#i'm fully prepared to be wrong

[babyangelsky]

Non is the hidden character and in this essay I will—

—endeavor to make a really good case for it.

This theory is predicated on the possibility of Non still being alive so for my purposes, I'm going to take that as fact. I'm taking a few liberties in places (to varying degrees of clownery) but that central point doesn't change.

This is a long one so get comfy. Okay? Okay.

As of episode 9, we can now be reasonably certain that none of the creepy shit the boys saw was of supernatural origin. They were hallucinations induced by the drug that New/Tan had them smoke in an attempt to get them to spill their secrets about what happened to Non.

Which brings me to Por.

We know two things about Por. One, that something—or someone—lured him out of the house and two, that he saw a ninth person on the house's CCTV.

Was the ninth person a hallucination? If he hadn't been lured out of the house, I'd say maybe. Since he was, let's assume he really did see someone for a second on the cameras.

Now, whoever it was didn't just get Por out of the house. He was specifically led down a predetermined path. When he gets outside and goes to the spot where he saw the figure, he looks down and sees a trail of blood.

He follows this trail and we all know what happens next. He gets deeper into the woods, away from the safety of the house, and starts to hear noises. He turns around, sees a hooded figure following him, and gets chased into a sharpened branch.

Even though New and Phi, although to a lesser extent, are the masterminds behind this little trip to the vacation house, at this moment they are both accounted for. New is playing jenga and getting high with Top and Fluke and Phi is up on the balcony having his dick bitten by Jin. They weren't the ones who lured Por and chased him.

Non did.

What, we're meant to believe that Por just happened to hallucinate a chase that happened to lead him right into a conveniently sharpened branch? And that of all the gin joints in all the cities in all the world, he just had to walk into mine the bad luck of encountering the one branch that was at the perfect height to impale him?

Which is, coincidentally enough, the exact death scenario that Non wrote in his script?

BE SERIOUS.

The only way Por meets this exact death is if Non was the one to kill him, and that leads me to the wire that ended up decapitating poor dead Uncle Dang. A wire which I truly don't think that was meant for him.

Let's follow this line of reasoning. We know that Top and Tee took the road when they went to get help for Por on the bike. This would ultimately fail as they got a flat tire and had to go back, having themselves a hallucination a piece along the way.

At that point, there was no wire stretched across the road. Once they got back to the house, no one would come outside again until morning when they heard Uncle Dang approach on his bike. The wire could've been strung up at any point after the boys got back.

Let's say that after ensuring Por got impaled, Non stuck around to see the aftermath and saw Tee and Top on the bike. Wouldn't it make more sense then for him to have strung up the wire to prevent anyone from leaving as opposed to stopping anyone from coming in?

Because if he is following his script then...

"But Leah," I hear you ask after having humored me thus far, "How would Non even know that the boys would be at the vacation house?"

This is where I sit back down at my vanity mirror in the dressing room at the circus and start taking some liberties.

For Non to have lived, someone had to help him. I mentioned yesterday that I was hopping on the Perth helped Non train and after giving it more thought, I'm doubling down. It's not only possible that Perth helped Non, he had to have done it, and not only because I want Non to be alive so very badly.

Why would Perth and his cheekbones be on the promotional poster for the finale (BESIDE NON I MIGHT ADD) if his character weren't important to the plot? Why would he be there if his only role was to massage Uncle Joe's shoulders?

Allow me to posit a Wild Ass Theory a la @respectthepetty :

If Perth's character helped Non and Known Criminal Keng escape Uncle Joe, that means the video where they were captured getting on a bus was authentic.

But because Uncle Joe and the mafia are still a threat, they can't just go chill somewhere. They have to go on the run and into hiding somewhere they won't be found.

Somewhere like a rarely visited vacation house in the middle of the forest with no contact with the outside world.

Or, alternatively, a creepy temple near that rarely visited vacation house.

Think about it. Non had already been to that house, he's familiar with it, he knows it's empty for long stretches of time and exactly how isolated it is. A terrified teenager fearing for his life is going to want to go somewhere familiar and that house (or the temple) is the perfect place to hide.

I don't think Non went to hide there with the intention, or the hope rather, that he'd get an opportunity for revenge one day. I think he just took advantage of a situation that fell into his lap.

The boys arrived in the afternoon and shit didn't start going down until later that night. That's plenty of time to sharpen a branch, lay down a blood trail, and put on his mask and cloak.

We know all the movie props and the camera and everything were still at the house so it stands to reason that Non had access to them. And we know he had access to the house because White found the knife that was used to cut Por's arms in the closet in the kitchen. The only way that knife could've gotten there is if Non put it there.

Not just any knife, by the way. It was Non's knife, the one that he brought to the house when they came to film and then used to cut Top.

I can't say with any certainty whether Non is acting on his own or with help, but I lean more toward him acting alone. Even if he escaped with Keng, it doesn't mean Keng is still with him all this time later and besides, I much prefer to imagine that ol' boy got eaten by a tiger.

One last thing. This isn't really part of my theory, more like support for it, but when Por is agonizing on the couch, he keeps saying sorry and trying to talk about what he and the boys did three years ago. It could just be a coincidence or deathbed guilt, but I don't think it is. I think Por knows exactly who killed him and that's why he kept apologizing and trying to confess.

In conclusion:

Hope you don't mind being tagged for the DFF round up @slayerkitty ! 🙏🏼

[lizardkingeliot]

i've been avoiding leaks and spoilers like my life depends on it but just based on the promos and where the characters are right now and little things sam has said in recent interviews... i think i know how the reunion is gonna go and it's going to HURT ME GREATLY but...

it's also going to make the romance so much better in season 3. season 3 is going to be EPIC if they're doing what i suspect they're doing. season 3 is going to be genre defining queer romance and i am FOAMING AT THE MOUTH thinking about it. anyway.....

[kennyomegasweave]

I'm prepared to be completely wrong, but I was always 98% sure Mother didn't kill Fadel's ex. I've always thought he was a hired test from her that Fadel passed and this last episode strengthened my belief on that.

This got long, oops, so behind a cut it goes. lol

Like that man was sketch as hell. He was with Fadel for twoish years but didn't know what his job was? And I don't mean hitman, but even a fake job? Fadel gave him NOTHING for two years because when he said they could finally leave he was like ...why does working with your mom mean you need permission to leave and love? And I'm supposed to believe he stayed with Fadel for two years while his only explanation for work is "I work with my Mother. My Mother you don't know and won't ever meet." Like nah. That man either didn't actually like Fadel, because he didn't give a damn about his life, or he was working for Mother the whole time.

