#it's pretty inoffensive (if anything he's just annoying)

[deadtwice]

✿ heh

FRIENDSHIP.     childhood friends  /  work buddies or coworkers  /  family friends  /  friends with benefits  /  smoking buddies  /  adventure buddies  /  fake friends  /  recently friends  /  party buddies  /  friendship of need  /  dying friendship  /  circumstantial friendship  /  partners in crime  /  old friendship  /  [ your muse ] is the good influence  /  [ your muse ] is the bad influence  /  [ my muse ] is the good influence  /  [ my muse ] is the bad influence  /  opposites attract  /  ride or die  /  frenemies  /  roommates or flatmates  /  penpals  /  exes to friends  /  enemies to friends  /  other

ROMANCE.     childhood sweethearts  /  [ your muse is mines ] childhood crush  /  [ my muse is yours ] childhood crush  /  exes  /  exes to lovers  /  forbidden lovers  /  highschool sweethearts  /  secret relationship  /  opposites attract  /  long distance  /  unrequited [ from your muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from my muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from both sides ]  /  skinny love  /  friends to lovers  /  enemies to lovers  /  spurious relationship  /  power couple  /  newly entered  /  soulmates [ metaphorical ]  /  soulmates  [ literal ]  /  awkward  /  turning toxic  /  toxic love  /  cheating [ on your muse ]  /  cheating [ with your muse ]  /  other 

FAMILIAL.     siblings [ half ]  /  siblings [ step ]  /  [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure  /  [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse  /  [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours  /  [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal guardian  /  adoptive child  /  foster child  /  [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing  /  [ my muse ] is taken under yours wing  /  other

ANTAGONISTIC.     dangerous to each other  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into sexual or romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based of off circumstance  /  based of professional matters  /  based off misunderstanding or lies  /  conflict of ideology  /  betrayal  /  hero - villain dynamic  /  enemies  /  fight club  /  friends turned enemies  /  lovers turned enemies  /  exes turned enemies  /  other 

[viperwhispered]

How Not to Be Swept Under - behind the scenes

So, since I’ve been enabled (ty @scint1llat3), some thoughts on the process behind How Not to Be Swept Under. Spoilers for the series, obviously, and also below the cut for length (oop I sure had a few things to say).

Too Much

So, like I said in the notes for this, hearing Ylivoimainen by KUUMAA got me thinking of Jamil being overwhelmed by his feelings. In the song the singer is talking about how you’re overpowering, in the sense that he can’t stand against you, and how the singer would do anything to get to you. Now, while I didn’t think Jamil would be quite that drastic - man’s far too aware of consequences and things - I still wanted to explore what it would mean for Jamil to deal with such feelings.

Iirc, already when I posted this I was pretty sure I wanted to continue the fic. Looking back on the file, I did have the beginnings of the second part there already, but decided that leaving the first part at the moment of realization would be the most impactful.

Ngl, I kinda really love the line “No, if anything, you were quite…inoffensive.”, which is at the end of that part where Jamil’s trying to figure out why you have him on edge. Yes he’s not annoyed (quite the opposite if he’d realize it) but somehow you sure bother him. Wonder why.

“And the way you had looked at him, like-” In my head, this would’ve continued something along the lines of “like you cared for him” - but of course Jamil’s not going to let such conclusions come out, especially with Kalim interrupting him, too.

And for “Surely he was not that stupid. After all, there was no way-”, I was thinking something like “there was no way he had a crush on you”, but, again, Jamil sure isn’t going that far at this point. No way.

Of course, for all these, I don’t mean to say that what I thought when writing is the only way to read it, far from it. But it is what I was thinking at that time.

And that shit in the end? Yeah he’s not willing to put words to it, even in his own mind, but he can’t quite deny what is going on, even if he refuses to face it.

Too Hard

Jamil’s solution to uncomfortable feelings: let’s pretend they don't exist. That’s definitely gonna go fine 🙃

Reader, meanwhile, definitely is aware of their own feelings at this point - they were already acting on them in the first part, after all. So Jamil really is starting on a back foot here, in the sense that he’s still trying to figure (or avoid figuring) out his own thoughts and feelings, while reader’s feelings are turning into action.

However, Jamil’s standoffishness / avoidance here is throwing reader for a loop. I struggled quite a bit with how I should portray this - I didn’t want reader to just go “I’m sad because you’re distant” because you need to be really close for that kind of vulnerability, I feel - certainly closer than these two are. So there was a version where Jamil overheard Kalim comforting reader about it, and another one where Jamil heard just the wrong bit of what you said to Kalim.

In the end, I’d like to think I struck out a reasonable balance between making it clear enough what was going on between you and Jamil, while also not making them too good at communicating.

Ngl, here and throughout I so loved writing Jamil’s thoughts, going through the denial while also peppering in the bits that were quite telling enough of what he actually felt. He might not be admitting it to himself yet, but also even if he tries, he can’t just act neutral with you.

Whereas the title of the first chapter was referring to reader being too much for Jamil, here the title refers to Jamil trying too hard to “act normal”.

Also, by the time I posted this, I already had the title and vague concepts for the next part and the finale - the only question was if I’d need a transition between those two.

Such a oneshot this turned out to be, huh, just 5 parts.

Too Little

Pivot time! The dam breaks, finally, and Jamil has to accept that things are as they are.

It was around this chapter that I noticed myself using all these metaphors about currents and depths and things and started to use them more intentionally. That’s where the title for the whole series came about, as well. I’m not sure where the idea cleared out for me, but I think around here the latest I realized the whole “struggling against the tides (aka your feelings) and expending all your energy there - accepting your feelings as they are, making things all in all much more easier / pleasant” dichotomy for Jamil.

Which, certainly doesn’t apply to just romantic feelings. Like, that man has been repressing so much, and probably spends (or spent, before book 4) so much energy just maintaining the facade - energy which he could use for other things more fruitfully, one would imagine. So, yeah, it became a bit of a theme, that whole learning to understand and accept one’s feelings.

Again, I had so much fun writing him yearning. I was allowing him to complete a few more of his thoughts, letting them go a little further, but it’s not like he’s fully comfortable going all in yet and admitting even to himself all that he’s thinking about.

Tho also look at him being all soft and mushy and in his feels.

Also I couldn’t decide how dirty I could / should go with the “What it would feel like to touch you, to hold you, to kiss you, to-” bit so cutting it off solved that question too, lol.

I did also consider making this chapter much more lewd, Jamil maybe even masturbating to the thought of you, but then there’s the question of community labels and stuff and I didn’t want anyone to miss out a part. Plus like, as much as I love my lewd, I also didn’t want to imply it was just horny he’s feeling for you. But it was definitely a balancing act, trying to figure out just where I’d want to take this.

Tbh, I still might write the nsfw version of this (or something similar, at least) at some point.

Another thing to add to the wip / idea list I guess.

To me, the title feels quite self-explanatory here. He’s got too little of you, and wants to have more of you in his life.

Also that ice cream bit was absolutely there just to treat myself.

Too Fast

So, sometime earlier in the process I’d decided the reader should be the one confessing / making the first obvious move. Partly because come on why should it always be the guy doing that, and partly because the theme here was to keep Jamil on the back foot (ily Jamil but you’re just far too fun to fluster).

So when Too Little ended with Jamil deciding to act, I suddenly realized I had a bit of a dilemma - after all, Jamil is the sort who likes to make others act. Originally, I thought that what would throw Jamil off here would be you acting before Jamil gets to make his move. But for a character who likes to nudge others to act, would that really be a problem?

Thankfully, Jamil is also a planner thrown off when things go off rails - I mean, he can definitely adjust, as we see here and elsewhere, but it was enough to throw him off the loop the way I wanted to. So, I pivoted to Jamil being surprised by you making your move without his nudges. Jamil maintained his backfootedness as intended, and I managed to keep myself from accidentally glossing over parts of his character - win-win.

Writing this out like this feels like such minor nitpicking but well let’s just say that for the particular vibes I wanted to go for, it seemed to make a difference.

Also this bit:

“But he needed to know if it all was enough for what he wanted with you.

And if not… Well. Perhaps there was something to be done about that. Given enough time, enough attention…

He could be a listening ear, a supporting presence, get to know you further, if he needed to.

Yes, he wanted you to be his sooner rather than later, but if he had to wait and work for it, he would.”

Now, one could certainly read this a bit yan if one wanted to, but mostly I just felt like I had had Jamil be so “nice” so far and it felt like I really needed a dash of the more calculated parts of him, willing to put so much on the line to get what he wants. Like sure we’re going pretty fluffy with this story but it is still Jamil we’re talking about.

The scene with the basketball trio was originally Scarabia kitchen (with Jamil almost fumbling his phone into a pot or counter instead, and a random student questioning him), but then I realized I already had Jamil doing a lot of cooking and related things in this fic. So basketball trio to the rescue, and for a change of scenery, too. (And me hoping that in just couple of lines of dialogue I won’t do too grave injustices to the other characters.)

Also with Floyd in there, of course I had to include the line about “a taste of blood in the water”.

Again, it was quite the balancing act, trying to figure out just how flustered Jamil should be. A king of compartmentalization, after all, (and no jmeal this is not a compliment), but also I wanted him to be genuinely affected. So addlebrained Jamil it was, but hopefully I didn’t make him too much of a bumbling fool for who he is.

Also ngl I was really happy with myself with the parenthesis thoughts.

“He’d make something quick for Kalim’s dinner while preparing something to share with you. (What could he make with the time and ingredients he had that you really liked? What about dessert? He knew how much you enjoyed sweets, after all.)”

The logical, planning mind in the regular text, all the feels and “idle” thoughts in the parenthesis - which he’s trying to keep under control / at bay, but can’t, quite.

Again, Jamil, wouldn’t life be much easier if you let yourself feel your feels?

Ngl, I kind of feel like a coward, skipping so much of the dialogue in the confession scene. On the other hand, this series had turned into such a deep dive into Jamil’s head, that I was kinda content to keep to that inner perspective, even in this particular situation.

It’s strange, though, since often when I draft fics, for example, I build things around dialogue. But with this fic it just seemed to be different aspects calling to me.

Also knuckle kisses? Leave me absolutely weak, I could not resist including that.

I did wonder if I was too obviously spelling out my thought process, talking about reader having been ahead of Jamil in the feels curve, but on the other hand I figured it would be something Jamil would realize. So hopefully it didn’t turn too far in to telling rather than showing (I say, as if the next chapter isn’t so much of telling, oop).

“And in that sweet moment Jamil finally stopped fighting, at least for a moment. He let go of his plans, his resistance, and allowed himself to be swept up by you.”

And here we are, finishing with those themes of tides / feelings, the first dip of Jamil allowing himself to stop fighting. Not gonna say he dropped all his bad habits here, but at least he had a moment of calm.

Just Right

And we get the fluffiest of payoffs. Expounding on themes I outlined earlier, but also just fluffy sweetness.

Ngl, I was pulling from my irl relationship for a lot of these things.

“And all those things Jamil had not even allowed himself to think of back then now freely filled his mind.”

Like I said in the notes for this part as well, I combed through the earlier parts, picking out the unfinished thoughts and other bits that were poignant for what I wanted to say about Jamil’s feelings and his handling of them. So lots of callbacks, pretty much, to tie things up.

“However, finally, Jamil had learned how to withstand those currents. Fighting them, denying your pull… It truly had been a fool’s errand. Riding with the waves, steering his course was the only way he could make it - but only once he allowed himself to be carried by the flow.”

I was really wondering how to word this bit the right way. I didn’t want to say that the relationship was inevitable or anything like that - life happens, Jamil has agency, he could’ve chosen to say no to your date invitation etc. But the feelings were there, and couldn’t be denied away - at least not without significant and frankly wasted effort.

So, yeah, it was a fun project, going through the stages of Jamil’s thought process, slowly (or not so slowly) letting him think in different ways as the story progressed and showing those things in different ways.

Plus I’ve been doing almost exclusively oneshots for some time so it was nice to do something a little longer.

Hopefully these thoughts were of interest to at least some of you! Again, I want to iterate, I don’t want to say that my thought process behind writing dictates the one true way to interpret things or anything like that. It is simply where I’m approaching the story from, and what is behind the choices I make in telling the story.

Honestly if anyone reads all of this you deserve a cookie. Maybe even a drabble.

[winged-self-indulgence]

Trapped In Yandere Heaven: Secret Ending Unlocked?

This is for me. Idrc about the rest of ya'll, but if you watched Lion's playthrough of YH vol 2 and thought "hey. those two should make out" then congratulations: you're me. 16+ rating, I just wanted to be silly and somehow that ended with 3.5K words of barely edited polyamory w Takaaki and Sakae aggressively hitting on each other while the MC just kinda vibes. Which is pretty accurate to the audio drama though so like. go off babes

“Good afternoon! You must be the new intern, right?”

Between one blink and the next, the marble columns and painted walls of Sakae's wedding venue melted away, replaced by the inoffensively pristine white walls of Dr. Takaaki’s office. You turned your head to take in the room – the anatomically detailed posters of the brain, the cupboards filled with identical vials and medical textbooks, the tiny cot tucked inconspicuously against the back corner – acting as though you had never seen any of it before.

Congratulations on completing Yandere Heaven Vol. 2! You have completed this visual novel 98 times! Please enjoy your next game: Yandere Heaven Vol. 2!

You turned back to face the man as soon as his introduction concluded. Your mouth curled into a suitably polite smile, and he smiled back in return. At this point, your actions were almost unconscious, involuntary, reflexive. You had been through this stupid game scenario so many times, enough to know that this was the fastest way to progress the story. The emotion behind the smile didn’t matter, but even still you couldn’t help injecting it with some warmth. Irritation and growing boredom aside, you were still fond of these characters. Yandere Heaven wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but it was yours.

