is a reason that spencer reid sticks around through fifteen seasons and it is because he is the soul of show. no, i’m not kidding. i think there is a lot of development that happens with spencer and when his individual relationships are highlighted the show shines. i think when the show, well, showcases his ingenuity it thrives. one episode that i just rewatched that comes to mind is “derailed” (1x09). the intensity of the episode is highlighted by spencer’s moments of humor, humanity, and intelligence. i like “revelations” (2x15) for the same reason. we see his genius through the eyes of the team and we’re just as in awe of him as hotch and gideon are. (did he get the support he needed after that episode? no, and i’ll die mad about it.) also his relationship with his mother, i will cry about it at any moment of the day. i LOVE their relationship, i love the way they develop, i LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the fact that we see the both of them throughout the whole series. “the fisher king, part two” (2x01) and the growth moments between the both of them - like, god, rip my heart out kind of love. fuck, and don’t even get me started on HIS empathy. the way that he reaches out to so many people who are suffering through his ability to just... listen. he doesn’t overlook anyone. he can’t. he knows what it feels like. some examples i love “the uncanny valley” (5x12) and “coda” (6x16).

jj

jj. there’s a lot i could say about jj, but i will say this. i do think liaison jj is more interesting, inherently, than profiler jj, and i do think that her character is reduced as the series goes along. i honestly think she is more of an equal with the rest of the team when she is liaison and plays that role. i will say, though, that i think her own exhibition of empathy, namely through the way she is willing to take the brunt of communicating with victims and families, is brilliant throughout the show. she does so much and i wish we saw her do even more (also she is canonically one of the best shots on the team, and i LOVE that). my favorite episodes for her is “risky business” (5x13), because as someone who has lost a friend in the same way jj lost her sister, i really felt for her and i think this gave us so much insight into WHY she does what she does. and “the longest night” (6x01) because her speech impacts the unsub almost as much as it impacts me. there’s a reason hotch wants her to be the one on the radio waves, and she nails it because she’s competent and incredible and... yeah. i do love her.

[thirium-fiction]

Could I ask for Simon, Connor, Markus and RK900 reacting to their shy S/O/threader trying to flirt with them but instead getting really flustered and trying to awkwardly stutter out the line but then giving up and just asking them to kiss her?

A/N: Changed this one just slightly and made it pre-relationship because who doesn’t love a little embarrassment with their crush?? 

Warnings: Little bit of swearing, some fluff with some suggestiveness as well 

-

Simon - 

You had no idea how you were going to do this. 

Simon was Simon and you were just...you. 

He was one of the head people of the revolution right alongside Markus for god’s sake. How were you supposed to muster up the courage to be able to flirt with him? You know, other deviants don’t tell you the terms and conditions of what comes along with having feelings. It just made things more complicated. Couldn’t you just be friends with the pretty blonde android? Your mind wanted to say yes but every single other biocomponent in your body said no (specifically your thirium pump). Is that what humans feel? Gross. 

Maybe he just saw you as a friend. Yeah, that could be it. Forget all this.

“You’re overthinking.” A voice came from the right of you, scaring you out of your internal rant. “It’s written all over your face.”

You shifted awkwardly in your spot as your gaze still rests on the particular blue-eyed PL600 model. “North, I don’t think I can do this.” A light bulb suddenly went off in your head. “Maybe you can-”

“I’m not passing the message off for you.” She laughed, crossing your arms before a slight cringe falls upon her features. “That would be weird.”

Letting out a breath of air, you shook your hands and jogged in place like you were getting ready to wrestle. “You’re right.” You said, giving a nod to her as she watches you with a judgmental yet amused look on her face. “I got this. I got this. I got this.” You repeated the phrase multiple times, trying to convince yourself.

Rolling her eyes, North pushed you forward and caused you to almost trip yourself. “Just go.”

Once you regained your balance, you began to walk forward while staring back at North who was giving you a supportive thumbs up (or her best attempt at one). You were so busy watching her that you didn’t realize you already made it to your destination and bumped into Simon.

“O-Oh! I’m so sorry, Simon! D-Didn’t realize you were standing there!” You laugh nervously, internally swearing at yourself non-stop for being such a klutz. 

The man gave you a kind smile that made your synthetic heart swoon. “It’s not a problem at all, (Y/N).” He was about to go back to whatever he was doing before you began again.

“Um, I was just wondering-” You trailed off, your eyes falling everywhere but his. “I couldn’t help but notice how much you’ve done for me.” Your (Y/N) orbs widen and your gaze snapped to him. “J-Jericho! Jericho, I mean. Not me, specifically.”

Simon furrowed his eyebrows, a look of concern dawning on him but there was still a small grin across his lips. “Are you alright?”

“Of course!” You squeaked a little too quickly before clearing your throat. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He blinked once before his smile grew a little more, curious as to what you were up to. “I don’t know...” He muttered, tilting his head, observing your microexpressions. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

You practically became jelly right then and there. You weren’t cut out for this. Your mind was whirling with too much and you just had to get out. Too bad your mouth spoke first.

“Because I want you to kiss me.”

You immediately gasped and covered your mouth. You almost stumbled over yourself trying to get away with a bunch of apologies but you were stopped by a gentle hand on your shoulder.

And a soft peck on your lips.

“You could’ve just led with that.” He whispered, his unbelievably warm hands cupping your face. “North was right about your face giving you away.” 

‘Damn you, North.’ You thought, barely able to process what just happened. He began to leave feather light kisses all over, leaving you feeling more comforted than you ever have been.

‘But also, thank you, North.’

Connor - 

You needed help fast. You knew Hank wanted nothing more than he already could handle with the robot. So, desperate times meant desperate measures. 

“GAVIN!” You slammed your hands on his desk, knocking his cup of pens and pencils over.

“FUCK!” The detective shot up from his previous position of using his arms as a pillow. The bags under his eyes were darker than ever. It must’ve been a rough couple of days. And that definitely meant he wasn’t going to be in a jolly mood. “The hell do you want this time?”

Case and point.

You pulled up a chair and sat next to him, your chin on your hands with a cheeky grin which caused a look of both disgust and annoyance to be directed at you. “I need your assistance.”

Gavin raised a brow before scoffing, “Assistance?” He shook his head and leaned back in his chair, trying to stretch his aching back. “You spend so much time with that shit for brains that you’re even starting to sound like it.”

“Please?” You beg, knowing it would inflate his already huge ego.

There was a pause before he heaved an overly dramatic sigh and gestured for you to continue.

You bit your lip, trying to think of a way to phrase it. “Now, let’s say there was someone in the office you’re, um, interested in? How would you get their attention?”

Gavin’s head laid limp near his shoulder before it fell back so he could stare at the ceiling. “Ugh, I don’t fuckin’ knowww.” He grunted before throwing his arms up. “Flirt? Like, you know, a normal person?”

Flirting? You weren’t exactly the biggest expert at that. Well, maybe it won’t be too bad considering Connor was quite different than the average male. Unless he had to ability to have standards. Oh, god. What were his standards?

“Alright.” You replied, slowly getting up from your seat next to him. “Guess I’ll give it a shot.” 

But, a hand raised mid-air forced you to stop in your tracks.

“Don’t tell me it has something to do with….” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his energy for handling anything quickly dwindling. “...WALL-E over there.” Your heavy silence made him grab the trash can from underneath his desk and begin to gesture from his mouth to the container. “I’m puking right now.”

You turned around and walked away from his childish antics.

“This is me puking!” He called out after you until you couldn’t hear him anymore before putting it back and going back to his nap.

Eventually, you made your way to Connor’s desk and noticed him scanning through files at a rapid pace. “Hey, Connor…” You began, causing his brown eyes to fall upon yours.

“Yes, (Y/N)? Did you need something?”

You were about to tell him never mind but you knew this was something you had to do.

