#but yeah it's just really really disappointing the direction this project is going :(

[wikitpowers]

So like are we just assuming at this point the money we sent for the Kickstarter is down the drain or what? FAQ says shipment one was meant to be Feb/March of 2024 and shipment 2 is supposed to be June/July of 2024 but here we are in June with nothing and not even an update from the project is kinda pissing me off. Either send the goods or give me my money back but like at least you could take the time to send out an email with an update. It’s just kinda shitty tbh

no bc don't even get me started,,, i'm just as angry as you are! it honestly feel so much like a scam right now bc like we get basically no updates and when we do get updates they never pull through? genuinely it is so frustrating and upsetting bc the whole charm of it was that we would get a shadowhunters book every season but now we are entering summer and still nothing? and idk about you but i paid SO much not only for the books, but the postage as well, only to probably only get the books like a year after purchasing them....

but yeah i totally agree! just give people money back if u can't do it and stop toying with us. it's so upsetting bc i thought i would already have sobh + the journal with me right now but still nothing and ik it will probably take months to get to the uk, and from the sounds of it they haven't even been shipped out yet... just so disappointing :(

[g0dlyunsub]

for the night.

the flight back from a case gets delayed and the team’s forced to book rooms for the night. what a coincidence that you’re paired with spencer.

pairing :: s5!spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: fluff, flustered spencer, this is literally just an excuse to write about spencer with crutches

word count :: 1.7k

author’s note :: one of my favorite tropes asfdfafssfsd we all know where this is going right ;)

accompanying song :: let’s fall in love for the night by finneas

“i have to admit, i am quite surprised. engine failures are extremely rare — statistically, they only occur once every 1.4 million flight hours.”

“uh-huh, very interesting.” you roll your eyes, but the smile that tempts to play on your lips is too overpowering to withhold. 

“it is!” spencer excitedly flashes you a smile. “we’re actually incredibly lucky to avoid an in-flight shutdown, which typically happens once per million flight hours-”

“reid, i think our luck might be running dry here. it’s 1 a.m., the jet’s engines are acting up, and we can’t leave portland.”

you take both of his crutches in your hands with an exasperated sigh. it’s not his fault, and you know better than to project your annoyance at him, but the disappointment of not being able to enjoy a nice, hot shower in the walls of your home has you uptight.

with an apologetic smile, you extend your shoulder to spencer; slowly, he places his hand on you, and you help him carefully descend the jet’s stairs.

the two of you are the last to join the rest of the group on the ground, and hotch sends an acknowledging nod in your direction once he sees that you’ve been assisting spencer. 

“l/n, reid, you guys okay with rooming together for the night?”

the words don’t initially register, and it’s only until spencer speaks up that you realize hotch isn’t asking – he’s confirming.

“we’re rooming in pairs?”

hotch nods, and his sidelong stare roams over spencer’s face like he’s challenging him to continue, to contest his proposal.

“emily? jj?” you pipe up this time, sending a pleading glance at both of them. they look back at you with sheepish smiles. 

“it looked like you guys were having a really good conversation back there. didn’t want to disturb you,” emily returns, slowly raising her shoulders and mouthing sorry.

spencer clears his throat and leans into your ear. “i can probably book a room at another place-”

you widen your eyes and immediately shake your head. “no, that’s not necessary, i’m completely fine with it! unless you’re… not?”

this time, spencer’s the one shaking his head fervently. “oh no, i’m entirely comfortable, perfectly content, uh- sharing a room with you.”

you display an awkward grin. “alright then, perfect.”

—

“i’ll set your bag on the table, is that okay?”

“yeah, thanks a lot.”

you heave a sigh of relief as you close the door behind you and rest spencer’s bookbag on the wooden table. spencer slowly lowers himself into a chair, and you gently lean his crutches against the walls near the door. 

you’re pleasantly surprised by the room’s decor; its soft carpet floor and mahogany picture frames hanging from the walls easily exceed your expectations for a traditional hotel room.

you’re about to make a comment commending the room’s quality when your eyes zero in on a terrifying sight.

there’s only one bed.

you do a double take, circling around the bedroom once more to check if there’s an extra mattress lying around somewhere – at this point, you really wouldn’t mind if the bed has a trundle.

“fuck me.”

“what?” 

spencer’s eyes immediately divert to you, and he stifles his reaction to your comment with a hasty cough.

you point to the bed, which prompts spencer to crane his neck to get a better view. 

“there’s only one bed.”

spencer’s eyes widen, and his gaze snaps up to your face so fast you wonder if you’ve just made a grave mistake of telling him. 

he was bound to find out anyway.

“it’s okay, i’ll take-” you start, but he cuts you off short.

“the floor? not a chance.”

you press your lips together tightly and gesture to his leg. “please, take the bed. your leg… you’re injured.”

spencer looks down at the floor briefly, a light shade of pink spreading across his face. “no, we can… we can share the bed.”

you feel your cheeks grow hot at his suggestion, but a refusal fails to surface on your lips. 

moving your hands to your hips, you nod slowly. “only because you’re insisting,” you murmur.

a brief silence veils the air, and the two of you have utterly no idea what to do next — neither of you wants to be the one to crawl into bed first.

but the clock’s hour hand had just moved past the two, and you know your eyelids aren’t going to stay open for much longer.

with a weary sigh, you gesture towards the lightswitch. “do you mind if we dimmed the lights a little?”

spencer turns, almost hobbling on his leg, and flips the switch for you. the room turns dark almost instantly, but a faint light emanates from a lamp on the nightstand.

“are you, um, going to sleep soon?”

you hate to be the first one to bring it up, but you have to — you can practically feel the tiredness tempting you like a fuzzy blanket.

“uh yeah, we should sleep.” 

you watch as spencer grabs a pillow from his side of the bed and positions it near the edge of the mattress. you’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he props himself onto the bed and rests his leg on top of the pillow, elevating his casted knee.

oh. as the realization hits you, you reach for your own pillow and gently place it next to his head. “here, use this.”

“that’s your pillow.” 

“i know.”

a soft chuckle sounds from his throat as spencer raises his head ever so slightly, allowing you to tuck the pillow beneath him.

“thanks,” he murmurs, and pats at the space next to him, urging you to join him on the bed.

once you’ve slipped your feet into the blanket, spencer stretches his arm to turn off the lamp and moves back to whisper a hushed good night into your ear.

you turn to say it back. “good n-”

his hand gently starts to wedge under your neck, and as he moves, strands of your hair coil around his fingers. 

he’s offering his arm as a pillow.

you lie frozen, your breath hitched in your throat, as his arm extends fully beneath you. 

“spence,” you exhale, caught off-guard by the sudden move.

“it’s okay. don’t worry about me,” he softly whispers, inclining his head towards your face.

you smile, though you doubt he can see your face in the pitch-black darkness. 

“sweet dreams,” you hum, and close your eyes to let sleep overtake you.

—

you wake up not to the sound of your alarm, not to the birds usually perched on the tree outside your window, but to the sound of spencer clearing his throat.

you think it’s a dream at first, but you can feel everything — the vibrations coming from his throat like he’s talking to you, his hands stroking a pattern on your back, his breaths tickling your hair.

you open your eyes to see spencer staring back at you with flustered cheeks, his eyes flickering back and forth between your face and… 

you follow his gaze and look down, only to see that your leg’s wrapped casually around his hips, anchoring him to the bed. with a panicked yelp, you immediately retract your leg and leap out of the bed, frantically apologizing to him over and over again.

“i’m so sorry about that, d-did i hurt you?”

your voice sounds scratchy from your parched throat, but how you sound right now is the least of your concerns.

spencer chuckles softly before slowly sitting up. “no, you didn’t do anything.”

you let out a relieved sigh at his response.

spencer grunts as he lifts himself up, tenderly listening to your continued apologies with a warm smile.

“by the way,” he starts, fixing his tie and reaching for his suit jacket, “we're a little late.”

“what?” you gasp, hurriedly tucking your dress shirt into your trousers, “fuck. how late?”

a pause, and then: “five minutes and twenty seconds.”

“oh my god,” you squeal as you fling your and spencer’s bag over your shoulders, “they’re probably all waiting for us.”

quickly turning the doorknob and making way for spencer’s crutches to move past the door, you rush to the elevator and hit the juddering call button.

“next time, you’re-“ you cough out as you try to catch your breath, “-you’re welcome to just push me off the bed. it’s guaranteed to wake me up instantly.”

spencer looks at you questioningly, a small grin spreading across his lips. “next time?”

you clasp a hand over your mouth. “wait no, i meant – hopefully we’ll never have to sleep in a room together ever again, but i’m saying in case-“

spencer tilts his head and lets out an amused laugh. thankfully, the elevator doors open just in time, and you’re spared the trouble of having to explain yourself further.

you bite your lips as the image of his lopsided grin lingers in the back of your mind, and the fresh regret of your words burns your face like a hot fever.

the embarrassment doesn’t end, however, as the doors open once again to reveal your team standing right outside. when the elevator’s chime echoes throughout the lobby, everyone’s heads turn to you and spencer.

you walk out with nervous steps, grimacing when hotch merely nods and announces that the plane is ready for takeoff. spencer makes his way over to derek, who tousles his hair teasingly.

“so, how’d you sleep last night?”

you freeze when rossi’s husky voice drifts into your ears.

you force out a smile. “i definitely could’ve slept better.”

“really?” he hums with a smirk, “i slept like a baby.”

“yeah, you upgraded your room, we get it, you’re rich,” you sigh, eliciting a hearty chuckle from the older agent.

once seated in your usual seat on the jet, you’re accompanied by spencer and morgan, who slump into their seats across from you.

you watch suspiciously as morgan wiggles his eyebrows at you and nudges his elbow into spencer’s sides. “so, late night, huh?”

spencer looks at you briefly, flushed cheeks failing to suppress the smile splaying across his face. 

“shut up.”

[reidmarieprentiss]

Lost in Translation: Part Two

Summary: Penelope hosts a brunch, Derek tells Spencer not to force you to talk to him. You make a new friend with a client, they convince you to go to the brunch.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: comfort, angst

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption, regret of past decisions, Penelope playing match maker

Word count: 8k

a/n: Spencer and you finally talk!!!

main masterlist prologue part one part three part four

You’ve been avoiding every time Derek invites you to go out with the BAU team since the embarrassing incident at the bar. Each time you decline, you can hear the disappointment in his voice, but the anxiety bubbling up in your chest whenever you think about seeing Spencer again is enough to keep you from saying yes. The embarrassment of that night still haunts you, and every time Derek mentions the team, you feel your heart squeeze with panic. 

To keep your mind off everything, you throw yourself into your work, accepting new clients and piling on extra projects. You stay late at the office, ensuring your schedule is so packed that you don’t have time to think about anything but deadlines, designs, and color schemes. It’s easier to focus on creating beautiful spaces for other people than it is to deal with the mess inside your own head. 

Meanwhile, Spencer is struggling. Ever since that night at the bar, the memory of you running out haunts him. He keeps replaying the look on Derek’s face, the way you bolted the second he walked in, and it twists his gut with guilt. But it’s not just that moment—he’s also haunted by the memory of how he left you all those years ago, how he slipped out of your bed without a word, too scared to stay and too ashamed to face you. The weight of those two moments presses down on him, making it hard to focus on anything else.

Spencer's work starts to suffer. During cases, he’s distracted, zoning out during briefings and losing his train of thought mid-sentence. Hotch notices first, his brows knitting with concern as he watches Spencer fumble through his notes during a meeting. JJ, too, picks up on the change, her subtle glances in his direction filled with quiet worry. They don’t push him—yet—but Spencer knows they’re watching, waiting for him to say something. But he doesn’t. He just keeps burying it, trying to push it all down.

Spencer also finds himself trying to be around Derek more often, finding excuses to stop by his desk or catch him after work. He never outright asks about you, but it’s clear that’s why he’s hovering. Whenever Derek casually mentions having seen you, Spencer’s eyes light up, a flicker of hope in the midst of his guilt. But Derek’s updates are always brief, never giving away too much. He knows you’re still hurting, and he’s not about to let Spencer think everything is fine when it’s not.

Spencer hovered near Derek's desk, tapping his fingers nervously on the edge as Derek typed away at his computer. The bullpen was quiet for once, just the low hum of conversation in the background. Spencer cleared his throat, but didn’t say anything right away, trying to come up with something that didn’t sound too obvious.

“Hey, uh, Derek,” Spencer started, his voice a little too casual. “You have any plans this weekend?”

Derek didn’t even look up, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He knew exactly what this was about, but he played along. “Yeah, got a few things going on,” he replied, his fingers still tapping at the keys. “Why, you got something in mind, Pretty Boy?”

Spencer shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes darting around the room as if he wasn’t really sure what to say next. “No, I just... thought maybe we could grab a drink or something.” He paused for a beat. “Or, you know, if you’re hanging out with anyone else...?”

Derek chuckled softly, finally glancing up at Spencer with a knowing look. “Anyone else, huh?” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You mean, like Y/N?”

Spencer’s face flushed immediately, his hand rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I mean... I wasn’t... just curious,” he stammered, avoiding eye contact.

Derek sighed, leaning forward on his desk and crossing his arms. “Look, man, she won’t just magically want to see you. You know that, right?”

Spencer’s face fell, the small flicker of hope that had sparked just moments ago snuffed out. He swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah, I know,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “I just... I guess I wanted to make sure she’s okay.”

After a long silence, Derek finally spoke up again. “Look, man,” he said, his voice a little gentler now. “You can’t keep hovering around me, hoping I’ll tell you she’s suddenly okay with everything. It’s gonna take time. And you’ve got to give her space.”

Spencer exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. “I know,” he whispered. 

Derek gave him a small nod, watching as Spencer turned to leave, his shoulders slumped under the weight of everything left unsaid. But just before Spencer walked away, Derek called after him.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” Derek said, his tone a little softer now. “For what it’s worth... I think she’ll come around. But you’ve gotta be patient. Let her come to you when she’s ready.”

Spencer looked back at Derek, a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes again, but this time tempered with the understanding that it might take more time than he’d like. “Thanks, Derek,” he said quietly, before turning and walking back to his desk, his mind still racing with thoughts of you.

At this point, the rest of the team is fully aware of why you keep declining their invitations and why Spencer’s been so off lately. Penelope, in particular, can’t stand seeing anyone so miserable. After hearing about your history with Spencer from Derek, she’s taken it upon herself to figure out how to fix this mess. Penelope’s always been a sucker for a happy ending, and she refuses to believe that this is how your story should end.

So, she starts plotting. She ropes Derek into her schemes, convincing him that if anyone can get you two to reconcile, it’s them. Derek, though hesitant at first, agrees. He knows you, and he knows Spencer, and as much as he wants to stay out of it, he also wants both of his friends to be happy. 

Penelope sat at her desk, typing furiously away, when Derek walked up, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, watching her with a raised brow.

"Alright, Penelope, spill it," Derek said, voice low with suspicion. "What are you up to?"

Penelope’s fingers paused on the keyboard as she slowly turned to face him, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. “I have no idea what you mean,” she said sweetly, though her eyes betrayed her scheming.

Derek sighed, shaking his head. “Come on, don’t play dumb with me. I know you too well. You’ve been up to something ever since that mess at the bar.”

She sighed dramatically, leaning back in her chair. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m plotting just a little, but it's for the greater good.” She sat up straighter, eyes gleaming. “I mean, you want Y/N and Spencer to make up, don’t you?”

Derek hesitated, running a hand over his head. “Look, it’s not like I don’t want that, but... you’ve met Y/N. She’s not going to be happy if we force them together.”

Penelope waved her hand dismissively. “Pish posh! I’m not forcing anything. I’m simply creating a situation where fate can do its thing.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Picture this: we invite Y/N to one of my brunches, or maybe to your next team gathering, and oh! Surprise! Spencer’s there. They bump into each other, sparks fly, and—boom! Reconciliation.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You really think it’s that simple?”

Penelope's eyes widened in exaggerated innocence. “Of course not. But it’s better than both of them moping around like lovesick teenagers.”

Derek sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mama, I want them to figure it out, but Y/N’s... she’s been through a lot. I don’t want to push her too hard. If she finds out we’ve been scheming, she’s going to be pissed. You have no idea how stubborn she can be.”

Penelope leaned forward, placing her hands flat on her desk. “Which is exactly why we need to be subtle about this, my sexy, sculpted cupid. We’re not going to push them. We’re just going to nudge them in the right direction. And if it doesn’t work? Then we back off. But I refuse to sit by and watch Spencer be miserable, and know she’s miserable too, when we could help.”

Derek looked down at her, his jaw tightening as he considered it. “And what if Y/N doesn’t want to see him? She hasn’t exactly been jumping at the chance to hang out with the team since that night.”

Penelope shrugged, giving him a hopeful smile. “Then we let it be. But Derek, what if this is the closure they both need? Or better yet, another chance? We owe it to them to try.”

Derek groaned, knowing she wasn’t going to let it go. “Alright, fine. But if this backfires, Garcia, you’re taking the blame.”

Penelope grinned triumphantly, clapping her hands together. “Trust me, Hot Stuff, it won’t backfire. This is going to work.”

Derek shook his head, laughing under his breath as he turned to leave. “You better be right.”

Penelope’s voice followed him as he walked out. “Oh, I’m always right when it comes to matters of the heart, Derek Morgan. Just wait and see!” 

Derek muttered under his breath, “We’ll see about that.” But deep down, he couldn’t help but hope she was right.

Their plan starts simple—just trying to get you both in the same room again, even if it’s by accident. As the wheels of their plan start turning, both you and Spencer remain blissfully unaware of their scheming. You’re too busy drowning in work, and Spencer’s too tangled up in his own guilt to notice the subtle nudges Penelope and Derek are starting to orchestrate. 

—

The lunchtime crowd hummed quietly around you as you sat across from Derek at your favorite corner table. The restaurant had always been your go-to, a cozy, familiar space where you could relax and enjoy the food without worrying about the outside world. Today, though, you were feeling anything but relaxed. Derek was giving you that look—the one that said he was about to bring up something you’d been trying to avoid.

“So,” Derek began, cutting into his sandwich, his voice casual, but his eyes watching you carefully. “Penelope’s throwing one of her infamous brunches this weekend. Thought you might want to come.”

You sighed, already knowing where this was going. “I don’t know, Derek. I’ve been really busy with work, and—”

Derek held up a hand, interrupting you gently. “I know, I know. You’ve been taking on a lot of new projects lately.” He paused, his tone softening. “But you’ve been avoiding hanging out with the team since... well, you know.”

Your heart tensed a little, but you quickly pushed the feeling away, forcing a smile as you sipped your drink. “I’m just not ready to jump back into all that. It’s been nice keeping my head down and staying focused.”

Derek leaned forward, his eyes full of understanding but also a hint of concern. “I get it, sugar. I’m not saying you should force yourself into anything. But maybe... maybe it’s time to let yourself have a little fun again. No pressure, just brunch with some really cool people. Penelope’s dying to see you again, and so is the rest of the team.”

You hesitated, your fingers tapping lightly against the rim of your glass. The thought of seeing everyone again made your stomach twist. But what if Spencer was there? What if you had to see him? You weren’t sure if you could handle that yet.

“Is Spencer going to be there?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

Derek paused, his fork hovering over his plate. He looked at you thoughtfully before answering, not wanting to lie but also not wanting to overwhelm you. “Honestly? Probably not.”

Your brows furrowed. “Probably?”

Derek shrugged, setting his fork down. “I haven’t heard anything about him coming, and knowing Spencer, he’s been pretty distracted lately. I doubt he’ll make it. But... even if he did, it wouldn’t be about him. It’d be about you. Hanging out with people who really want to get to know you better.”

You bit your lip, torn between wanting to stay in your bubble and knowing Derek was right. You’d been keeping yourself so busy with work that you hadn’t given yourself much time to just... exist outside of it. And as much as you hated to admit it, you really did like hanging out with Derek and Penelope and the rest of the team. 

But there was still that nagging worry—what if seeing them all again just brought back memories of Spencer? Of what happened at the bar, and everything that came before it?

Derek seemed to sense your hesitation, and he reached across the table, placing his hand on yours. “Hey, you’re not gonna be alone in this, alright? We’ve got your back. And if it gets weird or uncomfortable, we’ll bail. No questions asked.”

You met his gaze, seeing the sincerity there, the way he genuinely wanted to help you move past this. And honestly, maybe he was right. You couldn’t keep avoiding the world forever. Eventually, you’d have to face things—even the parts that hurt.

After a long moment, you sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Alright,” you said, though your voice still held a trace of uncertainty. “I’ll think about it.”

Derek grinned, clearly pleased with your response, even if it wasn’t a solid yes just yet. “That’s all I’m asking, sweetheart. Just think about it.”

You smiled, though your mind was still turning over the idea. It wasn’t a decision you were ready to make just yet, but the fact that you were even considering it felt like a step in the right direction.

—

Derek found Spencer sitting at his desk, flipping through a stack of papers, though it was clear his mind was miles away. His usual hyper-focused energy was absent, replaced by an air of distracted tension that had been hanging over him for weeks now. Derek knew it wasn’t just the cases that had Spencer like this. It was you.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” Derek said casually as he leaned against the side of Spencer’s desk, crossing his arms. Spencer looked up, startled out of his thoughts, blinking rapidly as if he hadn’t even noticed Derek approach.