Across from you, the AI puppeting the Dr. Takaaki character registered your features before continuing their spiel. “I’ll be the one in charge of your tutelage, so I hope you’ll find my guidance useful! Oh, but there’s no need to stand. Please, take a seat!”

He gestured towards the chair behind you, and you sat, feeling the wood solidly beneath you. Say what you will about the perils of experimental VR technology that trap players in the same visual novel for days on end, but the realism of it was nothing to sneeze at. Besides, even if nothing else, you were real. Your emotions were real. The butterflies that never stopped making a home in the pit of your stomach when Dr. Takaaki comforted you were unfortunately very much real.

A part of you – one that grew with every single reiteration of the storyline – was a little annoyed with yourself for blushing over what basically amounted to a very pretty 3D model controlled by some very complex code. Another part of you was too busy swooning over the way Dr. Takaaki’s forearms flexed beneath the fabric of his lab-coat.

You couldn’t help it. White teeth flashed at you in a gentle smile, contrasting gorgeously against tanned skin and hazel eyes that glittered behind deceptively stern rectangular glasses. Dr. Takaaki raised a hand to push back a stray lock of coffee-brown hair off his forehead which immediately flopped back.

“…and that’s about the gist of it.” You snapped out of your idle musing, recognizing the words that signaled that you were nearing the end of the prologue. At the top of your view, the ‘MC’s’ thoughts popped up in a fluffy cloudlike bubble. Something about being confused and barely understanding anything that had been said. A line that had been funny ages ago and was now kind of trite considering you probably had a more extensive understanding of the model hospital than the character AI. Including the places where the developers had cut costs and started repeating textures, rooms, and lines.

There was an entire upper floor where someone had forgotten to match the skin textures, so every single patient was the exact same featureless, grey-skinned humanoid shapes. That had certainly spiced up your 37th run of the game.

“Ah, no need to look so alarmed! Sure, it might seem a bit confusing at first, but you’ll get used to it little by little. I promise, I won’t throw you into the deep end right off the bat.” His voice was sweet as syrup, the words settling in your mind like a spoonful of golden honey mixed into hot tea. The voice acting had been one of the main attractions, and you were glad the actors were competent at their jobs. This whole experience would have been far more annoying if you had to suffer through noise clipping and vocal fry.

Strange that you hadn’t been able to find any credited names on the website. Yet another strike against the developers.

You followed Dr. Takaaki out of the office, mentally setting yourself on autopilot as you assisted him with his rounds. All of this was just set dressing after all. The story wouldn’t start properly until you heard the near silent click of bespoke shoes against the hospital tiles, and a low voice interrupted the conversation.

“Ahem. Is there something wrong with my room, doctor?”

Sakae. Tall, blonde, and utterly infuriating if you weren’t into his particular trope, yet hot enough that you might be willing to put up with his flaws because at least there was a pretty face at the other end of the leash.

Clad in tailored black suit instead of the assigned shapeless gowns, the buttons neatly fastened as though he was showing up to a business meeting rather than a standard medical checkup, Sakae pushed open the door of his hospital room and leaned against the frame with casual aplomb. His large hands were pushed into the pockets of his tailored suit while hadal blue eyes pinned Dr. Takaaki in place.

“Surprised to see me out here?” He drawled, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You were far later than usual today, so I was simply wondering where you’d gotten to. I thought to myself, ‘if he can’t come to me, I’ll simply have to go find him.’ I know how awfully busy you doctors get, after all.”

 You blinked once, twice, and then stared at Sakae, trying to confirm that you’d actually seen what you thought you’d seen. Was…was he blushing?!

Almost as soon as the words crossed your mind, the red flush vanished from the 3D model as those eyes drifted to you and Sakae’s grin grew distinctly wolfish. “Anyhow, I couldn’t help but overhear you telling your lovely assistant to steer clear of my room. Care to explain exactly what you meant by that before I start to take it personally?”

“Y-You must be mistaken,” Takaaki floundered. “I-I have no issue whatsoever with–!”

“Come now my dear doctor,” Sakae cooed, pushing himself off the doorjamb and stepping closer to the two of you. The model’s eyes shifted between you and Takaaki, settling on the doctor with a sardonic chuckle. “I’m well aware that you find my company less than tolerable. Is that the only reason you warned them away, or are you worried that your cute new intern might fall for the charms of a loaded badass like me over someone like you?”

You couldn’t help rolling your eyes even as a giggle pressed against the back of your throat. Despite being the designated MC and target of what was ostensibly a yandere visual novel, one of your favourite private jokes was how much your character felt like a third wheel when these two were in the same vicinity. Repetition aside, watching the two snipe at each other like a pair of bitter exes had become the highlight of your many, many, many repeats.

“Luckily for you I’ve taken a shine to your special brand of stupidity.”

“Since you’re so…virile, I imagine you might like to bestow your vitality upon the other patients here… In fact, I’d be more than happy to personally attend you.”

“If you value that pretty face of yours, you’ll give up and hand your precious intern over to me.”

“It’s not like I could just tie him to the bed and solve all my problems–”

“Hey, have you two just considered fucking?”

The conversation stopped dead in its tracks, the sudden plunge into muteness prompting you to raise your head from your phone in confusion. You blinked as you came back to yourself and your surroundings. The sky outside was dark, and you were already in the passenger seat of the car watching Sakae and Takaaki argue on the side of the road, had you really been virtually AFK for ¾ of the whole story? Shit.

Sakae, as always, was the first to break the silence, though his words surprised me. “Darling, you’re adorable, but what the actual fuck did you mean by that? Do you honestly think I would lower my standards to his level?”

He cursed? At me? Well at the MC. Huh, he’d never done that before. At least, not before his endgame breakdown in either route. The game had advertised itself as using a complex learning AI trained to respond to various prompts, but in all your playthroughs that had never really been the case. The characters’ responses had always been fairly linear. It never mattered what you said, or how creative their replies were, because the story still needed to progress from plot A to B to C. By the next scene, nothing you said would matter, so you leaned your elbows on the passenger window and rested your chin on your folded arms to observe the fallout of your offhanded statement.

“Lower?” Takaaki scoffed, teeth flashing in a vicious sneer. “You wouldn’t even be able to handle my darling, let alone me.”

“Oh. I could certainly handle you better than you think, doctor,” Sakae took a step closer, tilting his chin up challengingly. The two of them were around the same height, almost nose to nose at this point. “It would certainly be oh so entertaining to watch you try to act all tough while I have you squirming and begging for mercy.”

“My, my, someone certainly thinks highly of themselves. I bet you think you’re so charming, don’t you? I’ve heard such delusions may be a sign of deeper issues. Care to let me examine you, Sakae?”

“Yeah, this is what I was talking about, by the way,” you interjected with the sort of brazen cheer that comes with knowing that your actions have no real consequences. “I mean you guys should probably bang. Fuck. Roll in the hay. Do the horizontal tango. Smash dicks, I don’t know. Just do something to get all of this–”

Here you gestured at the two of them, rotating both of your wrists expansively to get the point across as succinctly as possible. Sakae looked a little bit offended while Takaaki seemed utterly baffled by the words coming out of your mouth. You might as well have been speaking a completely different language. Cool. Maybe if you confused the code enough it would finally spit you back into the real world.

“ – out in the open. ‘Cause I like you guys, and I know you both like the main character, but you two act like you’re about to star in someone’s Wattpad enemies to lover’s fanfic and it’s driving me insane. So, like, could you both kiss about it at some point and put me out of my misery? Okay? Okay. Now could one of you drive me home?”

Retreating back into the car, you went back to staring at your phone, which was functionally useless but at least included classic Snake which thoroughly diverted your attention.

Someone climbed into the front seat, and you were a little surprised when you heard one of the other doors open. A quick glance over your shoulder revealed that it was Takaaki sliding mutely into the backseat.

Well. Huh. That had never happened before. This was Takaaki’s route, wasn’t it? At this point he was supposed to basically steal Sakae’s car and scheme with the MC to commit brutal medical malpractice. Murder without the death part. Whatever the crime of deliberately sending someone into a permanent drug-induced coma is called.

Instead, Sakae silently drove to the MC’s neighbourhood – without asking where they lived, obviously – and carefully deposited you outside the apartment building before driving off with Takaaki still in the backseat. You watched the sleek black car shrink the further away it got, before eventually disappearing around the corner. You hesitated for a moment, unsure what to do. The story had never deviated like this before, had it? Screwing your eyes shut, you tried to parse through the last 98 runs, but nothing stood out to you.

Finally, you gave up with a shrug. Whatever, by tomorrow the story would have corrected itself like it always did. Yawning, you walked into the MC’s apartment and closed your eyes.

Congratulations on completing Yandere Heaven Vol. 2! You have completed this visual novel 99 times! Please enjoy your next game: Yandere Heaven Vol. 2!

What?

Your eyes flashed open, the cheery pitch of the robotic chime shocking you awake. You’d finished the game? How? Had you unlocked some sort of bonus ending, or was the machine glitching? You hoped not. This groundhog loop was already annoying enough without the possibility of Backrooms-style nonsense.

“There you are!” You startled again, the second time in half as many minutes, and turned to see Takaaki making his way towards you. You opened your mouth, ready for the usual introductory lines, when warm arms suddenly wrapped around your waist and – between one breath and the next – his mouth was on yours.

Wait.

What?!

Your lips parted, confusion inadvertently giving Takaaki the opportunity to slide his tongue deep into your mouth, swallowing the muffled noises that escaped your throat and returning it with a heavy moan. Your back hit the cool wall of the empty hallway, body caged and pinned by the man in front of you. Any questions you might have had dissolved like sugar when the doctor’s broad thigh slipped between your legs, the movement rucking up your skirt and grinding against your core.

Just as you were sinking into the sensation, the office door behind you flew open, and a familiar teasing voice had you scrambling for clarity of mind. You shoved Takaaki away and turned to see Sakae standing in the doorway in a pose reminiscent of his standard introduction, except this time he was missing his suit blazer and coming out of Takaaki’s office.

“Now, now, my dear doctor,” he crooned, adjusting his collar with a finger, “I’m as eager to get my hands on them as you are, but…I certainly didn’t take you for an exhibitionist. How fun.”

“I’m not–!” Takaaki spluttered, arms tightening around you. “I was just excited to see them, that’s all! It was a perfectly normal kiss. Not all of us have our minds in the gutter.”

“Bold words from the man with his tongue down their throat 30 seconds ago,” Sakae replied mockingly, and though you braced for the inevitable violence, a part of you couldn’t help but notice that Sakae didn’t actually sound upset. His voice was breathy, lacking the usual astringency that accompanied his previous conversations with Takaaki. If you had to put a word to it, you would say he almost sounded…fond? “Don’t forget dear doctor, I know exactly how carried away you get when you’ve got your mouth on someone.”  

“Sakae!” Takaaki’s face went bright red, prompting the man himself to let out a boisterous laugh, and you finally summoned enough oxygen to your brain to realize exactly what was happening.

Oh my god.

They’re actually flirting.

Not just subtext, not just words taken out of context, but actual legitimate pick-up lines!

“Oh, for the love of–!” Takaaki pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand. The other, to your ever-growing shock, herded you in Sakae’s direction. “Just get in my office, please. We are not doing this in the hospital hallway.”

You allowed yourself to drift forward, stumbling through the door and into Sakae’s arms. “Hello, darling,” he grinned down at you. His tongue traced over his upper lip while one of his hands gripped your chin, thumb pressing into the plush centre of your bottom lip – shiny from your lip-gloss and Takaaki’s kiss. You expected him to look disgusted but instead those already abyssal eyes grew even darker. “Where’s my greeting, hm?”

Once again, before you could respond, his mouth crashed down on yours. If Takaaki’s kiss had been avaricious and enthusiastic, then Sakae’s was nearly feral. Devouring. He didn’t wait for your lips to part before prying them apart and tasting you with the sort of single-minded possessiveness that made what little cognition you’d managed to scrounge together fall apart like a house of cards.

Takaaki kissed like he wanted to map out the entirety of your body. Sakae kissed like he already owned it.

You took a step back on trembling legs and, rather than hitting the door or falling to the floor, your back hit a warm body. One that trapped you in place with white-coated arms and rocked their hips against your ass with a breathy whine. “You…that face is so cute…”

“He’s right,” Sakae murmured, licking his lips with a fanged smirk. “If this is how you look with just a kiss darling, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back. I don’t understand how your ex let someone as precious as you get away. Clearly, you’re far too valuable for plebeian eyes. The doctor and I are the only ones who can appreciate what a perfect treasure you are.”

“You understand right?” Takaaki whispered in your left ear, at the same time that you felt a needle slide into the right side of your neck. Ouch! Oh, son of a– “Don’t worry, Sakae and I worked on this particular medication together. You’ll just have a nice, long rest, and when you wake up, you’ll be home with us.”

“It’ll be just us,” Sakae crooned softly as the simulated drugs caused your vision to grow dark and your body to sag in Takaaki’s arms. “Our little sweetheart, forever, and ever.”

“Until death do us part,” Takaaki agreed adoringly. The last thing you saw before the UI went completely dark was the two men sharing a kiss over your head.

Congratulations on completing Yandere Heaven Vol. 2! Obtained ??? Ending: Love Triangle? No! Polyamory! You have completed this visual novel 100 times!