“Could you come with me to the other break room for a second?” You watched as he glanced between you and his work before getting up with a small ‘okay’ and following you.

When you got there, you closed the door and silently fixed yourself a cup of coffee to look like you needed something from the room despite not being thirsty nor needing any more things to make you antsy. 

“Were you able to look at the thing I sent you?” You asked, taking a small sip from the piping cup of joe.

He blinked, puzzled at first before raising his eyebrows. “Oh, yes! I found it very enjoyable. I don’t think I could ever get tired of all the dog content you send me!”

‘Do I really send him that much?’ You thought as you put your cup down, not really interested in it.

Connor pursed his lips before slightly squinting. “Why did you ask for me?”

Oh, right. The flirting. You cleared your throat before slowly approaching him. “You’ve been here for awhile, Connor.” You whisper, trying to look at least a little seductive. 

“Yes, I have.” He stated, your efforts going right over his head.

Your fingers crawl up his suit jacket slowly. “Has anyone c-caught your eye?” You flutter your eyes, smiling. 

What were you thinking? 

“U-uh,” He stuttered as well, unsure of how to handle a situation like this. A situation where he had no clue what was going on. Or, maybe he did. He wasn’t sure if that’s what it was though. “I don’t understand, (Y/N). Could you care to-”

“Goddammit, Connor I’ve liked you for a long time and would really appreciate it if you just-” 

The android slammed his lips to yours, his hands hovering over your waist, not knowing what to do past this point. You quickly broke it and you could see there was a brief flash of worry across his face. 

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”

A couple beats passed until you giggled a bit, making him look at you. “I can’t fool a detective.” You giggle before pulling him back in again as his arms wrapped themselves tightly around your torso, never wanting to let go.

And maybe it was just your imagination from being on cloud nine but you could’ve sworn you heard, 

“Puke! Everywhere!”

Markus - 

You really didn’t want to say that you had gained feelings for him over time but you knew you couldn’t deny it for so long. Even Carl could see it. He secretly would try and coordinate when you could come over and when Markus visited. Despite the artist’s health deteriorating, he still wanted to make sure the two of you were happy. 

“Alarms deactivated. Welcome home, Markus”

An evil grin made its way across Carl’s tired face when you froze at the alarm system’s voice. “Go talk to him.” He said, patting your back to make you get up from the edge of the hospital bed. “I’m over watching the two of you tip toe around each other. Work your magic.”

Hesitantly, you got up off the bed but you nervously wringed your wrists, afraid of doing something you’d regret. “Maybe you’re right, Carl.”

“Of course I’m right. Now, go! I need to get some rest anyway.”

You ran your hands up and down your arms as you made your way out of the room and down the stairs, trying to calm your rising nerves. You didn’t see him at the entrance so he must’ve made his way to the main living room. Once you reached the doors, you put your hands on your knees, feeling as if you had already ran a marathon. Working up the courage before something like this really takes a lot out of you. Nodding, you hyped yourself up before taking a couple steps forward and causing the wooden doors to slide open. 

Markus was placed right in the middle of the room on a couch, a book in hand as he slowly fingers through it. After becoming deviant, he’s taken his time when it comes to appreciating literature and other forms of art. Even if he could read it all in a millisecond, he wanted the material to really resonate with him. A minute or two passed by before he finally looked up in your direction and noticed you. Almost instantly, he sprung up from his sitting position and closed the book.

“(Y/N).” Markus breathed, disappointed in himself for not acknowledging you sooner. “I-I didn’t hear you come in.”

You shrugged, walking around the couch so you weren’t speaking to him from across the room. “It’s okay. I didn’t exactly do anything to make you notice I was there.”

He glanced discreetly between you and the book he was reading, stepping in front of it to block it from view. “You don’t have to do much to-” He began, but quickly lost his confidence. He led a whole revolution but couldn’t do this one simple thing. Maybe it was a little too human for his liking. 

“What was that, Markus?” You asked softly, setting yourself down next to the spot where he was sitting moments before. 

“It’s...nothing.” He muttered, a smile on his face as he shook his head. “How have you been?” He quickly changed the subject and placed himself next to you, perhaps a little closer than originally intended.

“I’ve been - okay.” You didn’t want to be too upfront about your feelings and how he was on your mind a lot. “Just caught up in work and all. Don’t really have a lot of time to rest.” You crossed your legs and rested your hands on top of your knee. “I’m sure you know all about that.”

You subtly pinched your hand after that came out of your mouth. ‘He doesn’t rest, (Y/N). He’s an android! Just, ugh, stop talking!’ You thought, painting a kind expression over your panic.

“Yeah, I do.” Markus chuckled, a hand placed over the book so you couldn’t read the title. 

There was a long heavy silence and neither of you had the courage to break it. But, someone had to speak.

“What’re you reading?” You leaned over, trying to see what he was keeping so close to himself. 

He proceeded to move the book further out of sight. “Oh, just something Carl gave me.”

You eyed him suspiciously, his lack of being forward with you only making it more intriguing. He couldn’t get away that easily. You decided, and without even thinking much first, that you should dive for the book. Markus clearly wasn’t prepared for this sudden change in energy. He used his forearm to try and push you away, his other hand still grasping onto the cover, blocking you from seeing it. 

“(Y/N), please!” Markus shouted, a giant grin plastered on his face despite having to fight you off. “This isn’t going to get you anywhere!”

You ignored his pleas and still tried to reach for the item, crawling all over him and doing your best to push his strong arm away. What you hadn’t realized was the compromising position you put yourselves in. When you finally paused to catch your breath, you noticed how you were practically on top of the android as he still held the book above his head. A heavy blush returned to your face but you didn’t try and get up.

“S-So,” You whisper, still out of breath as you stared into his eyes. “I guess you could say I fell for-” You immediately choked, not being able to finish the pun. Maybe it was the lack of air to your head or the impending doom of embarrassment. 

You gulped, your gaze falling on his lips. It was now or never. Your voice was incredibly shaky as you let out a small whisper, “C-Could I-”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. Your lips meshed together perfectly as the two of you moved in sync. So, this is what happens when you tip toe around someone too much. The book dropped from his grasp and his hands found their way into your hair to deepen the kiss while own fingers slid down his chest and made their way underneath his shirt.

You never did find out what he was reading.

RK900 - 

You’re insane.

Have you not realized by now that this android and anything to do with genuine emotions does not go together? 

Like, at all? 

Anything that shows just a sign of weakness would be a no from him. He still didn’t understand why he was paired up with you as a partner for work. You were one of the shyest there was while he, on the other hand, was one of the most blunt and up front beings ever. Seriously, someone could be having the best day and all Conner had to say was one single thing and he could ruin it all. But, it’s what made him an excellent detective. Plenty of deviants have cracked under the enormous pressure that he puts them through. Guess you could say you were like a good cop and bad cop duo.

And maybe because he was the complete opposite of you, it made you all the more attracted to him. He never showed hesitation when it came to something and you admired him for that. Even if he could be the biggest dick about some of the things. You couldn’t really blame him, though. You knew CyberLife had to fix the “mistakes” from his previous model, the RK800, which was showing too much emotion. 

So, uh, what made you believe he could change things around for you?

You. A young detective that’s just trying to make a living and pay the bills to get by. What about you would make Conner interested? To go against his programming?

Thoughts like these never really helped you when it came to your confidence about the topic. You wanted to believe you could make him feel at least something but you knew it was going to have to take a lot of work. You tried though. Over and over again, you would give him small compliments on his process of handling things. Yet, he’d merely dismiss whatever you’d say.

“I merely do what I have to do in the most efficient way possible.” He’d tell you, focused on whatever he was doing at the time. “It’s not about it being good or bad to others.”

You didn’t know why he couldn’t just take a compliment. Could it have been because they made him feel better which was different from the normal way he saw himself? He was more comfortable with just doing his job without someone mentioning anything about it? Most likely. As mentioned, anything to do with a change in his feelings was a no from the android. 