“Oh, hey,” Spencer replied, a faint smile flickering on his lips. “What’s up?”

Derek didn’t waste any time. He leaned in a little closer, his voice lowering so their conversation wouldn’t be overheard by the rest of the team. “Listen, man, I wanted to give you a heads-up about something.”

Spencer sat up a little straighter, already sensing that this wasn’t just a casual conversation. “What is it?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Derek rubbed the back of his neck, weighing his words carefully. “Y/N might be coming to Penelope’s brunch this weekend,” he said, watching Spencer’s reaction closely.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, his breath catching as he processed the news. “She is?” His voice was quiet, a mixture of hope and nerves in his tone.

“Yeah, but here’s the thing,” Derek continued, his tone more serious now. “You’ve gotta give her space, man. Let her come to you when she’s ready. She’s not gonna want you chasing after her or trying to force a conversation. If she shows up, it’s a big deal for her.”

Spencer gave Derek a sharp look. "I'm not a child, Morgan. I can handle this."

Derek nodded, lowering his hands. "Fair enough. I wouldn’t expect you to. Just... give her the space she needs, alright?"

Spencer sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Understood. I know I messed up, and I’ll give her space. But I’m not going to act like she doesn't exist. I care about her too much for that."

Derek gave him a small, encouraging smile. "That’s all I’m asking, man. Just be ready when the time’s right." With a final pat on Spencer’s shoulder, Derek straightened up. “See you at brunch, man. Just... take it easy.”

Spencer watched as Derek walked away, the weight of the conversation settling heavily on his chest. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But for your sake, he was willing to wait.

—

On your most recent job, you quickly hit it off with Austin, the person you’re helping redesign their living space. They’re warm, funny, and easy to talk to, and the two of you click almost immediately. 

After finishing up the day’s discussion on design plans, Austin smiles and offers, “How about a cup of coffee before you head out? I make a mean brew.”

Grateful for the break and their company, you nod. “I’d love that.”

Austin heads to the kitchen, and you follow, feeling like you’ve made a new friend as much as a professional connection.

As you sit in the newly remodeled kitchen with Austin, the atmosphere feels warm and cozy. The soft glow of sunlight through the windows highlights the potted plants neatly arranged on the shelves, while the scent of fresh coffee fills the air. Austin hands you a mug, their smile easy and comforting as you settle into a chair.

You and Austin chat aimlessly for a while, exchanging stories and making easy, lighthearted conversation. The topics flow naturally—favorite movies, travel dreams, and funny stories from work. Eventually, the conversation shifts when Austin starts gushing about their partner, eyes lighting up as they tell you about the recent proposal and how they’re working to finish the house before their partner officially moves to Virginia.

“So, they proposed right there in the park,” Austin says with a dreamy grin. “I swear, I didn’t even see it coming. I was still thinking about what we were going to have for lunch, and then bam, ring in my face!”

You smile, warmed by their excitement. “That’s amazing. It sounds perfect.”

“It was,” Austin beams, looking star-eyed thinking about their fiance. Then, they turn to you with a curious glint in their eye. “Okay, so spill. Anyone tickling your fancy lately? I don’t see a ring.” They gesture to your bare hand with a teasing grin.

You laugh lightly, rubbing your ring finger absentmindedly as you sigh. “Yeah, maybe, well, no. There’s this... guy. But it’s complicated.”

Austin’s grin widens as they lean in, clearly intrigued. “Complicated, huh? Oh, now you have to tell me. What’s the tea?”

You take a breath, then dive into the story. You don't name names—you never know who’s going to know Spencer now—but you tell Austin about the guy from your past who broke your heart, the one who ghosted after everything. You explain how, years later, he's suddenly back in your life, and how seeing him has stirred up all those old feelings again, leaving you confused and unsure of what to do.

Austin listens intently, nodding as you talk. "That sounds rough," they say softly when you finish. "It’s totally valid to feel hurt, and it’s understandable if you don’t want to rush back into anything."

"Yeah, thank you—but... it’s been years. Shouldn’t I be over it by now?" you ask, feeling the familiar frustration rise in your chest. "I’ve been ignoring him, avoiding anything or anyone that might bring him back into my life, but now I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing."

Austin leans back, resting their mug on the table. "It’s not about how long it’s been; it’s about how it affected you. It’s okay to still feel hurt. But maybe... hearing him out could give you some closure. It doesn’t mean you have to forgive him or let him back into your life, but it might help you move forward."

You bite your lip, considering their words. "I don’t know if I can face him. What if he just makes things worse?"

Austin smiles, their expression soft but encouraging. "Only you know what you need. But remember, this isn’t about him. It’s about you. What do you need to feel at peace with all this? If hearing him out helps, then maybe it’s worth considering. If not, that’s okay too. Just make sure you’re doing what’s best for you, not what’s easiest."

Their words settle over you like a comforting blanket, making you feel understood. Austin seems to have a way of turning serious conversations into lighthearted moments, and you’re grateful for it.

"Plus," Austin adds with a grin, "if it goes badly, you can always stage a dramatic exit at the brunch. I’m talking about flipping tables and storming out—full soap opera style."

You laugh, the weight of the situation lifting just a bit. "You know, that might actually make it worth going."

"Exactly!" Austin beams. "But seriously, I think you should go. If nothing else, you'll get some great brunch food, and maybe—just maybe—you'll get the closure you're looking for. Worst case, you can leave and we’ll plan the perfect revenge."

Feeling more confident with their support, you finally nod. "Alright, I’ll go to the brunch."

Austin claps their hands together excitedly. "Good! And I’ll be here, ready to hear all the details afterward."

With that, the two of you spend the rest of the afternoon chatting and laughing, the heavy weight of indecision lightening with each joke and bit of encouragement. Austin’s easygoing nature and advice give you the nudge you need to face the upcoming brunch—and Spencer.

—

That night, as Spencer lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind began to wander, slipping into the memories of a time he hadn’t let himself revisit in years—college, the late nights in the library, the quiet moments spent with you. 

He could still remember the first time he saw you on campus, walking across the quad with your head down, focused on a book you were balancing in your arms. You hadn’t noticed him then, but he had noticed you—how could he not? The way you carried yourself, the quiet confidence in your demeanor. At first, he admired you from a distance, his heart catching whenever you passed by in a hallway or sat near him in the library. You had no idea, and he was too shy to ever approach you.

Then came the nights in the library, when fate—or maybe just a shared dedication to studying—brought you together. The quiet hum of the fluorescent lights above, the rustle of pages being turned, and the way your pens would scratch in unison over notebook paper as you both worked. He remembered how, over time, you grew comfortable with each other’s presence, exchanging little smiles, shared inside jokes, and eventually conversations that lasted longer than either of you planned.

There was one night, in particular, that stuck in his memory—a night when you two had stayed so late that the library lights started to dim, signaling closing time. The campus was quiet as you both walked out together, the cool air brushing against your faces. You had laughed about something, your eyes lighting up in the moonlight, and Spencer remembered how his heart had fluttered in that moment, wondering how someone could make him feel so at ease. He never thought he’d get to know you, let alone be someone you’d spend your nights with, even if just for studying.

And then came the night that changed everything. The night you had invited him over after finals, and things became more than just studying. He hadn’t expected it, didn’t even dare to imagine it, but when it happened, it felt... perfect. 

You had fallen asleep on his chest that night, your soft breaths a rhythm against his skin. He remembered lying there, tracing small patterns on your back, feeling the warmth of your body pressed against his. It should have been the best night of his life—and in many ways, it was—but his mind, his insecurities, had taken over. He remembered thinking that you were too good for him, that someone like you wouldn’t want to stick around for someone like him. And that fear, that crushing fear of losing you, had driven him to leave.

Spencer swallowed hard as the guilt washed over him again. He had been so lovesick, so desperate to protect himself from the inevitable heartbreak he assumed would come. But in doing so, he had created a heartbreak that had lasted for years—for both of you.

Now, on the eve of seeing you again, the weight of it all pressed down on his chest like a heavy stone. The regret was unbearable, but so was the longing—the memory of your laughter, your smile, the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. Spencer felt a deep ache in his chest, his heart pounding with the knowledge that he might never get the chance to tell you how much you had meant to him, how much you still did.

He had been infatuated with you all those years ago, and now, he realized, that feeling had never truly gone away.

Unable to sleep, Spencer tossed and turned, his mind refusing to quiet. Every memory, every regret, kept replaying on a loop. With a sigh of frustration, he finally threw the covers off and dragged himself out of bed, padding down the hall toward his office. 

He knew it was pointless, but something inside him—maybe it was curiosity, maybe guilt—compelled him to open his laptop. His fingers hovered over the keys for a moment before they moved almost automatically, typing your name into the search bar.

Within seconds, your business page appeared. Spencer hesitated before clicking, his heart racing, his palms suddenly clammy. It felt intrusive, like peeking into a part of your life he no longer had the right to know about, but he couldn’t stop himself.

As the page loaded, his eyes immediately went to the gallery of your work—beautiful, thoughtfully designed interiors that gave him a glance into you, your mind. He scrolled through the images slowly, taking in the details. The colors, the arrangements, the way you made spaces feel both warm and elegant. He had always known you were talented, but seeing the breadth of your work now, years later in a professional sense and not just sketches for class, filled him with a sense of pride. 

And then he saw it—your headshot, nestled at the top of the page alongside your name and title. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the picture. There you were, smiling, your eyes bright, your expression so familiar it made his heart ache.

Spencer leaned closer to the screen, his gaze fixating on the details of your face. He studied every line, every angle, as if trying to memorize you all over again. It had been so long since he’d seen you up close, but here, on this screen, you felt so near and yet so far. 

His fingers grazed the edge of the trackpad, hesitant, before he clicked on the image, enlarging it until it filled the screen. He stared, lost in the sight of you—how much you had grown, how much you had changed, but still so much the same. The emotions welled up inside him, a mixture of longing and regret, so intense he could hardly breathe.

He had left you, walked away when he was too afraid to face what he felt, and now, all these years later, here you were, thriving in a world he no longer shared with you. Spencer wondered if you had moved on, if you had someone else in your life now, someone who appreciated all the beauty and warmth you brought into the world.

But even more than that, he wondered if you would ever forgive him.

Spencer stared at your picture until the screen blurred, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness—he knew that much. But as he sat there, in the silence of his office, staring at the face he had missed for so long, he couldn’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, you would give him the chance to try.

—

You showed up to Penelope’s place early, just as promised, with Derek by your side. He immediately went to help her hang up string lights while you and Penelope stayed together, fussing over the final touches. The atmosphere was lively and fun, and you were glad you came today.

When you entered her kitchen, Penelope lit up. "Oh my God! Look at you! I am in love with your outfit!" she exclaimed, her hands clapping together in excitement. You grinned, feeling the compliment ease some of your nerves.

“You’re one to talk,” you gestured towards her own colorful ensemble, the vibrant red and playful green perfectly matching her quirky style. “You look like you stepped out of a fashion magazine—one that I desperately need a subscription to."

Penelope twirled dramatically, her beret perched at the perfect angle, making the charm bracelet on her wrist dangle and jingle. "Stop it, we’re just the most fashionable duo, aren’t we?" She winked at you before handing you a mimosa. "Okay, now drink up. We've got some brunch magic to make happen."

As you sipped the bubbly drink, you couldn’t help but feel the knot of anxiety loosen in your chest. You and Penelope moved around the kitchen, arranging pastries and fruit trays, talking about everything except the one thing you knew was still looming in the background—Spencer. But for now, with the lights twinkling outside, the mimosas in hand, and Penelope by your side, you allowed yourself to feel a small sense of peace.

As the morning drifted into late brunch hour, the doorbell chimed, signaling the arrival of the first guests. You exchanged a quick, encouraging glance with Penelope before taking another sip of your mimosa, the fizz tickling your nose as you set the glass down.

“I’ll get it!” Penelope sang, already halfway to the door. You watched from the kitchen as she swung it open with her signature flair. “Elle! JJ! Look at you gorgeous queens!”

Elle was the first to step inside, her calm confidence radiating as she gave Penelope a warm hug. “You’re too much,” Elle smirked, though you could see the affection in her eyes as she gave Penelope a squeeze. 

JJ, all smiles, followed closely behind, her sunny personality lighting up the room the second she entered. “Garcia!” she exclaimed, leaning in for her own hug. “This place looks amazing, as usual.” She cast a quick glance around the room, taking in the string lights, the vibrant color scheme, and of course, the immaculate spread of food that had been lovingly arranged.

Penelope didn’t miss a beat. “Girls, you remember Y/N!” she called over, practically skipping as she gestured towards you. “She’s my stylish new partner-in-crime today.”

Elle and JJ turned toward you with warm, inviting smiles. JJ was the first to step forward, her kindness evident in her expression. “Y/N! Of course we remember. I’m glad you’re here!” She opened her arms for a quick, friendly hug, which you returned, grateful for her easygoing energy.

Elle followed suit, her smile softer but no less welcoming. “Good to see you again,” she said, giving you a nod of approval as she took in your outfit. “You’re definitely keeping up with Penelope in the style department.”

You laughed lightly, feeling the tension start to ease as you hugged Elle too. “I had to step up my game, knowing she’d outshine all of us,” you joked, throwing a playful glance at Penelope, who was already bouncing back towards the food to check on the platters.

Derek, meanwhile, appeared from the other side of the room, finishing up with the string lights. He clapped his hands together, grinning as he walked over. “Ladies! Looks like we’re in for quite the brunch.”

JJ raised her glass in response, smiling. “Cheers to that. It’s been way too long since we’ve had a proper get-together.”

Elle nodded in agreement. “Let’s hope the food tastes as good as it smells. You and Penelope outdid yourselves this time.”

Penelope shot her a cheeky grin. “Oh, honey, just wait until you taste it. Y/N’s been helping too—she’s a natural!”

You felt a small flush creep into your cheeks at the compliment, but the easy laughter and casual conversation swirling around you made it hard to feel too self-conscious. It was starting to feel like maybe this day wouldn’t be as nerve-wracking as you’d feared.

Next to arrive, in a much more subdued manner, were Hotch and Haley. Hotch entered with his usual calm presence, while Haley smiled warmly, her arm linked with his. She radiated a gentle energy that put you at ease immediately. As they approached, Hotch offered a small nod of greeting, his serious demeanor softened just slightly by the casual setting.

“Penelope, this place looks amazing,” Haley said, her voice filled with admiration as she took in the setup. “It’s so cozy and beautiful.”

Penelope beamed, twirling slightly as she accepted the compliment. “Why, thank you! Y/N helped with all the setup. We’re a dynamic duo today,” she said, sending you a proud wink.

Haley turned her attention to you, her smile genuine as she extended her hand. “Y/N, it’s great to meet you. I’m Aaron’s wife, Haley. Penelope mentioned you have an eye for design, and I can definitely see it.”

You shook her hand, grateful for her easy manner. “Thank you, Haley. I’m glad you like it. It’s nice to meet you too.”

Hotch gave you a polite smile as well. “Good to see you, Y/N,” he said simply, his voice carrying its usual quiet authority but without the edge it often had in more formal settings.

“It’s good to see you too, Hotch,” you replied, matching his composed tone.

The group began to chat casually, the energy shifting to a more relaxed rhythm with Haley’s calm presence balancing Penelope’s excitable nature. You found yourself blending in more easily than you expected, the unease you felt earlier starting to fade away as the conversation flowed naturally.

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief that, so far, everything was going smoothly. The brunch was shaping up to be a success, and for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to enjoy the moment without worrying about what—or who—might come next.

But then, just as you were starting to relax, there was a knock at the door. The sound sent a jolt of anxiety through you, your breath catching in your throat as the lighthearted atmosphere suddenly shifted. You choked on a breath, your fingers tightening around your glass. 

Derek, noticing the slight change in your expression, patted your shoulder reassuringly before heading to the door. He swung it open with his usual confident ease, his grin widening as he greeted the new arrivals.

“Gideon! Reid!” Derek’s voice was full of his usual warmth, but when your eyes caught sight of Spencer standing just behind Gideon, your pulse spiked.

Gideon stepped inside first, laughing as he shook Derek’s hand. “You know how much Spencer hates driving. He practically begged me to pick him up,” he joked, casting a sideways glance at Spencer, who was lingering just outside the doorway.

Spencer offered a small, awkward smile, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket as he gave Derek a polite nod. "Yeah, driving... not my favorite thing."

Your heart hammered in your chest as you saw Spencer—looking the same, yet different. His hair was longer, his expression a little more weathered. He seemed hesitant, as if unsure of his place in the room, but when his eyes quickly scanned the space and landed on you, they widened ever so slightly.

Derek caught the momentary tension between you and Spencer, his jaw tightening subtly. He turned to the rest of the group, his tone trying to smooth over the sudden shift in energy. “Alright, everybody, make room for these two. Brunch is waiting to be devoured.”

Penelope quickly stepped forward to greet Gideon and Spencer with an exuberant smile, acting oblivious to the quiet storm brewing between you and the man now standing only a few feet away.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to breathe, and turned away, praying no one could see the turmoil swirling in your chest.

Gideon, ever the perceptive one, glanced around the room, his eyes briefly scanning each face before they settled on you. He tilted his head slightly, the hint of a curious smile playing on his lips. Without missing a beat, he broke away from the small group forming near the entrance and made his way over to you.

“Hello,” Gideon greeted you warmly, extending a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Jason Gideon.”

You blinked, momentarily startled by the direct introduction, but quickly reached out to shake his hand. "Y/N," you replied with a polite smile, though your voice wavered slightly, the nerves still simmering beneath the surface. "It’s nice to meet you."

Gideon’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he studied you for a moment, seeming to pick up on the tension you were trying so hard to conceal. “Derek speaks highly of you,” he added kindly, his tone gentle, as if sensing that you needed a little bit of reassurance.

Your stomach twisted, but you nodded in response. “He’s a good friend,” you said, glancing in Derek’s direction for a split second before focusing back on Gideon. 

The conversation had inadvertently drawn Spencer's attention. From the corner of your eye, you could see him turn slightly, his gaze shifting from Gideon to you. His posture stiffened, and though he remained rooted to his spot near the door, his eyes were now locked on you, a flicker of recognition passing through them.

There it was—the moment you had been dreading. You didn’t have to look directly at him to feel the weight of his gaze on you. Spencer, standing just a few feet away, realizing that you were here.

Gideon seemed to notice too. He glanced over his shoulder toward Spencer before turning back to you, his expression a little softer now, as if understanding something unspoken.

“Well,” Gideon said after a brief pause, “it was a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” He gave you a final smile before turning to rejoin the others, leaving you standing there with your pulse racing and the unmistakable feeling of Spencer’s eyes still on you.

You exhaled slowly, trying to steady yourself. This was exactly what you had been trying to avoid, but now there was no escaping it. You made brief eye contact, nodding in acknowledgement as Spencer gave you one of his infamous tight lipped smiles. 

Spencer stood frozen in place, his breath catching in his throat the moment Gideon’s conversation with you drew his attention. The sight of you—standing there, laughing politely at something Gideon said—was like a punch to the gut. He had been preparing himself for this, trying to steel his nerves, but nothing could’ve braced him for the actual moment of seeing you again.

You looked incredible, more radiant than he remembered, and the sight of you stirred up everything he had been trying to push down. The memories flooded back—the long nights in the library, the gentle teasing, the way your hand had felt in his, and the soft sound of your laugh. You should say something, he told himself. But his feet remained firmly planted on the floor, rooted in the swirl of emotions tightening his chest. 

Spencer felt a wave of heat rush over him. You looked so good—better than he’d ever allowed himself to imagine in the countless nights he’d lain awake thinking of you. That plaid dress you wore, the way it cinched at your waist, how your hair framed your face perfectly—every detail made him dizzy. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as he tried to focus, but all he could do was stare. 

God, what am I supposed to say? You hadn’t looked at him again since the brief glance. The thought gnawed at him. Does she hate me? Is she angry? Does she even care that I’m here?

His mind spiraled deeper, the insecurity choking him like a vice. Every possible scenario played out in his head: You turning around, glaring at him with the bitterness you were more than entitled to feel; you ignoring him completely, dismissing him as though he didn’t matter. Both options made him feel sick. 

I don’t deserve to talk to her, he thought miserably. 

But he wanted to. He wanted so badly to close the space between you, to say something, anything that might take back the years of silence and cowardice. His hands fidgeted nervously at his sides, his mind screaming at him to move, to walk over, to apologize, to finally make things right. But Spencer stayed where he was, staring at you like a man drowning, desperately reaching for the surface, for something to anchor him—but unable to find it.

You shifted slightly, turning in his direction for just a second. Your eyes flickered toward him once more. The briefest glance, and then you quickly looked away.

It was enough to make his heart drop.

She can’t even look at me.

Spencer clenched his jaw, the painful mix of regret and longing clawing at his insides. He could hear Derek’s words echoing in his head—give her space, let her come to you on her terms. But the problem was, he wasn’t sure he could wait anymore. How could he, when just seeing you from across the room was this overwhelming?

He stood there, drowning in his own thoughts, desperate to say something, to do something that would fix it all. But he couldn’t. Not yet. And it was tearing him apart.

As the brunch carried on, Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, even though he was seated far enough that any chance of a conversation seemed impossible. You were right there, at the opposite end of the table, laughing, talking, and enjoying yourself with everyone else. Each time you laughed, it felt like a tug on his heart, reminding him of what you two had shared all those years ago.