And I'm pretty sure he was working for her as a test for Fadel. His questions about what Fadel's job was and who Mother is reminded me of Style desperately trying to get Fadel to confess at the metal show. The difference between them being that we know Style wanted to know so he could tell him to not do the hit without betraying Kant, whereas his ex just wanted to know for random reasons, I guess? After two years of not caring, he just really wanted to know? When they had concrete plans to leave so it didn't matter at that point, especially when it didn't matter for TWO YEARS already? Nah.

I think Mother hired him to test if Fadel would turn on her if he had a chance to leave (and by turn on, I mean just simply telling the truth about being his Mother's hitman). I already consider it a fact that she killed the parents of three boys to make them her personal attack and guard dogs she would emotionally beat into thinking she cared for, so hiring a dude to fool her "son" for two years wouldn't be anything, especially since he was still killing her targets during it. I think once Fadel made concrete plans to leave, the ex tried to see if Fadel would spill about not only being a hitman, but being Mother's hitman. And when he still wouldn't tell that man ANYTHING, he reported it to Lily who pulled him out because Fadel's loyalty was now never going to be in question (his ex clearly wasn't his 100% because he didn't tell him about Mother and if he didn't get told despite Fadel planning to leave with him in like a day, no one would) AND he would be emotionally shut down by getting ghosted. Which would, and did, make him the perfect loyal gun for her.

Keen also fits in on this because he would know Mother hired Fadel's boyfriend and that's why he was taunting him with it. He so desperately wants to be the favorite, but he knows he's not, so he took what little hits he could get and called Fadel a fool for thinking his ex loved him. And while Keen isn't close like Bison and Fadel (though I do wonder how close they actually are because as the show goes on and we learn more, they really don't seem that close themselves, but that's for another post), he was still raised with them in Mother's Family after his parents were murdered in front of him as well. I just don't think he would taunt Fadel with a murdered ex, especially when he himself now has a secret boyfriend he wants to leave with.

Which brings me to my belief that the hitman Mother told Keen to call from two years ago is Fadel's ex. I think the plan was to play Fadel to test his loyalty and if he failed, he would be killed. Fadel didn't fail the test after being with his boyfriend for two years, so that hitman didn't kill him but he clearly wouldn't have had an issue doing it. So now she wants to bring him back to kill Fadel (and Bison) because he is compromised now (because of Style, and Bison, and even Kant) and she wants it to hurt. Which can also explain why Keen, who should be happy with this because Bison and Fadel will be out of his way, was still clearly conflicted about everything while in bed with his own secret boyfriend. Because it would be insanely cruel for Mother to bring back Fadel's ex just to have him kill him.

But what better way to make it so your "son" knows his entire second life has meant nothing and he was just a pawn manipulated, used, and discarded then having his cherished ex that abandoned him without warning after two years come back to kill him?

[huesofvioletandpurple]

my personal speculation on what Damon's secret could be is that it's something along the lines of like, Damon long ago committed the original sin that catalysed the entire killing game and then committed the additional sin of forgetting it entirely. this is based on nothing else but his snake imagery (catalysed Original Sin in the Bible) and the fact that Damon seems to think whatever his secret is, it can't be that bad. so it'd be a Gnarly twist if it turned out to be something with the magnitude of "Your Actions Caused Everything And You Will Be Haunted By What You Don't Remember"

[bylightofdawn]

Dear Star Wars Fans

It's Hot Take time with El.

I am sooooooo fucking sick of seeing these "Weh, Star Wars sucks now posts" or "Disney keeps putting out the bad stuff and is RUINING MY CHILDHOOD" posts.

It's legitimately like I'm being transported back to the '90s/early 2000s forums where endless fanboys were whinging over Lucus ruining Star Wars with the prequels. And BTW, they have not stopped in the past 20 years. They will continue to be pedantic and toxic and generally pessimistic about everything.

So to come to Tumblr and see that same mentality being shoveled about like three pounds of horseshit that cross my dash at least once a day. And well, I'm grumpy enough this afternoon to go off.

Hot Take Point One: Just because YOU don't like a show or a series doesn't mean your opinion is the majority. There is someone out there who loves the season you're proclaiming is the worst thing ever. That character you detest is someone's special blorbo and the ship you despise is someone's OTP. And that is okay; their tastes are entirely valid, and your experience is not universal. You are not a peerless bastion of flawless good taste and the supreme authority on Star Wars. 

How do I know this? Cause you're on this hellsite and you like Star Wars. 

I'm not naive enough to expect people to not bitch about and complain about things they don't like, and honestly, you're allowed to do that. I encourage you to do it. I want people to keep in the back of their minds that it's their opinion and that it's not universal. And their opinion is no better than another person's. Even someone who you think has a shitty opinion or ships something 'problematic'. If you're going to proclaim someone else has dogshit taste, I would encourage you to look into the mirror and realize someone else thinks your tastes are dogshit as well. And fuck right off with canon is the only real and valid opinion. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES DISNEY HAS CHANGED CANON? They can't make up their fucking minds; nothing is set in stone, so just enjoy what you enjoy and let other people enjoy what they want. We're all here because we supposedly love this fandom, right? I feel like people have lost sight of that point. We're supposed to love Star Wars, and it should bring us together as a fandom, not tear us apart. But that's a rant for another day.

Hot Take Point Two: Have a little appreciation and respect for the people working on these shows. Unless you are in the industry or working on said show, you probably don't understand the amount of work, effort, blood, sweat, and tears that goes into making these things. Some of these people grew up dreaming about working on a Star Wars IP. This is probably a dream come true for a lot of people working on these shows, and you're pissing all over those dreams for popularity points on the internet like this is fucking Reddit, and you're farming for upvotes. No, it's not perfect; yes, there are going to be shitty VFX and cringe as fuck dialogue. 

It's not perfect, but they do their best with what they get handed. We had a saying in my old print shop, you can only shine up a turd so much. aka you take the shit you are given and you try and make it as polished and pretty as you can but at the end of the day you're working with the shit you were given. And I'm not saying these series are criticism proof or that you're not allowed to ridicule some of the terrible bad choices made.

I will go to my grave ranting about the ridiculous batshittery of fucking jetpack jousting in Mando S3. 