Warning! Warning! Warning! Due to a system error, the Yandere Heaven Visual Novel VR Experience has been forced to terminate all programs! We apologize for any and all inconvenience, and hope you enjoyed your time with us! Shutting down in 3…2…1…

EPILOGUE

It had been approximately one month since you’d escaped the VR headset. Apparently, you hadn’t been the only one who’d experienced problems, but as far as you could tell you were the only one who’d been forced to play the same scenario 100 times in a row. The company had been forced to pay out a huge sum as compensation, in addition to taking care of any medical bills.

For obvious reasons, you’d been avoiding taking them up on the latter. The thought of stepping into a hospital was enough to have your skin break out in goosebumps, and the last time you’d stepped into one it had sent you into a dissociative spiral so enveloping you’d holed up in your bedroom for a week straight.

Unfortunately, the broken arm you currently sported wasn’t something that could be fixed with some painkillers and a prayer. Courtesy of a particularly careless motorcyclist, you were now seated in a waiting room that smelled unsettlingly of antiseptic and sweat, listening to other people complain about their own problems while you valiantly tried not to have a panic attack in front of the kid with snot waterfalling from their nose.

This is real. I’m not there anymore. I’m back. This is real. I’m not there anymore. I’m not there anymore, I’m not–

A nurse calling your name brought you back to the present. “Doctor Tamaki will see you now,” she smiled at you, and you returned the expression weakly. Hopefully she just thought you were in pain. She wouldn’t be wrong. “You’re lucky. He doesn’t usually take walk-ins, but he made an exception for you. You’re in good hands.”

Gently cradling your arm, you followed the signs pointing you to the appointed office. As you walked past one of the water coolers, you couldn’t help but overhear two of the nurses whispering to one another. “He’s here again! Oh my god, do you think…?”

“Him and the doctor? They look so good together. It makes me so jealous…”

“Of who? Doctor Tamaki or Sakai?”

“God, imagine being the ice cream in that sandwich.”

“For fuck’s sake, girl, we’re on the clock!”

“Listen, I’ve been here for nine hours straight. Horny thoughts about the doc and our hospital’s top investor are all that’s keeping me from popping every single melatonin pill we have on hand and passing out on the floor.”

Wincing, you picked up the pace until you reached the door with the name Doctor R. Tamaki emblazoned on a gold name card. Before you could even figure out how to knock with one good arm that was already employed keeping the bones of the other in place, the door flew open, and two disturbingly familiar eyes beamed down at you from completely unknown faces – one hazel green and heated, the other the enveloping blue-black of the ocean deep.

“There you are, darling. We’ve been looking all over for you.”

[meadowmusing]

my thoughts before the PJO finale

overall? A good fun show but with some definite stumbling. Faithful in a "remake" sense, but as much as a "port" would be. Still a genuinely good time with a likeable cast, gorgeous visuals, and an engaging (mostly) interesting plot.

Beware spoilers for ep1-7!

My biggest gripes

Pacing. the first episode was horribly paced. Somehow both rushed, not well condensed, and yet also failed to effectively deliver tension in important scenes it was needed in. Scenes like the minotaur felt dragged out and lacked the urgency it deserved, and the fight/victory fell kind of flat. Pacing got better in later episodes thankfully.

Sally Jackson. Yeah I know, not a hot take. She's a more realistic depiction of a mother in that kind of situation but I didn't find her likeable outside of her first scene talking about the name Perseus. She's not necessarily a "Bad Character" per se, but she is not the Sally Jackson from the books. Frankly, I didn't find book Sally all that important, but seeing this version has definitely wised me up to importance of her kindness and patience. Sure she might have seemed like a "doormat" at the beginning, but the more u learnt about her, the more her inner strength and self sacrificial love for Percy was apparent. TV Sally just doesn't have that, it doesn't feel like she has that much affection for Percy, she seems more distant and less loving. TV Sally has far too many scenes of her raising her voice at Percy and being frustrated with him, it makes it seem more like she was randomly stuck with this child and while she loves him, she knows deep down she would have been happier without him. Again, understandable but not book Sally. I feel they've sort of played up Percy's fierce love for his mum (or maybe it just feels more so because its more present in his spoken lines), but it doesn't feel as justified. If anything, id believe a more messy wrought relationship between the two. Its not a bad thing she's not the exact same as her book counterpart, but I do think it was a bad decision when they went so hard on Percy being ride or die for her, when most of her longer scenes are her being just frustrated with Percy being a child.

Gabe. ok more of a hot take I guess but I seriously disagree with his re-characterization. I don't mean to downplay anyone's experiences with toxic or abusive partners, but Gabe is far too bland and inoffensive. At worst, he's kind of annoying and maybe lazy. But he is nothing like the human sht stain that was book Gabe. Book Gabe deserved petrification and a lot worse, TV Gabe does not. The guy deserves a break up, not murder. Me and my friend actually laughed at him, because he didn't give "beats his wife and emotionally abuses her and her child", he gave "dead beat crypto boyfriend". Maybe it was the casting as well, the actor was funny and just seemed more goofy than actively horrid. "what makes u think he hasn't hit sally?" have u met TV Sally?? are u kidding me? she would have that man arrested.

Hades. I don't actually dislike making Hades friendly and more sassy. Sure its not book accurate, but you could argue its a little more mythologically accurate (maybe). My real problem is that he lacks PRESCENCE. Yes he can be nicer ect in this, but he is still the GOD OF THE UNDERWORLD. He should still be able to command a room! His words, even if they're not malicious or intimidating, should hold a certain kind of weight. I don't blame the actor here, I think he does well with what he's given but pretty much everyone else dropped the ball here. If they had supported him, we could have had a friendly Hades that was still a fitting lord of the underworld. Writers, directors, lighting, sound, ect let him down.

Persassy. Percy was great in the beginning but I felt like he started to lose that as the show went on, to give more of his lines/sassy moments to the other members of the trio. Which wasn't a terrible idea, I just think they did it too much, especially with the Ares scenes. Percy is meant to have an epic beef with Ares so much it transcends magic amnesia, but I could not believe that with the current lack of sass. Even the upcoming battle doesn't feel as weighty or deserved as it should. Again, don't hate the idea of sharing the sass around, just don't think it should come at the cost of Percy being toned down so much.

Getting into the underworld / mattress scene WHAT WAS THAT. I can accept that Percy knows more about Greek mythology because of his mom and i feel generally from just current cultural zeitgeist, but WHY THE HELL WOULD HE KNOW WHO CRUSTY IS?? and why was it so quick? there was no quick desperate clever thinking, it was like bro had read the scene from the book and then SPEED RAN IT. Also the Charon scene was far more interesting imo and I don't like that they cut it in favour for Crusty, without even doing that scene well. God that was so poorly executed.

Anyway thanks for reading my rant. Its long so it may seem like I didn't like the series but im being truthful when I say I did. I pretty much liked the rest of it, even some of the changes. I thinks a good show and adaption with some flaws, thats all. Im excited to finish up the season and im so pumped for season 2 and hopefully the rest of the series :D

[popculturebuffet]

Next up for Cartoon Network era of shows, who is your favorite character from each of the mid-late 2010s Dimensional era (shame they didn't get the best treatment and exposure on the channel, being the point when Cartoon Network was overplaying Teen Titans Go and pushing most other shows to the side) shows you've seen like: We Bare Bears, The Powerpuff Girls 2016, Mighty Magiswords, Ben 10 2017, OK KO Let's Be Heroes, Apple & Onion, Craig of the Creek, and Summer Camp Island?

We Bare Bears: Ice Bear though I loved them all. And as for thoughts, I really need to go back and watch all of this show as it was really good. Relaly solid. I think I just was in that hole of "If the status quo dosen't change I dont like it" which is still mostly true, it is kinda annoying to have a series long arc of someone wants to get a girlfriend with panda and not.. doing anything with that. But it's very clearly mostly slice of life shenanigans. ALso seems to have ended well

PPG: SIlico as he seems neat.. but I watched maybe one episode of this. I wasn't intrested, everything I heard was bad and looking back it seems half assed.

Mighty Magiswords: Yet another one from this era (and the last) I need to go back to, a true classic. Character wise I love Porhias for his voice and whole vibe. Though Vambre's legs will always have a place in my heart... moving on.

Ben 10 Reboot: Kevin having a bootleg omnitrix. This one I didn't see much of and while I may watch it some day for completions sake... it seems mid. Not as messy as ultimate or omniverse with some growth and really intresting ideas, but not nearly as intresting as the og or alien force seasons 1 and 2. It's firmly in the middle: trying hard to be funnier, inoffensive, but as bad as omniverse could get in it's worst moments... it had ambition. 2016 takes a much needed fresh start and just kinda... does a weaker version of the first show without the charm or real stakes or neat jack kirby-esque art style.

OK KO Let's Be Heroes: It's like asking me to pick my children you monster. But i'd have to go with Professor Venemous. He's a compelling villian, and while I feel we coudl've gotten more post shadowy figure takeover out of him (and may give him just that some day), he's an intresting villian whose bisexual as hell, clever and whose motivatoin and history with characters is great. The cast as a whole is though as this is the best show of the bunch here, though it has close compettition and you can probably guess who. It's fun, has well done character arcs, great action at a time Cartoon Network hated doing acction scnees (it's why SU got the shit end of the stick for a while and why this show ultimately did not last) and ended on one hell of a final episode (The actual climax is mixed but still pretty good given the time constraints). An all time classic and one of the best show's cn's put out and certainly one of my faviorites.

Apple and Onion: Onion, though ti's bittersweet given the whole Grahm Lihean thing. God dammit richard. A great show I wish i'd watched more of, really sweet and chill and like most of these as you pointed out , given the short end of the stick for teen titans not for me.

Craig of the Creek: Another all time faviorite and one I need to watch more of including the full story arc. But what i've seen of the story arc is excellent and the show as a whole is great, the recess successor I didn't know I wanted. It's still largely i'ts own thing but it's hard not ot see "Kids in their own elabroate clicks with terriotirY" and not think recess, but going way bigger than it's more grounded cousin. It's still clear most fantasy stuff is just the kids imaginations, but it dosen't hold back a fantastic show with a stacked roster of characters, a truly great world that just gets better and better, and a lot of nice character growth and moments. I'm not ready for it to end and boo HBO MAx for not wanting one of thier most succesful shows to go on. Favorite is JP. Eaisly. he's the boy.

Summer Camp Island: I"ve barely seen any of it I hear it's great and once again they screwed it over badly.

[heirdrop]

𝗔𝗠 𝗜 𝗕𝗔𝗗 𝗢𝗥 𝗠𝗔𝗗 𝗢𝗥 𝗪𝗜𝗦𝗘?          ╱          @pcrfumed

𝚂𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙸𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙱𝙰𝙱𝙸𝙴𝚂 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙱𝙸𝙶 𝙸𝙳𝙸𝙾𝚃 𝙻𝙾𝚂𝙴𝚁𝚂.    it's a philosophy yul came up with as a child,    a worldview born chiefly of spite    (    as most things about his pathetic existence are    ).    there's nothing to be proud of,    and he's gotten pretty used to ignoring the shame    ⸻    of being the unwanted son,    himself and his mother the subject of shout-like whispers during family gatherings,    the burning in his gut when kim seunghan does anything deserving of praise,    whether or not it has to do with yul.    yet in spite of the clear-cut tenets of this credo,    yul has always been a generous sort.    as long as the risk to himself is minimal,    yul has no problem with being nice,    if not bland and inoffensive.    sure,    go ahead,    i've got plenty of pens or hey,    i have the answer key to this problem set if you need it or yeah,    this code is open source,    no need to credit me though i'd appreciate it if you did.

there's no real loss inherent to offering kwon taeri a cigarette as they wait out a dreary december drizzle beneath the awning of the police station.    he'd be down one cig and he'd have to take his hands out of his warm coat pockets,    unfurl them from around the little warming packets.    that's all.    hardly strenuous,    especially for an old friend.    but that's just it,    isn't it?    old should be replaced with former.    never,    actually,    if he's going to be entirely honest.    because no actual friend,    someone who knew,    understood,    and liked yul,    would've ever chosen to brandish the bane of his existence like a weapon,    to club shin doyoon to metaphorical death with the one person yul hates more than dear old dad.

it's that it makes him feel stupid,    actually    ⸻    that's the part that hurts most.    his life is a revolving door of adults and authority figures,    but with peers    ...    he sounds dumb as hell,   and he knows it.    he'd never say it out loud because he knows taeri would laugh in his face.    but they were comrades,    once upon a time,    weren't they?    whatever happened to loyalty?    had a handful of years really changed so much,    and why hadn't yul noticed it?

❝    tch.    ❞    he'll swear on a bible that the annoyed click of his tongue once she came to a stop beside him was purely reflex,    but they both know the truth.    yul has nothing to say to taeri that won't devolve into shouting,    and that's the last thing either of them wants when roughly ten feet away from the nearest cop.    when he next exhales after a puff,    he turns so that the wind blows the smoke away from her    (    and he won't look her in the eye as he does so    ).    how's that for a favor?