The way you joked with Derek so easily, the way your banter flowed naturally—Spencer couldn’t help but feel that pang of jealousy creep in. It was irrational, but he couldn’t ignore the small voice in the back of his mind whispering that maybe, just maybe, you had moved on with Derek. He tried to shake the thought, knowing how close you and Derek were as friends, but the insecurity was there nonetheless, gnawing at him.

Maybe that’s why Derek doesn’t want me to push things, Spencer thought bitterly, feeling the weight of his suspicions grow. Maybe he wants her for himself.

Spencer’s hands tightened around his glass, the icy chill of his now cold tea doing nothing to cool the heat rising in his chest. He knew he was being ridiculous, but the thought wouldn’t leave him. It stuck in his mind, festering as he watched Derek’s casual affection toward you. It didn’t help that you smiled at Derek the way you used to smile at him. 

When you excused yourself to make more tea, Spencer’s mind was spinning too much to stay seated. He couldn’t let the jealousy take control, but it was too late; it had already wrapped around his thoughts, suffocating any sense of logic. Before he realized it, his legs had carried him from the table, following you into the kitchen.

The moment you walked into the cozy kitchen that you'd helped Penelope prepare, the warm smell of the tea leaves filled the air. The clink of teacups and the sound of water boiling were the only things breaking the quiet of the room. You didn’t notice Spencer following you at first, too caught up in refilling the teapot and enjoying the brief solitude from the table’s conversations.

Spencer hesitated at the entrance to the kitchen, watching you from behind as you moved gracefully between the counter and the kettle. His heart was pounding, the thoughts racing in his mind, torn between his guilt over the past and the irrational jealousy clouding his judgment.

Finally, he spoke, his voice soft but thick with everything he was holding back. “Y/N.”

You turned at the sound of his voice, surprised to see him standing there, clearly not expecting this moment. The tension between you two was palpable, hanging in the air like a weight neither of you was ready to address.

"Spencer," you acknowledged softly, your hands still on the teapot as you stared at him. The awkwardness was undeniable, but there was something else too—years of unspoken words, regrets, and emotions neither of you had faced.

Spencer swallowed hard, his throat tight as he stepped further into the kitchen. "I... I just wanted to—um, I need more tea," he said, fumbling for words, clearly not sure how to approach the conversation.

“Oh, okay,” you replied, surprised that was all he said but pleasantly relieved at the simplicity of it. "I can make you a cup if you want."

Your offer seemed to melt some of the tension in Spencer’s demeanor. His expression softened as he realized you were still the same kind person he’d fallen for all those years ago. “Thank you, that’s really kind of you.”

You nodded, reaching for the teapot. "Milk and sugar? Honey?"

He let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, all of it, please. I like it sweet."

“I know,” you mumbled, the words slipping out naturally. You’d seen Spencer drink his overly sugary coffee so many times back in college, his sweet tooth no secret to you.

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, fidgeting with his hair as he tried to keep the conversation light. "Do you still drink coffee? Or is it all tea now?"

You shrugged, pouring the tea into his cup. “I do both. No need for all that caffeine today.” You laughed softly. “For work, though? That definitely requires coffee.”

Spencer smiled, feeling a little more at ease. "Yeah, I get that. My body’s probably made up of pure coffee by now," he joked, happy he’d chosen to stick with casual conversation rather than diving into the deep, painful history between you two again. 

Maybe Derek was right—maybe you would come to him when you were ready. But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, his heart sank. Derek. He remembered the way you laughed with him, how easily you’d fallen into a rhythm with him at the table. 

The jealousy he’d managed to suppress earlier crept back in, though he did his best to push it down again. You were being kind, and he didn’t want to ruin this moment. But still, the thought lingered—was Derek the one holding you back from wanting to talk to him?

But you’d already turned around, catching the pensive look on Spencer’s face. "Everything alright?" you asked, a little concerned by the way his expression had shifted.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, looking up at you with a soft, almost hesitant smile. "So, uh, you and Derek, huh?"

You blinked, tilting your head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Spencer’s fingers fidgeted with the edge of his cup as he mumbled, “How long have you guys been... seeing each other?”

You burst out laughing, surprising him. "Me and Derek? No, no, no," you said, waving your hands dismissively as you continued to chuckle. "He’s my best friend. That’s all."

“Oh," he nodded, clearly unsure. "I just thought—”

But you cut him off before he could finish, handing him his tea with a small smile. “Tea’s ready. Here.” Your voice was soft but awkward as you backed out of the kitchen. “See you out there.”

With that, you made your way back to the brunch party, leaving Spencer standing in the kitchen, processing what had just happened. 

That was the end of your conversation for the day, but it was enough for him. Spencer’s heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. 

He could work with this.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @criminal-spence @navs-bhat @taygrls

[devdirt]

Hazbin Hotel Spoilers!! My thoughts on the VAs, and where I go from here.

I'm only going to say a couple of things about the first episode. The voices are bad.

I think Charlie is the only consistently good one and Alastor does sound better with the voice filter on. I think Niffty is okay, I will always prefer the pilot VA. But...listen.

I don't want to be mean about Blake. I'm sure he's talented. But his delivery as Angel is really, really bad. I don't mean in a "bitch about the show haha" bad, I mean it is just painful to listen to. His delivery is not natural, the accent sounds so forced and the tone is grating. He sounds like he belongs in a cringe fandub, not an official production.

Vaggie sounds incredibly dead. I think Stephanie could really work in this role but it sounds like the voice direction is keeping her from emoting half the time. Her register is too low and too plain to give any kind of meaningful performance. She has done low register characters before and knocked it out of the park so that's why I believe this was a mistake on direction's part. She's talented, let her showcase it.

Husk, it doesn't fit. Keith David is talented as FUCK and his delivery is good! But this was a miscast. The original VA was great because he had that jaded old man sound to him, a disgruntled quality that accompanied his character.

Adam...god shut up. I don't know if it's the fact that his song is paced all weird and the dialogue doesn't flow, or that his dialogue is just GOD AWFUL but I can't listen to this man speak. He sounds like he's overacting on stage in every single line, there is no time to breathe between his sentences.

And my wife Katie Killjoy? It's just fucking Blitz. There is no humor in having her sound like this, and the performance has none of the flair as the original pilot VA. It sounds like when a cartoon gets an obvious celebrity who doesn't fit the show because they just wanted to get that person on for an episode.

So yeah. The songs were mid, the jokes weren't funny, and Angel saying "this body was meant to be exploited" was just...yeah.

I'm sorry to the entire pilot cast, I'm sorry you were all replaced when you ARE these characters. A character is their voice, and you all poured your hearts and souls into your performances to make Viv's creations come to life. I don't think she deserved any of you. This is a disappointment for animation at worst and a bad vanity project at best.

I will not be watching any more full episodes.

[thatgiraffefromtlou]

The Aurora Project

(part 2)

(tumblr won’t let me tag part one for some odd reason but it’s in my pinned post! make sure you read that first 🫶🏻)

summary: as a result of a malfunction, you and ellie awaken from cryosleep aboard a spaceship with no memory. will you find evidence that you're more than just shipmates? something to give reason to your nagging familiarity to the stranger you wake up next to?

warnings: eventual explicit language, potential for smut in later chapters (depending), uh cringy teasing idk- Imk if there's more this is also pretty tame-

A/N: so erm this definitely isn’t the best work of mine i won’t lie to you guy. it’s only slightly proof read 🧍🏼 like i said the results of this election has my mind kind elsewhere, but writing is still very therapeutic for me and i really wanted to get something put out for you guys! plus im excited to post this and continue this story and i don’t want that to be taken from me. anyways enough about that i hope you guys enjoy!!

work count: 2.6K (ik sorry they will eventually be longer)

– Chapter two -

"Maybe your eye would work?" you break the silence, your voice echoing softly in the open space. You and Ellie sit on either side of the exit, your backs pressed against the cool, metallic walls. It took you two what felt like forever, but you finally found a door. The hope that cascaded through your bodies upon first seeing the door was palpable, a surge of excitement that quickly dissipated the moment you realized it was locked. The lock mechanism, a complex array of technological marvels you’ve never encountered, had multiple parts, but only needed one of the three ways to get through: an eye scanner, a password, or a thumbprint.

The eye scanner looked like a floating camera, or at least that's the best way you could describe it. It hovered eerily, set maybe a foot above a see-through keyboard that seemed to defy gravity. Glowing boxes surrounded glowing letters, numbers, and symbols, creating an otherworldly interface. It was strange, almost disconcerting, the way those two things seemed to float beside the door, as if held in place by some invisible force. In stark contrast, the fingerprint scan was firmly affixed to the actual door itself, a more tangible and familiar security measure. Either way, two of these things you thought Ellie might be able to manipulate, given her potential credentials.

"Huh?" Ellie turns her head to you, her brows furrowed in confusion and her upper lip slightly risen on one side, creating an expression of both intrigue and skepticism. "It's a shot in the dark but..." you begin, your mind racing to connect the dots, "Our name plates—only you had 'Dr.' in front of your name." You shrug your shoulders and lick your lips, your theory on the tip of your tongue. Turning your body to face more in her direction, your legs tucking slightly under your thighs in an attempt to get comfortable on the hard floor, you continue, "Maybe you have some form of authority here? I mean, hell, maybe you're even an astronaut? It's not too far-fetched considering our surroundings."

She looked at you with an expression that was a perfect blend of disbelief and flattery, as if you had just said the most absurd yet complimentary thing imaginable. Her eyes widened slightly, eyebrows raised, creating a very confused expression that spoke volumes. "Or," she countered, her voice tinged with a hint of skepticism, "I'm just a doctor who practices medicine and they need doctors in this place we're headed towards? It seems more likely, doesn't it?" Your shoulders literally slump at that, the weight of disappointment settling on you. "Yeah, you're probably right…" you concede, your voice trailing off.

You sit with your back against the wall again, the cool surface a stark reminder of your predicament. Your mind starts racing, deciding to go back to the drawing board. Maybe there's another door on the other side? Air vents? As these thoughts swirl in your head, Ellie suddenly stands up, her movement catching you off guard. She leans over slightly, putting her eye at level with the scanner, a look of determination etched on her face. You look up at her curiously, and suddenly there's a beep—a sharp, electronic sound that cuts through the silence—and the doors slide open with a smooth, hydraulic hiss.

You get on your feet immediately, adrenaline surging through your body, and she turns back to you, her face a mask of genuine shock mirroring your own. "No way..." you say in awe, your voice barely above a whisper as you look through the now open door. The view beyond is bleak, not really what you were hoping for. Just another long walkway stretches before you, more walkways branching off like a labyrinth of sterile corridors. "Guess I am an astronaut..." Ellie says quietly, a smile playing on her lips, tinged with a mixture of pride and bewilderment.

You look back to her, her smile a welcome contrast to the boring white hallway that seems to stretch endlessly before you. You can't help but smile back, a sense of camaraderie growing between you. "Of course you are," you say, your voice filled with a newfound confidence, "I'm never wrong." Ellie huffs air out of her nose in a small laugh, her smile widening as she shakes her head, a gesture that seems both exasperated and fond. She takes a deep breath, straightening her back again, and steps into the hallway with cautious steps. You follow close behind, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. The doors close with a whooshing sound behind you both, sealing off the room you just left.

"Why'd you give it a try?" you ask, curiosity getting the better of you as you fall into step beside her. Ellie shrugs, her eyes scanning the corridor ahead. "Better than sitting there with no solution," she replies, her tone matter-of-fact. She glances at you, a hint of amusement in her eyes, "and something told me you're never wrong or whatever." You smile as the warm sense of familiarity fills you again, this time less scary but just as confusing as before. It's a feeling you can't quite place, like a half-remembered dream or a song you can't quite recall. "Fair enough," you joke a little, your voice light.

Silence settles over the two of you for a moment before you speak again, "So, Dr. Ellie," you say, emphasizing her title with a playful tone, a little pep in your step, your body angled more towards her than forward. "What's our next move? Any pearls of astronaut wisdom to share with us mere mortals?" The question is wrapped in a layer of jest, but underneath, it's clear you're both grappling with the same pressing concern: what on earth—or rather, what in space—are you supposed to do now?

Ellie responds with a soft chuckle, her eyes never ceasing their scan of the corridors stretching out before you. "Well," she begins, her voice tinged with a hint of self-deprecation, "If I had to guess, I think our best bet would be to find some kind of control room or like a central hub. I mean.. there's bound to be a nerve center somewhere." As she speaks, her hands move in small, unconscious gestures, as if trying to shape her thoughts in the air.

She gives a little shrug, the movement almost diminishing the weight of her ideas. It's a strange contradiction—the self-assurance in her logic juxtaposed against a hint of awkwardness in her delivery. The dichotomy is intriguing; she clearly knows she's smart, but there's a flutter of something—maybe modesty, maybe uncertainty—when that intelligence is on display.

You nod, genuinely impressed by her logical approach despite her hesitation. "Makes sense," you agree, your voice trailing off a little as you mull over her suggestion. After a moment you ask, "Any ideas on how we might go about finding this hypothetical control room?"

Ellie's eyebrows lift a fraction, and when she speaks again, her words seem to require a touch more effort than before, as if she's carefully weighing each one. "Well, we could start by looking for signs, I suppose?" Her gaze flicks to you briefly before returning to the path ahead, a mix of consideration and caution in her eyes. "Or, failing that, we could follow the main corridor?" She gestures ahead with a sweep of her hand. "In my experience-“ she cuts herself off in a fluster. “Or what I think might be my experience, given our current memory situation—important areas are usually centrally located and well-marked."

You hum thoughtfully and nod, acknowledging the soundness of her strategy. "So, essentially, we keep walking straight until we stumble upon another door or some kind of signage?" A note of playful sarcasm creeps into your voice as you add, "Sounds absolutely thrilling..."

Ellie responds with an eye roll, but there's a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, softening the gesture. "Well, unless you've got a better idea tucked away in that sarcasm-filled brain of yours, Captain Quip, I think that's our best bet for now." She pauses for a beat, then adds with a touch of dry humor coloring her words, "Who knows? Maybe if we're really lucky, we'll stumble upon a space casino or an alien petting zoo along the way."

"A petting zoo?" you echo, latching onto the absurd image with enthusiasm. "Maybe they've got some kind of high-tech Noah's Ark situation going on up here." The mental picture draws a laugh from both of you, the sound a welcome break in the tension. As your chuckles subside, you're struck by a sudden realization. "You know what? I could really go for a drink right now. God, I'm thirsty. Are you thirsty too?" The question hangs in the air for a moment before you notice something's off. You turn, expecting to see Ellie beside you, but she's nowhere in sight. Confusion floods your system. Wasn't she just—

You’re quickly interrupted by the sound of your name being called. It's Ellie's voice, but it's coming from at least 20 feet behind you. You spin around, your eyes searching, and finally spot her. She's standing in front of a doorway, her arm extended, finger pointing at something beyond. "Look," she calls again, her voice a mix of excitement and wariness.

You quickly jog back to where Ellie is standing. As you draw closer, you see what has captured her attention: before you a mini hall, maybe 3 feet long ending with a small door.

Your gaze follows Ellie's pointing finger to the side of the door, where a placard identical to those at the foot of your pods catches your attention. The name 'Dr. Williams' is etched onto its surface, below her name is a simple +1, causing a small jolt of recognition to course through you. "Oh..." you breathe, the single syllable barely audible as it escapes your lips. Your eyes dart between Ellie and the plain white door, a feeling of apprehension swirling in your gut.

"Well, let's open it," you suggest, your voice a blend of impatience and nervousness. Ellie responds with a nod, her face showing her own set of conflicting emotions. She reaches out, her hand settling on the doorknob - a long, flat apparatus that stands out against the sterile white of the door. Your eyes are drawn to a peculiar smooth shiny black rectangle spot near where the handle attaches to the door, its purpose unclear but somehow significant.

Ellie's fingers wrap around the handle, and she attempts to turn it. The door remains closed, the handle refusing to even budge an inch. A look of frustration flashes across her face as she tries again, her knuckles almost whitening with the force of her grip. Still, the door doesn't budge.

You watch intently as Ellie's brow furrows in concentration, her fingers now tracing the outline of the mysterious black spot. Suddenly, Ellie's eyes widen with realization, and she presses her thumb firmly against the black square. The silence that follows seems to stretch for an eternity, both of you holding your breath in anticipation. Then, a soft beep fills the air, shattering the tension.

Ellie turns the handle again and the door responds with a soft click as she pushes the door open. You and Ellie exchange a quick glance, a wordless communication passing between you. Taking a deep, steadying breath, you both step forward in unison. The room is small, almost like a one room apartment. The white sterile walls not following you into this space. You both set forward, Ellie in the lead as you both wordlessly scan the room. The walls may be white, but the room itself is vibrant with personality and life.

Every available surface is adorned with an array of memorabilia - framed photographs capturing moments frozen in time, colorful posters that speak of diverse interests, and shelves lined with an assortment of knick-knacks, each telling its own story. These decorations form a protective cocoon around the full-sized bed nestled at the far end of the room, creating a cozy sanctuary within the larger space. The front area of the room seamlessly blends the functionality of a kitchen with the comfort of a living room, defying the sterile environment beyond its walls.

As you step further into the room, your senses are overwhelmed by a collection of different scents, each fighting for dominance in the recycled air of the ship. The rich, invigorating aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the smoky, complex notes of aged whiskey. A faint, earthy scent of stale marijuana lingers in the background. Underpinning it all is a warm, masculine fragrance - reminiscent of a what you’d smell when you hug a Southern dad, all sun-warmed cotton and subtle cologne.

Despite the main overhead light being off, the room is bathed in a gentle, welcoming glow. A strategically placed array of lamps and twinkling string lights cast a soft, amber radiance throughout the space. This warm illumination not only brightens the room but also seems to ignite a spark of recognition deep within you. As your eyes adjust and roam over the personal touches scattered throughout, you can't shake the feeling that this space is somehow intimately familiar, as if you've spent countless hours within these very walls, or at least around these things.

Ellie quietly calls your name, her voice tinged with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. You slowly turn around to see her sitting on what you presume to be her bed, a framed photograph clutched in her hands. You make your way over to her, each step feeling both familiar and foreign on the ship's floor. As you settle beside her on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under your combined weight, she carefully turns the photo to face you both.

The image captured within the frame immediately draws your attention. It's a snapshot of what appears to be a Halloween party, the background a blur of festive decorations and revelers. But it's the subjects of the photo that truly catch your eye - you and Ellie, looking carefree and happy, your costumes as whimsical as they are clever.

You find yourself staring at your own image, barely recognizing the person looking back at you. You're dressed in an elaborate moth costume, complete with intricately designed wings and antennae. Your costume-clad self is caught mid-motion, planting an exaggerated kiss on Ellie's cheek. Ellie, for her part, is sporting what can only be described as a lampshade on her head, her face alight with laughter and warmth.

The juxtaposition of the costumes isn't lost on you - a moth drawn to a lamp, a visual pun that speaks of inside jokes and shared humor. It's a moment of connection, of joy, frozen in time and preserved behind glass.

"Oh..." you breathe, the word barely more than an exhale. The photo feels like a key, unlocking a flood of emotions you can't quite place. Familiarity wars with the unsettling feeling of looking at strangers wearing your faces.

"Oh..." Ellie echoes, her voice a mirror of your own confusion and wonder. Her eyes flick between the photo and your face, searching for something - recognition, perhaps, or confirmation that you're feeling the same tumult of emotions that she is.

The silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken questions and the weight of implications neither of you are quite ready to voice.

A/N: hehehe lmk if you wanna be added to the tag listttttt

tag list: @autisticintr0vert (if you’re not tagged and asked to be, please check to make sure you’re ability to be tagged is on because your username did not show up!)

[badasbebi]

the cupid project ➛ 2/2

part one

✦ pairing: bada lee x fem!reader

✦ summary: you and your long-term work crush devise a plan to win a company contest. in the end, you wind up going to extreme lengths to commit to the bit

✦ genre/au: fluff, smut MDNI!!, fake dating, videographer reader, bada's extra sweet here, slight friends to lovers

✦ word count: 7k

✦ warnings: isn't proofread. top!bada. bada carries a strap and im not talking about a gun. fingering.

✦ a/n: happy (early) valentine's day!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

When the two of you arrive, the bowling alley is mostly empty, save for the JustJerk employees milling around and a couple of people hanging out in the arcade. The staff member at the counter gives you a warm greeting and directs the two of you to the lane your friends are at. 

You walk up the ramp, scanning the area. The first person you spot is Hoyeon, who is sitting down, chatting with Minho. When she notices the two of you, her lips stretch into a wide smile and she raises a hand to wave. You return the gesture, and the two of you approach her.

"Hi," you smile, plopping down onto the seat next to her. Bada sits next to you, effectively sandwiching you between the two women.

"Hey, guys," she greets, a twinkle in her eyes.

"Did we miss anything?" Bada asks.

"Just the boys getting their asses beat by the girls,” Hoyeon says, glancing at the time on her phone.

"Sounds about right," Bada chuckles.

"Hey! We're not that bad!" Minho says, mock-offended.

"Sure, Minho," Hoyeon says, smirking.

"I don't know. I'm not that great either," you admit.

"Really? Why?" Bada questions.