Hot Take Point Three: I will also argue that there are good elements in every new Star Wars IP released by House of Mouse. Yes, even the one you hate down the cockles of your black heart. I challenge you to shut out the noise from Tumblr, the bandwagon hating on something, and go in trying to find something you enjoy in a season or an episode. Find, say, 5 things you enjoy or a character (even a cringy one) or a set piece you visually find interesting. Maybe a funny joke or even a special effect so ridiculously stupid you can't help but laugh. (I'm looking at you Ahsoka fighting god damn fighters with a lightsaber while on top of the Ghost zooming around at full cruising speed. It's so utterly preposterous I can't help but laugh and shake my head all at the same time.)

You don't have to post about it or speak about it to anyone don't worry your friends don't need to know you might secretly enjoyed something you all 'hated'. Though I would also challenge you to actually speak about it as well because...hear me out here, you might find NEW PEOPLE who enjoyed those same things you might make more friends in the fandom, shocking I know. 

But just trying to FIND a positive thing in a show will give you a slightly more balanced relationship with how you consume it. Honestly, that's just general life advice you should try and take to heart. That's a freebie from your old Auntie El there. 

It's so easy to be a negative, pedantic fan who hates what we claim to love. But by making the conscious choice to find something good in this so-called pile of shit in front of you, maybe your relationship with the IP will be a happier one. If nothing else, you'll perhaps get sparked and remember what made you love Star Wars so much in the first place. 

So yeah, keep in mind your experience is not universal, even if you hate it, respect the time and effort it took to make it and try and find what sparked joy in you in the first place when interacting with the media. 

Oh, one other thing? 20 years from now? You're prolly going to look back on these shows you hate and find yourself nostalgic and maybe even a little apologetic for how much you dogged on this stuff because there will be a whole new cycle of brand new IP people are creating where people are proclaiming THAT is the worst shit ever made and they don't make Star Wars content like they used to. 

Cause that's just the human condition, and as someone who has been in this fandom for thirty years? I've seen that cycle replayed multiple times. We love the Prequels now, but twenty years ago, everyone hated them and thought they were ruining Star Wars. It doesn't get worse, it doesn't get better; we just grow older and learn to have a new perspective and learn to interact with the fandom in different ways. 

I'm just begging you, please stop being negative, toxicly pedantic fans who just sit there tearing down everything and learn to interact with the thing you claim to love with...actual love.

[solarsyrup]

I think we have to come to terms with the fact that tes 6 is probably gonna be bad

[timothyslucy]

HOW HAVE WE NOT GOTTEN THE INTIMACY OF A CHENFORD SCENE OF TIM AND LUCY SNUGGLING IN BED WHILE HAVING AN MORE IN DEPTH DISCUSSION ABOUT HER “DAY OF DEATH” AND HOW EACH OF THEM FELT FROM THEIR POV’S ABOUT THE EVENTS OF THAT PETRIFYING DAY AND HOW IT IMPACTED THEM AND HOW IT IMPACTS THEM NOW THAT THEY’RE A COUPLE??????

[apollo-zero-one]

Singing employment paperwork be like "I, Legal Name I Don't Identify With, of not particularly sound mind nor especially able body, agree under coercion of society and so not exactly of my own volition, to give This Job all of my spoons and then some 5-7 days a week, in exchange for not enough money to move out of my parents house."

[tubercloset]

I think a lot about rereading popular books that I chose to hate because I feel like now I will be able to understand what made them so popular. But also I didn't like them in the first place

[shiroselia]

I have reached Crimson Flower ch.12, and I feel even more certain about my personal reading of Edelgard in terms of influence from the agarthans being a Big fucking part of a lot of her opinions towards Rhea in particular

The view that the nabataeans are inhuman is Inherently what the agarthans believe, and despite everything, Edelgard has been influenced by them ever since she was very, very young, you can't separate Edelgard's views entirely from the fact that she has practically been raised by the agarthans, you know, the mfers who inherently asked/helped/prompted/whatever word suits it best Nemesis to commit genocide against the nabataens

A lot of stuff Edelgard says in ch.12 I think can be VERY directly traced/compared to what Thales says in. ch.10(?) when he's speaking to Kronya and Edelgard, and remember, Thales has specifically been Stupidly close to Edelgard since he's taken the place of her fucking uncle who's been glued to her hip forever by now

I just still believe that Edelgard isn't as in control as she is, and especially not as self-aware/self-deciding as she is, she Is a tool for the agarthans, that was Her Literal Purpose, that's why she decides what she does, because of what they did to her

[frostedsketches]

Okay but doesn't the beginning of A Goofy Movie give the impression that it's going to basically just be a PG Disney appropriate version of Be More Chill?

[missing-her-hour]

I wouldn't say I fell for her exactly. More like I unknowingly wandered dangerously close and realized that I was already standing at the edge and only then, willingly took the plunge

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[charmedimsure]

The Three of Us: After the Games || Kang Dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x f!reader

summary: Dae-ho makes good on his promise

word count: 2.8k

warnings: pregnancy, childbirth, babies

A/N: for the sake of the story, they got out after the vote after the Mingle game. i had so much fun writing this, dae-ho is so girl-dad coded. if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

part 1: The Three of Us

"Do we have everything we need? Am I forgetting something?"

You laugh as you watch the man run around the living room of your apartment. "Dae-ho, I'm not even in labor yet."

"I want to be prepared!"

After you had gotten out of the games, you and Dae-ho were delighted to find out that you lived not far away from each other. You were able to use the money you had gotten from the games to pay off your debts, and Gi-hun had offered to help you pay for everything until the baby is born and you're both able to work again (he didn't know it yet, but he had earned himself the title of godfather for that).

Dae-ho came over to your apartment every day for the past month and a half, making sure everything is ready for when the baby comes and keeping you from exerting yourself too much. You're sure he's spent more time at your apartment than at his.

Dae-ho had helped more than you could possibly thank him for. He and Jung-bae had built the crib for your baby, then broke it by "testing it out", then built a new one (why they thought it was a good idea for a full-grown man to get into a baby's crib, you have no idea).

You use the arm of the couch to help you stand up, waddling over to Dae-ho and taking his hands in yours. "Dae-ho, I don't think it's possible that you're forgetting anything," you chuckle. He opens his mouth to argue but you shush him, pulling him into a hug. "The only thing that matters is that you're with me when this baby comes."

He sighs, hugging you back. "I'm just so worried, I want to make sure everything goes right."

"I know," you rub his back. "But you need to calm down a bit. I think you're more worried about this than I am." You pull back to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "You know I have to push this thing out of me, right?"

He chuckles at the look on your face and pulls you to him, placing a gentle kiss on your lips and cradling you to his chest.