It still didn’t stop you.

“Why do you do that?” Conner asked, coming off as incredibly harsh yet being genuinely curious.

“W-What do you mean?” You stuttered in reply, suddenly becoming overly nervous from being unprepared for such confrontation.

He glared intensely at you, leaning his head as he slowly walked up to you. It was incredibly intimidating, to say the least. “The compliments.” He began to walk around you in circles, almost as if you were his prey. “The flattery.” 

“I-I just-” You could barely get a word out without messing it up.

Eventually, he stopped right in front of you. “Why?”

You tried to take a step back from him, seeing how close he was, but you were stopped by a surface against your back. Great, you were stuck. 

“I don’t know.” Your eyes were everywhere but him. “I just a-admire the way you do things. Efficient, I guess.”

Conner seemed to enjoy that word. Efficient. It didn’t have any ties to it. It wasn’t good or bad. Much like he was in your opinion. Maybe your use of the word here would make him back off.

He scoffed a bit, approaching you a little more and removing the small distance you had. “Admire?” It was extremely evident that he was mocking you. “Why me? Do humans usually attach to things they know they can’t have?”

Ouch.

“You’re an asshole.” You hissed, tears starting to well up in your eyes. “I can’t believe I-”

“You what?” Conner whispered, looking down at you because of his height and his chest was just barely touching yours. 

You remained quiet, your glare pointed at the floor but you couldn’t help glancing up at his faces and to his lips for just a split second before looking away from him again. You don’t know why you thought you could get away with it.

“Ask me.” 

Furrowing your brows, you looked up into his eyes that never once strayed away from your own. “What?” 

The RK900 glanced down at your own lips just like you did with him before returning back to your gaze.

You couldn’t believe what he was implying. It just didn’t seem like something he’d do. “Y-You’re being ridiculous.” You huffed, trying to move past him until his arm stopped you from moving any more. 

“Ask me.”

Crossing your arms, you faced him fully once more. “Alright then…” You began, gaining a whole new burst of courage. “Kiss me.”

You were roughly pushed up against the wall behind you and you just barely let out a yelp before his mouth crashed itself into yours. Your brain could barely even process what was going on before he pulled at your waist to bring you even closer to him. His tongue dragged itself across your bottom lip before grabbing it between his teeth with a slight pull. You couldn’t help but respond with a moan before digging your fingers into his practically perfect hair, messing it up.

For someone so bland, you had never thought about what he could be behind closed doors.

You obviously weren’t complaining though.

- 

[masterlist]

TAGS:

@six-ninths-deviant @stars-with-citrus @polimollykari @t0ranu @timedthyme @aproxied

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[excelsi-or]

just a little sweeter (pt. 7)

BIPOC rec: Check out Elsa Majimbo on IG. She makes hilarious videos about everything, especially poking fun about life in these COVID times. They make me laugh so much. And for some arty stuff, check out Allenmoreworks. She’s posting some stunning pieces.

w.c. 2.1k (fluuuuuuff, i’m realizing there is a lot less angst in this story than in the last one. hope you guys don’t mind that lol)

pt.1; pt.2; pt.3; pt.4; pt.5; pt.6

“You’re sure I’m allowed to be here?”

“Yes,” Jihoon laughs as he lets her into the company building.

She wraps him in a hug, and he can smell the coffee he loves in her hair. “Hi.”

Jihoon smiles at her. “Hi.”

“So, where is everyone?”

“Called it a night,” Jihoon tells her. They head to the elevator.

“And Eunha?”

“Sleeping on the couch in the studio.”

She lifts an eyebrow.

“I can’t let her stay home alone. My daughter’s not even 2,” he explains.

“But if she’s sleeping, shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“I have to finish this album. There were some things the members didn’t like in the final mix.” Jihoon pushes off the wall and leads her out the elevator and down the hall.

She trails after him in awe of the bare white walls and glass doors. “This is more business-like than I anticipated.”

Jihoon glances over his shoulder. “Oh. Yeah. Studio’s not that bad.” He pushes the studio door open and leads her into the room. Sitting on the table in front of Eunha is a phone that’s on a call. He picks it up to end it.

“Did you use an iPhone as a baby monitor?” she demands.

He nods as he tosses the phone on the desk. “Yeah.”

She turns, admiring the room. The neon lights are on, which cast a blue haze over everything. The red neon light of ‘Woozi’s studio’ near his workspace highlights that area.

“Thoughts?”

“Very… unlike you,” she comments, smiling at him. “More colour than I was anticipating. But also your style.” She hums. “Hard to describe.”

They both glance over at the couch when they hear Eunha mumbling. Jihoon is about to reach for her, but she gets to his daughter first. She scoops Eunha up and Eunha immediately rests on her shoulder, arms around her neck.

“You didn’t have to,” Jihoon says.

She shakes her head. “You asked me to keep you awake so you could finish your album. I brought a book. I’m here for conversation and to babysit,” she chuckles.

Jihoon holds the back of his ��guest’ chair and she sits on it. She readjusts Eunha so that her little head is cradled in the crook of her elbow. The little girl is all pudgy limbs that curl around her. She brushes hair off of Eunha’s forehead and looks up to see Jihoon’s fond expression.

“Stop that,” she whispers.

Jihoon feels his face warm at getting caught. “Do you wanna hear some of the album?”

“Of course I do. You don’t know how much I’ve been anticipating hearing a work in progress.”

Jihoon plays a few tracks for her, stopping right before the parts he needs to change. The members were right. Some of the songs are not his best work and can be tweaked a bit to be hits. He watches her microexpressions, catching the tilt of her head at some parts. He mentally flags them for later.

“They don’t call you a genius for nothing.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“You’re good, Jihoon.” She rocks the chair back and forth as Eunha begins moving in her sleep.

“Well, thanks, I guess.”

“Can we just talk about how good lunch was yesterday?” she asks, changing the subject.

Jihoon snorts. “Yes, we can. It was so good I made the members order it for lunch today.”

She grins. “I know the odds of there being leftovers is a long shot.”

Jihoon shakes his head. “I was planning on being in late and ordered us both something. It’s in the fridge.”

Her jaw drops. “You sneak. You were going to ask me over regardless.”

Since their first date, the two have been nonstop communicating. If they can’t see each other for a coffee break (not in her café) or a meal, they’ll video chat after Eunha’s gone to bed or in the morning before she goes to work. Somehow, his baby winds up in the call at some point or another, regardless of when they chat.

Jihoon shrugs. “Is that a bad thing?”

She chuckles and shakes her head. “No, it’s not.” Jihoon watches as she reaches for her bag on the floor to grab her book. She manages to do so without waking his daughter.

“You know, the members have been worried,” he says once she’s upright.

She puts her book on the desk and lifts her feet to prop them on his chair. “Yeah, they make a few comments when they come to pick up coffee.”

Jihoon frowns. “Like…?”

“Nothing rude. Warnings, I guess.”

“About…?”

“Just…” She tilts her head. “That you’ve been hurt before and that I should walk away if I’m not committed.”

He holds back an eye roll. “I’m surprised you haven’t run away yet.”

“What do you mean?” she chuckles.

“Just that… well, one, I have a full-on child. And two, I have overprotective members. You haven’t even met my mother yet.”

She nods. “Yeah, I know. I’m insane.”

Jihoon studies her. He can’t help but feel his heart swell every time she turns her attention to Eunha. The way she looks holding his daughter makes him want to laugh or cry or something. And he gets caught every time he watches her like this, interacting with his daughter. There’s no real point to be embarrassed anymore.

Doesn’t stop him from turning red every time anyway.

“I told my mom about you,” she says, her eyes on Eunha.

“What? Me or Eunha?”

She snorts and looks up at him. “You, you dolt.”

“And?”

“I let slip that you have a daughter.”