"I guess I'm just not competitive," you shrug.

"Well you’re gonna have to start getting competitive. I can’t let you be the one who lets the boys get a hold on us,” Bada proclaims, nudging you.

“Why not? We could have a tie, then. Wouldn’t that be nice, Minho? For the boys to not be so embarrassingly outplayed all the time?" you suggest, earning a glare from Minho.

"Oh, shut up," he mutters, causing the three of you to laugh.

"Anyway, y/n, if you’re really that bad, don’t worry about it. I’ll help you out,” Bada promises, placing a hand on your knee. You try not to react.

"Okay, cool, thank you.” You nod, trying not to react.

“No problem,” she says, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. You were going to die before tonight was over.

You glance at Hoyeon, who, upon seeing the exchange, smirks. “So, I'm guessing you two are getting along well?"

"Yeah," Bada grins. "I think so."

"That's good," Hoyeon smiles. "I'm glad."

"Thanks," you reply, avoiding her eyes. You haven’t told Hoyeon that you were faking things with Bada. After the pictures dropped, Hoyeon was one of the first people to text you about it, sending you a flurry of messages full of profanities for not having kept her updated. You’re not sure why you don’t want to tell her the truth. You know she’d be able to keep a secret.

But a part of you knows that you’re enjoying the pretending a bit too much. If you fess up, it would make the reality of the situation more apparent, and the thought of that is starting to disappoint you more than the idea of losing the prize, altogether. 

“Hey! There you two are,” Youngj shouts, breaking your train of thought. He makes his way toward you, followed by Redllic wearing a sour expression on her face.

Youngj stops in front of your group, placing his hands on his hips. "You're late," he pouts.

"Sorry, boss," Bada apologizes.

"It's okay. You're not the only ones," he says, sighing. “Are you guys gonna come play or what?”

"We're coming, we're coming," Bada replies, grabbing your hand and pulling you up.

“Eat em’ up, girls!” Hoyeon shouts with a whoop, followed by loud booing from Minho.

"Let's go," Bada smiles, squeezing your hand.

"Right," you reply, ignoring the racing of your heart.

Bada drops your hand, walking over to the rack and grabbing a bowling ball. She turns around, giving you a thumbs up and a cute smile. You roll your eyes and she laughs, turning back around.

As she steps forward to take her turn, you catch a whiff of her perfume. It's intoxicating.

The ball rolls down the lane and knocks down nine pins. You close your eyes, resisting the urge to shout. Why was this woman good at everything?

Bada throws the ball again, knocking the last pin over and finishing her frame with a strike. The crowd applauds, and she does a cute little curtsy, which you find unreasonably adorable.

You watch her, transfixed, as she approaches you.

"Good job," you say, a bit too enthusiastically.

"Thank you," she smiles, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Now, it's your turn."

"Alright, alright," you say, making your way over to the ball rack.

You select a red ball, testing the weight. It's heavy, but not too much, and fits comfortably in your hands.

"Remember, use the guide, aim for the middle, and throw slowly," Bada calls, and you nod, not turning around.

You position the ball against your chest, lining up your feet. Then, in one swift motion, you push the ball forward and release it.

The ball lands directly in the gutter, rolling down and colliding with thin air. You groan, watching the screen count up the pins you hit, or lack thereof. Zero. 

"It's okay. Here, I'll show you," Bada says, placing her hands on your shoulders and guiding you over to the middle of the lane.

"First, you want to line up your feet." She says, standing behind you. "And then, you want to position your shoulders and the rest of your body."

You do as she instructs, attempting to focus on her directions.

"Then, the key is to relax and to keep your arm loose. If you tense up, your ball will go all over the place," she says, wrapping her hands around your bicep, massaging it a bit. "So, take a deep breath, and just throw the ball."

You breathe deeply, closing your eyes. You feel the weight of her arms leave your own, and then the weight of her hand on your back.

"Ready?" she whispers, and you nod.

"Okay," she says, patting you, signaling that she has moved.

You exhale, opening your eyes and swinging the ball forward.

You release the ball, and it glides down the lane, knocking eight pins down. You can hear the cheers, but the sound is muffled.

"You did it!" Bada exclaims, hugging you tightly from behind. You laugh, returning her embrace.

"You did most of the work," you say, grinning.

"You would have gotten it without me eventually.”

"Whatever you say," you say, not wanting to argue.

The rest of the night passes by quickly, with you and the girls absolutely destroying the guys, filled with laughter and smiles. By the end of the night, your stomach is sore and your cheeks are aching. When you’re not laughing with one of your coworkers, you’re with Bada, giggling at her jokes, listening to her stories, and being a part of her world. And in the moments when you think nobody is looking, she looks at you and smiles, her eyes soft and sparkling.

Toward the end of the night, you head to the bathroom, fixing your makeup and taking a few breaths. 

After you finish, you exit the restroom, walking over to the bar and ordering a glass of water. As you wait, you notice Bada talking to Redllic, their faces stern and serious. You can't hear what they're saying, but something about their expressions is making you nervous.

"Here's your water," the bartender says, handing you the cup.

"Thank you," you respond, accepting the drink. You take a sip, trying to act casual, but you're not fooling anyone. You knew Bada and Redllic had some kind of romantic history, but you weren’t sure how significant it was.

After a moment, Bada and Redllic separate, heading toward different ends of the bar. Bada makes her way over to you, her features still hardened.

"Are you okay?" you ask, concern filling your tone.

"Yes. I'm fine," she replies, her voice stiff.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you offer.

"Not now. Let’s just have fun, yeah?" she says, a forced smile appearing on her lips.

"Okay," you say, reaching over and squeezing her hand. She squeezes back.

"You know, you look nice tonight," she compliments.

"Thanks," you smile, blushing slightly. "You do, too."

"Thank you," she says, and a small grin replaces her false smile. "So, are you having fun?"

"Yeah, I am," you nod. "A lot of fun. It’s a good thing you dragged me out here, seriously. I’m actually good at bowling now.”

"I mean, you weren’t that bad of a student. It’s not like you needed much help. I’m almost wondering if you faked being bad," Bada teases.

"What?! Of course not. How could you think that?" you exclaim, feigning offense.

"Mhm, I don’t know, you seemed pretty excited when I came to help you out. I think I felt your heartbeat over there," she laughs, poking your arm.

Oh shit. You’ve been found out.

You cross your arms, stubborn and determined to get yourself out of this. "Well, was it necessary to get so handsy with it? Do you do that with all of your students?”

"Only the cute ones," Bada says, staring you down. 

Your heart races. This was escalating quickly. “Well, then, I guess I’ll consider myself lucky."

"You should," she says, a smirk appearing on her lips. “I could get much more handsy, if you wanted me to."

What the hell was going on? As much as you and Bada have casually flirted, it’s never gotten this bold. Whatever happened while you were in the bathroom must have seriously messed with her brain. Maybe she’s experiencing face blindness and thinks you’re someone else.

"Oh, how so?" you ask, playing along, testing the waters.

"I can show you," she says, placing a hand on the side of your face, brushing her thumb across your cheek. She moves her other hand onto your lower back, her grip light, yet firm. You shiver, leaning into her touch.

"What do you think?" she whispers.

"I think I'd like that very much," you admit, feeling her breath on your neck.

"Good," she murmurs, her eyes locking onto yours.

She closes the space between you, and her lips are on yours. She tastes like the fruity wine she had earlier and her chapstick.

You kiss her back, savoring the moment. Warmth and comfort is all around you, enveloping your senses. You pull away after a moment, catching your breath.

"What's wrong?" Bada asks, searching your face.

"Nothing. Everything's perfect," you say, kissing her again.

You don't care anymore. You just want her.

You move your hands, wrapping them around her neck and pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. Her hands trail up and down your sides, sending goosebumps up and down your arms. She bites your lip gently, and you gasp, tugging on her hair.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, you separate. 

Bada exhales, fixing her bangs.

You stare ahead blankly, your mind fuzzy. But, through the haze, you feel a wave of euphoria rush over you, and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning. There was not a single part of you that would've guessed that you'd end up kissing Bada Lee upon joining Justjerk. Really, you were surprised she even gave you the time of day in the first place. You'd spent months trying to work up the courage to speak to her, and when the chance came, you almost choked and avoided her, too overwhelmed by the mere thought of speaking to her. But, as the old adage goes, life's full of surprises.

Bada twists her head to the side, staring at something, or someone with a furrowed brow.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you ask, placing a hand on her forearm.

"Oh, nothing. I was just looking out for Redllic," she replies, her frown melting into a small, apologetic smile.

The smile that you were trying to hold back disappears, replaced with a cold, hard pit of dread. "What about her?"

"She's over there," Bada nods, tilting her chin. You don't bother to turn to look. "You know that conversation you saw us have? She came up to me and accused us of pretending to get together for the money. Said there was no way we actually got together that fast. I, of course, denied it. Hopefully that kiss will shut her up."

"Oh. That makes sense. Sorry for not being more helpful," you apologize, your voice coming out hollow.

"Don't be," she says, her words rushed. "I didn't tell you about it because I didn't wanna worry you. But, we're in this together, right?"

"Yeah, definitely," you say, attempting to ignore the lump in your throat.

"That's good. Now, what were we talking about?" Bada asks, grinning.

Were you even talking about anything? You can't remember, too preoccupied with the dull feeling in the center of your chest. It's not like you were expecting Bada and you to be an actual couple. You were well aware that whatever relationship the two of you shared was just a facade. But hearing the reason why she kissed you was like a bucket of ice water poured over your head, reminding you of reality.

"I can't remember. Actually, I think I'm feeling a little sick," you lie.

"Oh, are you alright?" she asks, her voice laced with concern.

"Yeah. Don't worry about me. It’s probably something I ate. I'm just gonna head home, I think. You don't have to come with. I'll catch an Uber," you reply, forcing a weak smile.

"What? No, don't waste your money. I'll drive you home. Let me just grab my stuff," she offers, but you shake your head.

"It's really okay. I don't want you to miss out on fun with your friends," you insist, the ache in your throat growing. Why'd she have to be so nice?

"No, I insist. I'll drop you off and come back."

"Bada-"

"Y/N, please," she interrupts. "You're important to me. You're my friend. Helping you out isn't a big deal."

Her words simultaneously break your heart and fix it, and, finally, you give in.

"Fine," you sigh.

She grins. "Now, stay put," she commands, a stern expression replacing her worried one.

"Yes ma'am," you salute.

"Good girl," she teases, and you just stare, your face turning pink.

Bada walks off, and you stare into your glass, the ice having melted. After a moment, she returns, her jacket and backpack slung over her shoulder.

"Ready?" she asks, and you nod, following her out of the bar.

The night is cold and dark, and the stars are shining bright. The sound of the wind fills the air, and your footsteps seem loud, crunching against the ground.

You get to the parking lot and walk over to her car. Bada unlocks the doors, and you open the passenger door before she can do it for you, ignoring the frown on her face. You slide in, put your seatbelt on, and she turns the key, the engine roaring to life.

The ride home is filled with an awkward silence, neither of you sure of what to say. Finally, Bada clears her throat.

"Listen, y/n. Are you upset with me, or something? If I did or said anything to make you mad you, I'm sorry," she says, her voice tight.

"No, it's not that," you assure, and she relaxes a bit. "I'm just feeling sick. Like I said."

"Alright," she sighs.

You arrive at your house, and you unbuckle your seatbelt. "Thanks for the ride."

"Of course. I'm glad I could help. Goodnight," she says, and you nod.

"Night," you say, exiting the vehicle.

You head up the path, the wind causing your hair to fly in your face. As you are about to reach the front steps, Bada pulls her car back, reversing. She rolls the passenger window down, sticking her head out.

"Wait!" she shouts, and you freeze, your hand gripping the railing.

"What?" you call back, confused.

"I-uh...ugh," she exclaims, her forehead wrinkling. "I can't just leave you alone. Not when you're sick. Let me take care of you. Please."

You blink. You just could not get rid of this woman. "I'll be fine," you reply, shortly, turning toward your building again. 

"At least let me walk you inside. Then, I'll leave," she offers.

You groan, stopping in your tracks with your eyes closed in frustration. It was too cold for this. "Fine," you mutter.

"Great," she says, and the relief in her voice makes you feel guilty.

"But only for a few minutes. And only because I know how persistent you are."

"Thank you," she says, and the sincerity in her voice makes your chest tighten.

She turns her car off, grabs her backpack, and hops out of the vehicle. You lead her into the building, and the two of you make your way up the stairs, eventually arriving at your door.

You unlock it, and the two of you enter. Your apartment is dark and silent, and the sound of your breathing is loud.

"Well, here it is. It's not much, but it's home," you shrug, flipping the light switch on.

"It's cozy," she smiles, and you can't help but grin, too.

"Yeah. Um, would you like some water, or tea, or anything?"

"No, thank you. I'm okay," she replies, adjusting her backpack straps.

"Alright, then," you say, standing in the entryway.

The awkward silence returns, and the two of you stare at each other, neither knowing what to do. Finally, Bada steps forward, closing the space between the two of you.

"Are you sure you're okay? You seemed pretty distant toward the end of the night," she asks, her features soft.

"Yeah. Like I said, not feeling great. Must have been the food," you repeat yourself  robotically, not looking her in the eye.

She frowns. "I'm sorry."

"Why? It's not your fault," you shrug, avoiding her gaze.

"It is, though. Isn’t it? You're my friend, and I care about you. So, if something is bothering you, I want to know and work it out,” she pauses, a guilt-ridden expression overtaking her features. "If this is about the kiss...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Your stomach drops, and your eyes widen. "What? Why?"

"Because," she sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. "I took advantage of the situation. I should've just told Redllic to fuck off. Or maybe even asked you if you were comfortable with it beforehand."

"You didn't take advantage of me," you argue. 

"Still. It wasn't right. I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry," she repeats, looking at the ground.

"You don't need to be sorry," you insist.

"Really?"

"Yeah," you nod.

"Okay," she says, the crease between her eyebrows disappearing. "Well, then, I guess I should go."

"I guess so," you agree, not making a move.

She hesitates, staring at you. You stare back, your heart racing. She reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Goodnight," she whispers, her voice soft.

"Night," you reply, her touch burning your skin.

She releases your hand, turns around, and heads out, the door closing behind her. You watch her leave, your brain going a mile a minute.

You don't know what's wrong with you. It was just a stupid kiss. It meant nothing. But, despite all of that, the pit in your stomach won't go away, and the thought of her lips against yours replays in your mind.

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe it wasn't just a kiss. Maybe it meant everything.

Oh fuck it. Fuck it.

You open the door with a vigor that rivaled that of the Hulk's. "Bada," you call out, sprinting into the hallway.

A few steps down the hall, she freezes.

"What is it?" she asks, turning around, her eyebrows raised.

"Just-just, um," you stammer, your mouth dry. "Come back."

She stares for a second, then smirks. "Okay," she says, walking back with a pep in her step. 

Once she reaches the door, she enters, and the two of you stare at each other, unsure.

"What is it?" Bada asks, her face calm.

"I-uh," you start, then swallow.

Fuck. Why was this so hard? Why couldn't you just be honest with her?

"What?" Bada urges, the smirk returning. You look at the floor, the wall, anything. Finally, you take a deep breath, and look her in the eyes.

"I wanted to ask if...you could maybe stay a little longer," you murmur, your cheeks hot.

She raises an eyebrow, her expression a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

"You sure?"

"Yes," you respond, a little too quickly.

She grins, the smirk replaced with a genuine smile. "Then, I will."

"Okay," you breathe, letting the tension flow from your shoulders.

"So, what did you want to do?" she asks, staring at your lips.

"I don't know," you shrug, not taking your eyes off hers.

"Hmm," she hums, stepping closer.

"Uh, did you wanna, uh, watch TV, or something?" you offer, your voice quiet.

"No," she replies, shaking her head.

"What did you wanna do, then?" you ask, your heartbeat fast.

"Something else." She mutters, and without warning, her lips are on yours again.

She wraps her arms around you, and you immediately melt into her embrace, her scent clouding your senses. Like last time, you wrap your arms around her neck. Her tongue slips into your mouth, exploring, and her hands run down your sides, sending chills down your spine. You let out a moan, and she bites your lip, drawing another from you. 

Your hands tangle in her hair, and hers cup your ass, lifting you up. She carries you over to your bedroom, per your directions, and places you onto your bed gently. Her fingers graze your thigh, and goosebumps pop up all over your body. You pull away, and her eyes are dark.

"Do you want to do this?" she asks, her voice low.

"Yeah," you respond, and she grins.

She kisses you again, and her fingers inch upward, her hand sliding under the hem of your shirt. She traces your skin, leaving a trail of fire, and your breathing quickens.

"Can I take this off?" she asks, pulling at the bottom of your top.

"Yes," you say, lifting yourself off the bed slightly.

She slides your shirt up, and over your head, tossing it aside. She unhooks your bra and discards it, too.

Her eyes linger on your bare chest, and you watch her pupils dilate. You bite your lip, running your hands through her hair.

"Fuck," she growls, and she pushes you back down onto the mattress, her lips trailing from yours to your jaw, your collarbone, your neck, and finally, your chest.

She sucks and nips at the skin there, and you grip her hair tighter, eliciting a moan. She moves downward, kissing down your torso. When her lips reach the waistband of your jeans, she stops, glancing up at you.

"Do you want me to keep going?"

"Yes," you plead, and her mouth curls into a mischievous smirk.

"Okay," she says, and she undoes the button and zipper of your jeans.

She tugs them off and throws them aside, leaving you in just your underwear. Her eyes are on yours, and you're frozen.

"Please," you beg, and she lets out a deep chuckle.

"Begging already?"

"Shut up," you hiss, and she laughs, before her hands slip beneath the hem of your panties.

She pulls the material off, leaving you completely exposed.

"Fuck," she mutters, her eyes wide.

You squirm under her gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "What?"

"You're so fucking sexy," she breathes, her eyes filled with lust.

"Really?"

"Of course. Do you even know what you're doing to me right now?"

"N-no," you mumble, averting your eyes.

"Look at me."

You obey, her usually warm puppy eyes now darkened into something wicked, capturing yours.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes," you breathe.

"Good. Now, lay down," she commands, her voice firm.

You comply, relaxing your body. She climbs on top of you, her hand resting on top of your thigh. 

"Do you still want to do this?"

"Yes," you affirm, nodding.

"Okay," she says, and then, her hand is between your legs.

Her fingers slide along your wetness, and your breathing quickens. Her eyes are fixed on yours, watching your reaction.

"Shit," you groan, as her finger presses against your clit.

"You like that?" she purrs, her lips ghosting across your skin.

"Mhmm," you moan, her finger circling the sensitive bud.

Her finger slips inside you, and you cry out, throwing your arms around her torso. She pumps slowly, and her thumb brushes against your clit.

"More," you pant, your body trembling.

"Of course," she hums, slipping a second digit into you.

"Ah," you moan, gripping her tightly.

She thrusts her fingers deeper, hitting that special spot within. You gasp, your back arching. You're so wet you can hear the squelch of her digits moving inside you, and you slam your eyes shut, overwhelmed. Her lips meet your neck, her teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh, and your moans are muffled.

"Bada, please," you whimper, her fingers curling against that spongey tissue, the sensation making your toes curl.

"Please what, baby?" she murmurs, her thumb rubbing against your clit, the friction making you shiver.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm close, please," you gasp, your walls tightening around her. "Make me come," you choke, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"I will," she promises, and her fingers thrust harder, her thumb moving faster. You cry, the tension in your abdomen building.

"That's it, baby, come for me," she coaxes, and with one final brush against that sensitive spot, you shatter.

The orgasm rips through you, and you convulse, your vision blacking out. You gasp for air, trying to catch your breath. She watches you, a satisfied smile on her face as she caresses your sides with her other hand. 

"Did you enjoy that?"

"Yeah," you say, breathless. "But you didn't finish," you frown, your eyes trailing to her still-clothed form.

"Oh, I will," she says, a smirk reappearing. She rolls over, grabbing her backpack.

"What are you doing?" you ask, sitting up.

"I'm not done with you yet," she answers, her smile devilish. You watch, transfixed, as she pulls out a strap-on and a bottle of lube.

"Oh," you exhale, your core heating. This women was going to be the death of you.

"This okay?"

"The fact that you're casually carrying around a strap-on?"

She smiles, sheepishly. "I like to be prepared."

"But, yes, that is more than okay," you say, licking your lips.

"Great," she says, unbuckling her belt and shrugging her pants off, revealing black boxer briefs. She steps into the harness, pulling the straps tight. She squirts some lube onto her hand, reaching for the dildo, but you stop her.

"Wait-can I?"

"Go ahead," she nods, giving you a smile.

You kneel on the bed, facing her. You gather some lube onto your hand, then coat the silicone. Your hand runs along the length, and your eyes are fixated on the fake cock. It's large, and ribbed, and the mere sight of it makes your thighs squeeze together.

"Like what you see?"

"Yeah," you whisper, looking at her.

She grins, her hands tangling themselves into your hair, pulling you forward. Your lips crash into hers, and she pulls away, her hands tugging your head backward.

"How do you want to do this, pretty girl?"

"I-I don't know," you stammer, flustered.

She chuckles, releasing her hold on your hair. "Lay back down."

You follow her orders, laying back against the pillows.

"Spread your legs," she commands, her tone firm.