"I just need to make sure I didn't forget-"

"Dae-ho!"

<>

You're sitting on your couch watching TV with Dae-ho when you feel yourself sitting in something wet.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," you curse. This isn't the first time you've pissed yourself while pregnant, and although Dae-ho keeps assuring you that it's perfectly normal (he's seen it happen with his sisters), it doesn't make you feel any less disgusting.

Dae-ho helps you stand up, ready to take you to the bathroom when you stop. He looks to see you staring at the large wet patch on the couch.

"What's wrong?" he asks you.

You slowly look up at him with wide eyes. "I think my water broke."

Dae-ho's eyes grow comically wide. "Holy shit, it's happening."

You nod. "It's happening."

He helps you sit back down on the couch before sprinting into your bedroom. He comes out with your hospital bag slung over his shoulder, fully packed and ready to go. "I'm gonna bring the car around, I'll be right back."

You nod, breathing through another bought of pain that you now realize is a contraction. You had been feeling it for a while now, but just thought it was normal pregnancy pain.

Dae-ho comes bursting back into your apartment, nearly tripping over your rug as he comes over to help you stand.

"Okay, the car is out front, I'm probably parked illegally, so we should hurry," he says, rushing his words.

You try to hide your amused smile. Dae-ho is the perfect distraction from your contractions.

"Dae-ho, lock the door, please," you say when you're in the hallway.

He nods, getting the keys out of his pocket and dropping them on the floor. You chuckle as he yelps, scrambling to pick them up and fit the key in the lock. Once he's done he turns to you. "Stop laughing at me!"

You laugh harder at his expression. "I'm sorry, I can't help it."

His face softens as he hears your laugh, a smile forming on his lips. He pulls you close, planting a kiss on your forehead. "Let's go have this baby."

He leads you to the elevator, holding your hand as you descend to the first floor. Once you step outside you burst out laughing.

"Dae-ho, you're parked on the sidewalk!"

"I was panicking, okay!"

<>

"Dae-ho," you cry, "I don't think I can do this."

He squeezes your hand, not complaining despite the fact that you're nearly breaking his hand from how hard you're holding on to it. "Are you kidding? You flipped that ddakji on your first try with guns pointed at you. You were one of the first to finish red light, green light. You ran in Mingle despite being nearly seven months pregnant. This is nothing compared to all of that."

He brings his other hand up to brush some hair out of your face. "You are the strongest person I know. Just one more big push and it's done. You can do this."

"Dae-ho," you half scream, looking at him. "I love you."

He kisses your hand. "I love you too. So much. Now push."

You do as he says, screaming as you feel pain like you've never felt before. Until it's over, and the only sounds in the room are your panting and the crying of a baby.

"You did it," Dae-ho says in awe as he watches the doctors clean your baby.

"Congratulations," one of the doctors says to you with a smile as she holds your baby. "It's a girl."

She hands you your daughter and you feel yourself start to cry as you look down at the little baby in your arms.

Dae-ho sits on the bed, looking at the baby. "She's so beautiful."

You scootch over a bit in bed to make room for him to lay down next to you. After a long time of laying together in peaceful silence, you look at him with a tired smile. "Thank you for being here."

He smiles at you. "I wouldn't have missed the birth of your child for anything."

You take his hand, guiding it to cradle your daughter's head. "The birth of our child."

Tears form in his eyes as he smiles down at you, kissing your head. "I love you more than anything." He kisses your daughter's head as well. "Both of you."

A knock on the door gets your attention. "Let me in! I want to see the baby!" Jung-bae's voice yells into the room.

You look up at Dae-ho, confused. "She's been alive for like an hour, how is he here already?"

Dae-ho looks down at you a bit sheepishly. "I might have texted him earlier."

Another loud knock on the door is heard. "Let me in, I have balloons!"

<>

You groan as you wake up, a loud, shrill cry ringing throughout your apartment. This is the second time tonight that your daughter has woken up.

With a sigh, you dramatically throw the covers off of you, too tired to care how much of a mess you're making.

A hand holds your shoulder, and you turn your head to see Dae-ho, a yawn coming from him as he stretches his muscles. "I got it, go back to sleep."

You shake your head, a yawn of your own escaping your mouth. "No, you got the last one, it's my turn." You move to stand up, but Dae-ho tightens his grip on your shoulder, effectively keeping you in place.

"You carried her around for nine months and birthed her," Dae-ho says. "I got this."

You give the man next to you a sleepy smile. Normally you'd argue with him that it was only fair that you checked on her, but right now your bed is so comfortable and you haven't had a full night's sleep in months.

You mumble a thank you, falling back onto the bed and pulling the covers over you. Dae-ho laughs to himself when he sees that you've immediately fallen back asleep.

He walks to your daughter's room, picking her up from her crib and bouncing her. "Come one, Munchkin, we gotta let your mommy sleep."

As if she understands him, she quiets down, falling asleep with her head on his shoulder.

<>

"Hello! We're home!" Dae-ho announces as you walk through the door of your new home.

You smile as your daughter rounds the corner, crawling towards you as fast as her little arms and legs will let her go.

"Thank you so much for watching her, Geum-ja," you say to the woman walking behind your daughter, who has taken on the role of unofficial grandmother.

"Thank you for letting me watch her!" the woman smiles. "Yong-sik isn't having children any time soon, so this may be my only chance."

"Mom, stop," the mentioned man steps into view. You laugh as they bicker, Geum-ja lightly hitting her son.

You watch as Dae-ho crouches on the floor, opening his arms wide as your daughter crawls toward him. She takes her hands off the ground and you gasp, getting the attention of Geum-ja and Yong-sik. You watch in amazement as your daughter takes three steps before falling right into your boyfriend's arms.

Dae-ho lifts her up, a giant smile on his face. "That was amazing, Munchkin!"

You rub her back, praising her as Dae-ho kisses her cheek. Geum-ja and Yong-sik have stopped their bickering, both of them clapping for your daughter's accomplishment.

A thought comes into your head and you groan, resting your forehead on Dae-ho's shoulder.

"What?" he asks.

"She's gonna be a little menace now, isn't she?"

Dae-ho laughs, bringing one of his arms around your shoulders and kissing your forehead.

<>

"What is happening here?"

You stand in the doorway with your hands on your hips, a smile on your face.

"We're having a princess tea party," Dae-ho says. He points to the princess dress on your daughter, as well as the princess dress on himself, which is close to tearing in half. "Obviously." He picks up the toy tea kettle, pouring some imaginary tea into your daughter's cup before facing you. "Would you like some?"