Jihoon’s stomach clenches at the thought of someone else knowing. “It’s your mom. I don’t mind.”

She gauges his expression. “As soon as I said it, I knew I shouldn’t have.”

“Sharing things with your mom is a good thing. I hope that Eunha gets to have that one day.” Jihoon takes a deep breath. “What… what did she say?”

“About you having a daughter? Plenty.” She chews her bottom lip. “Do you want to hear it?”

Jihoon hesitates for a second, but nods.

“She thinks I’m crazy to even consider being involved with you. You’re an idol, first of all. She thinks the lifestyle is crazy. She ultimately wants someone who dotes on me.” She shrugs. “I don’t blame her for that one. But when she found out about Eunha, she…” She tips her head both ways. “Let’s just say that if she could ground me and control everything I did from that day on, she’d make it so I moved back home and was never allowed to date anyone ever again. Because clearly I can’t make decisions.”

Jihoon whistles. “That’s… harsh.”

“I haven’t had a boyfriend in a long time. She wants to know what’s possessing me to date someone who already has daughter.”

“We come as a package deal.”

“And… I know that.” She pulls Eunha closer. “Or at least, I think I do.”

Jihoon starts to turn in his chair towards the screen. “So why?”

“Why what?”

“Why… date me?”

She lifts an eyebrow, a small smile on her lips. “You want a list?”

Jihoon pulls up the file he needs and slides his notebook closer. “I… thought I was undateable because I have Eunha. Figured that no one would be willing to be with someone who already has a kid. Especially at our age.”

“Ah. You also think I’m crazy.”

Jihoon glances over at her, finally seeing the smile quirking her lips. “I just want to know why.”

“You have a good heart. You’re a good person, talented, with a career.” She shrugs. “It doesn’t hurt that you’re good looking. What more could I ask for?”

“Someone without a kid.”

She snorts. “I’m surprised you want to date me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I could walk away at any moment, break your heart and make life even more difficult for you.” She picks up her book and holds it in her other hand. “I don’t know what you see in me that would be any bonus for you and your daughter.”

A couple hours pass. She’s dozed during the slow songs that Jihoon is mixing. They talk about light topics when he wants to keep his mind off the songs. But when Eunha starts whining, she gets up to go for a walk.

“Do you want your food?” she asks, holding Eunha to her chest. The kid’s head rests on her shoulder, the whining about to turn into sobbing. She presses a kiss to the back of Eunha’s head. “Do you want to stay with Daddy?” she whispers.

Eunha grips her tighter and Jihoon has to fight a smile. “If you don’t mind grabbing it on your own.”

“I can get it,” she snorts. “Tell me where it is.”

Jihoon instructs her to where the kitchen is. In the kitchen, she manages to get the food out of the fridge.

Before she can heat it, Eunha suddenly wakes up. As she looks around the dimly lit kitchen without her dad, she begins whimpering.

“Hey kiddo,” she hums, putting down the plate she was about to put in the microwave. “Hey, hey.”

Eunha’s whimpers start to crescendo to crying.

“Okay, okay.” She goes to turn the light on and Eunha squints at the brightness. “You’re okay. We’re at the studio. Daddy’s in the next room.” Eunha stares at her with red cheeks and tears welling in her eyes. “Do you remember me, hmm? We’re just going to make food and then we’re going straight back to Daddy’s office.” She turns Eunha towards the open containers on the counter. “Look, food.”

Eunha blinks away her tears, her crying subsiding to uneven breathing.

“See? You’re alright.” She uses her thumb to wipe away some of the tears. “If you’re going to stay awake, do you want me to put you—oh, okay.” Before she can finish her sentence, Eunha’s head is back on her shoulder. She bounces Eunha up and down as she puts the food in the microwave.

By the time she gets back to Jihoon, carefully balancing a child and a plate of food in each hand, Eunha is asleep again. At the sound of the door opening, Jihoon looks back over his shoulder. He gets to his feet to grab the plates out of her hands. He bends a bit to get a look at Eunha’s face.

“Did she cry?”

“Yeah, she did.” She follows him to the desk. “She’s asleep now, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she is.” He sets the plates down and then manoeuvres Eunha into his arms. She lies against his chest.

“Now, I’m cold,” she chuckles.

Jihoon turns in his seat towards the couch. “There’s a blanket here somewhere.”

She sees it on the couch. She wraps it around her shoulders and sits back down. “How’s the music going?”

Jihoon shakes his head. “Let’s talk about something else. I can’t talk about it anymore.”

“That’s saying something,” she murmurs. They’re quiet for a moment, tucking into their food. “How are your parents?”

“My parents?” Jihoon tips his head at the question. “They’re good.”

“And have you told them about me?”

“Ah,” Jihoon chuckles. He carefully bends forward to eat. “Yes, I have actually.”

“And?”

“Be careful,” he quotes his mother. “After Eunha’s mother, they’re protective of us.” He presses a kiss to Eunha’s head.

She eats quietly, mulling this over. If this were just a case of two 20-somethings dating, then she doubts either of their parents would have much to say about them testing it out. But because of Eunha, it either needs to be serious or nothing. It’s an interesting way to date, she finds. It puts so much pressure on the early stages of a relationship to work out. Now it’s not just about whether she likes Jihoon; now she needs to consider if she wants to be involved in Eunha’s life too.

Jihoon must see all of this on her face. “I understand if you’re scared away by that.”

She smirks.

“It’s a lot of pressure to put on you.”

“And you.” She lightly kicks his knee. “You’re expecting yourself to be able to be the best judge of character. You’re not leaving any room for error here.”

His voice quiets. “I’d really hate to be wrong.”

“About?”

“You, me, Seventeen, this little one and how I raise her.”

“Those last couple ones are all you. You can control those things.” She takes another bite. “As of right now, I think I’m more a figment of your imagination than anything else.” She reaches for the water bottle in her bag. “But that’s why I’m here. To make me real. And to make you real to me.”

“You know,” Jihoon turns to scribble her words into his notebook, “if the café doesn’t work out, you could be a lyricist.”

She snorts, watching Jihoon carefully as he balances Eunha on his chest, his fork in his hand and the computer mouse in his other. “Could I? I don’t think so.”

[degrassi-fanatic]

I have a prompt! A hotchreid fic that starts as an alternate ending to the Chester hardwicm episode. Or: if you are feeling particular au-ish, when jack is born Spencer volunteers to babysit him to make extra money because he spends all his money on his mom and can hardly make rent. As Hotch’s marriage falls apart and Spencer’s past is revealed, they become confidants through the struggle

Even more angsty if your ready: Spencer faces the harsh relality of drug addiction after hankel, which includes selling everything he owns, and his body, for drugs. When Hotch finds out what he’s doing he does everything in his power to get him clean.

All of these could either be heid/hotchreid or dad Hotch I guess

Okay you gave me so many options (which i love!!) so i decided to write a one shot about reid’s addiction but, it’s not quite the prompt you sent in (which i hope is okay!!) because i wanted to get this finished fast and bring it to you and i had already wasted a day writing the first suggestion only to realize i had no plan.

Warnings for themes of addiction and substance abuse.

The moment Hotch had noticed Reid’s resignation letter amongst the scattered paperwork on his desk, he had known that something was irrevocably wrong. 

He had known something was wrong when Reid began to sneak off during work hours only to come back almost rejuvenated, when he would show up late to case briefings, when he began to snap at everyone and anyone only to grow quiet for the next coming days.

Hotch knows. He’d be a terrible profiler if he didn’t. God, he knows and he’s let it go on for far too long. He should have confronted Reid the day he noticed what was going on. 

Reid is a substance abuser. He’s addicted to drugs. An addict. 

It’s such an aggressive word; it sounds so harsh and hostile. Especially so, when Hotch takes into consideration that he’s talking about Spencer Reid, the least aggressive person he knows. 