You do as she says, your pussy aching. She positions herself in front of you, and leans forward, her lips brushing against your ear.

"Ready?"

"Yes," you sigh, wrapping your arms around her again.

She guides the dildo into you, and the tip teases your entrance, the cool silicone sending shivers through you. She pushes into you, and you gasp, the ribbed surface scraping against your walls.

"Is this okay?"

"Yeah," you moan, squeezing her.

She hums and begins to thrust, hard, the silicone stretching you open.

"Fuck," you cry, digging your nails into her back. Her mouth reaches your neck, sucking, and biting, the sensations overwhelming.

She picks up the pace, your bed squeaking in response, and your hips buck, the pleasure building.

"Oh god, oh fuck," you whine, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

"So beautiful," she murmurs, her voice strained.

"Bada, please, faster," you beg, your muscles tensing up. 

"Fuck," she hisses, her pace quickening.

"Yes, yes," you pant, the coil in your stomach tightening.

"You gonna come, baby?"

"Yes, fuck, I'm so close," you moan, her words pushing you closer.

"That's it, come for me," she groans, her thrusts getting sloppier.

"Fuck, Bada," you whine, and you break, the orgasm consuming you. You scream as you ride the waves of ecstasy, her name tumbling from your lips. You cling to her, shaking, the intensity nearly blinding.

"Fuck," you whisper, the euphoria fading, and exhaustion taking over.

"That's it, good girl," she whispers, slowing her thrusts.

You let go, sinking into the bed, your mind hazy. She pulls out of you, and removes the strap-on, tossing it onto the floor. She lays down beside you, and you snuggle into her, your head resting on her chest.

"Fuck," you mutter, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"That was fun," she says, her tone teasing.

"Yeah," you sigh, nuzzling closer.

She strokes your hair, her fingers soothing.

"We should get some rest," she says, her voice low.

"Mhm," you hum, your eyes closing.

You feel her place a kiss on the top of your head, and a smile forms on your face. You drift off, a grin still on your face, and a certain someone's heartbeat the last thing you hear.

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Bada was nowhere to be seen. After you woke up to an empty bed, you searched your house, convinced she was playing a prank on you. No trace of her, her clothes, her bag. You tried to call her, but her phone was turned off. It was as if she'd vanished into thin air.

And so, there you sat, in your apartment, where you slept with her, alone, wondering if you hallucinated the whole thing. Maybe, the stress of working at Justjerk, the pressure of living up to your expectations had finally gotten to you, and caused a nervous breakdown. But, no. She was there, she was real, and she'd given you the best night of your life. The best week of your life. So, where was she?

As the days dragged on, your heart grew heavy. Your calls went unanswered, texts left on read. You didn't even see her at work. The other teachers at Justjerk asked around about her, but the only answer everyone had was that she'd called in sick. You were worried, confused, and mostly hurt. What had happened? Did she regret it, and that was why she disappeared?

In addition to that, your deadline was approaching. People seemed convinced enough that you two were dating at this point, but it probably didn't look good to show up to the Valentine's Day party without your supposed girlfriend. 

You're sitting at home, silently wallowing next to Hoyeon, who is lying on your couch after coming over to your house to edit because of her noisy neighbors. While you're aimlessly shifting your oatmeal around in its bowl, you hear her slam her laptop shut with an exhale. 

"Y/n, is everything okay?" she asks, her tone concerned 

"Yeah, I'm fine," you say.

She shifts on the couch. "Really? Cause it doesn't seem like it."

"It's nothing," you shrug, pushing the bowl away.

"Come on, you can talk to me."

"I just-," you start, before pausing.

"Take your time," she says, her voice gentle.

"I think something's wrong with Bada," you say, quietly.

"Isn’t she sick?"

"I don’t know. I don’t think so. I actually haven't seen or heard from her since, uh, last week. And she won't answer my calls or texts."

"Huh, that's weird. Why?"

"I-I don't know. She just up and left. We had sex, and the next morning, she was gone. Like she'd never been there," you confess, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"Hey," Hoyeon says, reaching over and rubbing your shoulder. 

"I'm sorry. I'm just-,"

"It's okay. You're allowed to feel this way. I mean, who does that to their girlfriend? That's horrible," Hoyeon huffs, a look of indignance crossing her features.

You cough. "We're not-we're not really dating. Well, I think we aren't," you admit. 

She stops her ministrations. "What do you mean?"

"We-uh, pretended to date. To win the contest."

She blinks, processing this in silence. Then, she lets out a loud guffaw, the force causing her to slip off the couch and land on the floor.

"What's so funny?" you ask in disbelief. 

"You-you are so ridiculous," she manages, her body shaking with laughter.

"Ridiculous? Why?"

"Do-do you not realize that the two of you have been pining over each other since the day you started at the studio?"

"Wh-what? No. We have not," you insist.

"Yes, you have," she giggles, wiping a tear from her eye.

"How could you tell?"

"It's so obvious! Listen, I don't know what kind of weird situationship you guys have gotten into but I don't think anyone is pretending to like anyone, here."

"But she left me!" you argue, exasperated.

"Maybe she was being stupid. Or embarrassed. Who knows? But, she definitely has a thing for you. She's been bothering the videographers forever asking for you. Were you the one who suggested you fake date?"

You blink. "No.”

She laughs again, picking herself up off the floor. "Exactly. Now, have you told her how you really feel?"

"What? No."

"Then, go do that! That's probably why she ran for the hills. Just go to her house and confess."

"I-okay. You're right," you say, standing up.

"Damn straight I'm right. Now, go get your woman," she grins, ushering you towards the door.

You give her a smile, and step outside, a new sense of confidence flowing through you. What were you so afraid of anyway? She wouldn't have done all that she did if she didn't care about you, right? You needed to find her, and tell her. Tell her everything.

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After driving to a random neighborhood and being hit with the realization that you had no idea where Bada lived, you receive a text from Hoyeon just in time with an address.

The sun was just beginning to set, and the sky was a beautiful gradient of blue, pink, and purple. You drive for a bit, eventually making your way to a more residential area, until you find yourself parked outside of an apartment complex.

You exit your car and make your way inside. When you arrive at her unit, the door opens before you can even knock.

"Oh, y/n, hi," Badi says, her voice raspy, her eyes wide. 

She looks unlike herself. Her hair is unkempt, her skin paler than usual. Her clothes are rumpled and her eyes are red, like she's been awake for days.

"Hi, are you okay?" you ask, worried.

"I've been better," she shrugs, looking away.

"Can I come in?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, sure."

She steps aside and you enter. The interior is what you'd expect from her; tidy, and simple.

"Are you hungry?" she offers, gesturing towards her kitchen.

"No, I'm good. Thanks."

"Okay."

You stand in the middle of her living room, the tension growing by the second.

"I've been trying to reach you," you start, tentatively.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, my phone's dead," she lies.

"Really? Because, the first few times I called, it rang," you say, crossing your arms.

She sighs, and walks over to the couch, flopping down. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, burying her face in her hands.

"Sorry? For what? Leaving me alone in bed, with no explanation, not answering my calls or texts for the past week, and lying to my face?"

"I didn't mean to-,"

"Why'd you run?"

"Because I was scared," she says, looking up.

"Of what?"

"This," she admits, gesturing between the two of you.

"You're not scared of anything," you scoff.

"I'm scared of you, y/n."

"Me? Why would you be scared of me?"

"Because I've liked you ever since the day you walked into the studio. I wasn't lying when I said I think you're amazing. And then I didn't want to ruin the friendship that we built."

"So, you pretend to be my girlfriend, sleep with me, and then leave without a word?"

"I'm sorry. I wasn’t initially planning on doing things this way. But you brought up the fake-dating and I thought maybe if we pretended, that'd be enough. It wasn't, and I let my feelings get  ahead of me. And, I'm sorry," she confesses, her gaze dropping.

You review that first meeting you had in the dance studio. For the first time, you realize that Bada actually didn’t suggest fake-dating you. You did. She just proposed that you approach things romantically, rather than platonically. Which could have easily been her attempt at asking you out. 

Whoops. 

You exhale slowly, sitting down next to her. "You know, it's funny. I was coming over here to tell you the same thing. You're really special to me. And, I didn't know how to express that for real. So, I thought, if I was in a fake relationship with you, then it would be easier to do that. Guess, I was wrong too," you say, smiling sadly.

"So, does that mean-,"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, Bada, I like you."

"Oh," she says, smiling, looking away again. 

You bite down on your lip. "So, what are we gonna do now?"

She fully turns toward you, a hopeful gleam in her eyes. "I guess, we can start over. If you want. Go on a real date?"

"Sure," you reply, a warmth blossoming in your chest.

"Cool," she says, her expression brightening.

"Cool," you echo, the two of you grinning, staring at each other like idiots.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please," you whisper, and she leans forward, her lips capturing yours.  You close your eyes, sinking into her touch, the worries, and anxiety of the past week disappearing. Who would've thought that a silly team-building exercise within your company would have ended up leading to this? You almost wanted to ask Bada to pinch you, but, the feeling of her hands cupping your cheeks, and the taste of her mouth, was enough to reassure you that this was real-that the whole thing had been real the entire time. And now that you knew it was, you couldn't wait to explore it further, and discover more about the beautiful woman next to you, who has stolen your heart.

Or, maybe you should give that credit to Cupid. After all, the Cupid Project turned out to be way more successful than you, or Youngj, could've ever imagined.

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Not. 

"How did we lose?!" You nearly screech, watching Hoyeon and Howl stand in the middle of the room with a check in their hands. 

Bada stares at them with a frown. "I don't get it either. Isn't Hoyeon a lesbian?"

Youngj appears out of thin air, sliding into your line of sight. More accurately, it is his bright red fuzzy sweater with pink hearts that captures your eye. "Irrelevant to the contest. Remember, this project was not meant to encourage new workplace relationships."

"But—"

"Nope," he pops the 'p', "You two are very cute, but you lost because you two idiots were already in love with each other, and were just too stupid to admit it. You didn't even need to be a part of the cupid project."

You groan.

"On the bright side, we have free heart-shaped sugar cookies in the corner. Congratulations, Y/n and Bada, on a job well done. Please don't break up, because I do not want to deal with any workplace drama. Goodbye." He disappears again, leaving the two of you staring at the ground.

You guess you were gonna have to say goodbye to that camera, as well. 

Bada turns to you, offering a small smile. "Are you okay?"

You shrug. "It's alright. I didn't need the money anyway. I got something much better out of this whole thing."

She blushes, her cheeks matching the color of her plain red sweatshirt. "Ew."

"Oh shut up," you say, swatting her arm with a laugh.

She rubs her arm, her bottom lip jutting out.

You sigh, pulling her into a hug. She buries her face in your neck, humming. "Well, I guess I don't need to give you the gift I got you for today, then."

"Gift? Wait, what?" You say, shoving her away in shock.

She bursts into laughter, raising a bag that she's been holding silently behind her back. "Of course. I couldn't not get my girlfriend something for Valentine's Day. I've been hiding it the whole time. Here."

You grab the bag, opening it. You pull the gift out of the bag, and a soft gasp leaves your mouth. 

It's the camera.

[yuzurins]

# to tell you the truth

12 — meeting, number three?

smau masterlist ∗ previous chapter ∗ next chapter

“chigiri, you’re late.” 

you tap your foot impatiently as the person in question (who also happens to be project leader) quickly runs up to you. 

he splutters out a quick apology as he catches his breath. “i’m really sorry! my class was held back longer than i expected.” 

sighing, you uncross your arms and go over to help hold the project stuff he was carrying. 

chigiri looks at you with pleading eyes. “please don’t be mad.”

“it’s fine, just tell me–” you quickly glance over to the person standing beside you. “i mean us, ahead of time if you’re going to run late.”

he grins and does a quick bow. “yeah, sorry!”

“let’s go.”  you nod back, before turning and walking in the direction of the campus library, leaving the other two behind. 

chigiri gives a look to rin, as if to question him “what happened?”, but much to his disappointment, rin returns the same look back.

“so?” the redhead starts.

“nothing happened.” rin rolls his eyes. “she came here, glared at me, and then we just waited for you.”

“you waited in silence for 15 minutes??”

“yes.” rin replies, but he doesn’t make eye contact. chigiri notices this but lets it off when he notices you leaving the building. 

“suspicious.” he raises a brow. “but let’s go before we get left behind!” 

rin picks up one of the bags that chigiri had brought and motions for him to go first. 

“how chivalrous of you.” 

“shut up.”

though the tension was high at first, it became less awkward faster than anyone had originally expected it to be. as top students, work ethic had a bigger influence than past grudges, and you weren’t going to let all your previous hard work go to waste. before you knew it, you actually forgot you were working with the itoshi rin, the one guy who can ruin your mood in a split second. 

but you can’t lie, seeing rin’s talent for art made you feel envious; he really was good at everything (though you would never admit that).

“you know, i think we actually make a pretty good team.”

you blink. “what?” 

“i mean, look at how productive we’ve been!” lightheartedly, chigiri laughs, without any fear of the potential hole he’s about to dig himself into by starting this conversation. “it looks like we might actually finish this today.”

seeing as how relaxed the he was, you reluctantly put a smile on and decide to humour him. “yeah, we should totally do this again.” 

“what-“ rin almost chokes on his water in response to your (meaningless) joke, which surprises you as you expected only a scoff from the boy. however, it seems like hes the dense one here, because he for one can not tell when the slightest tone of sarcasm is being used.

on the other hand, someone does take advantage of your sarcasm. “oh? i’ll take you up on that!”

you glare at the red haired boy, but to no avail are you able to get him to evoke his proposal. “i thought you said we might be able to finish this today…?”  

chigiri raises his brows and smiles. “we still have to decorate!”

he’s really pushing it.

a sigh barely escapes your lips before he follows up in attempt to ease your growing irritation. you couldn’t help it, after all, chigiri’s making an obvious attempt to get you to spend more time with rin. 

“well i mean, it’s early anyways. i think we can get this over with today.” though just barely noticeable, you notice him starting to sulk, and you just slightly begin to feel bad for him.

“whatever.” you close your eyes. “can’t say i’m opposed.” 

chigiri’s face starts to light up, and he jumps out of his seat, a bit too eagerly. “really!?”

he’s excited, you’re not too sure why, but that all ends as you tell him, sternly, “except since you said so, we aren’t leaving until we do finish.”

dejected, he slowly falls back into his seat. “everything?”

“everything.”

a light chuckle comes out of the boy sitting across chigiri. you nearly miss it, but it’s too memorable for you to not notice; as if your ears are accustomed to this sound from hearing it more often than you’d like to remember.

your eyes shoot towards the direction of the laugh, and rin freezes from all the sudden attention. he realizes quickly that your gaze is pressing for an answer, but in all honesty, he himself doesn’t even know how to respond. 

“what?” he splutters. “there was something in my throat.”

you squint your eyes at him, unconvinced. “just so you know, ‘desperate for grades’ me and ‘regular’ me are not the same.” 

“am i supposed to feel threatened by that?” he questions, amusement growing in his tone.

“yes.” you reply immediately. “in case, you know, you think i actually tolerate you now or something.” 

“i’m not delusional.”

you raise a brow. “you sure about that?”

there’s a pause before another word is spoken. you notice the slight shift in his demeanour as you watch rin process your words, hastily open his mouth after. but instead of uttering a rude remark, he closes his mouth and looks away, clenching his fist. 

confused, you look towards chigiri, but he’s as clueless as you are.

the productive atmosphere soils, and the awkward tension that inevitably trails you and rin around returns once more. 

it’s only the sounds of typing, writing, and your wondering thoughts that fill the study room.

why was he getting offended after a joke that he started himself? was it something you said? was it how you looked at him? did he get self conscious because it’s true? or offended because you were extremely off? you wouldn’t know. 

you don’t understand rin at all, and after hearing such from not just rin, but reo as well, you’re well aware that that’s a fact. 

“so,” chigiri speaks up after what feels like a millennia. “how much research do we have left? can we start decorating the display?” 

“i’m practically done, did you bring the stuff?” 

he nods, walking over to take all the arts supplies out of the giant bag he brought. 

“rin, how about you, are you ready?” chigiri asks, but all he gets back in response is an irritated glare. 

a frown adorns your face as you pity chigiri for having to deal with rin’s childish attitude due to your rivalry with the latter. it made you feel responsible for brightening up the atmosphere, even if it wasn’t your problem at all that rin couldn’t handle a joke. “it’s fine, we can start without him.”

but the response you had believed to be the most harmless one (which was avoiding the problem), turned out to be the worst one yet. 

rin slams the papers he was holding down onto the table beside his laptop. he lets out a deep sigh and turns to look at the two of you. “no. i’m not.”

“‘kay,” chigiri starts, before slowly sitting down and flashing you a quick glance of alarm. “i’ll look over everything again, just let us know when you’re done.”

this won’t do. 

you absolutely hated the fact that rin was being a selfish prick right now, but despite your opposition, it would be too much for chigiri to handle this guy alone. which is how you came to the conclusion that it was time to bring out the fabricated extroverted version of yourself deliberately prepared to deal with awkward situations with strangers. you just had to mentally prepare to delude yourself by erasing every single interaction you had shared with rin, and all the feelings of resentment you held towards him. easy… right?

it was going to be a long, long, day.

notes: I AM SO SORRY FOR THE SHITTY CHAPTER T_T i just wnated to lyk that y/n is an extremely unreliable narrator and that everything written in their perspective is only what they deduce from the environment around them!!!!!! please enjoy and i will be definitely doing better with the smau posts instead of written chapters lMFOA

pairing ∗ itoshi rin x f!reader

synopsis — all you wanted was a peaceful and productive uni life, but despite your pleas, your plans start crumbling when the star of the football team, itoshi rin, begins to beat you in every aspect possible. as you confront the inevitable, what happens when you uncover secrets behind an unforgettable event from the past?

taglist 1/2 ∗ send an ask / comment to be added or removed

@kitorin @rinsque @jleijl @rintosei @strawberrypockybox @beanxiv @ode2rin @h4nman @hanmastattoos @kaitfae @idk-bro-gay @piichuu @wishiknewwhatiwasdoingwithmylife @invictax @chaosinanutshell @exatse @kirameki-kumo @xoxojisu @mellozhi @certaindreampost @limerence-lu @nutsinspector @kawaii-angelanne @rroxii @saesins @anngelllla @anurst @y-sabell-a @hellothere9597 @evilenchantresss @msameikanevaeh @saesofficialwife @reiners-milkbiddies @f1yh1gh @celioderso @amenial @wooasecret @kascar-chronicle @izonoi @biaonww @blissblossom @sereniteav @1lovestrawberrymilk @hearts4itoshi @yeojeolmi @arxliana @janbannan @leeyzhuo @kiritokunuwu @geombyu @jiaspoon @yunxbin @p3achiee (if your name is in bold it means i can't tag you)

[ihopesocomic]

As a non-trans person with a trans male brother I usually take those things very personal due to the people that have disrespected and called my brother transphobic slurs,both me and my brother used to be fans of the lion king and generally the lion king based media (like formerly my pride), we've both gotten over that phase ,I don't consider myself part of any fandom at all but it was a really big part of my life and I follow this comic's updates because it brings me a strange kind of nostalgia if you know what I mean. It honestly breaks my heart to learn that the creator of My Pride is transphobic, my brother especially used to interact with the MP (And tlk) community on his first years of being openly trans and I remember him telling me they make him feel accepted and that even helped him gain confidence to tell our parents who also accepted it ^^. I really hope more young teenagers discover your comic so they can have a somewhat similar experience and also feel like they have a place somewhere in this shitty world we live in , because in my opinion that's what I Hope So does really well. While it's very similar,it's far better from My Pride ,takes it's own direction with the plot and has amazing characters. Can't wait for the next chapters

I'm very sorry to hear about your brother's experiences. He certainly deserves better. Good on you for being an A+ sibling and being there for him. <33

And yeah, that's pretty much how me and Cat started out. While I wasn't as stoked about MP vs. COTW (mainly bc I'm more of a doggo/woof series person... ironically for somebody writing a lion comic lol), we both felt the show could still go places. Then, things took a nosedive with the velocity of a jet plane around episode 4/5. Especially where Hover was concerned.

Anyway, we began to make the AU that would lead to IHS just as a healing moment between the pair of us. So hardly the 'spite project' people try and paint it as, we were just disappointed and decided to make our own thing. A thing we would've personally wanted My Pride to be.

We don't even consider this comic to be super duper popular (not that we care for that anyway: never underestimate the comfort of online anonymity) but we're still blown away by how much people love it and feel appreciated by it. We certainly appreciate y'all in the same way and for sticking with us this far. c: - RJ

[kirihoon]

READER WHO CRIES WHEN THEY'RE NOT TAKEN SERIOUSLY like katsuki chuckling at reader getting annoyed/upset at something he did and they cryyy 🥺

This is my first ask! omg, so exciting. I'll try my best.

Bakugou Katsuki laughing at you.

You've had an awful day. In fact, you've been having a lot of awful days lately. You just got a job after years of working your ass off at uni. You were so excited. It's your first job! Your first step into the real world! Yeah, you really set yourself up for disappointment.

Since you were new, no one cared for what you had to say. They would dismiss you or act like you didn't exist. Who cares about your opinion on the project? Who would give a shit about your ideas for improvement? Just go get us some coffee, newbie.