This is not what you were expecting to see after work, but you can't think of a better scene to come home to.

"I would love some." You sit on the floor, picking up a teacup and holding it out for Dae-ho to pour "tea" into.

Your daughter holds her cup in front of her as well, looking at the man between you. "Dada!"

Both you and Dae-ho freeze. You watch with a smile as he looks down at your daughter, his entire face lighting up and tears welling in his eyes.

You put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it happily. You've gotten a few "mama"s from your daughter before, but Dae-ho has never gotten a "dada" until now.

Dae-ho pours more imaginary tea into her cup, leaning down afterwards to give her a kiss on her forehead. "I love you, Munchkin."

<>

"Mama!"

You turn to see your daughter tottling towards you, a big smile on her face.

"Hi sweetie," you smile, crouching down to her height.

She grabs onto your finger, tugging on it to try and get you to follow her. You chuckle, allowing her to lead you out of the room, hunched over so she can still hold your finger.

You follow her to the backyard, furrowing your brows when you see that the back door is open. Stepping outside and closing it behind you, you look forward and freeze.

Your daughter runs over to Dae-ho, who's in the middle of your yard on one knee, a ring in his hand.

You bring your hand up to your mouth in shock, tears welling in your eyes.

"Two and a half years ago, I was in the worst place of my life. But it was when I was there that I met you," Dae-ho smiles. "You've changed my life in so many ways, brought me more happiness than I ever thought I could have. I love you and our Munchkin more than anything in the world. You've given me the family I've always wanted, but I think it's time we become an official family. Will you marry me?"

You nod your head, tears spilling over onto your cheeks.

Dae-ho stands and pulls you into a kiss, slipping the ring on your finger. He pulls back, resting his forehead against yours. "I love you so much. My beautiful fiancée."

You feel a tug on your leg and look down to see your daughter smiling up at you. Dae-ho crouches down, scooping her up into his arms and standing, bringing you into a hug. "How would you like to be the flower girl, Munchkin?"

<>

"You see, I told you she'd be happy to see you! You need to have more faith in yourself, Gi-hun," you say into the phone as you unlock your front door. The man had arrived in America the previous day, finally visiting his daughter after so many years.

You step inside your house, locking the door behind you and putting your keys on one of the hooks on the wall. As you enter the living room, you stop when you see what is happening on your couch.

"Gi-hun, I have to go, I'll call you later," you smile, hanging up the phone. You open your camera app, taking a picture of the perfect scene in front of you. The TV is turned on to one of your daughter's favorite movies. Your daughter, however, is passed out on the chest your husband, who is also fast asleep.

After you've taken a sufficient amount of photos, you gently shake Dae-ho awake. He blinks his eyes open, smiling tiredly when he sees you.

"Hi, beautiful," he says.

You chuckle at the sleep in his voice. "Hi. I see you had quite a tiring day today."

Dae-ho nods, rubbing his eyes awake. "We played pirates in the backyard, then we had a movie marathon. It was a very eventful day."

You smile, putting your hand on your daughter's back to lightly shake her awake.

She looks at you with a smile. "Hi mommy."

"Hi, sweetie. It's time to go to bed."

She frowns. "Can I sleep with you and daddy tonight?"

You roll your eyes playfully. "But sweetie, you just got your new big girl bed. Don't you want to sleep there?"

She shakes her head. "I want to stay with you and daddy."

You look at Dae-ho, chuckling when you see that he's also silently begging you to let her stay with you.

"Fine, but just for tonight," you give in, making both your daughter and your husband smile. You pick her up, sitting her on your hip. "It's not fair when you team up against me, you're both too cute."

Dae-ho stands from the couch, kissing the side of your head. "Now you know what it's like trying to argue with you."

<>

You hand your daughter the stick in your hand with a smile. "Go bring this to daddy."

With a nod, she runs off to find Dae-ho. You follow behind her, peeking your head around the corner when she goes into the kitchen where your husband is making dinner.

"Daddy!" she yells and you can hear the smile in her voice.

Dae-ho turns to face the young girl, a big smile on his face. "Hey, Munchkin." He scoops her into his arms, placing a kiss on her cheek.

Your daughter holds the stick out for Dae-ho. "For you, daddy."

You watch as he thanks her and looks at the stick. You feel your smile grow as he realizes what his daughter just handed him. He looks up, noticing you by the door.

"Is this real?"

"As real as it can possibly be," you say.

He sits your daughter down onto the counter, rushing over to pick you up in his arms, making you laugh. He twirls you around before putting you down and kissing you with all the love he feels in this moment.

"I love you so much," he says, his forehead against yours. He looks over to your daughter on the counter. "I love both of you." He then looks back down at you, gently putting his hand over your stomach. "All of you."

Dae-ho tags: @whatthefuckeryfuckityfuck @ally1uvsu @thebiggestigurosimp @come-as-you-are-111 @hiphip-horray @k1michii @tpwkcaryslizb @louissst28 @sshwaa @jennwonwoo @sunnysurvives @lalalaa2210 @tayshs @sunshinethatlooksalive @plntmxrss @lxnnrobin @mariaxman @alexx-iia @batty-barty-crouchjr @kxsm3t @takuma-talkz @peacemakersbeloved @skywalker0809 @soobinbunnie5 @dragons-h0ard @silas-222 @putrescentpoet

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist (specify all squid game or just dae-ho pls)

[dollishmehrayan]

HOW DIFFERENT BATBOYS APOLOGIZE AFTER A ARGUMENT ── .✦

a/n: Lowkey I feel like I’m like slightest but problematic in arguments (not me exposing myself) but srs I got this request by a anon! (Here) So yeah tysmm, I won’t be writing the argument because lowkey, I can’t do angst at this time 💔😞

(Tags: how different batboys apologize after a argument)

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

The "I'm Sorry, But…" Apology: Bruce’s apology might be a little stiff at first. He’s not great with words when it comes to his emotions, but he does know how to make up for things. His apology might start with something like, "I know I’m… difficult, but I didn’t mean to hurt you." The real comedy comes in when he tries to "fix" the situation by throwing money at it—like suggesting an extravagant dinner or buying you a new wardrobe because, "I know it will make you feel better."

Trying Too Hard to Be ‘Normal’: He might try to act like he’s “not Bruce Wayne” for a second, attempting to be goofy to show you he’s truly sorry. Picture Bruce awkwardly trying to make a joke: "I’m sorry I made you feel like I was ignoring you. How about we go out… without my bodyguards this time? You know, like a normal date?"