[kindestegg]

"king is 8" is perhaps one of my biggest inoffensive yet still annoying pet peeves i have when it comes to toh fandom misconceptions because YEAH i get how ppl can think that with how echoes of the past presents his backstory by stating eda found him eight years ago and the fact the toh wiki page states his age (i should say though... while its good for technical info n for getting snapshots please do not rely on it for character info, it is often pretty wrong)... its just not logical to think so?

king wasnt BORN the day eda found him. if anything hed been out of the egg for a while, you can see what he looks like as an actual newborn earlier in the ep when hes out of the egg and jean luc takes him. hes at LEAST 9 having been out of the egg for a year when eda found him, but i usually say hes 10 because he was pretty big for a one year old even and was able to run around on his own and could recognize and repeat words, which would indicate him being around 2 at that time.

ultimately i know this will do jack and shit to change the overall fandom perception but i feel i should at least throw my two cents out there ㄟ( ▔, ▔ )ㄏ

[beevean]

(Same IDW Silver anon still) Yeah no actually I'm putting some more thought into the whole "No, genius. Whisper is her name." part, and what the fuck. There would have been SO many ways to make that line come off as less dickish; hell, the simple act of having Sonic playfully SMILING while he said it would have been so much better than the irked, annoyed face he pulls now. Sonic, that is your friend you are talking to, and I would call their circumstances at that moment hardly warranting of such annoyance towards Silver not understanding something that inoffensive. I'm thinking of 06!Sonic and Silver meeting with Silver's resolve having changed and him just bluntly going "Circumstances have changed. I need to rescue the Princess.". What does Sonic do? Nod, thumbs-up, and let Silver go along easy and with no fuss. No quips and jerkish statements that indicates he thinks Silver is being a dumbass, merely checking out the situation with a "You look like you're in a hurry. So what's going on?". If you look closely I believe you can even see Sonic smiling in that moment! With that in mind, I truly cannot envision that Sonic and IDW!Sonic to be the same person, legit. I read your response to my earlier post just now after typing the above, and yep, Sonic's thing about his 'over-eager friend' is just also kind of mean. And the literal panel on the next page after "No genius", wherein Sonic does his smug little bow and calls Silver 'Flatware' while asking him to open the door? Also that is yet another jab towards Silver (I think; I don't even understand what flatware is supposed to mean in this context. It's literal definition is something akin to cutlery, it seems? Regardless, I doubt it is anything kind-spirited). It's a shame because I can see so many ways wherein Sonic could have been more friendly while changing so little dialogue, and both he and Silver would have been much better off for it personality-wise.

I think the Flatware joke is supposed to be at best a pun about his name (because good flatware is made of silver) and at worst a jab at his quills that might resemble a fork. Probably the former. Still mean.

Sonic in that issue just sounds like that "friend" who thinks the height of humor is lowkey making fun of you.

"You had to bring the mood down", "I'm Sonic, and my over-eager friend here is Silver", "No, genius, Whisper is her name" (said with a cringy grimace), "care to get the door for us, Flatware?" (mocking bow). Silver even rightfully says "no need to rub it in". I'm sorry, I feel bad for him! Yes, Sonic is snarky and playful, but he never crosses the line where he sounds meanspirited, and if he does, it's when he's 100% sure that the other can dish back, like in that cutscene in Colors where he playfully states that he did all the work and Tails was like "oh I didn't see you build a translator now, did you?". That moment is nice because Sonic and Tails are very close friends and no one is offended. If Tails had been more insecure, Sonic would have immediately apologized and propped Tails up, because it's what Sonic does: he lifts people up!

And it's just with Silver, because he's actually pretty sensitive with Whisper! He immediately understands, without even knowing her, that she's a reserved person who doesn't like interacting with people. He's very respectful of her preference to stay on her own. So it's just an attempt of making Sonic sound a jokester, but the jokes aren't funny.

anyway sonic and silver should interact more and sonic should be nicer to him. I loved a recent fanart of the two discussing about nature together :)

[kyogre-blue]

Wuwa day 3

I got past Scar getting arrested (good), but I hit the next level gate, which... is going to take a few days at minimum. Feeling annoyed about it, I lit up the map instead.

Storywise, I continue to find it inoffensive and sometimes mildly cute. I like how no one is interested in Scar's shit at all, it makes him come off entirely unhinged and like he's just drinking his own koolaid with all his posturing about black sheet and such. Jinhsi is pretty cute, I might be tempted when she inevitable banners. It's a copout in a sense, but they can explain a lot of what's been going on with the fact that the magic dragon can just see the future. So everyone knowing that you're super special when you just showed up? Magic dragon prophecy.

In general, they do a passable job managing the questions the story poses so far. We spent the first section with the overarching goal of meeting the Magistrate for answers about the MC's deal. It turns out Jinhsi can't give you meaningful answers because she doesn't actually know anything, since she was just following magic dragon prophecy, but she does tell you about a more long term direction for the plot (the Lament and the big monster that's waking up) and also sends you on the next short-term directive, which is meeting the Xiao cosplayer. (I do still think introducing him in the previous section was no handled too well. It felt too blatant of a setup with no payoff. The stuff with the candy vaccine was also apparently just killing time?)

I think... the reason I'm so tolerant toward all this is that it feels a bit like a mid RPG from back in the day. The plot moves in a similar pattern, and the characters are set up similarly, especially since several travel with you for a good while. Things like proper noun spam in the beginning won't necessarily bother me as long as your party is there and the general direction is clear. And, well, I do think a lot of the side characters are cute if flat. It's better than just Paimon, that's for sure.

As far as exploration goes, I'm also getting more used to it. The world (and the movement controls) aren't as polished as Genshin, but they're not cheap either. I do like the different vibe of the world, especially not that I've seen some of the cool locations.

Here's some screenshots, I started taking them once I got into the groove:

[allthislove]

The Harry and Meghan thing is so frustrating, because they have a fandom, too, so any time you defend them because you have human decency, the weirdo Royalists attack you and accuse you of being Sussex Squad, which... like I'm not. Like, they're fine, I guess, but I honestly, truly don't stan. I like them in passing, the same way I like Princess Diana in passing. General positive feeling, but not really making it a thing. I also just have a pretty decent memory, so if I see it a few times in the news or online, I'm going to remember it. Like, I know Sophie Turner has 2 daughters with Joe Jonas and they are divorcing and she's in the UK right now because she's filming something and Joe complained about being left with the kids in the US. It's not because I stan either of them. I know who they are and I have generally positive feelings about both of them (changing some now for Joe because he trashed her in the media, but still) I remember things I hear about people who are of note to me, just naturally. I'm not trying to. There's no notebook somewhere filled with celebrity facts. I just know that Cardi B married Offset and they have two kids together, Kulture and Wave Set. Not because I stan either.

I truly stan like Beyonce and like Chris Evans and like Zendaya and those. You will know who I stan.

At any rate, it's annoying because instead of taking outside criticism, these ravenous haters, the Anti-Meghans, just find ways to dismiss you. "Oh, Sussex Squad, y'all always say that." Incorrect. I would never stan royalty enough to wear their banner, in a sense. "Oh, YOU must be Meghan" that's new. I wish, she's hot, rich, and married to a prince. She kinda living the dream, except for you who hate her, but I'd suffer haters to live that life, too. But, nah, I'm just a theatre artist living in North Carolina. "It's not racism, we just don't like her behavior" literally all of us can see her and her behavior. She married into the most famous royal family in the world. We are not seeing anything untoward, maybe shit we don't care about like... not following royal protocol. I'm American, idgaf about royal protocol. I don't care if she says mean things about the most privileged whites in the world. So do I. I don't care if you find her personality fake. I don't care about anything she has ever said or done, she is inoffensive. You guys just don't like that she's biracial, American, and an actress. Since I fit most of that, too, I have no sympathy and I find you disgusting, racist, xenophobic, and pompous.

Every single time they're like "it's not that we're racist" but they offer no reality. Either tabloid stuff or just general "she seems phony". Like all celebrities aren't phony in some way. Like Will and Kate aren't phony. You think every famous person you like is just... real with you? You have having what's called a parasocial relationship. These people don't know or care about you and many of them wouldn't be fun to meet in person. Especially if you parasocial relationship is with the fucking PRINCE OF WALES. Wake up.

Anyway, I'm done, I'm just annoyed. I am not in your royalty fandom. I just think been mean to a woman so much that you attack random people online for even mentioning her is sick. Y'all attacked that Beyonce fan. Y'all accused him of being a paid actor. Do you realize how sick you sound? Your behavior just proves Meghan to be innocent even further. If she was evil, you wouldn't need to resort to slander. We'd know.

[heavencasteel420]

(Petty venting ahead.)

I totally see why other people ship R*nance; their S4 team-up is fun (when Robin isn’t trying to push Sta*cy) and they have good chemistry. I’m also not such an exclusively Jancy shipper that I can’t enjoy fic/art for other Nancy (or Jonathan) ships and, although I want them to stay together in canon, there are ways that they could do a R*nance ending (overt or stealth) that I would be on board with. (In contrast, there is one Sta*cy ending that they could do that would make me go “I still hate this but it kind of works.”) Still, it is so hard to find R*nance fic that fits the following criteria:

Nancy is either bi/pan OR it’s an AU where she’s been a lesbian the whole time and it impacts the narrative accordingly (i.e., the author isn’t positing that Nancy, in canon, has never actually been attracted to Jonathan or Steve—I appreciate that other people find this interpretation meaningful, but I simply do not vibe with it);

If it’s an AU, it has enough connection to the source material that I don’t feel like I’m reading original fic where everyone has the names of ST characters for some reason (just a general preference);

Nancy is not a popular mean girl who needs to be humbled (presented with backhanded sympathy for her internalized homophobia or no);

The fic doesn’t go too far the other way and make Nancy a 100% well-adjusted and endlessly supportive Mom Friend (honestly, I’m pretty flexible on this one, because it’s much less common and doesn’t give me bad-adaptation-of-Emma vibes);

Similarly, the fic finds a happy medium between making Robin an uwu baby useless lesbian (and kind of infantilized due to implied autism) and an overly wise and together lesbian mentor (not terribly interesting story-wise, plus if she’s still eighteen, how together can she be?);

Unless it’s an AU where Jancy never happened or happened a lot differently, Nancy’s bond with Jonathan is acknowledged as important (even if they parted on bad terms and could no longer be friends, it’s bizarre to act like they had a casual, run-of-the-mill high school relationship) and definitely not dismissed as trivial next to her relationships with Steve or frickin’ Eddie;

The author genuinely likes Jonathan (“I don’t hate him but [long list of ways Jonathan annoys the author]” doesn’t count), lets him be upset about the break-up without villainizing him (or sets things up so that it’s plausible he’s relatively unbothered), and shows a decent level of awareness of who he is as a character (i.e., not reducing him to just being stoned all the time or getting basic details wrong) OR just leaves him out of it;

Maybe takes it easy on the amount of page-time dedicated to Steve/St*ddie;

Doesn’t have Joyce cheerily tell Nancy that she seems happier with Robin than she ever did with Jonathan (Jonathan could be way shittier as a boyfriend and a son, and that would still be an incredibly cruel thing to do, but the specific circumstances take it into Sharp Objects territory) (if Nancy is a lesbian in the story and Joyce knows it and she means that Nancy seems happier because she can be herself, that’s different);

Decent spelling/grammar/style/formatting (not a specific problem with this ship, just fic in general).

Nobody’s obligated to do anything of these things for what’s ultimately a fun hobby, and most of my pet peeves run the gamut from “totally inoffensive” to “slightly mean-spirited but not bigoted” to “unfortunate implications but I think the author means well.” I understand the utility, too, of downplaying ships you don’t favor or using an ex character as the bad guy to create the kind of narrative you want. It’s just slim pickings for someone who thinks they’re cute together but isn’t into all that shit.

[duskholland]

Zip It || Peter Parker

prompt ↠ “oh, you want to kiss me so fucking bad, don’t you?” / “... what if I do?”

summary ↠ you didn’t think it could get any worse than the shared bed at the hotel, but then you find out you have to pretend to be peter’s girlfriend for the duration of the mission. it really feels like the universe is laughing in your face. ↠ enemies to lovers, fake dating, college au. word count ↠ 6.3k. warnings ↠ alcohol + a college party, brief use of needles, all the teasing and cursing that comes with an enemies to lovers, and some suggestive tension! this is sfw! a/n ↠ I love this prompt. I’ve wanted to write something based off it for ages, and what better scenario to explore it than in an enemies to lovers fake dating situation lmao? :’) it’s been a while since I wrote anything long with pete so I’m a lil rusty, but this was still a lot fun! I hope you like it

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Are you falling asleep right now? Seriously?” Your voice is scathing, your face pinched into a scowl as you stare across the hotel room. “Peter, we have to go in an hour.”

There’s the sound of the duvet rustling as Peter Parker very slowly looks up to glare at you. He’s sprawled beneath the covers of the large double bed, the sheets pulled up to his chin. The heat he carries in his eyes as he hears your accusation is considerably softened by the oversized burgundy hoodie he’s being swallowed by, and the fact his hair is wild and unkempt.

“No,” he says, voice cracking from its high pitch. He clears his throat immediately, cheeks flushing a little darker as he grimaces and looks away. “I’m just...chilling, Y/N.”

“Sure,” you reply. You shift around in the uncomfortable armchair in the corner of the room, feeling pain shoot up your back from the hunched position you’ve been in for far too long. “Liar.”

Peter sits up a little straighter, pulling a face. It’s quick to shatter as he yawns suddenly, and loudly, the sound so brash and unexpected that it makes you jump. Amusement mixes with his annoyance as he looks at you, brown eyes glinting almost amber beneath the light from the bedside lamp.

“I’m not lying. I’m just enjoying this really comfy bed,” he says. His pink lips quirk into a smirk, and he looks so fucking smug as he buries himself back beneath the covers. “It’s so warm. I think the, uh, the sheets are satin. Feels like a cloud, or something. And the pillows…” Peter releases a strangled sound, hitting the back of his head off one of the feathery pillows for dramatic effect. “So nice… Um, unrelated, Y/N, but… how’s that chair? Looks pretty uncomfortable.”

You scowl. “Shut up,” you snap. “You’re completely insufferable. I can’t believe I have to be here with you right now.” You drop your voice, speaking in mutters as you add, more to yourself, “why couldn’t it be Cap? Or Natasha? Why’d it have to be you?”