Sighing, Hotch shakes himself out of his thoughts as he walks up to the front door of Reid’s apartment. He brings his hand up to rap against the wood when he realizes the door is left slightly ajar. 

Without hesitation, Hotch slowly pulls out his gun from his holster before nudging the door open all the way. 

Once he’s inside of the apartment, Hotch wades through every nook and cranny of the space to try and find any immediate danger in the form of a person. As he walks through, he notices most of Reid’s books are gone. All of the numerous shelves Morgan and him had hung up are uncharacteristically empty. Only a few paperback novels lay about.  He also notices the empty space where he knows a chessboard used to occupy. 

Ignoring his observations for now, Hotch pushes several doors open to find each room empty on the other side. As he’s a second away from holstering his gun, he hears the sound of water running in the direction of a door he has yet to open. 

Keeping his gun close to his body, Hotch places his hand on the doorknob. He gives himself a moment before he shoves open the door to the bathroom. 

He’s greeted by the sight of Reid lying in the bathtub, still dressed in the clothes Hotch had seen him in earlier that day. His eyes are closed. His face looks years younger. 

Water is flowing over the edge of the ceramic tub, and pooling into puddles onto the tiles of the bathroom. On the granite counter of the sink, he spots an empty vial and a needle. 

Right away, Hotch holsters his gun as he rushes over to kneel beside the tub. His hands come up to shake Reid awake. 

The first time he doesn’t wake, Hotch pays it no mind and repeats the action, with much more vigour. 

The second time he doesn’t wake, his vigour is replaced with desperation. His eyes well up with tears. 

He doesn’t bother to try and wake him a third time, His hands simply rest atop of his shoulders, clenching into fists before unclenching. Hotch knows Reid will not stir. He knows that he’s too late. He knows that he let everything go too far.

He knows that he’s failed this man one final time. 

His mouth contorts into a sob that rips out of his lungs, as the tears begin flowing down his face freely. 

Hotch killed him. 

He killed him and now Reid couldn’t do any of those things he wanted to do. He couldn’t go visit his mother in Las Vegas. He couldn’t try and bring Elle back. He couldn’t go to that Criminology Conference he had been raving about before Hankel took away the bright and beautiful man Hotch had become accustomed to seeing.

He couldn’t do any of that anymore because Hotch had killed him. 

He may not have been the one to plunge the needle into his veins but, he didn’t bother helping him pull the needle out and away. 

He lost him. 

Just like how he lost Elle. Except this feels a million times worse because at least Elle was alive and well. 

His arms come down to lift up Reid’s limp form as he cradles him close to his body. Uncaring about the way his shirt is getting wet or how the water is now flooding into the hallway or how he was supposed to call JJ after checking up on Reid. 

None of that matters because the person that did matter was dead. 

Trailing his hand from Reid’s back up to his neck, Hotch pushes his face into the top of his damp hair. 

“Spencer.” he croaks out, “I’m so sorry.”

Then, he feels a frail hand clutch at his shoulder. 

“Aaron.” he hears Reid rasp out. 

Only pulling back the distance necessary, Hotch finds an exhausted grin playing across Reid’s features as he stares up at him, his eyes hazy for reasons that make Hotch’s stomach church with guilt. 

But, Hotch would rather have him like this, high and wholly alive, in place of a corpse.

Wordlessly, he gathers up Reid’s lithe and shivering body in his arms. As he stands up with the man in his hold, he uses his foot to flick off the faucet of the bathtub. He feels Reid’s own arms wrap around his neck sluggishly, and Hotch has to bite back a wince at the feeling of freezing skin pressing against his. 

“Aaron,” Reid mumbles again as Hotch steps out of the bathroom, “I think my dealer laced my stuff.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” he murmurs as he heads over to the bedroom. 

Once the two of them are inside Reid’s bedroom, he makes way towards the bed in the centre of the room. With the utmost care he can possibly manage, Hotch sets the man down onto the edge of the mattress. 

Before searching for a set of warm and clean clothes, he makes a small detour to the bathroom in order to find a dry towel. After he’s done that, Hotch wanders back into the bedroom and heads over to Reid’s dresser. He pulls open several drawers until finds everything he was looking for; t-shirt, sweatpants, socks.

As he turns around to walk back to Reid, he finds the man smiling up at him absentmindedly. 

Hotch settles himself on his knees in front of Reid. His fingers reach up for the soaking wet tie around Reid’s throat. He struggles with the sopping material but eventually he undoes it. It’s a similar feat for the sweater vest clinging to his thin torso but, nonetheless, he manages to pull it up and over Reid’s head. 

“This is not how I imagined you would be taking off my clothes.” Reid jokes.

“Hmm.” he hums non committedly, as he focuses on unfastening each button on Reid’s dress shirt. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Reid asks.

“Sure.”

“I’m in love with you.”

If Hotch already didn’t know that Reid was high on drugs, this unbidden confession was surely confirmation enough. 

Much to the presumed chagrin of Reid, Hotch was quite aware of the younger man’s feelings for him. He had been since the day he met him. Even a highly skilled profiler like Reid couldn’t control his microexpressions. 

It certainly didn’t help matters when Gideon told him to ‘let the kid down easy’ once Reid had joined the B.A.U officially or when Elle advised him to ‘be gentle with him’ before she left. 

“Thank you for telling me.” he says, sincerely.

Soon, the shirt is shrugged off Reid’s shoulders and Hotch wastes no time in drying off his torso. Once he’s sure he’s done a decent job, Hotch gets the t-shirt he picked out.

“Arms up.” Hotch requests softly.

Obliging him, Reid raises his arms up to allow Hotch to guide his limbs into the respective holes of the shirt before tugging it down over Reid’s head.

As Reid fiddles around with the hem of his shirt, Hotch switches his attention over to the top of his pants. He unbuttons them quickly and zips down the fly before drawing the garment down his hips to his ankles. With gentle hands, Hotch maneuvers each foot out of the pant leg before tossing it aside. 

“Are you mad at me?” Reid asks meekly, “For being high?”

Hotch could never be mad at Reid, not for something like this.  

No, he’s mad at Charles Hankel for abusing his son. He’s mad at Tobias Hankel for not being strong enough. He’s mad at the world that thinks the only thing Spencer Reid was good for was pain. 

He’s mad at himself. For not being there for Reid, for not being enough for Reid. 

“No.” he reassures Reid as Hotch heaves off the long socks from his calves, “I’m not mad at you. Not for this. Never for this.”

Balling up the socks, he drops them down to the ground. He plucks up the towel once more and dries off each of Reid’s legs down to his feet before helping into his socks first, then his pants.

Once he’s done assisting him, Hotch gets up off the ground and steps closer to Reid. With the towel still in his hand, he attempts to dry off Reid’s wet locks only to find that it’s fruitless with how damp the towel had gotten from the rest of his body. Without another thought, he pitches it aside. 

“You should get some rest.” Hotch murmurs as he strolls over to the lightswitch beside the door, “I’ll clean up the bathroom.”

Before Hotch can take another step, Reid lets out a whimper and reaches his arms out in his direction. His brows drawing together in worry.

“Can you lay with me?” he asks, “Please?”

Never being one to deny Reid, Hotch lets a little exhale before flicking off the lightswitch and making his way to the bed. As he toes off his shoes, Reid gets himself comfortable underneath the covers. 

From the second he gets beneath the covers, Reid huddles closer to his body and Hotch can feel the chill emanating from his skin. Bearing the brunt of the cold sensation, Hotch forces himself to wind his arms around Reid’s midsection, nestling him against his chest.

The two of them go quiet and Reid is well on his way to falling asleep but for some inexplicable reasons Hotch has a burning question on his mind. 

“What happened to all of your books?” Hotch asks quietly, “Your chessboard too?”

“I sold it.” he whispers, “And some of my other stuff.”

“To buy more drugs?” he asks.