The Silent Apology: More often than not, Bruce will show you he’s sorry with actions, like preparing your favorite meal or doing something thoughtful (such as leaving you a handwritten note or taking care of something you've been stressing about). But if you press him for words, he might simply mutter, “I’m not good at this… but I am sorry,” and leave it at that.

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The Full-On “I’m Sorry, Please Forgive Me” Routine: Dick is extremely sorry whenever he’s messed up, and he knows how to make it entertaining. He’ll show up with flowers, chocolates, or maybe even your favorite ice cream. And then, with a totally sincere but dramatic flair, he’ll say something like, “Listen, I know I was an idiot, and I have no excuse except that I’m clearly emotionally stupid when I’m upset. So please, for the love of all things holy, let me make it up to you.”

Humorous Apologies: Dick might also make you laugh with his over-the-top apologies. Maybe he tries to outdo himself by setting up an elaborate “romantic” date, only for it to completely go awry (think spaghetti noodles flying everywhere or a very unromantic “romantic” location). He’ll laugh it off, saying, “Okay, so maybe that’s not exactly how I imagined it… but you have to admit, it’s unforgettable.”

The Super Dramatic ‘I’m Sorry’ Speech: After an argument, Dick is not shy about admitting when he’s wrong. He’ll deliver a heartfelt, exaggerated apology, something like, "I was a fool, and I see now that I was wrong. You are perfect, and I am definitely not. How do you put up with me?" Then, he might give you puppy-dog eyes, as if expecting you to immediately forgive him.

JASON TODD ── .✦

The “I Know I Messed Up, But… Here’s a Gift” Approach: Jason is quick to apologize, but it’s not usually with a heartfelt speech. Instead, he’ll show up with a gift—maybe something small but thoughtful, like your favorite snack or a new book he knows you’ve been eyeing. He’ll casually hand it to you and say, “Alright, alright, I messed up. But you know I’m not great at this, so here’s my attempt at being a decent human being.”

Comedic Self-Deprecation: Jason, knowing he’s not always the best communicator, might start with a little self-deprecating humor. "Look, I’m sorry, okay? You’re right, I am a jerk sometimes. But hey, at least I didn’t set anything on fire this time, right?" He’ll try to make you laugh with his inability to fully express himself, but you know he means it.

The “I’m Sorry, Now Let’s Get Back to Normal” Routine: Jason might awkwardly try to move past the argument, brushing it off with a gruff, "Look, I’m sorry for being a pain. Can we just… go back to how things were?" It's not the most eloquent apology, but it’s Jason, and it’s his way of saying he wants to make things right without diving too deep into feelings.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The "I Overthought This" Apology: Tim is a perfectionist, so when he messes up, he’ll overthink how to apologize. He’ll probably try to do something really thoughtful, like writing you a letter or planning a whole day dedicated to making it up to you. But the real comedy comes when he gets so wrapped up in planning that he’s awkward about it. "I, uh, made you a list of everything I could do to make it up to you, starting with… well, taking you out for dinner. You like sushi, right? But if you prefer something else, I can also—"

The "What Do You Need?" Routine: Tim might also take a very logical approach. He’ll ask, "What would you like me to do to fix this?" but in a way that makes it seem like he’s creating a spreadsheet of ways to apologize. "I’ve compiled some options for you to choose from. Option one: Dinner. Option two: A walk in the park. Option three: Let me do your laundry for the next week…”

The 'Nervous, Over-Apologetic' Tim: Tim is likely to be the one who apologizes over and over again. He’ll say “I’m sorry” about a dozen times in a single conversation, with increasing levels of anxiety. "I really didn’t mean it that way. I’m so sorry. Are we okay? You don’t seem mad, but if you are, I understand, and I’m really, really sorry."

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

The Reluctant Apology: Damian isn’t one to apologize easily, and when he does, it’s more formal. He might say something like, “I apologize for my behavior. It was uncalled for.” And then he’ll awkwardly pause, before adding, "I... didn’t mean to upset you." The comedic part comes when he clearly doesn’t understand how he’s hurt you. He might ask, “Is there anything I can do to make it right? Or… was this just another one of your moods?”

The Unintentional "Nice Guy" Apology: Damian will give you something as an apology—perhaps a bouquet of flowers or something that he “found interesting,” but he’ll likely be very stiff about it, saying something like, “This is for you. I thought you would appreciate it. It’s… an apology gift.” He’ll be surprised when you react positively, since he’s convinced that you’ll just think it’s lame

A Small Gesture of Remorse: As an apology, Damian might ask you to join him for a quiet walk or for tea, giving you a rare moment of sincerity. He might even throw in a joke (but it’ll be one of those very dry ones), saying, “The tea will be of the highest quality, so I suppose that should count for something."

[nereidprinc3ss]

slumber party

in which there's only one bed. fem bau!reader x spencer reid

fluff! warnings/tags: dark humor, (the word molest is used jokingly once but in my defense your honor its completely on brand for early seasons cm humor, if u cancel me u have to cancel the whole cast those are the rules, its just a joke cause reader always flirts w him aggressively, pls don't come for me i have a wife and children and three boyfriends to take care of,) mutual pining, bullying and death threats as flirting, they love each other so much and bicker like children, glasses spencer, (moans), emily and rossi are mentioned bc canon means fuck all to me, i think thats it but this is my most out of pocket duo so if i'm wrong lmk a/n: just a silly little thing that i cooked up, not a masterpiece but i think its cute!! I hope u enjoy!! lmk what you think!! looooveee youuuu

“Oh, there is no way.”

Your duffel bag hits the dingy carpet as Spencer is still closing the door behind you. 

“What? Is it—”

You give him a look over your shoulder, eyebrows raised as if to say, what are you going to do about this?

But he only manages to meet your eyes for a split second before they’re back to the singular queen bed, darting over the white sheets and pillows like he might find another mattress if he looks hard enough. 

Sharing a room with Spencer, you can handle. You've done it before. Whenever the team has to pair up at a hotel, you two are an obvious choice. And while you occasionally butt heads, mostly you adore each other and it's great.

But sharing a bed is a whole other situation.

One you were not prepared for. And evidently, neither is he.

Watching his big anxious eyes flit around the room nervously, you feel sort of bad for your reaction. You know you can be a bit… abrasive, sometimes. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just—I’ll see if I can share a bed with Emily or JJ in their room—”

Just then there’s a knock at the door. Spencer looks relieved to have something else to focus on, turning back around and quickly undoing the latch again before opening the door to reveal your favorite raven-haired SSA. Emily leans past the doorjamb, eyes immediately honing in on the awkward sleeping arrangement. 