Peter releases a mirthless chuckle. You glance back, watching as he combs a hand through his fluffy brown curls, messy and wild from so long lounging around. He looks a little bit like an angry teddy bear, wrapped up in such a large hoodie, tucked up in bed. You’re quick to push down that thought. There is nothing cute or inoffensive about Peter Parker.

“Do you think I’m any happier than you about this?” he responds, voice dull. “This is the worst mission I’ve ever been assigned to, and that’s saying a lot. Do you remember that one we did, with the, uh, the… The chemicals? In the lab? Or the time that we had to go and deal with all those freaky alien snakes?” he breaks off, shivering, then recomposes himself enough to shoot you a sour look. “This is worse than all of those times.”

The ache in your back from the chair grows too much to bear, so you stand up slowly, trying to hide your expression of pain.

“Well, hopefully, we’ll get this over with soon,” you reply, voice a mutter. You cast him a distrustful look. “I might kill you if I have to spend much longer with you.”

Peter just smirks, rolling onto his side as he snuggles back into bed. “Feeling’s mutual, baby,” he calls out, looking back at his phone.

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you stalk over to your suitcase and pull out your outfit for tonight, followed by a bag of makeup and hair products. You don’t bother to say anything more as you stride into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you for effect. The moment it’s shut, you throw everything down on the counter and grab at the cool porcelain of the basin, staring yourself in the mirror as you try to calm down.

Peter makes you so frustrated. Since high school and the cramped hallways of Midtown, he’s been an irritant to you. Back then, he was always hanging around, crowding your space, infiltrating your friend group. You understood it, at first. He was a new addition to the Avengers, a team you’ve been a part of since you were 14. Maybe it was to be expected that he clung to you like he did back then, and stuck to your side like glue. Maybe you’d liked it at first.

But then he’d grown up. Peter had become cockier, bolder. The biggest transformation was when you both went to college and somehow ended up on the same course, sharing 90% of the same classes. You got to watch as he was scouted by the college lacrosse team, and thus his ego inflated. To most people, you know he appears charming. He’s polite, considerate, compassionate, and those qualities have awarded him both the attention of your entire college population and the acclaim of the citizens of New York. They herald him, repeatedly, as their saviour, and whilst you’re not jealous of the attention he gets, it irritates you.

Peter does stupid things, all the time, and everyone just lets him get away with it. Like when he accidentally webbed you down during a mission or tossed a bomb your way assuming you could magically diffuse it within the five seconds left on the timer. He steals your food from the fridge in the Avengers’ compound every single time, despite the notes and the padlocks you’ve resorted to using. It’s as if Peter is intent on ruining your life, and when he’s not doing it by fucking up a mission, he’s always just...there. Hanging around, with a sly smirk on his lips or a witty remark laying at the tip of his tongue, trying to get a rise out of you.

You can’t stand being around him.

To add insult to injury, you’ve both been roped into working this mission together. It’s an odd pairing—usually, you’d have at least one other member of the team to act as a buffer between you both. This time, though, with the objective being the infiltration of a college party, apparently you and Peter are the only people who look the right age. You think it’s just some elaborate ploy to get you to work better together, but your complaints had fallen on deaf ears.

You sigh as you look at your reflection in the mirror.

As you do your makeup and fix your hair, you try to let go of some of the frustration you feel. You’re jumpy and shaking, feeling like an uncontrollable livewire. You always feel oddly unsettled whenever you’re around Peter, and it’s only been growing worse recently.

A weight rolls from your shoulders when you finish painting your face and fixing your hair. All that’s left is your dress, and you pick it up with a smile on your face. It’s short, one of your own, and a pretty shade of red—the perfect number for a college party. You slip into it, wriggling as the silky material slides up to press against your soft skin. It’s going well, but then...

You can’t reach the zip.

“Fuck,” you mutter, scrunching up your nose as you reach back and paw helplessly at the undone zipper. You’d forgotten when you’d packed it that the high rise of the zip on this particular dress always gives you trouble. “Peter!”

“What?” he yells back.

You grimace and try a final time to grab the zipper yourself.

“Can you come here?”

“Is that how you ask for something politely?”

You inhale a shuddering breath, clenching your fists as you glance up at the ceiling. Through tight, irritated lips, you call back, “Peter Parker, oh generous and kind saviour of New York City, could you please come here and help me?”

You hear the sheets of the bed rustle very slowly, followed by the heavy set sounds of footsteps stomping over the carpet. You wonder if he’s being purposefully annoying, or if he’s just like this. A moment later, Peter opens the bathroom door, sticking his head around the doorframe with a scowl on his face. He opens his mouth to speak, only for the words to catch as his eyes bulge and take in your figure. You stand a little straighter, arching an eyebrow as you watch him swallow, deeply, taking in the tight fit of the dress and the way it clings confidently to your form.

“Uh- oh, uh, what?” he mutters, cheeks burning red.

“Can you get my zip? Please?” you ask, biting back a smile as you see how flustered he’s become. It gives you a rush of confidence that you can’t quite explain to have him looking at you like that. “It’s uh, just too high for me to reach.” You turn so you have your back to him, glancing into the long bathroom mirror to watch him tentatively step forward.

“Yeah,” he responds, voice gentle. He shuffles nearer, still shrouded in that soft hoodie.

You bend down slightly and make sure he’s got open access to the back as you stand still. A small pulse of electricity crackles down your spine when Peter perches one of his warm hands on your bare shoulder, fingertips brushing up against the thin strap as the other curves down to your back.

“You, uh… You look nice,” Peter murmurs. He’s gentle as his fingers tug the zip, and you have to look away from the mirror, something in your chest tightening as you observe how delicate he is with you. It’s a stark contrast to how haphazardly he treats you out on the field when you’re both protected by your suits.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

It’s tense. You can feel his breath coming out across the back of your neck, and you’re entirely aware of the hand resting on your shoulder. As the sound of the zip slowly being pulled up fills the small space of the bathroom, you find yourself holding your breath.

“There,” Peter mutters. He steps back, immediately pulling away all contact with your body, and your skin feels cold without him. You glance in the mirror, seeing that he’s fixed it perfectly, and give him a short nod.

“Thanks,” you say again, lacking any better words. Your brain feels fuzzy.  

Peter’s phone buzzes and you watch as he digs through his front pocket to find it. “Oh!” he exclaims. His nimble fingers pad over the front screen. “They’ve sent through our fake identities.”

“Ooh,” you say, suddenly feeling excited. This is your favourite part of going undercover—the fake names, the fabricated social media accounts, and the backstory you get to spin. Whoever HQ designs for you becomes your character for the night, and it’s thrilling. Makes you feel a little bit like a movie star. “Let me see.”

Peter’s brows furrow and you watch his jaw drop as his eyes widen. He glances at you, nervousness mixing with his frustration.

“You’re not going to like this,” he says.

“Why? What are you talking about? What have they done? Why—”

He passes you the phone with a roll of his eyes, and you snatch it from his hand.

“Oh, yeah, no problem, Y/N, you don’t need to say thanks,” Peter says sarcastically.

Entranced by the phone, you sit on the marble bathroom counter, continuing to scroll through the fake social media profiles as Peter faffs around in front of the mirror. You’re numbly aware of him pulling off his hoodie, then inspecting his teeth and uncapping his tub of hair gel.

The profiles seem fine. You can’t see anything wrong with them. You’ll be Fi Hardy, Peter as Ben Beckerman. You scroll down your own orchestrated instagram feed, seeing photos of you, pictures of typical college things, then…

“Wait.” You feel your breath catch. “What the fuck.”

“Yeah.” You can hear the smirk in Peter’s voice. “I know.”

The tech team back at HQ is incredibly talented. One of their freakiest and most irritating skills is their ability to photoshop photos that look so real it’s disconcerting. Their latest feat seems to be a series of photos of you and Peter together, except, it’s not really you kissing his cheek, and it’s definitely not him with his arms wrapped around you and his face nuzzled into your neck.

“They...want us to be a couple?” you mutter, voice tight.

“Mmm. Gets worse than that, though. Look at the caption on the newest one.”

You scroll back up, eyes catching on the small, almost insignificant detail of the photo. It’s you both, again, standing together at a party that never took place. Your left-hand rests on Peter’s shoulder, and though some of the details are blurry, the presence of a ring is not.

@fi_hardy: feel like the happiest girl in the world. can’t wait to have you as my husband <3

Beneath the post is hundreds of likes, and a stream of comments from fake accounts congratulating the two of you on your engagement.

It makes sense, you suppose. You’ve read the file. You know that the man you’re trying to bug tonight has a history of pursuing taken women, and you suspect that your engagement ring might give you access to him that you might otherwise not get. On a basic level, you understand it, and if it was anyone else assigned as your fiancé, you’d be fine with it. But it’s not. It’s him.

You throw Peter’s phone on the counter angrily.

“Hey!” he yells, quickly snatching it up and cradling it close. “Careful!”

You slip down from the counter, your fingernails digging into the soft flesh of your palms as you pace the short space. Peter jumps out of your way, eyeing you with amusement in his eyes.

“Are you seriously laughing right now?” you quip, needing to direct your irritation at someone.

Peter shrugs. “Maybe. You’re being really dramatic.”

“Oh, well I’m sorry that I don’t particularly like the idea of walking around a party pretending to be engaged to you.” Your eyes widen as you start to think about what this actually entails. “Clearly, these people are gross and affectionate. Have you even thought about what that might mean?”

Peter loses a little bit of his confidence, his cheeks paling slightly. “Well, uh, we don’t have to play into it that much—”

“Yes, we do,” you challenge. “They’ve clearly set it up like this for a reason. If we don’t follow it exactly, then we’ll fuck up the mission.” You meet his gaze, nostrils flaring. “I’m not going to fuck up this mission, Peter, and you better not either.”

“Woah,” he mutters, throwing his hands in the air. His fingers glint beneath the harsh bathroom lighting, still partly sticky from the hair gel. “I’m not planning on messing up the mission.” He tilts his head to the side, chuckling. “I’m gonna be the most convincing fake fiancé you’ve ever had.”

You pause, crossing your arms. “Oh, really?” You raise a brow. “You know, that means you’re going to have to, like… Hold my hand.”

Peter nods, gelled hair staying in place. He copies your movements, biceps bulging against the thin white t-shirt as he folds his arms over his chest.

“Yeah,” he says. He steps a little closer, smirking, and you breathe in the scent of his cologne. “Might even have to kiss you, too.”

Something inside your chest rebels against your irritation, and you find yourself puzzling as an odd combination of emotions strikes you.

“You will,” you say, narrowing your eyes. You look away, trying to shake off the odd feelings in your stomach. “I, uh… I’m going to go and find the rest of my jewellery.” You walk towards the bathroom door, glancing back just in time to catch Peter’s eyes admiring your form. His cheeks flush again, and you raise a brow. “Hurry up,” you mutter. “We need to go.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

An hour later, you’re there, thrown thick into the fray of a Chicago house party. From the outside, you’d been sceptical—the house looked to be a normal building, smack bang in the centre of a residential street. Inside, though, it wears all the marks of a college party: tacky red cups, a terrible DJ, and a persistent level of noise that makes your ears ache. As a student yourself, you usually love parties, but you will admit it’s a little disconcerting to be at one where you know no one. Undercover and knowing no one but Peter, you find yourself in the back corner of the room with him, his arm thrown easily around your shoulders as the two of you scout the room.

Peter’s presence at your side is merely for protection, and both of you know it. With neither of you in your suits and your skills leaning more towards the pick-pocketing side than his, the plan is simple. You’ll both work together to identify your target, then you’ll discreetly take his phone and pass it off to Peter who will make a copy of all the files. Hopefully you’ll be able to return it to Harry Osborn, the son of the elusive CEO of Oscorp, before he notices that his phone, which contains precious information about illegal scientific experiments, has been taken.

It should be simple.

“Where the fuck is he?” you murmur, squinting your eyes as you survey the crowd. It’s Harry’s party, yet the host hadn’t been on the door, nor does he appear to be in the living room.

“Don’t know,” Peter responds.

You glance up at him, biting back a snarling comment as you get distracted by the sight of his face. It’s quite… It’s quite cute.

Peter’s pulled a blue plaid shirt over the top of his white t-shirt. The cuffs obscure the web shooters he’d refused to leave behind, and the material clings tightly to his torso. He’s buffed up considerably since joining the lacrosse team, and though you despise the way he’s now able to press more than you in the gym, you will admit he looks good with his chest full and muscular.

“Um, Fi?” Peter’s looking at you, eyebrows arched. His thin lips twitch into almost a smile, and he tugs you a little bit closer. You squeak as you fall into him, having to reach up and grab at his shoulders to steady yourself. The glint of the golden band, sitting on your ring finger, draws your attention. “Are you okay, baby? Looking a little bit… Distracted.”

He doesn’t know you were checking him out. There’s no way. He doesn’t.

...Does he?

You smile sweetly, trying to look at him like you’re in love. “Sorry, babe,” you respond. There are people all around you, chatting and swaying to the music, so you have to maintain the rouse. “Got a lot on my mind.”

Peter coos, reaching up to pat your cheek softly. You have to press down the urge to bite his finger.

“‘Course you do,” he soothes. His eyes flitter around your face, then back to the rest of the room as he surveys the crowd. Peter’s expression suddenly clears, and he pats your cheek softly. “He’s here,” he murmurs, voice low. “Eleven o’clock.”

You turn in his arms, sinking back into Peter’s form as he adjusts to hold you in a loose hug. His chin presses into your shoulder, slick hair brushing up against the bottom of your face. His warm grip on your waist makes you gulp.

Harry Osborn has entered the room. The blond is surrounded by a group of his friends and wearing a long, green and purple checkered jacket. Even from across the room, he emanates the stench of old money and thick charm.