At that moment, he’s not sure if he wants Reid to answer him at all. He’s not sure if he could handle the confirmation of what he had inferred. 

“I know you want to believe that I’m better than most addicts,” Reid starts off as he tilts his face up to look at Hotch, “But at the end of the day, I’m still a junkie with track marks on his arms.”

Immediately, “You’re not a junkie.”

A quiet chuckle makes its way out of Reid’s throat and the sound distracts Hotch because he cannot recall the last time Reid had ever laughed so freely. 

It must have been before Georgia. 

“Sometimes, my dealer gets me to sleep with people in exchange for drugs.”

The admission cracks against Hotch’s heart like a whip and the flinch is visible in his face. 

He thought he knew who Reid was. He thought he knew who his friend was but, the Spencer Reid he knew would never do that, would never subject himself to intimacy with strangers for an ounce of euphoria. 

God, how could Hotch let this go so far?

“Spencer…”

“I’m sorry.”

Reid sounds so small at that moment. It makes Hotch want to swaddle him up in all of these blankets to make sure no one could ever hurt him again.

In the end, though, Hotch knows the only real protection Reid needs is from him. 

“Are you disappointed in me?” Reid continues. 

“I think I’m disappointed in myself.” he says truthfully, “I think you should be disappointed in me.”

They fall in a silence. The only sounds that can be heard are the inhales-exhales wracking through Reid’s lungs and the whirring noises from the apartment above them. 

Hotch should have done something. He should have done anything. 

But, he didn’t. 

In his arms, Reid jostles around before wiggling up the bed to be eye to eye with Hotch. The glazed look and the dilated pupils brew bile in the back of his throat but, he forces himself to maintain eye contact nonetheless.

“Ask me why I left my front door open.” Reid requests.

Fulfilling his request, “Why did you leave the front door open?”

“I was hoping you would walk in.” he confesses as his cold fingers slot up between Hotch’s warm ones, “You saved me from Hankel. I thought maybe you could save me from myself.”

Tomorrow, Hotch promises himself. Tomorrow, Hotch will clean up the water in the hall. Tomorrow, they can have as many screaming matches as they need before Hotch convinces Reid he needs to get clean. Tomorrow, Hotch will help him detox, and he’ll be there for all of the bouts of vomiting, shivering, and sweating.

Tomorrow. 

Tonight, Hotch just wants to hold Reid close to him and remind himself that he’s still alive.

[silver-wield]

Omg. Your body language analysis is so on point it makes me go uwu. If you're still doing it, will you make one for the scene where Cloud catches Tifa while Barret shoots his damnest at the heli? I have my own analysis but very curious what's your take on it.

Heya, I'm guessing you don't mean the scene with the hand catch, but the one after it where they reach Barret's position on the stairs. Although I have many thoughts about Rude too and why he first of all directed Reno's attention to Tifa, but then noped them away when Reno was about to shoot her. He had an interesting microexpression – teeny facial tic – that hinted something different to the OG “he's crushing on her” angle.

A lot of these “action touches” get discounted by you-know-who because in those situations it's impossible not to touch? I don't get the reasoning and I'm not gonna try and figure out just what counts and what doesn't. It's non-optional. Isn't that the only argument that matters?

Ok, spoiler warning for ppl who haven't played (I tag FF7R spoilers as final fantasy 7 remake spoilers) and it's gonna be a long one so prepare to scroll.

Also, this is one person's interpretation of the scene, so if you disagree that's cool and we'll agree to disagree.

You're also gonna have to excuse the janky quality on some of the screens, I'm grabbing them from Youtube and it's frustrating af trying to get the exact moment I want.

Other analyses if anyone's interested.

Shinra HQ vision scene (Cloti/plot analysis) 

Chapter 3 (Cloti reblog) 

Tifa character analysis 

Aerith Resolution (plot analysis/theory) 

Train graveyard (not really an analysis, but I got some sweet screenshots of Cloti) 

Clotiscrew tunnel analysis 

Cloti reunion analysis 

The Promise Analysis 

Andrea's approval (Cloti ask response) 

Now, strap in and enjoy the ride.

Quick recap. Cloud and Tifa are reunited after that hand catch scene (smug? Me? Nau) and they're heading up to find Barret after seeing Jessie “die”. The mood is not good. This is not romantic, okay? This is war.

Ok, so already we have touchy touching here. You can argue it's high tension/stress moment and Cloud is making sure Tifa's safe, but he doesn't do that with Barret, is all I'm saying.

Cloud's got hold of her entire arm, not just her wrist or hand, he's got hold of her as securely as possible giving they're in motion. He doesn't want to lose her. She's got her arm on him, braced and using his body as a shield, which he is clearly fine with because he positions her partly behind him while he turns to check the threat from the stairs – possible further collapse of the platform they're now on. He's protecting her. Obvs. I shouldn't have to spell this out. It's not romantic, but it's telling of their trust and reliance on each other as partners. This is a clear pair.

Ok, so moving on from Cloti – cause action scene and this isn't a romance game – we get Tifa hearing Barret behind her. She turns and there's her concern for her friend. Obviously, she cares. It's her entire motivation for leaving the safety at the bottom and hauling her ass up those stairs.

Her face here hits me hard in the feels. She's so grim and worried and doesn't want to lose anyone else. She's caught up to Cloud, but then she lost Jessie – right in front of her and she couldn't do a thing about it. Now, she sees Barret facing down a helicopter.

Take that in. It's a dude – ok he's got a machine gun on his arm – fighting military spec weaponry on a fucking helicopter. Of course she's frightened and worried that she's about to see him get shot. Someone else she couldn't save.

Remember, FF7 has themes of loss and failure. The heroes don't always win or if they do there's a cost. How much of that threads into Remake is still to be seen, but since this scene is following canon we can assume it stands for now.

Tifa's character is often motivated by the desire to not lose people. She even says as much to the Shinra middle manager that she doesn't want anyone else to die. She stops Cloud killing the security agents and Johnny. This is a girl who fights because she wants people to live, not die.

Ok, so now we've got her running to reach Barret, leaving the safety of her bolt hole beside Cloud, who immediately turns and is all wtf when he sees her playing chicken with a chopper. Tbf, Barret doesn't sound that pleased about it, either. It's a crazy impulsive move likely driven by the desire to not lose her friend. If they're together they can stop whatever's coming. Tifa is very teamwork oriented if you recall all her actions from chapter 3 and how demoralised she was when she had to agree to disagree with Avalanche.

Cloud for his part doesn't take too long to dive to the rescue again. I think by now he's pretty much fulfilled that childhood promise and this is way more than just helping out a colleague or friend. He's not hesitating for a second to put himself in front of her with nothing but a sword for a shield.

Sorry, I just stopped the vid on this moment and it looks so damn cool I couldn't resist adding it. All it does is reinforce the above statement that Cloud has zero reservations of putting himself between Tifa and certain death. He's her hero without even stopping to think about it. The framing is stunning. Barret in the background, Cloud in the middle distance and Tifa in the foreground. Cloud has lined himself up with Tifa so that she's as protected by his position as he could possibly get. That takes skill. Tifa's half crouched to make herself a smaller target, but Cloud's body language is open, defiant. He's basically saying “come at me”.

Ah and now I'm sure some people will be all “but Cloud left her in the middle of the platform”. Well, yes, it's called diversion. He's the bigger target, the better target. And by making the chopper follow his progress, he's taken its sights away from Tifa's position. It now has less chance of hitting her when it next fires. Remember, Cloud knows tactics. He's not a dumdum. You can see that on his face as he's deciding his next move. The chopper won't wait for him to stop and explain what he needs to do, it's gonna fire. He's gotta move quickly. He also needs to trust that Tifa can get herself out of trouble. So many people's complaints about how she's not a damsel and should take care of herself. Well, this is Cloud trusting her not to be a damsel. He helped her out, and now he's gotta rely on her helping herself too. If he took her by the hand at this moment and dragged her along with him, she probably would've died. Tifa got herself to his position alone, she's clearly capable. He knows how much ass she can kick.