“Oh my god! You guys too?”

“What?” You and Spencer ask at the same time. Emily raises her eyebrows at this and glances between you, but otherwise doesn’t comment. 

“Me and JJ only have the one bed. I thought it might just have been us.”

You frown. There goes your plan of sharing a room with them. 

“What about Morgan and Garcia?”

Spencer snorts.

“Something tells me Penelope wouldn’t be too torn up about it if that's the case.”

“Hotch and Rossi?”

The room goes quiet and a little chilly as the thought disturbs everyone equally. Emily frowns deeply.

“I don’t even… I can’t picture that.”

“Can we please not try to picture it?”

“Great. Okay, well. I just wanted to make sure everyone is suffering equally. Good luck, champs.”

“Thanks,” Spencer mutters dryly. Emily smiles, eyes darting between the two of you for just a moment too long, before pushing off the door frame and disappearing from sight. Once the door is closed again, a heavy silence ensues. “I’ll… I can take the floor—”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor. We’re both grown-ups. Besides, we like each other, right? It’ll be like a slumber party.”

“I’ve never had one,” he admits. His glasses slip further down his nose as he frowns. Your fingers itch to push them back up. 

“Then I’m happy to be your first,” you tease, facing him fully with your hand on your hip and barely resisting the urge to add, I’ll be gentle. “Do you want the shower first or can I?”

Spencer has a habit of looking you up and down like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Some might find it odd, but his utter lack of social graces is, lucky for him, incredibly endearing to you. 

“You can have it first,” he says, meeting your eyes again. “Just don’t do that thing where you get the entire bathroom soaking wet.”

“Aw. But I love doing that. It’s my favorite part,” you tease, scooping up your bag once more.

Twenty minutes later you’re emerging from the bathroom with damp hair, clad in loose shorts and a college hoodie. 

“Nice outfit,” Spencer says from the spinny-chair at the desk, examining your outfit choice with a scrutiny you wish you’d been prepared for. Really, you wish you’d known ahead of time you’d have a roommate and brought some alternate sleeping clothes. “I had no idea you felt so passionately about… Scooby Doo?”

“Shut up right now,” you grit, tossing your bag into the corner of the room and tugging your hoodie down over your cartoon-patterned shorts as far as you can. 

“What?” He’s laughing as he brushes past you on his way into the bathroom, bearing his own bag. “It’s a good look for you.”

Your face is burning as you choose the side of the bed furthest from the door. Springs creak underneath your weight as you sink down, sitting with your legs hanging off the side for a moment before swinging them up onto the mattress, leaning against the headboard and side-eyeing the empty space next to you. There’s really not very much of it. The bed feels even smaller than it looks. 

From the bathroom you hear the sound of the shower squeaking and starting up again—a cacophony of droplets against tile on the other side of the wall. You try not to be nervous as you imagine Spencer filling the space beside you in just a few minutes, hair wet and in pajamas. And yet you spend each second wondering if he’s almost done, wondering if the shower will finally sputter to a halt, and once it does, wondering how long it’ll be before he’s out again. It’s ridiculous how impatient you're getting—and by the time you finally watch the door knob twist you feel crazy. 

“I think that was your longest shower yet, Dr. Reid.”

The teasing affords you a moment to ogle him head to toe, taking in his choice of pajamas—tonight, familiar plaid pants and an MIT crewneck—as well as his hair which has already begun to dry. Briefly you wonder if he does that thing guys do, where they lean down and haphazardly dry their hair with a towel because they have no concern for its texture whatsoever. But you kind of doubt it, because his hair always looks so soft. 

“You were sitting here waiting for me?” He chuckles, and honestly you’d been expecting a shyer response. But you adapt quickly. 

“Maybe I was. Big spoon or little spoon?”

“Ha-ha.” He opens a drawer in the dresser and begins unpacking his clothes into it. It's a funny habit of his. You never unpack your duffel. “You took the better side of the bed.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m the woman. I get to do that.”

“Well you should know that if an intruder breaks in, I’m not fighting him off. You’d probably have a better chance than me.”

“And my chances will be even better if he’s distracted with you first.”

“So I’m just bait?” He scoffs, looking back at you. Strands of wet hair hang so prettily around his face, like the perfect frame around a work of art. You smile sweetly from your spot on the bed before playfully biting at the air in his direction. The message goes unspoken but reads loud and clear. Of course you are. You make such good bait. 

That gets a blush out of him and he has nothing else to say as he turns back to his drawer. Happily you lean back against the headboard, stretching your legs out and bouncing slightly in place. Beneath you the mattress springs groan and squeak in protest. 

“I hope you're not going to be this irritating all night.”

It's clearly lighthearted, but you promptly stop and frown at his back. 

“Call me irritating again and see where you end up sleeping tonight.”

“I just don’t see how you’re even more hyperactive than usual right now. Has anybody ever told you that you’re crepuscular?” Spencer asks, finally sliding the drawer shut and going to shut the overhead light off. Your eyes narrow. 

“Obviously nobody has told me that.”

“It means y—”

“I’m most energetic within the few hours around dusk and dawn. Contrary to your belief, Dr. Reid, other people are also capable of looking up words in a dictionary and remembering what they mean. Are you going to stand in the corner all night or are you gonna come to bed?”

“I am,” he scoffs, clearly embarrassed and shy and embarrassed of being shy. “I’m just… you look like you kick in your sleep. And hog the blankets.”

You shrug, folding your knees to your chest and hugging them quaintly. 

“I’ve never had any complaints. In fact, you should be so lucky to share a bed with me. All five star reviews, baby.” 

You toss a suggestive wink in at the end, which seems garish enough to break the tension so that Spencer can stop lingering in the corner like a sleep-paralysis demon and move to carefully take his place next to you. He almost mirrors your position, but his legs are too long to quite manage your level of compactness and so they simply fold underneath him. A few silent moments go by, in which you have the dumbest smile on your face and you keep glancing over to the side, waiting for him to be looking back at you. 

“This is already the least relaxed I have ever been in a bed.”

“Good thing we’re not going to sleep yet.”

Finally he looks at you, a casual mix of hesitance, concern, and moderate curiosity coloring his features. 

“We’re not?”

“Oh, my god, Spencer,” you snort. “I’m not gonna molest you. We have to do slumber party stuff, remember?”

He flushes again, glancing at the digital clock in his bedside table. 