You were heartbroken to say the least. It's been about a month of this and you were running out of optimism. You kept looking for silver linings when they finally turned gray.

As you enter the apartment you share with your boyfriend, you sigh. Taking off your shoes and sitting at the coffee table. You open your laptop and look at the new design for the building that your team was trying to get approved.

Despite the shit you go through, you can't help but love your job. You've always had a passion for architecture and design. You could envision it in your eyes and the endless ideas float in your mind.

"Hey, brat, you seem busy." you don't even notice Katsuki enter the apartment. He stands there in casual clothes with hair slightly wet. He probably showered at the agency.

"Hi, Kats. It's just stuff for work." You try to say nonchalantly but the stress of work was weighing down on you. You haven't told Katsuki any of this because he was so proud of you for getting the job! You can't disappoint him!

"Yeah? Are you okay? You seem down." you sigh and muster up a smile.

"Of course I am, honey." You could see that he definitely does not believe it. He can read you too well. You look at him with pleading eyes and he takes the hint. Dropping the subject.

He sits by you and looks at your laptop, "What's that?"

You know what he's trying to do and you appreciate it. He knows how much you love to talk about what you do, it never fails to put a smile on your face.

"Oh! Let me tell you all about it!" You start talking about the project and there's a sparkle in your eyes as you recount all the ideas you have.

Suddenly, you hear it. Laughing. Katsuki's laughing. Directed at you.

Your heart breaks and you stop talking. Afraid your voice will crack if you do. You're frozen in your spot as your heart races and the world starts to cave in. You have a flashback to your coworkers. All of them laughing at you trying to give your ideas and present your work.

Tears well up in your eyes and your lip quivers. You can't even bother looking at him. Nobody takes you seriously. Not even him.

Were your ideas really that shitty? Shitty enough that even your boyfriend finds it laughable?

You close your laptop and abruptly stand up. You run to the bathroom still clutching your laptop to your chest. You lock it and crouch down to sob some more.

"Y/N! Baby, what's going on? What's the matter?" You hear Katsuki's shaky voice. He's panicking. You know he is. But you sob even more.

Katsuki follows you. Now there's only a door separating you.

"Baby, please, tell me what's going on. Are you hurt?" he starts asking a lot of questions. Questions that you don't have it in you to answer yet.

"Damn it, Y/n! Open the door! Please!" despite your on-going breakdown, you still appreciate Katsuki's patience. You know what he really wants to do is to blast the door away. He's had a lot of growth since you two started dating. Both of you have. You try to calm down as you recall that one of the things that made your relationship as strong as it is today is the promise of communication.

"J-just. Give me.. please, uh give me some time?" you stutter out in between sobs. Meanwhile, Katsuki sighs. There still panic in his eyes and deep worry etched on his face but at least you responded.

"Okay, I'm right out here." he sat down leaning his back against the door. He thinks about what could possible have happened.

After almost a half hour, you emerge. Katsuki is quick to stand and look at you, scanning if there are any physical injuries. He's just about to ask you again if you're okay but he's frozen. His heart aches at the redness of your puffy eyes and tear streaks down your face.

You both stand in silence. Him due to concern meanwhile you due to shame. Shame of your sudden outburst. Shame of your ideas. Shame of your shitty job. and finally, shame that even your boyfriend doesn't seem to think you're capable.

He's a hero for fuck's sake, he saves people for a living. You can't even do your office job right and here you are throwing a tantrum.

You can't help the shakiness of your voice as you finally break the deafening silence. "Do you- do.." you take a moment to try to compose yourself. "Are my ideas really that pathetic?". You look at him as tears reappear in your eyes.

Katsuki looks at you confused, he tilts his head and his eyebrows scrunch. "What?" He's wiping away the tears before he can even think about it. He caresses your cheeks as he steps closer. "What are you saying, baby? What's wrong?"

You look down and lean away from his hands. "You- you laughed. Why?" A million thoughts race in your mind. Did he finally see that you're not competent enough for a hero like him? Is he gonna break up with you? Maybe your coworkers were right about you.

Now, Katsuki's even more confused, trying to recall when he laughed. Finally he recalls the moment right before you stormed off. His gaze softens and he takes your hand in his.

"Honey, no, I wasn't laughing." Your sadness turns into anger at his words. "You're lying! I heard you! You can't gaslight your way out of this. If you have something to say, just say it!" You were shaking at this points. You didn't actually mean it. In fact, you didn't want to hear what he had to say. You weren't sure you could handle it.

"I chuckled." Now it's your turn to look confused. "Yeah, that's the fucking issue, Katsuki."

"No, no, you don't understand. I didn't laugh, i chuckled. Heck, it was even closer to a giggle." You looked at him as if he was talking nonsense. and in your mind, it really didn't make any sense.

"You were so excited, talking about your project. I always love it when you do. You're so damn passionate and determined - it's one of the reasons I liked you in the first place. You were different from the other extras." you can't stop the hint of a smile that appears on your lips which he immediately notices. He visibly relaxes a bit and smirks.

The smirk changes into a smile as he says the following "I was so proud. You were adorable as you work on your dream job. I couldn't help but smile. Apparently not only smile but also chuckle."

"Honey, I wasn't making fun of you. I promise."

Your anger dissipates and your sadness reemerges. Tears stream down your face as you hug Katsuki. You sob while venting about work, and how you feel, the imposter syndrome, just everything. He listens and rocks you back and forth trying to soothe you. He kissed the top of your head. He's never been good with words, so he does what he can do to show that he's here for you. His first instinct was actually to get mad at your coworkers and boss, but he knows now is not the time. His baby needs him. He carries you bridal style to your bedroom as you continue to cry and recount your shitty month. He orders some food and puts on your favorite movie and he hugs and kisses you, offering you a few encouraging words.

Weeks later he tells you to quit your job. He pulled some strings and now you're working on a brand new building. All from scratch. An amazing and high-tech building for the newly formed DynaRiot Agency. You both celebrate and you go to work as soon as you can. After all, DynaMight only settles for the best.

yeah, idk anything abt architecture, im sorry. not proofread. umm, hope you like it! im not rly good with the comfort thing so this is the best i could do haha. weird ending i know.

[nientedal]

Is it worth watching Megamind rules? I know I’m not the target, but I’m curious yet also really really nervous. I know it’s for a younger audience but I’m still very on the fence and nervous. Also, love your writing

Omg, thank you, and thank you also for asking and yes yes yes 100% it's worth watching! It got crapped on by a bunch of people who decided based on the trailer alone that it was going to suck (how fun, a movie about a guy who everyone decided would be bad despite not knowing him got a spinoff show that...everyone decided would be bad despite not watching it, lol), so there's a lot of hate out there for it. I'm assuming you've caught wind of some of that, and that's why you're nervous? But for what it's worth, I was staring at the screen like :D basically the whole time.

Some more specific notes below the cut, but the tl;dr is please do give it a chance, if you can find the time. A G-rated direct-to-stream spinoff show wasn't what a lot of people were hoping for, and there were some folks who watched it and didn't care for it. But from a writing and storytelling standpoint, I think it is genuinely good! If you go in expecting a cute kids' show with some silly jokes and social misfits finding their way forward together, and keep an open mind, I don't think you'll be disappointed-- in fact I think you may be pleasantly surprised.

Just a gentle heads-up on some stuff because I'm not sure what you've heard about the show yet, and I'm also not sure what your existing expectations are!

The show was given a shoestring budget and not a lot of time to go from writers' room to final product, and yes, there are places where you can tell. But that was always going to be the case-- Dreamworks was absolutely not going to be spending big bucks on a franchise they've barely even acknowledged in more than a decade-- and it wasn't the fault of the people making the show. And even with the low budget, I think the animation is still genuinely solid, especially in later episodes! The people who worked on it really did a great job with what they were given.

And the writing!!! Holy shit!!! My skin is clear my crops are watered etc. The original writers handled this project and they absolutely delivered. Megamind & Roxanne's whole Thing progresses and grows and blooms in a really sweet and realistic way. Roxanne & Chum have a great dynamic. (Minion's name needed to be changed for legal reasons, but the writers worked that into the show and I gotta say, as a trans person, it was really lovely to see everyone else respond to "actually, because of [spoiler], my name is Chum now" with "oh! cool okay" and just keep rolling. I love that that was modeled for kids.) The character development is tangible; we get to watch Megamind really grow as a person and come into his own over the course of the series. And the new characters are really fun-- I genuinely enjoyed Keiko and everyone else.

Even if you never watch it (it's OK if you don't!) please just know: this was not a cash grab; Megamind Rules was made by people who truly cared about this world and these characters.

It's also worth noting that Megamind Versus the Doom Syndicate (the extended pilot) recaps a bunch of the same lessons as the original movie, so it can feel a little bit "...didn't we JUST do this??" but I'm pretty sure that was because Dreamworks didn't want to rely on kids to watch a 13 year old movie rated PG instead of G in order to get context. So like, I get it. And it's still cute! But it did mean I was nervous about what the rest of the series would be like until I was laughing my ass off halfway through Episode 2. If you're nervous, you can probably skip MMVtDS.

But yeah. I truly do think Megamind Rules is worth watching, and I've been so sad about the reception it received. Thank you so much for asking about it, and not just deciding it sucks and moving on. I appreciate you.

[skyward-floored]

The cat’s out of the bag chapter 4

More kitty wind yet again! Starting to get into real plot now :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52017334/chapters/141645076

Chapter 3 | Next

���———————————————————

Once Wind and Twilight returned from the woods, the Links finally got moving, heading in the direction Wild had pointed out.

Wind felt his bad mood fade as they walked along, the pine trees giving way fully to birch, more sunlight visible with their thinner branches. It really was a nice day, and though he was still annoyed at Twilight, Wind felt much happier as he trotted along with the rest of the heroes.

He wished they’d take smaller steps though. Keeping up with anyone but Four was exhausting.

Wind confidently raised his head whenever someone looked back at him though, intent on appearing steady. He could keep up perfectly fine, he wasn’t going to slow down the group.

Sky might need them.

Wind spent a while focusing intently on keeping up, not tripping on any roots or rocks that the heroes walked over, and staying in the center of the group where he’d ended up, trotting near Wild’s heels. It wasn’t obvious at first, but Wind eventually realized that the others had moved to walk a little closer to where he was, generally keeping him company as he padded along.

Wind was suspicious, but he didn’t mind too much.

...Even if it felt a little like they were keeping him from wandering off.

“So... I have to admit, I’ve never really seen a cat before,” Wild said after a long period of silence, looking down at Wind.

“Really? Never?” Legend asked from beside him, and Wild shrugged.

“I’ve only seen one or two,” Time added from nearby. “They’re just not very common in some places, it seems.”

“Yeah. I’ve never seen them except in Twi’s world. I didn’t even know they were a thing until then,” Wild said.

“They are, believe me,” Four said a little grimly, shaking his head and making his earring sway. “Cats can be... a bit on the vicious side, in my experience.”

“Really?” Wild asked in interest, and Wind perked his ears, curious. Four rolled up his sleeve when everyone looked at him, and Wind had to crane his neck to see him show off a large circular scar near his elbow, one that looked like it came from a large tooth.

“Really.”

“How big are the cats in your time?!” Twilight asked in shock as he stared at Four’s arm, eyes wide with disbelief.

Four pulled his sleeve down, and smiled for some reason. “Depends who you ask. Most folks I know would say ‘huge’.”

“I fought a huge cat once,” Legend hummed, idly rubbing his shoulder. “It could curl into a spiked ball and had fangs as long as my forearm.”

“Aw Vet, you have all the fun.”

Wind felt at his teeth with his tongue while the conversation continued on, feeling a pang of disappointment. How come I didn’t get fangs as long as Legend’s forearm?

I seriously got the short end of the stick with this form...

Something ran along Wind’s head, snapping him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Legend had stopped walking and kneeled down to pet him.

“Holy crap Champ you weren’t kidding, he’s so fluffy,” Legend said in delighted astonishment, and Wind twitched his tail, not quite sure if he appreciated the petting (even though it... did feel kinda nice).

“Er, can I..?” Hyrule asked, and Wind nodded, letting Hyrule run a few fingers along his back. “Wow, you’re really soft.”

“He’s a cute one alright,” Twilight said with a smile from a few paces away, and Wind gave him a foul look, still a bit grumpy from earlier.

Twilight’s smile faltered and he looked away as a curl of guilt twisted through Wind. It was quickly interrupted by someone scratching him behind the ears though, and Wind relaxed at the feel of it, his grumpy thoughts fleeing. He leaned into the touch as a purr escaped his throat, and heard someone laugh.

Okay, the petting was pretty nice.

“Hey, we’ve got Sky and a dark lizard to find, you can pet Wind later,” Warriors called from a good distance in front of them, and Wind heard at least two awws as the petting stopped, and they quickly resumed walking.

The group began moving closer to their normal pace, and Wind had to scurry to keep up, his legs beginning to ache at the unfamiliar motions and muscles he was using. He ignored it though, and kept going, purposely walking extra fast when Twilight glanced back to check on him.

He had to get used to walking more with the others when they’d first met anyway, this was just like that. The only difference was he didn’t have shoes to get blisters from now.

Though I guess my paws could get blisters anyway... but there’s nothing rubbing them, so hopefully not. I guess cats can’t really wear shoes, huh. Though maybe they could? You’d have to get some that were the right size though. I wonder if Twilight’s ever seen a cat with shoes?

...His Hyrule is definitely weird enough for people to do that for their pets...

Wind was so caught up in his thoughts of blisters and cat shoes that he forgot to pay as close attention to where he walking, gradually veering away from the others.

And he might not have noticed for a long while, but for the fact that his next step dropped right out from under him.

Wind let out a surprised yowl as he suddenly fell down a sharp incline, scrambling to regain his footing. He didn’t succeed though, and heard a shout behind him as he slid, tumbling down the slope and wincing as he hit a few rocks.

Wind finally rolled to a stop at the bottom, a little dizzy from all the spinning he’d just done, and shook his head, a puff of dust billowing out from his fur.

“Sailor! Are you alright?!”

Wind meowed back a somewhat dazed affirmative, getting to his feet and making sure he wasn’t actually hurt. He felt more sore then before, but he was overall not too worse for wear.

Maybe cat shoes wouldn’t be a bad idea after all, he thought dizzily, sitting back down.

Footsteps approached, and Wind looked up as the rest of the Links came down the slope, barely even an obstacle for them due to their sizes. Legend reached Wind first and kneeled beside him, giving him a quick look over before brushing some dirt off his head.

“Good grief sailor, don’t do that,” he sighed, and Wind curled his tail around himself, sure he’d be blushing if he was physically capable of it. It wasn’t on purpose!

“You’re okay?” Twilight asked next, his eyes wide and face creased with anxiety, and Wind nodded, looking at his paws.

He couldn’t believe he’d tripped. Now Twilight and the others probably wouldn’t let him walk anymore today, if at all, and he’d have to let them carry him around like some sort of useless fluffy pillow—

“Hey, look at what Wind found!”

Wind looked down at where Wild was pointing, and saw that he’d landed in what must have been a dried-up creek bed, dust and scraggly weeds in the bottom.

With a handful of bootprints clearly visible in the dirt right beside his tail.

“Those aren’t from us,” Hyrule said as he kneeled down to look at them. “You think..?”

“They might be Sky’s,” Four finished, and Wind felt hope flicker to life in his chest as they all studied the marks in the dirt. Maybe tripping down here wasn’t so bad after all!

“They look about the right size...” Warriors said thoughtfully.

“Who else would even be out in the middle of the woods like us? It’s got to be him!” Wild declared, then cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled. “HEY SKY! YELL IF YOU CAN HEAR ME!”

Wind tilted his head and pricked his ears, but there was no response to Wild’s shout.

“Guess he can’t,” Legend said flatly, rubbing his ear.

“Maybe Wind can tell if they’re Sky’s prints or not,” Twilight said, much to Wind’s surprise, and kneeled down next to him. “Cats have good noses. Can you see if you can make out Sky’s scent?”

Wind blinked, and gave a sort of shrug, looking at the prints.

“Maybe?” he meowed, well aware Twilight had no clue what he’d said. But Twilight must have caught on to his uncertainty, and he hummed, putting a hand on his chin.

“Right, you’ve been a cat for less then a day... uh... try to think about Sky, and what he smells like,” Twilight instructed. “Once you’ve got that in your head, take in all the smells around you, and filter out the ones you know aren’t right, like the dirt and grass. Breathe deep. Focus.”

Wind nodded, missing the look Warriors gave Twilight, and began to sniff around the prints, closing his eyes in order to focus better. That all didn’t sound too hard.

The first thing Wind could smell was the dirt, a little damp and earthy. Next to that he could smell grass, fresh and green, and a few small flowers, along with the still-present whiff of the ocean in the distance. There was another smell aside from those though, one more complicated.

This one had some perfumed notes like the flowers, and hints of a smell kind of like the trees nearby... wood maybe? But there was also something sharp, like the sea before a storm. It matched the scent Wind had pictured for Sky, and he focused in on it, tail going up in excitement.

Looked like these were Sky’s prints!

“You got it?” Twilight asked, and Wind meowed an affirmative, trying to find where Sky’s scent was strongest. It was hard to just focus on one scent, but Wind did his best.

Twilight followed around behind him as he sniffed along, and the other Links remained mostly quiet while he worked, watching to see what would happen. Wind’s aching body and feet got swept to the back of his mind while he followed the scent, intent on what he was doing, and he diligently followed his nose.

Come on Sky, please be here somewhere...

Wind abruptly stopped as the smell he’d been following got interrupted, another smell overtaking it. It was much more pungent than Sky’s scent, and Wind wrinkled his muzzle as it invaded his nose. He twitched his tail and sniffed harder, trying to find where the first smell had gone, but only finding more of the new musky scent.

Then Wind stopped, looking down at the large clawed footprint he’d just stepped in.

“Monsters,” Twilight said as he studied the mark, tapping a hand on his chin. “But no more sign of Sky?”

Wind meowed in the negative, and lightly bapped Twilight’s hand, guiding him over to another bootprint he’d just noticed next to the clawed mark. It was joined by several others, and they trailed off deeper into the woods alongside the clawed prints.

The others gathered around, and they looked at the marks in silence for a moment, faces worried.

“So Sky... and monsters,” Hyrule frowned, and Twilight nodded.

“Looks like it.”

“But was Sky following the monsters? Or were they following him?” Warriors mused. “Could you tell which scent was stronger, Wind?”

Wind gave another sort-of shrug, looking back at the prints. The monster smell was stronger than Sky’s, but he couldn’t tell if that was because of what it was, or if it just really was more recent.

Wolfie would be able to tell, he thought gloomily.

“It looks like he might’ve been in a hurry, these are pretty well spaced out,” Legend said, studying the further away tracks.

“So Sky was traveling quickly, either following monsters, or trying to get away from them,” Time surmised, his knees cracking as he lowered himself to look. “Good job Sailor,” he said as he ran a light hand over Wind’s head. Wind let out a happy purr at the motion, the compliment warming him. “This should help greatly with finding our missing knight of Skyloft.”

“So long as something else doesn’t find him first,” Warriors said grimly, and he straightened, everyone looking out at where the footprints led.

Somehow the forest ahead seemed a lot less pleasant to Wind.

“Come on. The sooner we find Sky and what’s leaving these tracks, the better,” Legend said with a frown.

The group quickly set off again, and the triumph from finding the tracks faded as Wind was sharply reminded of his sore body. The short break he’d gotten hadn’t helped much, and his legs were heavy and aching, the rest of him sore from his tumblr. The pads on his feet stung with every step, tiny rocks and dirt finding their way in between his toes, but Wind stubbornly ignored the ache.

Sky might be in trouble, and that mattered way more than sore feet, or aching paws, or even Wind’s annoyance at being a cat.

Sore paws weren’t going to stop him.

Despite his determination to keep up, Wind gradually drifted farther and farther behind the other Links, his feet dragging the longer they went. Everyone was moving much faster than before, and Sky’s tracks meandered up and down hills and over rocks and past all sorts of spots that were hard for an already-tired cat to follow.

And unfortunately for Wind, it wasn’t much longer before Twilight noticed his dragging paws and drooping whiskers.

Wind felt himself get scooped into the air for the second time today, and he mewed, frowning tiredly up at Twilight and ignoring how much better he felt not being on his paws anymore.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I said you could walk as long as you told us when you got tired, and you’re barely even walking straight,” Twilight said pointedly, and Wind struggled a moment longer, then went limp, letting Twilight place him on his shoulder without further fuss.

He really was tired, as much as he hated to admit it. And Twilight’s pelt was a nice place to relax for a bit.

...Plus hey, he could see pretty far from up here. That was a plus.

Wind set his head on his paws with a breathy sigh, enjoying a view that wasn’t just feet and legs. That was another downside of being so small now— Wind couldn’t see barely anything, even when he craned his neck, and he hadn’t quite managed jumping just yet. So the view from Twilight’s shoulder was much appreciated.

Even if he would rather be walking.

“Hey... Sailor,” Twilight said after a minute, voice quiet. “I’m sorry about earlier. I know you’re having a hard time. I’m not trying to be pushy, I just want you to be careful.”

“I’ve been being careful,” Wind meowed quietly, knowing Twilight couldn’t understand, but hoping he’d get the gist. “You’re being overprotective.”