After that we've got the typical checking for danger and guy banter. I'm loving the development of Cloud and Barret's relationship. They went from outright hating each other to friends over the course of this game. It's beautiful and develops even further in their resolution – I love their one, it's so sweet and sad and such a guy bonding moment. Male friendship is important too, especially to Cloud who doesn't have many friends.

Now, despite the banter, Cloud's head turns at this point, back to Tifa. He's made sure the immediate area is safe, checked in with Barret and now it's back to his primary focus.

I love that Barret calls himself the leading man. It reminds me of Balthier in FF12.

And you'll see that Barret is still in the middle of that line while Cloud is stretching his hand out for Tifa. Could be a “I gotta grab my teammate” move, but I mean, really? Are we that delusional? He didn't have to do any of this. He could've relied on Tifa to get herself over there and not put out a hand for her. Barret didn't grab him. You could say that Barret doesn't like Cloud enough for that, but it's a high action moment. They're comrades and being shot at. Any helping hand is appreciated. Maybe Barret thought Cloud was capable enough not to need help. But then wouldn't the same apply to Tifa? Why does she need helping just cause she's a woman? She can kick ass.

And what about Barret? His attention isn't on Tifa at all. His focus is the helicopter, so he's either relying on Tifa to be ok without that level of help or he's expecting Cloud to support her.

Yes, she is literally throwing herself into his arms. That's how much she trusts him to catch her. Again, Cloud is going for a full arm grab – a hand or wrist isn't secure enough in this situation and he wants to keep her safe.

Tifa. Well, she looks scared. Shocker. She just got shot at by a helicopter. Ofc she's scared and leaning on Cloud. She's taking strength and reassurance from him. I mean, she could've just grabbed his arm and pulled herself to safety. There's no need for this depth of touch.

You'll notice this all happens within miliseconds while Barret says that leading man line. This is very quick action, very decisive. No hesitation on anybody's part.

I mean, this is full upper body contact between them. I don't know what else to say about it. There's no need to get this close. He could've pulled her over and then let go. He didn't. They both prolonged contact. This is relief they're ok for the moment. They’re united in how they feel.

Oh look, eye contact. I've pointed out before that Cloud doesn't do eye contact with people very well, but he does with Tifa, no matter the situation. Looking at this I'm like damn get a room. It's an intense look between them and even though there's shit hitting the fan around them you can see they have attention for each other, too. He's pulled her to safety and now he's meeting her gaze to gauge if she's ok. She nods. He nods. Back to the action. They don't have time for a drawn out romantic bit. They've got more serious things to think about, but even during the most high tension action scenes they have this energy about them that speaks to their close bond and affection. He's comfortable with her touch in every situation – if I'm wrong about this then someone point it out to me so I can see plz. He's still got his hand on her after they separate from their action hug and then when he drops his hand he braces it against the pipe beside her. Still close to her, though not actually touching.

After Barret asks if they're ready, Cloud looks around then looks at Tifa again. Did he need to do that? Idk, but he didn't look at Barret before they hauled ass.

Conclusion:

Kinda obvious. Even in high tension situations Cloud has part of his attention on Tifa. He's hyper aware of where she is and whether she needs him at any given time. It's sweet af how much he focuses on being her hero without even really knowing why. This instinctive need to protect her comes from the real!Cloud part of him. The one that made the promise to her. The one that has a crush on her.

Some people can say these kind of moments don't count because Cloud has no choice(?) but to touch her, but actually, he has no reason to touch her the amount he does. There's ways to execute these moments without this much unnecessary touching. He does it this way because of an instinctive need and desire to touch her this much. It's what he wants to do.

[heller-obama]

There’s Nothing Wrong With Me (This is How I’m Supposed to Be)

Wowww, it’s been a long time since I’ve posted a fic directly onto tumblr. I actually posted this on ao3 like 3 months ago but I guess I just forgot to post it here lol. Well here y’all go, here’s that one merthur fic I wrote like 3.5 months ago! Ao3 link

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“Right, you filthy vermin.” The slave trader (Jarl, perhaps?) said, looking down at them in more ways than one. “Which one of you is ready to face my champion in the arena?” No one answered him immediately - and not that he gave them much time to.

“No volunteers?” the man asked again, as if that would prompt someone to step up. “Well, I shall have to choose one of you myself, then.” Arthur felt the man’s eyes drag across the small mass of men. “How about…” His stomach began to sink when his gaze landed in his direction. “You?” His finger stopped right next to Arthur, and his stomach plummeted. Like the rest of the prisoners, he looked for the man who was unfortunate enough to be picked - although he already knew who it was.

Merlin blinked at Jarl, as if he couldn’t believe he was chosen out of all the strong, warrior-type men he was surrounded by. “Me?”

Jarl put his hands on his hips. “Death or glory, boy? You should be honoured.”

“But, I—” He started before Arthur cut him off.

“I volunteer,” he yelled up at their captor, subconsciously placing himself in front of Merlin and in between his servant and the dangerous slave trader that was trying to put him into harm’s way - something that definitely did not escape the man’s notice.

“You volunteer?” he chuckled. “I’m sorry, it’s a little late for that.”

“Well, you wanted a volunteer, so here I am. Unless your idea of entertainment is your champion crushing nothing but weaklings like this?” He heard Merlin protest weakly behind him, and he stomped on his foot as discreetly as possible to shut him up. He hoped his face was his regular mask of arrogance and not the complete and utter panic he felt inside. He couldn’t let Merlin fight this “champion,” he just couldn’t—

Jarl squinted down at him. “You think you can offer a better contest?”

“I guarantee it.”

“Arthur, no,” Merlin said quietly behind him, as if Arthur was a dog - or that he'd actually listen.

The slave trade laughed again. “Very well. Your friend will not fight my champion today.” Arthur felt himself release the breath he didn’t know he'd been holding. “Instead, he will fight you.”

Rough hands unceremoniously threw Arthur and Merlin into the “arena,” which was really just a round area bordered by other men hungry to see the two prisoners fight. Arthur almost couldn’t hear himself think, the crowd was roaring and cheering so loud.

“Gentlemen,” Jarl said, rising from his throne and immediately quieting the roars from the men around them. “The rules are simple. One man lives, one man dies.” Loud, raucous cheering rose up from the crowd once more; ending as soon as it started. “If you cannot or will not off your opponent, I shall kill you both.” More cheers rang out across the room as Jarl tossed two (quite shoddily made, if Arthur did say so himself) swords in front of himself and Merlin.

Arthur looked at Merlin and saw the same fear and apprehension shown in his face as he felt himself, which was comforting, in some strange way. He then looked down at the swords and snatched one up for himself, delaying swinging at Merlin until he was sure that his servant could parry it.

Merlin did parry his strike, although it was rather slow and weak for his tastes, and he wasted as much time as he could before launching another strike, backhand this time, and then another one overhead as slow as he could without raising suspicion. His next strike caught Merlin’s blade so that he could pull Merlin towards himself.

“Take it easy, will you?” Merlin ground out as he was pulled against Arthur, trying to pull his blade out from under Arthur’s.

Arthur shot him a look that he hoped said, keep fighting, you arse. “It’s got to look real, hasn’t it?”

Merlin shot him a glare in return that he knew meant he understood, so he finally leveraged his sword so that Merlin was shoved away from him and into the vicious crowd. They shoved him back with an equal amount of aggressiveness, and Arthur attacked him with several strikes he knew Melin couldn’t keep blocking; his parries were already becoming progressively weaker.

Arthur let Merlin strike him this time, and when he did, he responded in another blow that pulled Merlin towards him.

“I refuse to kill you,” Arthur grumbled as Merlin’s elbow nearly caught him in the face.