“But it’s late. We should go to sleep.”

“At slumber parties you have to stay up until you literally can’t keep your eyes open anymore. Those are the rules. I don’t make them.”

Still, your insistence that you follow the international code of sleepover law goes unabided by Spencer. He simply leans over to flick off his lamp, bathing the room in darkness. 

“I appreciate the effort,” he says, and your eyes haven’t adjusted but you can hear the rustle of sheets and blankets as he gets under them, “but unfortunately we have to be awake and alert in five hours.”

“You’re no fun,” you huff, but climb under your own side of the cover and scoot down until you’re flat on your back, covered in blanket and hands folded on your sternum. 

Spencer doesn’t respond. 

It’s silent for maybe five minutes, during which your brain doesn’t slow down at all. Maybe you are crepuscular. Or slightly nocturnal. You have nothing but energy. 

In an attempt to get comfortable, you try adjusting your position.

The mattress squeaks. 

You do it again. 

Another squeak. 

A second goes by, and now you’re intentionally jostling about, squeaking the mattress as much as you can. 

“Would you stop that?” Spencer says, voice already gravelly with sleep. You manage, but you’re already devolving into a fit of giggles. “I’m going to smother you with this pillow,” he threatens, but you hear the disgruntled smile curling his words. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood to rest.”

Another moment passes. He sighs deeply. You smile into the dark. 

“What are you in the mood for?” He asks flatly, and you’ve won. 

“Tell me a secret,” you immediately demand in a hushed tone, flipping on your side to face his back. “Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

“I don’t—”

“Shh! You have to whisper it. Those are the slumber party rules.”

“I don’t have any secrets,” he whispers, clearly flustered, and to your delight, rolling to face the ceiling. “None that you’d want to hear.”

“Oh, now that’s just not true. You’re an enigma, Spencer Reid. You fascinate me.”

You’re only sort of kidding. 

“I… fascinate you?”

“Completely. You know, ever since you moved your desk across from mine I get distracted just staring at you and wondering what you’re thinking about. But you’re very… hard to read, sometimes. I think it’s because you’re a Scorpio.”

“The position of the stars at the time I was born has no bearing on my personality.”

“Fine,” you concede, still in a glorified stage whisper. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t display the archetypal Scorpio traits. You’re all brooding, mysterious. Kinda, I don't know... intense and sexy and unknowable…”

“Sexy?” He laughs, breaking the whisper rule. You grin and let it slide. You’d hoped he would catch that one. 

“Hey,” you snap, losing the smile immediately and lightly shoving against what you hope is his shoulder. “You’re supposed to be telling me a secret, damnit. I won’t let your wiles and charm distract me from getting what I want.”

“When have you ever let anything stop you from getting what you want?”

Truly, your cheeks are going to start aching with this constant back and forth between poker-faced and huge Cheshire smile. 

“Stop flirting and answer my question, Reid.”

With the amount of times you’ve made him sigh tonight he must be dizzy. You chew your lip apprehensively in the silence, picking a loose thread on your pillow. It’s so pitch black in the room, you can’t see him where he lies only a few meager inches from you. But you can feel his presence. You can feel the unexpected bass to his voice when he’s tired and speaking this lowly, which you’ve never heard before.

“All the secrets I’ve never told anyone are just… depressing.”

Your heart sinks a little at the way he swallows between words, like that in and of itself was hard to admit. Unthinkingly your hand slides into the small gap of white cotton between the two of you. 

“Not very good slumber party material, I think,” he laughs self-consciously. 

“You’d be surprised.” 

The sentiment comes quieter and more serious than you’ve been all night. If only you had the words to tell him that he can tell you anything. That you want to hold his secrets for him under lock and key. That you would never, ever do anything less than offer him kindness and support—even if it doesn’t always seem that way when you’re teasing him. 

“Do you have any secrets you’ve never told anyone else?” He murmurs eventually, so soft it could kill you. 

And you do. There are plenty of dark ones, probably not all dissimilar from those he’d elected not to share only a moment ago. 

But you don’t bring those up. 

Instead, you decide to admit to something silly. Still, it makes you nervous as you feel it coming loose in your chest. You’ve really never told anyone this, and it’s perhaps more vulnerable than you’d realized before the words were already leaving your mouth. 

“I, have…” You pause to laugh at yourself, and continue on. “I have a stuffed dragon that I take with me on every single case.”

“You do?” Spencer laughs, so loud and unexpected it almost hurts your ears, angling his head toward you. Blood rushes to your face. 

“Yes. He usually sleeps in bed with me. He’s an excellent listener and has been the origin of several of my most genius breakthroughs. You remember Gibson Cooper?”

“Family annihilator from Houston?” 

“Correct. He’s in prison because Oscar helped me make the Cook Creek Campground connection between the O’Hara and Diangelo families.”

“You have a stuffed profiler dragon named Oscar? Is he here?”

“He’s—I mean, I wasn’t expecting to share a room with someone.”

“So he’s in your bag.”

“Yes,” you seethe, “and I will not be introducing you to him. He doesn’t do well with men.”

“You are genuinely psychotic.”

You huff.

“Fine. I’m sorry I told you anything.”

You’re about to roll over onto your other side—but Spencer surprises you by catching the hand that had been outstretched in his direction. He carefully intertwines your fingers and squeezes gently. 

“You’re right. That was mean. Thank you for telling me about Oscar.” His tone is surprisingly teasing, and you’re so uncharacteristically flustered by this rare show of physicality and affection that you can’t muster an adequate comeback. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind filling your silence, though, sounding a little more solemn now. “I’m sorry I don’t have any secrets for you.”

The way his voice gets all thin and scratchy sometimes—it’s like the earnest sincerity just pours out of him. He can’t control it. He can’t be anyone other than who he is. Maybe that’s a part of why you love him so much. You wonder if he knows how much you love him. It’s not exactly a secret—anyone on the team would be able to tell as much. You’ve been relentlessly teased for the way you are with him. For your batting lashes and your lingering touches and your unabashed flirting. But beneath it all is true affection, and nobody doubts that. 

“It’s okay,” you decide with a squeeze of your own, after a moment of deliberation. “You’ll think of something. ’Cause, y’know—you’re stuck with me for at least a few more days.”

“Oh, god,” he laughs, and releases your hand, rolling over to face away from you. But you don’t mind. You’ll get lots more time to invade his personal space over the coming week or so. “Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams,” you sing-song, turning away to face the wall with what is perhaps your biggest, stupidest smile yet.