Twilight looked over at him, a serious look on his face. “I still remember the first day I got transformed. It was against my will, and I made a lot of mistakes, ones I could have avoided if I’d had someone who knew what it was like being transformed into an animal. I just want to make sure you don’t make the same ones.”

Wind blinked, thinking about that for a moment.

Then he sighed, stretching out a paw and lightly bapping Twilight’s nose. “Okay, I get it.” He’d try listening to Twilight a little more.

But if he kept being so crazily overprotective, all deals were off.

“Thanks Sailor,” Twilight said with a smile, and Wind flicked an ear in response, getting comfy on his shoulder.

No problem, he sighed to himself, and nestled down into Twilight’s pelt, intent on resting up so he could keep going as soon as possible.

Just don’t forget I’m a hero too, Twilight.

[ladylooch]

A Visit To Manchester - [Lucie x Connor]

Summary: Connor takes a day trip home to tell his parent his surprising news.

Word count: 2.7k

Connor puts his SUV in park in the driveway of his parents Manchester, Massachusettes home. It is a massive, sprawling mansion in the town his dad grew up in. Connor smiles, thinking about his Grandpa Randy and the legacy he left behind for them in this town. He also helped his dad build pieces of this house and everytime Connor comes here, he feels his presence. Connor blows out a sigh, hoping his grandpa will help give him the strength to disappoint his dad.

Other sons may be excited to tell their dad about becoming a grandparent. Connor doesn’t feel that way. He knows his dad is going to be upset. It’s been itching at his brain since he and Lucie reconciled a few weeks ago. He wishes she was here. She had planned to be, but she woke up too sick and nauseous to sit in the car for the 4 hour drive down the East Coast.

So he is in this alone. Although truthfully, he thinks that is probably for the best, something he didn’t want to tell Lucie about. She’s already feeling enough guilt and worry about being a young mother. He doesn’t want to add worries about his family not liking her to that. Plus, Connor knows that isn’t the case. It’s just… complicated. Like this whole having a baby thing has been since basically conception.

Inside the garage, Connor’s dad, Miles, tinkers around his tool bench amidst his mom’s latest restoration project. When Connor pops his door open, his dad turns towards the driveway. He puts his hands on his hips, raising his eyebrows in a “what are you doing here?” way.

“Hey.” Connor calls with a wave before adjusting his hat on his head. He didn’t have time to shower before he left. He was too busy holding Lucie’s hair back from her mouth over the toilet. Fuck, he wants to get back to her as soon as possible. He wants to make sure she is okay. He thought he was protective over her before, but nothing matches the feelings he has about Lucie now that she is carrying his child.

The wind whistles through the circular driveway as Connor shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket to join his dad in the garage. He pulls them out again to clasp his dad into a hug.

“Good to see you, buddy. No Lucie today?”

“Ah, she’s not feeling well.” Connor fills in. “She says hi though.”

“Bummer.” Miles frowns. “Mom was excited to have another artistic eye on this piece.” He motions to the sanded down wood which looks to be a dresser.

“We can send her a picture.” Connor assures, knowing that would be a welcome distraction for Lucie. “What is mom wanting to do with it?”

“Paint it bright orange.”

“Yuck.” Connor laughs with his dad, both their giggles floating to his mom, Kailey, who stands in the doorway, watching their curled heads bob in unison with their laughter.

“Lucie would understand the vision.” She insists, coming to her son. She runs a hand up his back. Connor sighs, falling down into her embrace by bending his knees. He breathes in her familiar vanilla scent mixing with the wintry sea breeze. “Hi baby.” She says, giving him one more extra squeeze. Connor reluctantly releases her, but keeps an arm around her shoulder. The three of them turn their attention back to the stripped dresser.

“You really think orange is going to get this thing sold?” Miles wonders aloud.

“Yeah, the 70s are making another comeback!”

“Yuck.” Miles looks at her, blue eyes sparkling teasingly.

“You have no vision.” She quips back, narrowing her eyes playfully. “I bet this would look great in your bedroom, baby.” She directs at Connor.

“No.” Connor says immediately. “Not if it’s going to be orange.”

“You know, I had a kid so they would always agree with me. Now you’re siding with your dad?”

“Gotta throw him a bone once and a while.” Connor grins down at her. She groans, pressing her nose into his chest to hide her smile then walking off to run her fingers along the wood top, likely checking for places she may need to sand over again. “I have to finish this today. Dad and I are going to pick up this old crib tomorrow. I’m restoring it for your cousin, Caitlin. She’s having another boy.”

“Ah.” I fill in, swallowing hard. I wonder if that’s what Lucie and I are having. But truthfully, I don’t care either way. I just want a healthy baby- half me and half Luc.

“She keeps insisting she wants white, but I saw her eyeing a light blue one I re-did a few months ago that is currently in the shop. So, I’ll probably do that.”

“Nice.” Connor nods along, feeling his nerves begin to expand in his chest. He swallows hard, digging his hands back into his pockets. They ball into fists as he folds his bottom lip between his teeth. Silence settles between them and he takes the opportunity to look at both his parents. They seem to be in a good enough mood.

“Uh.” Connor clears his throat of the anxious mucus coating it. “I actually have something to tell you both.” His heart pounds in his chest. “Well, Lucie and I do.” He corrects himself. This isn’t only his news. It’s hers too. Fuck, he wishes she was here.

Across from him, his mom tilts her head expectantly while his dad’s eyebrows furrow. He knows. If his mom does, she doesn’t show it. But she’s always been the calmer one.

“We are having a baby.” Connor exhales the words. A heavy silence fills the garage for a beat and Connor immediately has to fill it. “In November.” His dad’s nose, bent from years of fighting in the NHL, scrunches.

“Lucie is pregnant?” He repeats back to the garage.

“Yeah. It’s early, but that’s why she isn’t here. She’s been pretty sick.” Connor rubs the back of his neck, eyes floating between his parents. His mom has a slow smile forming over her face and wetness collecting along her lower lids. Connor smiles back at her.

“Wow.” His dad scoffs. “We are so-”

“Happy for you!” His mom darts in. She rushes around the big bench, throwing herself into her son for a huge hug. She sways them back and forth, squeezing his cheek to hers. He looks at his dad over her small shoulder, who is definitely not pleased with the news.

“Thanks, mama.”

“Ah! I’m so excited! Screw Caitlin. I’m gonna get this crib for you and Luc.”

“That would be really nice.” He says, trying to look at her and not at the angry scowl across his dad’s face.

“So…” His dad starts, making Connor’s mom tense next to him.

“Miles.” She grumbles in warning.

“I tell you at the start of this season that you need to really dig deep and focus. Which you don’t do, ending up in a trade, and then to put a cherry on top, you knock up your girlfriend? Who is what? Barely 22 and hasn’t finished college yet.”

“Yeah. I did it just to piss you off.” Connor snaps back, annoyed at his condescending tone.

“Miles. Lay off.” Kailey warns.

“No, we raised him better than this.”

“Sure, but I guess the apple doesn’t fall that far from the tree.” Connor retorts, squaring his shoulders. Who the fuck is he to lecture him on unplanned pregnancies?

“Boys, I’m serious. Knock it off. Let’s go inside and talk about how we can support Connor and Lucie during this big milestone.” Connor and Miles stare each other down, almost daring each other to cross the line further. Kailey wisely steps between them, creating an obstacle just in case this goes sideways. Instead, Miles snorts, shaking his head before he walks off towards the backyard without another word. “He’s surprised.” Kailey immediately tries to justify. Connor looks down at her with disappointed eyes. “He’ll have to process in his time, babe.”

“I love Lucie, Mom.” Connor says, not understanding his dad’s difficulty in grasping this as a good thing.

“I know, hon. She is wonderful and good to you. We love her.” She nods and stops talking, like a few more words were behind that sentence. Eventually she sighs and says, “Did you go to an ultrasound yet?”

“Yeah.” Connor smiles widely, digging his phone out of his pocket.

They stand in the garage, flipping through the pictures he and Lucie have electronically and the video of a tiny blob wiggling in black and white.

“Ugh, this brings me back!” She chuckles, rubbing at his back. “Seeing you on that ultrasound was indescribable. So much joy and being scared shitless.” She shakes her head. “Your dad looked like he was gonna pull all those pretty curls out of his head.”

“I felt like the whole world shifted when the heartbeat played through the room.”

“Are you going to find out the gender?”

“Lucie is the mother of my child. Yeah, we are finding out.” He chuckles.

“What does she think it is?”

“Girl.”

“Oooo, the Woods aren’t really known for girls.” She murmurs, biting her lip. “But I’m with whatever Lucie thinks.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Are you hungry? I made some brownies last night. Your dad ate half of them but there are still some left.” Connor trails behind her as she continues to talk. She does her best to take his mind off his dad’s reaction and sudden escape from the conversation.

But it becomes harder and harder the longer his dad remains absent from the conversation. After a few hours, Connor hits the bathroom, then texts Lucie after washing his hands.

How you doing?

Not good. Are you on your way back yet?

I’ll head out soon. I’m sorry you’re having a rough day, baby. Can I grab anything on my way home?

Um some crackers? Maybe gatorade.

You got it. I love you.

We love you too.

Connor smiles at her mention of we. He inhales heavily, looking at himself in the mirror. He looks tired, slightly older than he remembers looking with dark bags under his eyes. Lucie hasn’t been sleeping well and when she’s up, he is up. Longer, dark stubble coats his jaw more than usual and he kinda sees what his dad’s concerns may have been. Lucie has been pregnant for 9 weeks and he is already feeling it- physically, mentally, and emotionally. He can’t imagine how she feels, having some of the same emotions with a lot more of the physical burden. With that in mind, he rolls his shoulders back, perking himself up for the four hour drive back to her.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out. Get back to Luc.” He says to his mom, heading to the fridge to grab a Red Bull.

“Okay, baby. Thank you for coming to see us. Keep me in the loop on how things are going, okay? I texted Lucie, but have her call me when she’s feeling up to it.”

“Will do.” He says, then wraps his arms around her, squeezing tight.

Connor stuffs his feet back into his sneakers in the mudroom, then pulls open the garage door while taking another hearty swig of the energy drink. He glances to the right, seeing his dad back to tinkering at the tool bench. Clearly that’s more important than being inside with him and his mom.

Dick.

His dad glances over at him, but doesn’t offer any words to Connor as he heads towards his car. Connor doesn’t bother saying goodbye either.

As Connor pulls out of the driveway, his dad’s identical blue eyes sweep over him with a disappointed tint. It lodges in Connor’s chest, burning him up with acid and the realization that he let his dad down. Connor swallows hard, turning the wheel with the heel of his hand then speeding off back to New York where his girl needs him.

He drums his thumb on the steering wheel, feeling his chest tighten and his throat begins to close up. By the time he hits I-95, he can barely see the road from his tears.

Connor may barely be a father, and he sure as hell doesn’t have all the answers, but he would never let his kid drive away feeling like he feels right now.

With an angry jab at the display on his center console, he calls his dad. The ring shrills through the surrounding speakers, making Connor’s blood pressure soar.

“Con-”

“I’ve got something to say to you and I’m man enough to say it, so shut up and listen.” He brings both hands on the leather steering wheel, white knuckling it. “This is a surprise to us too. We fucked up, okay. We fucking know that. We don’t need a lecture about it. And you’re going to be a grandparent, whether you like it or not. But I’m telling you right now, don’t bother stepping into that role until you’re fucking ready to. My kid deserves better than whatever the hell that was back there.”

“Buddy, I’m just-”

“I don’t give a shit what you are. This isn’t about you, dad. This is about us. We are starting our family. One that we really want. The love of my life is having my baby. She’s bringing life into this world for us, and if you can’t support that, then you need to stay away from us until you can show up the way that we need you to. The way that I need you to.” His voice waivers with that last sentence.

“I love you. I’m here for you.” His dad responds tightly. Connor can tell he is trying not to cry.

The line goes quiet and Connor does too. He swallows thickly, taking a hand off the wheel to wipe his cheeks.

“Babies change everything.” Miles says quietly. “You flipped my whole world upside down when we had you. I don’t know if you’re ready for that.” Connor narrows his eyes, huffing his exhale.

“I don’t have a choice. I have to be. Maybe you could learn something from that.” Connor snaps, then clicks end.

The whole drive back to New York, Connor’s body stays tense. By the time he pulls into a parking spot, his whole body aches. He unlocks the front door, immediately confronted with the adorable sight of Lucie sleeping, curled up on the couch, hugging herself. He smiles, going over to kiss her cheek and gently moving her hair off her face. She doesn’t stir, passed out from utter exhaustion. Connor glances over the back of the couch, seeing Lio making something for himself at the kitchen stove.

“Oh fuck.” Connor whines as he opens the fridge for a beer. He sees the blue gatorade sitting mostly empty on the shelf next to the Budweiser, reminding him of the missed stop he forgot on the way home.

“I got her more. And the crackers. She couldn’t wait.” Lio fills in, pausing Connor’s turn back towards the door.

“Thanks, man.” Connor sighs, popping the top off his beer bottle and flicking it towards the trash. It bounces off the side. Connor ignores it, too damn tired to walk over there and pick it up.

“How did it go?”

Connor shoots an annoyed look at Lio over the amber bottle of beer.

“That good huh?” Lio jokes. “To be fair, I’m not sure the conversation with my dad would go any better.”

“Yeah, but you’re you. And who the fuck would that kid be with?” Connor snorts. “It’s not the same. Lucie is going to be my wife.” Lio smiles, a genuinely sweet smile that has Connor smiling too.

“Damn, I knew this would happen. You two would meet and fall in love and change the whole world. That kid is so damn lucky to have you two as its parents.”

Just like that, Lio’s words soothe everything that happened today. Because he is right.

This kid hit the jackpot.

Connor is going to make sure they know that, everyday that he is on this Earth, getting to be their dad

Read Lucie and Connor here.

[solarmorrigan]

Steve crochets Eddie a scarf part 1, part 2, part 3, Ao3

-

Steve has heard of knitting circles, of course, but he’d never expected to be a part of one.

(Of course, since it’s just him, Joyce, and El, and none of them knit, it’s really more of a crocheting triangle – except for that one time Murray Bauman joined them; he knits, because of course he does, and that had made it into more of a mixed yarncraft square, but that doesn’t really roll off the tongue.)

He also hadn’t expected that the true purpose of a knitting circle (crocheting triangle) is not to better facilitate any kind of fiber crafting, but mostly to spend time snacking and gossiping.

He can’t say he really minds.

“So, Steve,” Joyce says, looking up from the baby blanket she’s been working on (one of her coworkers, Margey, is pregnant; she’s a nice young woman whose boyfriend doesn’t deserve her, and who very much hopes she’s having a girl, even though her boyfriend wants a son, so Joyce is making the blanket optimistically—or vindictively—pink. Steve loves that he knows all of this), “I never did ask – did that someone like their scarf?”

“Oh. Um.” He has no idea how to answer that. Eddie had definitely liked the scarf, had liked it enough to give Steve a gift in return—a very thoughtful one, actually—and then Steve had gone and ruined it and probably scared Eddie away forever, and maybe now Eddie wanted nothing to do with the scarf?

Steve really has no idea.

He’s probably been silent for too long, though.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure they did. Thanks again for your help.”

Steve follows this statement with an incredibly nonchalant gulp of coffee, which is about when El turns to him and asks, “Who is ‘someone’? Did you finish a scarf for someone other than Eddie?”

Coffee is not air, and it does not belong in Steve’s lungs. Luckily, he only inhales a little bit of it, and manages to cough it out before Joyce feels the need to reach over and thump him on the back.

“No. Nope, just… just Eddie’s,” Steve rasps, decidedly not looking at the knowing smile that’s tucked itself up in the corners of Joyce’s mouth.

“Oh. Well, then he definitely likes it,” El says. “He’s wearing it every time I see him.”

“That sounds like a good sign,” Joyce says leadingly.

“Yeah, maybe.” Steve shrugs and focuses on his new project (Henderson’s scarf; it’s thinner than Eddie’s but broader, so it can be folded over, and he’s making it with colorful, variegated yarn).

“Are you going to ask him out?” Joyce asks.

Steve wonders if it’s possible to drown himself in his cup of coffee.

It doesn’t matter either way; El’s attention has already snapped back to him, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, and she’d probably just find a way to drag him back from the dead.

“Are you?” El demands with a grin.

Abandoning his crochet hook, Steve reaches up to shove his fingers under his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose (he’s still getting used to the glasses; he doesn’t like wearing them, but they do help with his migraines, and Joyce makes disappointed Mom faces at him when he doesn’t wear them, so he at least brings them to the crochet triangle). “Probably not.”

He can hear the frown in El’s voice as she asks, “Why not?”

“Pretty sure I blew my chances there,” Steve sighs.

“What happened?” Joyce asks; when Steve lets his glasses fall back into place to chance a glance in her direction, she looks sympathetic.

It’s been about a week since Steve sent Eddie running from his house, and Steve hasn’t really had the opportunity to talk to anyone about it yet. Robin would usually be the first (and probably only) person to hear about it, but he hasn’t quite been ready for what he knows will be an entirely honest, but not entirely gentle, assessment of the situation.

El and Joyce are likely to be kinder, but it also feels a little weird to talk to them about his love life. Joyce has been more of a mother to him than his own ever was, and even though El is rapidly approaching sixteen, she’s still like nothing so much as a kid sister. Do people talk about this sort of thing with family members? Steve has no idea.

Whatever.

“He, uh. He actually brought me a gift,” Steve finally says, finding great interest in the view out the window behind Joyce. “Like, to say thank you for the scarf.”

Joyce nods encouragingly.

“What was it?” El asks.

“A, uh. A Hellfire shirt. For his little nerd club. Except he said that it’s our nerd club now because I’m a member, even though I don’t play.” Steve shrugs. “I guess because I do other stuff for them.”

“That sounds nice, Steve,” Joyce says, and Steve nods.

“It was. It is! It was really nice, and I wanted to show him I appreciated it, so I gave him a hug, right? And that was nice, too, and he returned it, and he – like, he seemed interested,” Steve’s on a roll now, there’s no stopping the car crash of words coming out of his mouth, of all the habits he had to pick up from Robin– “so, y’know, when he said he hoped he got the right size shirt, I said maybe I should try it on to make sure, and he said that was a good idea, and—I would like to reiterate, he really seemed interested—so I just, y’know, kinda took off my shirt right there. In front of him. To try the new one on. And I might’ve thrown the other one at him. And he left very quickly after that.”

Of all the reactions Steve had expected, Joyce laughing at him hadn’t been high on the list, but that’s exactly what she does. So hard she nearly falls out of her chair.

Steve watches her in open-mouthed shock for a moment before exclaiming, “It’s not funny!”

“No, no, no, I’m sorry!” Joyce gasps in between peals of laughter, flapping a hand at him. “Of course it isn’t!”

This draws a giggle out of El, and Steve turns to point a finger at her. “Don’t you start, too.”

El slaps a hand over her mouth, but it’s very clear that she, too, is laughing.

“I seriously think I scared him off!” Steve insists. “He ran out of there so fast he took my sweater with him. I liked that sweater.”

This only makes Joyce laugh harder, and Steve has no choice but to sit back on the couch with a huff and wait for the mirth to die out.

“Okay,” Joyce breathes, running a thumb under her eyes to catch the tears while El does her best to bite down on her smile. “Okay, I’m sorry, I’m good now.”

Steve grumbles, picking his scarf back up, but he can’t say that he’s really that displeased; it’s nice, after everything, to hear everyone still laugh (and even if he’d prefer it not be at his expense, he doesn’t mind now and then).

“Do you want my advice, sweetie?” Joyce asks.

“Since I’m providing entertainment, it only seems fair,” Steve says, and Joyce snorts.

“Okay.” She abandons her chair and comes to perch on the arm of the sofa beside Steve, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a one-armed hug that he doesn’t resist in the slightest. “You probably did come on a little strong.”

Steve sags a little against Joyce, and she’s quick to continue. “But! I really don’t think you ruined your chances. Maybe he just wasn’t expecting such an… immediate reaction, or maybe he was worried that he was misreading the situation–”

“How can you misread someone taking their shirt off?”

“People convince themselves of all sorts of things where love is involved,” Joyce says, rubbing Steve’s shoulder, and Steve mentally swaps out ‘love’ for ‘feelings,’ because he can’t think about love right now (not again, not yet). “But Eddie seems like a pretty straightforward kind of guy; I’m sure he’d have told you if he wasn’t interested. You should just be honest with him. Talk to him.”

“But that’s not how it works,” El pipes up from Steve’s other side.

Steve and Joyce both look over, and El sets down the rainbow beanie she’s been working on (it has an absolutely excessive pompom on top, and Steve really hopes she’s planning to make Mike wear it), preparing to explain.

“In the movies,” El says earnestly, “that is not how it works. No one just talks about it, that’s… weird.”

Steve grins. El’s latest endeavor in pop culture education has been romcoms; she’s been devouring the entire section at Family Video, and Steve has taken great pleasure in offering her recommendations (Robin, meanwhile, insists he’s poisoning El’s mind with pre-packaged, heteronormative trash; Steve says Robin is just jealous that El doesn’t like her film recommendations; Robin tells Steve to go crochet a doily; then they get into an argument over the purpose of doilies—Robin insists they’re purely decorative, but Steve is certain they must have some kind of use—and forget about their original argument entirely).