“Alright,” you say. You pull away from Peter, having to fight for a few moments to break free from his firm grip. You turn back to look at him, blinking a few times as you take in his unreadable expression. “I’m going in. Stay close.”

Peter gives you a curt nod. “Gotcha,” he says. He drops his voice, eyes darkening. “Be safe,” he adds, voice a little quieter.

You swallow, nodding in return. “You too.”

Before he can say another word, you take off, melting into the crowd with ease. You’ve got a vague game plan building in your mind, but you won’t know the best way to get close to Harry until you get a better read on his character. You know a few things from his file, such as his naturally outgoing personality and a supposed affinity for taken girls, but beyond that, he’s a mystery.

You find a cup of cheap beer and stand fairly near Harry and the rest of his friends. There’s a few of them, standing in a circle, laughing loudly and talking in obscenities. You sway with the rest of the partiers, making direct and focused eyes towards him until he glances up and spots you. His eyes caress your figure, then he wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you slap on your best I’m interested face.

Harry excuses himself from his friends, walking over to you, intrigued.

“Hey,” he calls out, falling to a stop in front of you. His wavy blond curls complement the icy depths of his blue eyes. “Do I know you?” His tone is light but curious.

You nod immediately, slapping on a bright smile. “Yeah,” you reply. “We were in the same chem class last semester? I’m Fi.” Your words are instilled with so much brash confidence that Harry accepts them. He leans into you as you step closer and place your free hand up on his shoulder, fingertips feeling the soft material of his jacket. “I always had a bit of a crush on you, if I’m being honest.”

Harry chuckles, looking you up and down with hunger in his eyes. You match his movements, doing it under the guise of checking him out, but really, you’re trying to locate the position of his phone. A frown finds your lips as you begin to suspect it might be in one of his inner pockets. Your brain starts to spin, running through a variety of different actions you could pull that might give you closer access to him.

“You’re cute,” he decides. Harry smirks, then he plucks the red solo cup from your hand and raises it to his own lips. After draining it, he haphazardly throws it behind him, and your eyes follow it as it soars through the air and bounces off someone’s head. A snort slips past your lips as the figure jolts up, and you recognise the bed of brown curls as Peter. “D’you want to dance with me?”

You nod immediately, forcing a smile as you bring your eyes away from Peter, and back to Harry.

“I would love that,” you respond. Harry grins, then reaches forward to take your hand, only to halt as his beady eyes fall on your ring. Your breath hitches as you hope and pray the intel on his romantic tendencies is correct.

“Are you getting hitched?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing.

You shrug, trying to pass it off as a mere inconvenience. You distract him with fingers in his hair, stroking through the ends of his strands.

“Does it bother you?” you coo, stepping up to whisper in his ear. “He isn’t around at the moment, and I really want to dance with you, Harry.”

The blond’s eyes darken, and he shakes his head. “No problem with me, sweetheart,” he bounces back. He tugs you further into the room, and from the corner of your eye, you see Peter following.

You dance together for a while and slowly, you inch closer to Harry. What starts out as a casual exploration of his form with your hands quickly turns into a full-body pat-down, but he doesn’t seem to notice it. As you slide your fingers beneath the heavy material of his jacket, his lips tickle your neck, kissing your skin harshly. You hide a scowl as your fingers shift lower, lower, and finally, you feel it—his phone.

Harry coaxes you away from his shoulder, and you feel disappointment dampen your excitement as he glances at you, slightly flushed.

“D’you want to go upstairs?” he asks, voice sultry.

You pout softly. “Can we just dance? For a little bit longer?” You know if he gives you one more shot at it, you’ll be able to snatch his phone.

Harry nods, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. His palm is cool and calloused, and it feels alien on your face.

“Of course,” he responds, voice soft. His eyes slip down to your lips, and you know what he wants. You think that it’d be a small price to pay for completing the mission. “You’re so pretty.”

He starts to lean in, his touch on your face encouraging you to do the same. Your eyes flutter shut, but before you’re able to seal the deal, something very large crashes into you.

You yelp, being pushed back from Harry. Your eyes spring back open, and nothing short of volatile irritation burns across you as you see that it’s Peter.

“Woah, man, what the fuck?” Harry snaps. “Look where you’re going.”

Peter snarls at him and reaches down to grab your hand. Your eyes widen, and you squeeze his fingers hard.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should watch where you’re putting your hands before you try and make a move on my girl.”

You jolt up, staring at him, horrified. Before Harry can get in another word, Peter’s jerking you across the room, pulling you in the direction of the patio.

“What the fuck?!” you exclaim, voice high. “What did you do that for? Eh? I was so close to getting the fucking phone, Peter!” you drop your voice as you speak his real name. You try to shake yourself out of his grip, only for him to squeeze you tighter.

Peter doesn’t say anything—not until you’re outside, standing away from the rest of the party, shielded in the trees. He drops your hand and starts to pace in front of you, eyes wild, face scowling.

“You weren’t,” he says, pointing at your left hand. “We’re supposed to be engaged. You were going to blow our cover.”

You throw your hands in the air. “Excuse me? That’s bullshit. Both of us know that this,” you pause to throw your hand up and point at your ring, “is part of it. He likes taken girls, idiot. He found it hot. What the fuck is your problem?”

Peter stops pacing, and he stands in front of you, breathing heavily through flared nostrils. His eyes trail across you, and he jumps forward a few steps.

“He was...sleazy,” he says, scrunching up the tip of his nose. “We’ll just take him out another way. Like, we- we can just wait until he’s alone, and jump him. You’ve still got those, uh, those unconscious injection things, right? We’ll just jab him, steal the phone, use the memory wiping ones, and it’ll be fine.” He’s sputtering and stammering over his words, and you press both hands into your waist as you stare at him, incredulously.

“I understand now,” you say, speaking quickly. “You’re jealous.”

Peter’s expression shifts into one of horror. He opens his mouth to speak, but you jump in first.

“No, I’m talking,” you interrupt. You step closer, finding yourself drawn to the fierce anger churning in his eyes. “You want to be the one who gets all the credit for the mission. You can’t stand the thought of me doing the hard work, can you? You’d rather sabotage the whole thing than let me do my job.”

Peter shakes his head roughly, a few strands of his hair bursting free from the confines of the gel.

“No,” he stresses. “That’s not it at all, Y/N. How self-centred do you think I am?”

You laugh coldly. You’re so close now, you can almost feel his warm breath coming out over your face.

“Incredibly self-centred, Parker,” you respond, not even bothering to use his code name. You’re too far away from anyone else for them to hear you, anyway. “You’re selfish, and volatile, and you do whatever the fuck you want to do. You’re no better than a child.”

He blinks a few times, pursing his pink lips. “Well, fuck you,” he replies, voice dancing with irritation. “You think I’m a child? You’re the one who never fails to throw insults at me, or make fun of all the things I like to do. You’re always, always, hanging around me, watching me like I’m about to trip up. You’re the one who’s self-centred and doesn’t let anyone help you. You’re stubbornly independent, infuriatingly curious, and you- you- you make me so mad.”

Peter’s glowing, his cheeks bright pink, and his eyes a rich shade of brown that takes your breath away. You don’t know how to respond, so you fall back to the thought that’s been bouncing through your head since he’d tugged up your zipper.

“Oh, you want to kiss me so bad.”

“...What if I do?”

There’s a tense silence as you meet his eyes. Your chest is heaving, Peter’s too, but in sync, you seem to surge together. His hands go to your waist, and you wrap yours around his neck, and he kisses you, suddenly. You moan from surprise, but you push back into it, twirling your fingers into his hair as you kiss him fiercely. His lips are soft and slightly chapped, but they make you feel warm inside, and you realise in a quick moment that you love the feeling of them moving over yours. When he breaks off to gasp for breath, you’re quick to smother him again, craving the sensation, rejoicing in how nice it feels to be held in his strong arms.

You kiss him, and suddenly you understand why it annoys you so much every time you see him playing lacrosse and being cheered on by the crowds in the stands. It becomes clear why you couldn’t stand the sight of him with MJ. The way your skin crawls and your heart seizes in your chest every time Peter looks at you become explainable.

You kiss him, and it all makes sense.

When your lungs burn for air, you fall back. As you inhale the fresh air instead of his lips, your mind starts to clear.

“Peter?” You whisper.

Peter’s holding your waist, forehead pressed against yours as his ragged breath comes out across your face. When you open your eyes, you see the way his eyes are similarly wide with shock.

“I, uh…”

Suddenly, there’s a loud crash from inside the house. Peter jumps back, eyebrows furrowing as if he’s listening to something.

“Gotta go,” he mutters. “Spidey sense. Stay here.”

You try to reach out to grab him, but he slips away.

“B-Ben!” you call after him, but it’s already too late. Peter’s vanished, and your eyes have little more to grasp but the sight of him running over the patio and vaulting into the room.

You decide to follow him, head spinning.

When you reach the house, you see that one of the tables has been pushed over. You suspect that was the source of the loud noise, but a glance around the room gives you no sight of Peter, nor Harry. Your eyes flutter around the sea of people, and where you draw up blank, you decide you’ll need to comb the house.

Using your intuition, you quickly run up the stairs, dress flapping around the bottom of your thighs. It’s quieter upstairs, but you have to push through a few entangled couples. Worry hangs heavy in your heart. There’s a selection of rooms up here, but the one at the end has its door flung wide open. You squint your eyes and stare into it, gaze widening. It’s the master, and it leads out to a large balcony. On the balcony are Peter and Harry, engaged in what seems to be hand-to-hand combat.

You groan as you run into the room, but the sight of Harry’s jacket strewn across the floor makes you pause. You bend down, rummaging through his pockets and grinning as you feel his phone. After pulling it out, you dig into your slim black bag and pull out the transmission beacon. Whilst keeping half an eye on the fight out on the balcony, you use the other to slot Harry’s phone into the device. As the machine absorbs the intel from Harry’s phone, you stand up and hurry out, digging through your bag as you go to join the fight.

It’s a lot worse now that you’re out here. You’d thought Peter was in control, but now you’re closer, you can see that Harry is holding a sharp, thin knife. Usually, in his suit, Peter would be able to hold his own easily. Yet, it seems that Harry is exceptionally good at close combat, and you find them sparring on an equal level, one of Peter’s sleeves slashed and red blood staining the material.

“Who the fuck are you?” Harry sneers, breathless as he dodges a kick from Peter.

“None of your business,” your partner snaps back. Peter sees you, his face clearing with relief, but it knocks his concentration. You gasp as Harry manages to punch him in the side of the face and Peter goes spiralling back, grunting as the force behind it pushes him onto the cement floor.

“Well, if you won’t identify yourself, I’m sure the coroners will,” Harry snarls. He bends down to kneel on Peter, pinning him down with his wrists and legs.

Panic courses through your veins, but you’re finally able to shake it as you realise the fight has tilted very seriously out of Peter’s favour. You grab one of the syringes from your bag and vault across the large balcony, jumping onto Harry’s back. The man grunts, trying to turn around and take you on, too, but you jam the fast-acting needle into his arm, and he immediately slackens. You fall to the side, crashing onto the patio beside Peter as both of you watch Harry pass out. You wince as the blond falls back, slumping onto the balcony with his eyes closed.

“Shit,” Peter murmurs. He sits up, rubbing at his arm. “Thanks.”

You bring your gaze back to him, uncertain and nervous.

“Uh, you’re welcome,” you say. You swallow deeply. Peter’s eyes are dark but kind, glinting like stars beneath the night sky. “You’re my partner, so, uh… I had to protect you.”

“You saved me. He was this close to gutting me.” Peter holds up his fingers, showing you a tiny space as he smiles shyly.

You shrug bashfully, enjoying the way he’s looking at you.

“I couldn’t let you die,” you whisper.

Peter crawls over to you, and you melt like a candle against his lips as he reaches up to cup your face and kiss you, gently. It’s warmer this time and lacks the frenzied anger that’d tainted the last one. You sigh into it, and relax back, letting him press you down against the cool ground as he chases your lips. Peter shifts over you, planking above you, and the hand messily sprawled over your cheek holds you in place, allowing him to kiss you again and again.

“Wait,” you murmur, pulling back, brows furrowing. The sight of him above you, messy hair falling out around his face makes you smile. “What about your arm?”

Peter makes a noncommittal noise. “Super healing,” he mutters. “Worth it.”

You swallow, ghosting your lips over his again.

“But… But don’t you hate me?” you find yourself asking.

“Nah.” Peter’s smiling, his expression warm. “I think, uh… it was more frustration. I think I… I think I feel the opposite of hate. If you… If you know what I mean.”

Your lips twitch into a wide smile. “I know what you mean,” you reply. Teasingly, you press a very light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You drive me mad, but… in a good way.”

Peter chuckles, the sound vibrating through the air. “You’re so cute,” he mumbles between kisses. You play with his hair, aching in every single way to feel more of him. The attraction you feel towards him is consuming and fulfilling, and you wonder why it took you so long to get to the root of your feelings. “I, uh… I couldn’t stand the sight of you two together. That’s why I interrupted you guys. Sorry for, uh, blowing the mission.”

You giggle. Finally, Peter shifts away, standing up with a grunt and offering you a hand up.

“It’s fine,” you say. You curl into his side, his hand resting comfortably on your waist as the two of you look down at Harry. He’s snoring loudly. “It was a memory tranq. He won’t remember any of this tomorrow.” There’s a beeping sound coming from inside his room, and you nudge Peter’s side. “That’ll be the data transfer complete, too.”

Peter hums. He looks back to you, handsome eyes flickering over your face.

“So… Mission complete?” he asks, squeezing your waist.