“If you don’t, he’ll kill the both of us, clotpole,” Merlin shot back.

“Well, do you have any better ideas?” Merlin fixed him with another snarky glare and attempted to move away from him so that he could launch another strike, but somehow, the bumbling idiot managed to trip over the flagstones, lose his sword, and trip Arthur in the progress.

Arthur thanked the gods that the way it happened looked as if Merlin lost his balance and that Arthur used the chance to try to pin him on the ground.

He landed on top of Merlin, both of them grasping at each other’s faces half-heartedly, trying to get the upper hand. The crowd went wild, rushing forwards to get as close to the two fighters as possible.

“What next?” asked Merlin.

“There was no ‘next,’” He scoffed, but before Merlin could respond, Jarl pushed through to the edge of the bloodthirsty crowd.

“Finish him!” Bellowed Jarl.

Merlin shot him a panicked look and a lightbulb seemingly went off in his head as it was replaced with a resigned expression. “Please don’t hate me,” He muttered, and before Arthur could say anything like I could never hate you or something monumentally stupid, like I couldn’t hate you, I love you, Merlin muttered something else, powerful, foreign words that automatically sent a spike of fear into his heart. “Forbærne æltæwelice!” Sure enough, his eyes glowed gold for a few seconds, and suddenly, the flames on the torches doubled and tripled in size, lighting the ropes hanging from the ceiling on fire.

The men in the crowd scattered, causing chaos to erupt in the room and giving them what would be the perfect chance to escape, had Arthur been able to do anything but stare at his manservant in complete and utter shock.

“Get up, you daft twat!” Merlin nearly yelled, rolling out from under Arthur and dragging him to his feet.

He let himself be dragged along and through the crowds, his mind still processing what had happened in the arena. Merlin has magic? Was just one of the many thoughts that were pressing against his head, desperate to escape. The only thought that was more pressing than that was Merlin lied to me, has been lying to me, for the whole time I’ve known him. And then: But did I ever really know him?

He must’ve been more lost in thought than he realized because soon he was running into the forest, Melin dragging him along, with Gwaine at his side, holding the swords they both dropped after their “fight.” They kept on going until Merlin was wheezing so hard he could barely go on, and Gwaine forced them to take a break.

Without waiting for any of their party to catch their breath (including himself), his anger overwhelmed him and he stalked over to Merlin and got into his face, nearly shoving him up against a tree. “What the bloody hell was that, Merlin?” He was so close to Merlin that he could see every single little microexpression on his face; from the total fear that flashed in his eyes like the gold that appeared when he did magic to the way his throat moved as he gulped heavily.

“Arthur, I—” Merlin started, his voice quiet and shaky, but Gwaine interrupted him.

“Arthur, I think you need to calm down. Whatever Merlin did, I’m sure it’s all a big misunderstanding.” Gwaine said behind him, his voice low and calming, as if he was trying to soothe a frightened horse.

Arthur whirled around to face him. “‘A big misunderstanding’? The fact that Merlin is a sorcerer is a little bit different from your bar brawls, Gwaine. Don’t try to involve yourself with things that don’t concern you.”

To his merit, Gwaine looked taken aback as well. “Merlin? A sorcerer?”

Before he could explode any further on the other man, Merlin interrupted them both. “I was born with it!” Yelled Merlin, the desperation and hurt coloring his words so much that Arthur pivoted back around and took a step back.

He said quietly, “What?”

“I never chose to practice magic,” Merlin tried again, his voice its usual level now. “I’ve been levitating things since I could walk. Before I even said my first words, I’d already nearly set my mother’s rocking chair on fire.”

“That’s not possible,” he muttered. All sorcerers chose to practice magic, and if not for evil purposes, they soon were corrupted by it anyways. If there was one thing his father taught him, that would be it. “Have you just been conning me all this time?” Making me fall madly in love with you? He refrained from adding. “What was your plan? To gain my trust until I became king and then manipulate me towards your own goals?”

“Are you kidding me?” His friend - no, the sorcerer - scoffed. “I’ve only ever used my magic to save your royal arse.”

“Bollocks. I would’ve known, I would’ve realized.”

Merlin let out a bitter laugh, one that was so different from the one that Arthur was used to hearing that he nearly couldn’t believe that Merlin could make that noise. “I’ve been saving your arse with magic since before I was your manservant.” He started counting names off on his hand. “Lady Helen, Sir Valiant, Sofia and Aulric, Nimueh - several times, mind you, Cornelius Sigan, Morgause - every single time she shows her face, the Great damned Dragon, just off the top of my head.”

Arthur’s jaw hung open. Not that it dropped open dramatically, like in the bard’s stories, but he opened it to ask a question or just to say anything, but nothing came out and it just opened wider and wider. He tried to say something several times, to no avail, before he finally managed to get a few words out. “You bloody idiot.”

“Excuse me?” Squawked Merlin indignantly.

“You blatantly used magic in Camelot, of all places, so close to the king, who executes anyone rumoured of consorting with a sorcerer?”

Merlin scratched the back of his head, an almost sheepish look crossing his face. “I—Yeah.”

“Why on Earth would you do that?” He took a step forward again, bringing him nearly nose-to-nose with Merlin.

“To protect you! Yeah, at first, it was because it was my destiny; I could never fathom how anyone could ever stand you, but then it was because I couldn’t bear you getting hurt when I could’ve protected you!” By the end of his tirade, he was nearly shouting and his breath was coming quicker - well, quicker than it was before, with the deep breaths they were still taking from their speedy exit from the decrepit castle.

Arthur chose to ignore the first half of Merlin’s rant, and he got a rather warm feeling in his chest from the second half. “Did you ever stop to think that I feel the same way? That if I had to stand and watch you get burnt on the pyre because my father executes everyone suspected of using sorcery that I would never forgive myself for not doing everything I could to protect you and that you got caught using sorcery because of me?”

Arthur watched as a myriad of emotions played out on Merlin’s face; first shock, then disbelief, and finally a look that was filled with such intense fondness that he almost didn’t know what to do with himself.

Merlin’s voice was so quiet that he had to lean in a fraction more to hear him, enough so that their noses were touching, now, less than a hairbreadth of space between them. “You would?”

He let out a little huff of breath. “Yes. I thought I made that pretty damn clear—”

Apparently, Merlin had no intentions of letting him finish that sentence, as he moved his face forward a little bit more until their lips were touching and slotted together and suddenly Arthur was kissing back and he pushed his servant - no, Merlin wasn’t his servant right now, he was his best friend and (hopefully soon) his lover - against the tree. He’d be damned if he said this wasn’t the best kiss he’d ever had and nothing else mattered except the two of them - that is, until Gwaine let out a shrill wolf-whistle behind him.

He broke the kiss and let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “Dear God, we forgot about Gwaine.”

Merlin let out a small laugh as well, and Gwaine’s wolf-whistle made way for cheering and laughing from the third man. “Oh, bugger off, Gwaine!” Merlin complained, somehow sounding both defeated and lighthearted at the same time. Gwaine - predictably - wasn’t deterred, and his laughter just grew louder.

“Just…go collect some firewood or something!” Arthur ordered him, not bothering to turn his face away from Merlin’s.

“Whatever you say, Princess,” Gwaine drawled, and though Arthur couldn’t see him, he was positive that the man added a mocking bow to punctuate his statement before stalking off into the woods. Once he was sure that Gwaine was definitely out of earshot, he leaned his forehead into Merlin’s and started laughing, with Merlin soon joining him.

“Where did we manage to find him again?” He muttered.

“He saved your sorry arse, as I remember it,” Merlin retorted playfully.

“My arse did not need saving!”

“Oh, it most definitely—”

“Merlin?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Gladly.” Arthur almost didn’t let him finish that one word by resuming their kiss, relishing in the fact that he’d finally figured out a reliable way to shut his best friend up.

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Well there y’all go! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!!