“She has a point,” Steve says. “I can’t just go up to Eddie like, ‘Hey, sorry for sorta stripping in front of you, are we still cool, man?’ That would be really awkward.”

Joyce gives him a dry look. “Well you don’t have to phrase it like that.”

“Exactly!” Steve snaps his fingers, pointing at Joyce. “I can still talk to him, I just have to… you know, talk around it. Play it cool.”

El nods sagely. “Play it cool,” she echoes.

“See? El’s got me.” Steve grins, gesturing back at El for good measure.

“Okay.” Joyce holds her hands up, as if in surrender. “Apparently you guys know best. I’ll just take my advice and my happy relationship and go back to my chair.”

Steve shrugs. “Well, yeah, your method worked on Hopper, but I’m not trying to get with Hopper.”

“Ew.” El reaches over and gives Steve a shove. Joyce has a hand over her eyes, clearly trying not to laugh again.

“It’ll be fine, you’ll see,” Steve insists, and Joyce gives an affirmative hum that doesn’t really sound like she believes him at all.

But she will see. He’s just going to play it cool, Steve decides, as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and goes back to crocheting a scarf for a mouthy fifteen-year-old he has trouble saying ‘no’ to.

He’s totally cool.

-

Steve realizes as the phone starts ringing that maybe he should have come up with a plan before dialing Eddie’s number.

The thing is, Steve isn’t really much of a planner; he has an idea, he follows through with the idea. He can deal with the consequences of the idea when they arise.

Unfortunately, the consequence of his current idea is Eddie answering the phone, and it has just arisen.

“Hello?”

Steve blanks.

Greeting. He should greet Eddie.

“Hey, Eddie.”

Nice.

“Steve. Hey.” Eddie doesn’t sound displeased, but maybe a little higher pitched than normal. Nervous? Maybe that’s just the connection.

There is a moment of awkward silence in which neither of them says anything because Steve is the one who called and he hasn’t told Eddie what he called for, mostly because his idea had pretty much boiled down to ‘call Eddie, feel out the situation, but don’t talk about the thing.’

It’s Eddie who finally speaks, sounding more like himself when he asks, “So, what can I do for you?”

“Oh, I was just calling to… check,” Steve pauses, briefly, thinking frantically, “what kind of snacks you wanted. For Friday.”

“…Friday.”

Steve’s stomach drops. Did Eddie actually want nothing to do with him now, or had he just forgotten?

“Yeah. You guys were planning to play over at my place this week. That’s… still a thing, right?”

“Right! Yes, yeah, it’s – yeah.” Steve can almost see Eddie nodding on the other end. “I just wasn’t sure you’d… want to.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” Steve frowns; they are perilously close to talking about it.

“Uh. No reason, I guess? Didn’t want to make assumptions on your behalf,” Eddie says. “Y’know, sweep in and totally take over your house when you’re not feeling it, and then you’re standing there giving us invaders your best mom glare.”

Steve rolls his eyes, fond despite himself. “I do not have a mom glare,” he says (Eddie isn’t going to listen, just like no one else listens when he tries to tell them the same thing). “Anyway, how about you just tell me what you want to eat, huh?”

“Oh, you know me, I’m not picky,” Eddie says breezily. ���I’ll eat whatever you want to feed me.”

“You know that means you’re not allowed to complain about what I pick, right?” Steve says, banishing the thought of actually feeding something to Eddie (but– flirting. Flirting is a good sign, right?).

“Not a peep. Cross my heart,” Eddie says, and Steve can’t help but smile in response to the way he’s certain Eddie must also be smiling right now.

“Uh huh,” Steve hums, as if he doesn’t believe Eddie (and he doesn’t, really, because Eddie is pickier than he makes himself out to be, and he will complain if only to be a nuisance), and he wants to leave it there, leave it on that light note of banter, but– he also wants to be sure. “Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want me to wear the shirt?”

There’s a beat of silence. “Well, it is standard club attire, Steve,” Eddie teases, and Steve gives in to a little huff of frustration.

He bites the bullet, decides to be just a little more direct. “Sure, but– do you want me to wear it?”

“I–” Eddie starts, stops, falls silent. Steve holds his breath. Then, finally: “Yeah. I really do.”

Steve sighs out into a grin. “Great. I’ll, uh. I’ll see you Friday, then?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, “I’ll see you Friday.”

Steve’s pretty sure he hasn’t had fucking butterflies in his stomach since maybe his junior year of high school, but damn if he doesn’t get them now, just thinking about the end of the week.

(He’s probably beyond pretending he’s anything like cool about this, but he’s surprisingly okay with that.)

-

Friday evening brings the promised onslaught of invaders, and Steve greets them at the door, the foyer filling with the squeaking of snow-wet shoes and the extended rustling of winter coats being shucked and shoved into the closet.

It’s the kids who come in first—just Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will tonight—chattering at each other and at Steve and making themselves right at home, as usual, but it’s the older Hellfire members who clock Steve’s shirt first. He can see the moment Jeff sets eyes on it, elbowing Gareth and nodding at Steve; Gareth snickers, which alerts Grant, who looks at Steve and rolls his eyes.

Steve raises his eyebrows at the three of them, but they don’t seem inclined to say anything. They don’t even seem that surprised.

Dustin, however, speaks up almost immediately upon noticing.

“Steve, what are you wearing?”

“Clothes,” Steve retorts. “What are you wearing?”

Mike, now alerted to Steve’s choice in attire, looks utterly affronted. “Where the hell did you get that?” he demands.

“It was a gift, Wheeler, don’t burst a blood vessel,” Steve says, which does not seem to go a long way at all in getting the kid to chill out.

“The t-shirts are for Hellfire members only,” Mike says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Which is how we know Steve is a member,” Eddie says from the doorway, where he’s finally made it in from parking the van, his jacket still zipped and the scarf Steve made for him wrapped around his neck.

“He’s not, though!” Mike insists. “He doesn’t even play!”

Eddie hums, stepping fully into the foyer and shutting the door behind himself before making a show of looking around the room.

“Tell me, Wheeler: whose house are we in right now?”

Mike stares at Eddie, brows raised, not quite able to tell if he’s being asked a trick question or not. “Steve’s?”

“And who probably has snacks waiting in the kitchen for our ravenous horde?” Eddie goes on.

This time, Mike sighs. “Steve, but–”

Eddie cuts in. “And who gives those of you without the ability to legally operate a motor vehicle rides to and from club meetings whenever your little hearts desire?”

“Technically, we rode with Jeff and Grant tonight,” Dustin pipes up.

“Other club members! An excellent point, Henderson!” Eddie points to Dustin in agreement, who mostly looks baffled, if a little amused. “It’s a service we provide for each other.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but–”

“Now tell me, Wheeler,” Eddie rolls right over Mike’s protest, slinging an arm across his shoulders. “Who founded the Hellfire Club?”

“You did,” Mike says, glancing uncertainly at Eddie.

“And who ultimately decides whether or not to grant membership to another person?”

“…You do.”

“And who, pray tell, has the ability to make tonight’s session very challenging for our party’s gallant paladin?” Eddie smiles, sharply saccharine in the face of Mike’s sour frown, and reaches up to pat Mike on the cheek when he doesn’t answer. “And don’t you forget it.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Couldn’t you have picked a better-fitting shirt, though?” Lucas asks Steve.

“It was a gift,” Steve reiterates. “And shut up, this fits fine.”

“Right,” Dustin drawls, looking from Steve to Eddie with narrow-eyed suspicion.

“I didn’t realize my fashion choices were that interesting,” Steve scoffs. “Are you guys gonna play tonight, or not? Some of you do still have a curfew, and I’m not fielding angry parent calls again.”

This gets everyone back in motion, the group trickling out of the foyer and through the living area to get to the dining room. Gareth is the last one to go, bouncing his eyebrows and grinning at Eddie, who gives him an entirely ineffectual shove and sends him laughing out of the room.

And then it’s just Eddie and Steve.

“I really do like the shirt,” Steve says, hoping to fill the silence before it curdles awkwardly between them. “It’s comfy.”

Eddie smiles, different from the sharp one he’d pulled out a moment ago, now amused and fond and much more real. “It’s a good look for you,” he says, looking Steve up and down, and– that.

That had been the reaction Steve had been hoping for when he’d first put it on.

Maybe he had come on a little too strong at first. Maybe Eddie had just needed time. But whatever had happened, Eddie seems to be fully on board now.

“It’s definitely growing on me,” Steve says. “But I’m kind of getting the feeling that you like it more.”

“Guilty,” Eddie admits, with remarkably little guilt.

But when he steps forward, closing in on Steve’s space, the hand he raises is hesitant. Steve doesn’t move, tries very hard to broadcast that he is very alright with this, and smiles when Eddie finally brushes his fingers along the line of Steve’s collar.

“What can I say? I like seeing a little me on you,” Eddie says.

Steve reaches up to tug at the scarf, still tied around Eddie’s neck. “I think I know the feeling,” he says. “But you should let me take these for you. You have to be melting by now.”

“We don’t all run hot, Harrington,” Eddie grumbles, even as he’s unwrapping the scarf. “I even dressed in an extra layer tonight.”

Steve is about to ask Eddie what the hell he’s talking about when Eddie unzips his jacket in one decisive motion and reveals– Steve’s sweater. The one Eddie had accidentally(?) walked out with last week.

He’s wearing it under his jacket.

It looks good on him, a bright splash of blue-green where there are usually only more subdued shades, and Steve can only take Eddie’s jacket with automatically curling fingers as it’s pressed into his hand.

“I’ve been wondering if you were going to bring that back,” Steve finally says. “It’s one of my favorites.”

There’s a moment of flusterment before Eddie smirks at Steve. “You mean you didn’t want me to keep it? You seemed so worried about how cold I’ve been,” he says. “And you did throw it at me.”

It’s Steve’s turn to flush under Eddie’s words. “Yeah, well, I didn’t expect you to run off with it.”

Eddie bites his lip. “Okay, yeah, I might’ve… panicked. A little bit,” he admits. “I wasn’t really expecting to, uh. To get what I wanted. Wasn’t sure what to do with it.”

Alright– alright, fine. Steve concedes. They might have to actually talk about it. Just a little.

“You don’t have to do anything with it. You’re not obligated,” Steve says. “But it’s there for you, whenever you want it. If you do still want it.”

Eddie’s eyes meet Steve’s, dark and sincere. “I really, really do. Didn’t mean to make you doubt.”

The silence sits softly between them this time, filled with a smiling kind of certainty. Steve isn’t particularly worried about it becoming awkward, but he finds he can’t help but tease, “So do I get my sweater back, or what?”

“Well, it is kind of warm, now that I’m inside. I guess I should give it back,” Eddie says.

He takes a step back from Steve and promptly whips the sweater off, rucking up the Hellfire shirt he’s wearing underneath and revealing a stretch of lean stomach before he pulls the hem of the t-shirt back down and tosses the sweater at Steve.

“That’s better,” Eddie declares. “I can go get the game started now.”

The teasing glint in Eddie’s eye as he turns away is all Steve needs to dump the clothes in his arms onto the side table and reach out to catch Eddie around the waist.

“Nope, not yet,” Steve says, pulling Eddie back towards him.

Eddie starts to speak, maybe to question him, probably to tease him, but Steve thinks they’ve waited long enough. With one hand still resting on Eddie’s waist, Steve brings his other up to cup his cheek, and leans in.

He can’t say who really initiates it, because Eddie meets him halfway and is kissing him back with equal fervor; he’s clearly recovered from the chill he’d been bothered by earlier, because his lips are warm and inviting against Steve’s.

They don’t stop until they stumble into the hall table, their surroundings having momentarily melted away into unimportant background fuzz.

“Figured I should really thank you for the shirt,” Steve barely pulls away enough to murmur against Eddie’s growing smile. “I thought about crocheting you a hat, but I think this is probably better.”

“Definitely better. But you know, I’ll have to reciprocate in kind.” Eddie shakes his head with the fakest look of regret Steve’s ever seen. “Shit, Steve, if I keep thanking you and you keep thanking me, we might be at this a while.”

Steve laughs, a small breath of amusement as he tilts his head to greet Eddie’s next kiss. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

[Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue | Ao3]

-

First, I’d like to thank @theysherobinbuckley for putting the idea of Steve, Joyce, and El having a crochet circle into my head. It was something I never knew I needed until I saw their tags

Second: Tag List. I hope I caught everyone, I am very sorry if I missed you, though!

  @infinitetrashbag, @unclewaynemunson, @thehumblefigtree, @courtjestermunson, @tillystealeaves, @darkwitchoferie, @phantypurple, @ceaselessly-watching, @annabell257, @momotonescreaming, @silentiumdelirium, @gamerdano, @panicatthediaz, @bejeweledbaby, @strawberryspence, @stevesbipanic, @henderdads @cuips-not-cute, @silversnaffles, @thegingervulcan, @cr0w-culture, @gamerdano, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @mightbeasleep, @tpwkweasley7, @sharkruption, @bye-zai, @paperbackribs, @stitchinaride, @cookies-and-doom, @maya-custodios-dionach, @twopenguinsunderatrenchcoat, @freddykicksasses, @flustratedcas, @marivictal

[2rats1gogh]

House of the dragon 2x02 very much redeemed the awful execution of Blood and Cheese in 2x01

The dialogue in this new episode was absolutely phenomenal. The scene of Aegon going batshit crazy after the death of his son was fantastic. I literally had chills. Tom carried the whole episode. I felt his rage with every atom of my body.

That whole sequence of the council meeting was 10/10. The way different people react to this awful tragedy, the way Alicent is heartbroken and feels guilty (although I wish they went in the direction of Helaena feeling guilty instead but whatever), Otto being very rational about everything, Aegon just being full of rage and despair. GORGEOUS.

I was a little disappointed with the way Aemond didn’t seem to care all that much. The scene in the brothel was alright, but it seemed off to me that he seemed to care more about the fact that the assassins were sent by Daemon to kill him, rather than grieving the death of his nephew. He literally showed more emotions when Luke died which is weird💀💀

I also wasn’t the biggest fan of the show’s excessive focus on Alicole. Don’t get me wrong but it just seems so out of character for Alicent to hook up with Criston soon after the death of her grandson, instead of comforting Helaena and Aegon who are grieving the loss of their child. That scene at the end was very weird and kind of unnecessary (again).

The dialogue between Rhaenyra and Daemon was surprisingly very good and emotional, and I am saying this as a team green supporter. I was even surprised that I started feeling bad for Rhaenyra. She has such a shitty husband, it’s actually pretty sad. At least she is starting to acknowledge it now, that she is more grown up and mature. Oh and I fucking hate Daemon, can’t wait to see him die. What a disgusting pathetic fucking asshole.

Their dialogue was fantastic, and felt super realistic, believable, and easy to follow and understanding. I loved it!!

The funeral scene… Chills. Literal, actual fucking chills. When they showed Jaehaerys’ little corpse with his head sewed back to his neck… My heart stopped for a moment here 😭😭😭😭 And Otto organizing that whole thing just to exploit the grief of Alicent and Helaena. Jesus. I don’t even know how to feel. It makes sense, and it was a good political move, but my heart breaks for Helaena especially.

At least it was shown that she is beloved by the smallfolk, which is accurate. Sure, she may not have needed that and preferred to grieve alone, but at least these people weren’t interrupting the funeral, like it seemed in the trailer.

Aegon punishing Blood was 1000/10 although I wish we had seen more of this. And him killing all the ratcathers… well, sad, of course, but can we really blame a grieving father? At least Cheese is dead. Although Otto was right, this is definitely gonna backfire.

Criston… Yeah, um. I guess that’s just how it is. Bro is projecting so hard onto everyone, jeez. Not a big fan of that, but it is what it is, and it’s kind of book accurate if i’m not misremembering anything?

Arryk and Erryk death scene was devastatingly sad tho. Absolutely horrible.

Overall, I’d say the execution of Blood and Cheese was horrible IMO, the way the consequences of it were shown was an easy 10/10. No complaints here.

[s0ftl3]

Yesss I can just imagine schlatt being restrained, your head in his lap while teds between your thighs overstimming you until your crying, (which is one of schlatts favourite things to do to you), making direct eye contact with him. just saying things like "see she was so good t'night, you couldn't've been where I am if you weren't such a bratty fuck." And like look at you while your barely even there and say "think he deserves to cum baby?" And you can't form sentences so ted just goes "awh. No answer? You don't think he should?"

(this was kind of a rant so I'm sorry if this makes no sense) -✨

OKAY NOW YOURE FLUSTERING ME CAUSE LIKE?????

idk abt you but I’m big into impact play and part of me (projecting at its finest) that thinks schlatt is to.

Imagine schlatt just will not stop being a fucking brat it’s doesn’t even have to be towards you. They’re filming the pod during chuckle week and schlatt changes their usual set up where the guest sits in the middle so he can sit next to ted.

And much to teds pleasure dismay Schlatt’s got his hand grabbing his dick through his pants. And much to schlatts disappointment Ted’s not reacting sheerly out of spite. When they’re done filing however, Ted’s got him pulled into the nearest bathroom or private area asking what the fuck he was thinking.

“God you’re such a fucking slut, you need cock that fucking badly?” And schlatt can’t speak he was already hard the moment Ted grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away. When he doesn’t answer Ted slaps him, not quite hard enough to truly hurt schlatt especially because it’s not something the two of them have fully talked about, but it’s something Schlatt’s seen him do to you. And to say schlatt likes it is an understatement because he moans soooo loud.

“You would fucking like that, huh” Ted can’t help but smirk ideas flooding his head for later, for now he needs to get Schlatt’s current attitude problem under control. “On your knees you want my cock so bad you’re gonna get it.”

And Ted doesn’t hold back at all he fucks Schlatt’s throat snapping a picture to send it to you. Which results in a FaceTime call from you wanting to see your pretty boy get his face fucked. It embarasses schlatt at first but he can’t really complain because at the end of the day he’s getting g exactly what he wants.

(Whoops didn’t mean to write so much but erm yeah there you go nonnie)

[just-orbiting-you]

I find it interesting how frequently JK says something to/about jimin that could be used against jimin by antis and then jkkrs scramble to explain and try to find a different meaning to what he said. Why does everything he says need a lengthy explanation to clarify he didn't mean this or that? As soon as i saw the trailer i knew antis were going to latch on to the " i miss the members" part and Jimin saying he's a member too. And this is the beginning, Jk is going to say a lot more vague things on the show that could be used against jm. It's a pattern and I'm prepared lol. Reminds me of when he said he wanted to go to special forces in that live and jkkrs had to search up every military department to find minor differences bw his and tae's. I'm not a jkkr but I admit i enjoy watching their interactions, until JK says something like that and the haters are given new material to harass jm then I'm like yeah I can't be on board with this ship. I'm fully expecting a lot more when the episodes are released.

I personally believe you have the target on the wrong back. last week my blog was full of a discussion on whether the members act in ways to get fan attention. posting publicly to social media i think could be open for more debate but largely, i think bts have a solid few of army that isn't broken down into quadrants like fans view it (ot7s vs. solos. vs. shippers, etc.). it is hard to make a conclusive decision, since we don't know them personally, but.

i really don't think jungkook is conniving enough to plan out ways in which he can draw jimin antis out on twitter. i don't believe jungkook trying to plot the downfall of jimin. in my view, jungkook has demonstrated that him and jimin are very close and care for each other very deeply. i don't see him as someone would do such a thing.

point blank. it is the stans. not jungkook.

with all due respect, in this ask you are following the agenda pushed forward by these solos, looking for anyway to make jungkook the enemy. in the name of protecting jimin from these antis, you are doing the same to jungkook.

of course, there are stans that say things that are a lot worse. but throwing the blame on jungkook here, saying he starts the hate is just incorrect.

realistically, a comment about how he misses the members, wishing they could be here to experience this with jikook, (which EVERY SINGLE MEMBER has said in behind the scenes from solo era by the way) should not cause this much of a stir. but tkkrs will find a way to say jungkook wasn't happy while shooting this show, he was forced to do this, and he's not happy with jimin ever. do you see how the stans are projecting this narrative??

i think stan twitter and stan spaces in general have a way of poisoning the fan experience. realistically we should all just be happy that we got this show and that jikook worked hard in preparation for its release. but instead minds get plagued by how jikook's actions will have stan repercussions.

there needs to be a reframing of shipping at large, because i think it does more harm than good as we can see from your ask and anti behavior. i've largely disengaged with trying to prove ships are real and just began to appreciate jikook as a duo. and that's enough for me. yeah i'll make gay jokes and ponder it sometimes, but it isn't worth the inevitable disappointment when you realize they probably can never tell us about their relationship.

Why does everything he says need a lengthy explanation to clarify he didn't mean this or that?

you're calling direct attention to the problems that arise when you focus on the details to try and find the truth. again, i engage with this myself sometimes, i've done it on this blog. but do it enough with the wrong motivations and you drive yourself crazy. that is the space in which stans operate in.

while it's brought up, if anyone has the clip or the timestamp where jungkook said he wanted to go to special forces please let me know. because i looked it up recently and could only find an tkkr edited video where it doesn't even look like jungkook said a word.

i personally believe there's a lot more in jikook that can't be twisted in a way that doesn't look ridiculous than stuff that can be used against them in a tkkr sense. i hope you're able to find enjoyment in the show beyond the stan narratives, because i really think it will be such a comforting show to watch.