You nod, smiling. “Mission complete.” You step closer and kiss his cheek, your grin widening as he blushes. “You want to, uh… Get out of here?”

Peter quirks an eyebrow, understanding fluttering out across his face. There are a hundred different things you know you’ll need to talk about and work through, but you don’t feel scared about that. You have a feeling that communicating with Peter is about to get a whole lot easier.

“What, to our very exciting hotel room with that really comfy bed?”

You giggle. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

“Mhmm.” Peter grabs your hand and squeezes it, then returns your kiss with a brief scattering of light pecks, stretching from cheek to cheek. “Can’t think of anything better, baby.”

You bite your lip, your cheeks aching from the stretch of your smile.

“Me neither.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

woooh yay :’) we lov college peter

lmk what you think !!!

m-list and taglist are linked in my bio <3

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

I’m On Fire [Chapter 1]

Summary: With her sister’s wedding fast approaching and her Mom hounding her about finding a date, Y/N makes a terrible decision that lands her and her least favorite genius in a confusing situation.

A/N:  This is the first part in a series, I’ve written the first few chapters already so I’m hoping to update pretty regularly! I hope you guys enjoy, and any feedback is always appreciated! ❤️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Category: Fake Dating, Enemies to Lovers, (Eventual) Smut, Fluff, Angst, it’s a Slow Burn Baby

Warnings: None really for this chapter, cursing? Mean-ish Spencer

Word Count: 6.5k

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Masterlist 

I wasn’t at the BAU long before it started to feel like home. The team became my family, pure and simple.

Having been recruited by Hotch at only 22 I'd sort of fallen into the roll of the little sister to the team without really meaning to. It's not that I was naive, or particularly sheltered even. I know I'm good at my job, and I'd want to be, given how my life's revolved around it almost entirely. But the team seemed to adopt a protective mindset over me right off the bat.

When I first joined the FBI everything was terrifying. I worked so hard for my PhD, trying to get into the unit, but there's almost nothing that can actually prepare you for the real thing. Being out in action in the field, working the cases out in real time. Sometimes they had a smooth, easy conclusion followed by loud obnoxious drinks together. Then there were the others, the ones that kept me up for days after and felt as though they owned little pieces of my heart still.

It was JJ that helped the most on those horrible flights back on the jet. Noticing my anxious ticks and uneasy disposition after that first case that had ended badly. JJ had been through it all before, taking too many cases home with her. Seeing her son's little faces in the kids that we couldn't help. If I was the baby of the team JJ was the big sister, looking out for everyone.

Morgan on the other hand was the outrageously cool older brother, the one you just wanted to be. Early on he'd helped my weak self with the ruthless fitness regimen the FBI required, he offered to pull some strings and get the test written off. But I couldn't accept that, there was something in me that just wanted to impress Morgan, and honestly still does. Like somehow if he thought you were cool, then it became true. So I passed the exam, but getting up a flight of stairs was near impossible for a week after.

Emily was probably the fun aunt. The one that would sneak you booze at the family gathering, or take you to your first concert. Emily was actually the one who'd found me, digging around colleges for potential recruits she'd had me picked out for a while I later found out. Insisting that Hotch give me a shot. It was reassuring to know I had someone who would stick up for me from day one.

I was an tech analyst, among other things, sort of a counterpart for Garcia in the field. So it was no surprise to anyone when the two of us hit it off as though we'd known each other forever. We weren't the same by any means though. Penelope was bold, and bright, and confident beyond measure, where I've typically felt like more of a blend into the background type. I've always thought of myself that way, despite my achievements. I'd also always believed I was fairly inoffensive, no one I'd met had ever had a huge problem with me, 'till I got to the BAU that is.

Every rose has its thorn I suppose.

That thorn in my side was Dr. Spencer Reid.

It wasn't that Dr. Reid was a bad agent, or even a bad person. I hadn't actually met him before that first day in the conference room, but I'd known who he was for a long time. Before I came along he'd held the mantle of 'youngest ever recruit' in the unit, while I was studying I'd read any of his work I could get my hands on because of that fact.

I figured it must've been some sort of hazing when he looked me up and down that first day I was introduced, and then proceeded to blank me entirely for a full week. Up until I'd wrapped my first case.

The whole team went straight from the jet to the bar. Proceeding to get far too drunk. Spencer joined, which the rest of the team found unusual, and I probably should've taken as a sign of things to come.

That case went well, and everyone was in high spirits but Reid had a sour disposition, at least it seemed that way every time he looked at me. After a few too many drinks I went outside in an attempt to sober up in the cold air, unfortunately Reid must've snuck outside not long before.

"Ugh" was all he said when he first caught my silhouette approaching him. The night was unusually cold so it had been deserted outside the bar that evening. I wasn't really sure why it made me nervous to be alone with him like this, the two of us leaning back against the same small area of brick wall, looking out at the cold night.

"Nice to see you too doctor" was all I could muster, I was drunk enough that I let my sarcastic tone leap out, "you can relax, I'm just trying to get some fresh air, it's too stuffy in there, and loud. I'm not here to talk to you or anything."

"Well aren't you a sensitive thing" he responds in kind, at that point I wasn't really sure if it was a coincidence or if he'd been genuinely avoiding me, but things were starting to clear up.

"I'm sensitive, that's a fun take on things" I joke, taking a long sip of cold water from my glass.

"And what's that supposed to mean, newbie?" his emphasis on the last word all but confirms my suspicions.

"Fuck man, what's your problem with me? Is it because I'm new, or because I beat your stupid record?" I quip. hoping that at the very least it might coax him out of his shell. Dr. Spencer Reid getting angry at me could honestly be better than the nothing I'd been experiencing from him until now.

"What stupid record?" he sounds genuinely confused

"I'm the youngest BAU recruit now?" I didn't know why else he could be so sour. He'd never met me before last week, and since he'd ignored me that first day I'd done all I could not to step on his toes. So if he had a reason to hate me this much, it wasn't something I'd done on purpose.

He takes a few moments to respond, raising his eyebrows and considering the information. He chuckles. He fucking chuckles.

"That's funny." he says, his voice leveling out, "I didn't peg you as funny newbie" that word sets something off in me again. Something about it is dismissive, or belittling. Before I could fight back he starts to move, maneuvering around me and heading back inside. A little too tipsy to think of anything constructive to say, I just mutter "Fuck you Spencer."

He swings open the door, as he walks inside he just says "See you Monday, Newbie" without even looking at me.

And that was only the beginning.

----

"You know I'm just trying to make sure you get enough rest sweetheart. There's no need to get so defensive!" it was far too early in the morning to be dealing with this call. Since joining the BAU a few years ago this was a standard call from my Mom. Equal parts well meaning and over-bearing, and generally asking far too many questions.

"I'm not getting defensive Mom, I get plenty of rest, my job is just very important to me and you know that." I knew she was right to be at least a little worried, this job was consuming, and in all honesty I wasn't sure how people like JJ were married and still here. It seemed like an impossible feat.

"Fine sweetie, how are your co-workers doing then? How's Penelope? Give her my love" she loved Penelope, I think she thought that Penelope tethered me to the normal world, and in a way she was right. She kept me sane, and fun, and made me eat pizza and do face masks once a week at least. Even when I didn't think I wanted to.

"Pen's great Mom, everyone's good. Well, the usual ones get on my nerves, but I'm fine." As I say it I glance across at Dr. Reid, the only person who's also in as early as I am most days. I'm not sure if he can hear me but he's tapping his pen so loud on his desk that it takes all of my energy not to walk across the bullpen and stab him with it.

"Y'know what Mom, I'm actually just after getting to work and it's a busy day so can I call you back later?" I chance, getting her off the phone is always an ordeal.

"Fine, fine, I'll let you go. But wait one last thing!"

I knew what was coming. It was always coming.

"Are you seeing anyone, Margot's been wondering too, just thought I'd check in?"

Pinching the bridge of my nose and trying not to scream down the line, I just sigh out the frustration instead.

"No Mom, believe it or not, I've made no progress on that front since you asked me all of 3 days ago."

"See you are being defensive!" she snaps

"I gotta go, bye Mom. Love you!" I say, hanging up quickly before dropping my head down into my arms on my desk, resting like that for a few moments in silence.

Hearing Garica chuckle behind my ear I perk up and spin around. She's holding a small paper cup of coffee and hands it to me. I look at it confused, "Sorry about the paper, I couldn't find your mug in the cabinet" she apologizes, looking over at Dr. Reid and rolling her eyes. Now I know he can hear me from his seat, he takes that moment to sip from my mug and place it gently back on his desk.

It hadn't taken long for him to start toying with me. It was always stupid childish things. Things I couldn't get genuinely annoyed at, that would give him far too much satisfaction, knowing he was getting to me in any real way. This was one trick he liked to play if he got into the office before me, he'd take my mug and make his coffee in it, just to spite me I guess.

"Why does he even do that, it's so stale" she said, just a little louder than normal to make sure he could hear. Garcia and Reid were still good friends and team-mates but she liked to stand up for me when she could. He liked to avoid me as much as possible so he'd usually go to Garcia before me if he needed help with something. Even when the two of us were out in the field together. Which was obnoxious but it was just another thing I'd gotten used to over time. And as long as it didn’t interfere with the case I just forced myself to let it go.

"I know it's such low grade bullying isn't it?" I shot back with a chuckle.

"So I'll take it that was Mommy dearest" Penelope gestures to my phone. She knew my Mom, and she knew about her general overbearing energy. I let out a groan thinking about the call again, and the calls that were to come.

"Isn't it always Mommy dearest?" I joke

"So she's still on your ass about the wedding then?" I'm sure Penelope was almost as sick of hearing about it as I was,

"Margot's getting married in like 4 months now, and every time Mom calls there’s just some new hometown loser she wants to set me up with Pen. It's fucking exhausting" I take a sip of the coffee she made me, savoring the bitter taste. She sits down on my desk for a moment, leaning in.

"Honey, did you ever think that if you got out there and found someone, she wouldn't be on your ass at all?" I don't want to think about that, about how she's completely right. All I can do is let out another small groan and lean back down onto my desk.

"Too early Pen" I say, it's muffled by the desk but she gets the message. Hopping up and heading to her own office as some more people start to arrive for the morning.

Leaving me alone to make a start on my paperwork that had built up throughout the week. Fridays were usually slow like this, giving me a little too much time to think. I couldn't shake the thought that my Mom and Penelope were actually right. Maybe I was a bit too invested in the job, and maybe that was a pretty big factor in why my last relationship imploded but I wasn't about to admit that to anyone.

----

After that the day crawls by, thankfully no cases pop up so the weekend might actually be free. Trying to make sure I clear up all of my paperwork takes a little longer than I'd hoped and leaves me alone in the bullpen. It seems like everyone's gone home by the time I've packed up and I'm ready to leave. Which wasn't as out of the ordinary as I'd like it to be really. Everyone else seemed to have somewhere to be on a Friday night.

Waiting for the elevator to arrive my phone started to ring, I could see my Mom's caller ID on the screen. If I just let it go I know she'll call back later, may as well get it out of the way. I take a deep breath in anticipation before I answer.

"Hey what's up?" I answer, stepping inside the elevator as the doors ping open.

"Hi sweetie, I've got good news! Do you remember David? That lovely boy, he helped out your Father that summer in high school?" I know what's coming and rub my temple, trying to stifle the headache I know is coming. As I answer a hand slides between the elevator doors, popping them open again.

Dr. Fucking Reid walks in, and he looks about as happy to see me as I am to see him. I make eye contact and look away just as fast, willing him away with my mind. "Yes Mom, I remember him, why are you telling me this?" I already know the answer but I'm fed up, she still sounds excited when she responds.

"Well you won't believe it! I ran into him at the market this morning and I thought you'd like it if I passed on your phone number to him, maybe for the weddi-" it took all I had not to shout into the receiver, and maybe I would've had the elevator been empty.

"Mom! Jesus!" I have to reign myself in, but I have a bad idea, "You know what, I'm actually sorted. I've got a date lined up now" I'm not sure why I said it with no real plan in place. She sounds even more excited than I've ever heard her.

"Oh my, that's amazing sweetie! That was fast, I can't believe you found one since this morning, it's someone from work so?" she assumes, and I'm just not thinking fast enough to correct her.

"Mmhmm, yeah" I'll figure out the logistics later I rationalize.

"Oh! Is it that boy you're always on about, the one who teases you?" she asks, and her voice is full of joy, and it makes me feel horrible that I'm lying already, and that I'm going to let her down.

"Yup, that's the one, look Mom I gotta go, I'll talk to you later! Night" I blurt out so fast it has to be obvious I'm nervous.

I can hear a stifled chuckle behind me. Fuck. How loud is my phone speaker. Could he hear that. Surely not. But this elevator was completely silent. The doors open and I have to stop myself from running to my car at top speed. Instead I walk out just a little faster than normal, turning around to shoot him a small wave goodbye. And he's got this devious smirk on his face that makes my stomach turn.

Sitting into my car I pull out my phone to text Garcia immediately.

I'm on my way to yours right now. It's urgent.

——

Traffic's light so it takes maybe 10 minutes before I arrive at Garcia's place. My mind's racing and my body takes me there on autopilot. Why did I say any of that, why did I even answer the damn phone. Why did I wave goodbye to Spencer, I never usually did that. Maybe that's why he had that look on his face. Maybe he was just thinking of something funny that happened earlier and it had nothing to do with me at all. That was something he'd do to mess with me for sure.

How was I going to walk this back with my Mom, she was just gonna have more questions that I couldn't answer. Fuck.

Garcia buzzed me up and her door was open for me by the time I got up the stairs. This little purple apartment had become my second home. It was where I spent most of my evenings off, laughing on the same sofa I was collapsing face first into right now. Garcia nestles in beside me and runs her hand over my hair, "Hey sweet pea, what's happening? I don't want to sound too concerned but you're not giving me much to go off? Are you dying, is there drama? You're going to have to tell me what's so urgent before I burst a blood vessel?"

I let out a muffled, "is drahmuh" into the pillow, Garcia shakes my shoulders.

"Sit up babe, damn!" I have to heave myself out of the pillows, sitting upright on the sofa beside her, clutching one of the pillows in my arms.

"It's drama" I repeat,

"Well, out with it then, you know I'll take all the drama I can get! Spill, spill" she rushes me along. I'm already apprehensive, Reid's her coworker too, but if anyone would understand why this was such an issue it was gonna be her.

"Okay, I'm after doing something stupid and I think I really need your advice" I cringe already, thinking back to the elevator, throwing out my words faster, I continue the story, mostly trying to get it over with, "my Mom called again when I was on the way out tonight and she was trying to set me up with this guy, and Reid was there, and I got all flustered, and I told her I had a date already" I throw my head down into the pillow again.

"Wait why was Reid there?" she looks like she's trying to fit puzzle pieces together and she's getting nowhere, "And what's the drama?"

"Shit Garcia, it was in the elevator and it was all quiet, and maybe he heard the call, maybe he didn't but he had this fuckin' look on his stupid face" I can't shake the smug little smirk, it's burned inside my eyelids. Garcia's face falls in what looks like disappointment.

"Ugh Y/N! That's nothing chill out, why does it matter if he heard your call? I know you guys are all weird but none of that is any of his business anyway!" she shoo's her hand in the air, dismissing the whole situation.

"No Garcia, it is his business now" I have to close my eyes when I say it, I can't look at her "I told my Mom that he was my date, well, I didn't say his name or anything, she assumed it was someone from work and so I just agreed, and then she suggested that it was him and then I fucking panicked Pen, I fucked up so bad. What do I do?"

I finally opened my eyes to look up at Garcia. She was sitting in pure silence, pursing her lips in what seemed like contemplation. The puzzle pieces finally slotting together. It's as though a light bulb goes off behind her eyes and she bursts out in fits of laughter. Doubling over on herself before finally taking a few breaths to calm herself down. I'm honestly not sure why she finds the whole thing so funny, she know's how needlessly annoying he's made my life, she's seen it first hand and heard me talk about it over and over again in this very apartment over pizza.

"Garcia, this is not fucking funny! This is serious!" I try to calm her down, I need advice not whatever this is.

"I'm so sorry Y/N, I love you dearly. But this isn't funny, this is hilarious. It's like you're Sandra Bullock in some mid-90's rom com. I love it" I don't love it, in fact I hate it. I nearly snap at her but pull myself back.

"Pen, come on, help me out. What do I do with this, how do I fix it?" I plead.

She stops laughing and pulls out her phone, "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm going to order us a pizza, and we're gonna sort this thing out together, sound good?" I just nod and collapse back into the sofa. I think I feel better now that I've gotten it out in the open.

----

Penelope makes us tea while we wait for the pizza, she keeps lemon & ginger in her cabinet for me, just like I keep mint for her. The warm mug and the steam calm me down. After a few minutes alone to think about it I start to figure it out a little better. I figure I can just lie to my Mom for a while, it might suck but I can pretend for a bit and then make up some excuse as to why he can't come closer to the time. Then I can just bring Garcia instead and everyone's happy. I'm about to float my plan to her there's a knock on her door. I was so caught up that I hadn't really noticed quite how starving I'd gotten. Leaping up of the sofa to grab the door.

I swing it open but it's not the pizza guy. Somehow it's the opposite of the pizza guy, my worst nightmare is on the other side of the door. He must notice my eyes blow completely wide. "Y/N!" he says, more of a statement than a question really, like he's telling himself that he's actually seeing me in the doorway. I'm not as gentle.

"What the fuck are you doing here Reid?!" I can't even disguise my anger. He seems a little flustered, like he's got absolutely no idea how to proceed.

"Um, uh, is Garcia here? I can, um, I can just come back later?" he swallows hard and shakes his head, before I can agree and tell him to get lost Penelope races to the door, pulling it wide open.

"Nope, that won't be necessary Doctor! Come on in, you're right on time sweetheart" she waves him in and he walks past me, his demeanor changing almost instantly. He's smug, like he's won whatever battle this was. And I hate it. Though he's still as confused as me despite the newfound attitude. Reid sits down on the sofa, right where I had been sitting. I bite my tongue and sit on the opposite end.

"Are you okay Garcia?" he asks with a genuine concern, "What's going on, what was the emergency?". He's not stupid, he knows she's not in danger now that he's here. But he wants answers. I don't know that I've ever seen him this confrontational with anyone, well anyone but me. The entire time I’m staring her down as she sits in the armchair opposite the two of us. My keys are in my pocket and my car's right outside. I could just jump up and make a break for it. Escape.

"You know what Doc, you won't believe it but I'm not actually the one with the emergency" she takes a beat, and I'm starting to think that I might understand why people murder other people after all these years, "Y/N has something urgent she needs to talk to you about" she's silent for another moment, and she almost looks giddy, "Actually Spencer, you might already know a little something about the matter already, now that I think about it" she smirks, and it's pure joy.

My keys are in my hand ready to bolt when the doorbell chimes again. "Oh, that'll actually be the pizza this time, if you two will excuse me" she hops up out of the armchair and races to the door, leaving the two of us alone in a horrible silence. The tension is almost too much, I want to speak but I really have no idea what to say, or how to even start saying it. But he starts.

"Y/N what's going on, I feel like I'm out of the loop here? What am I missing?" he asks, and there's something uncharacteristically genuine about the way he says it, but he can't turn to look at me as he speaks. I almost want to let my guard down and just have a conversation but I can’t force myself to do it. "Shut up Reid." is all I mutter, folding my arms across my chest.

He turns sharply on the sofa to face me. "Hey Y/N. Believe it or not I'm about as happy as you with whatever kind of Parent Trap situation Garcia's got going on here. But from what I'm picking up on you've got a problem and I'm supposed to be able to help with it. So do you want to tell me what's going on or not? I can just go?" I can see that there's an anger bubbling right below the surface, threatening to burst. I know I shouldn't but I let him stew in silence for a little too long and he jumps up off the sofa.

"Y'know what, typical" he mutters, rolling his eyes as he says it, "this is all about you." he throws his bag over his shoulders and begins to walk towards the door. Something in me just snaps.

"All about me?! Are you fucking kidding? I've been tip-toeing around you for years, ever since I joined this damn unit!" I shout as Garcia comes back into the room, pizza box and plates in her hands.

"So, who's hungry?" Garcia asks, trying to break the tension, or pretending there's no tension at all. Reid shakes his head in disbelief and rubs his temple before he speaks again, "Actually I was just gonna head out" he gestures to the door, "I'm clearly not wanted here so I'm gonna leave you guys to it." Spencer makes a move to leave but Garcia grabs the strap of his shoulder bag, yanking him back ever so slightly before he really has the chance to escape.

"You are going absolutely nowhere kid" She points back to the sofa, "get back there" she glances to me, staring with far too much intensity. "You too, sit." Her voice is more stern than I've ever heard it, even while we were on a case. I can't help but obey her command and I sit back down on the sofa in silence. Followed by Reid, clearly processing the same uneasy feeling of a serious Penelope.

She sits opposite the two of us again. "Y/N, Spencer, I love the two of you with all of my heart, albeit separately, and I would die for either one of you. But you've got to chill the hell out!" she says it like she's had it bottled up forever. The tension that releases from her as she says it looks euphoric.

She opens up the pizza box and lays it on the coffee table and takes out a slice for herself. Taking a bite she leaves the two of us in stunned silence. Once she finishes the mouthful she turns to me specifically, "Y/N you tell him, or I will." dead serious. And the feeling in my belly is like I've just fallen down an elevator shaft.

My stomach is in knots as I turn to Spencer on the sofa next to me. His face is puzzled and I think I might be able to make out pure terror in his expression. I don't know that I've ever been looked at like this before and my stomach screws up tighter. I have to take a deep breath and I can't believe I'm about to say it. "Fuck it" I have to take another breath almost immediately so I just have to force the rest out, "I don't know if you heard the call I was on while we were in the elevator earlier?" I look up to gauge his reaction and I can see his face relax, and worse than that, one corner of his mouth lifts into a sort of smile. It's a look of pure smug satisfaction and I think I might scream. I have to close my eyes because I really don't think I can look at that face as I say the next part.

"My sister is getting married in a few months and my Mom's been on my ass to find a date for the wedding and she keeps trying to set me up with these losers, so I fucking panicked, and I told her you were my date." by the time the sentence is out my eyes have screwed up so tight it feels like I have to pry them open.

He sits in silence for too long. Thinking, maybe?

"So I'm the boy who teases you then?" he grins. So he did hear. And he did laugh. He looks far too self satisfied. Now he knows he's right. He knows I've talked to my Mom about him, that he's gotten in my head. I can tell from his smile that he's savoring the moment. Mostly because I can't slap the smug smile off his face I drop my head into my hands. In an effort to disappear I guess.

"So," he says, taking a moment, "is that all you wanted to say then?" he asks, lighthearted and obnoxious, back to his usual self. I snap back to reality, shooting my head back up.

"What do you mean is that all?" I throw back genuinely shocked,

"Is that all you had to say Y/N? Can I go now? It's a long bus ride home y'know" he smirks but makes no effort to move. He can't possibly be making me do this.

"Well no, obviously!" I stutter, "I mean, are you, will you, uh?" I can't bring myself to say it out loud. He leans in on the sofa looking directly at me, refusing to break eye contact.

"Did you have something you wanted to ask me Y/N?" I just want to smack that fucking look off his face,

"Fuck you Spencer Reid" I almost whisper under my breath, but Garcia snaps me back to reality.

"Hey!" she looks at me, stern again, "Ask him." it's not a question, or a suggestion, it's a command.

"Fine okay" I scrunch my eyes up again, "Will you come to my sisters wedding with me as my fake boyfriend?" I curl up into myself as I say it, I can almost feel the bile rising up from my stomach. Like I'm having a biological reaction to the whole thing.

Reid crosses his arms and sinks back on the sofa, like he's performing the act of thinking. He's considering my offer to make me squirm.

When he finally speaks he says "Well I would Y/N, but I really fail to see what's in it for me" he's after getting cocky now.

Garcia pipes up, excited, "Oh, Oh! I know! I have an idea!" she interjects, "Spencer remember how a while ago, back after your apartment flooded you were all all worried about your antique books and prints and stuff?" he nods, "Well Y/N could digitize the collection for you as a back up? I know you're a technophobe? C'mon Y/N, you know you could do that no sweat, and it would take you a lifetime alone Spencer?" I really don't want to admit it but she's right. Even I knew Reid was adverse to any technology that wasn't vital, but it was your specialty. And maybe that was a good trade off, a job like that would be near impossible for him to pull off without help. I take a glance over at Reid and he seems to have had the same train of thought as me. He lets out an exaggerated sigh and relaxes his posture.

"Fine, I guess that's a fair trade. I'm in." he resigns and I almost can't believe it. I'm barely processing the whole conversation as he sticks his hand out to me, I'm confused for a second before I grab it and shake it firmly. Condemning myself to whatever's about to happen. And it's not the time to be thinking about it but maybe this is the first time Spencer and I have ever touched? But I shove that thought away.

Garcia's positively beaming and she's not even trying to hide it. "Now it's like you're both in a Sandra Bullock movie, oh, but you're Hugh Grant maybe?" she points to Reid.

"Don't push it" I shoot in her direction, taking a slice of pizza, now that my anxiety stomach has sort of passed.

Once the pizza's been eaten in near completely awkward silence Spencer stands up off the sofa. His unsure demeanor has returned and he looks nervous. "I actually should get going this time" he says but Garcia pipes up to protest,

"No, it's not even late!"

"It takes me a while to get back home, thank you though Pen. For... this?" he gestures to the whole living room, "Night" he waves. He's almost made it to the door before I stand up out of my seat. I'm not really sure what comes over me, maybe it's gratitude, maybe it's guilt, or maybe I'm just exhausted.

"Wait Spencer. Let me give you a ride home?" I ask and it's like it's not even me saying it .

"Thanks, but I think I can make it home just fine" he dismisses, and there’s an antagonizing tone in his voice that snaps me right back to our usual rapport.

"I'm trying to do a nice thing here, fuck! Just let me do something nice!" I snap, and he throws his arms up in surrender.

"Fine alright, if it'll make you feel better"

"Fuck you Reid" I mutter under my breath and I sort of hope that he does hear me really. If he's gonna be hostile about this I can be too. I give Garcia a hug goodbye but I'm going to scold her for this whole thing later.

----

I lead the way outside and climb into my car, Spencer hops into the passenger seat and it feels as strange as always to be alone with him. Especially because it's not an accident, and it's not in work. Maybe this was a horrible idea. He seems like he's unwilling to break the silence, so I just get it over with.

"Where the hell do you live man? I'm gonna need directions." I say, as deadpan as I can muster, which probably isn't all that intimidating.

"Sorry, yeah, so you're gonna want to turn on the ignition" he teases. I definitely wasn't intimidating enough.

"Don't push it" I say, turning to give him a cruel stare, he just reacts with a smirk, that same one from the elevator earlier.

"Oh, I'm pushing it?" he asks, feigning disbelief

"I'll kick you out of this damn car" is all I can think to say. He barely responds, he just lets out a soft chuckle. I want to ask 'what's so funny' but he speaks before I can get the words out.

"I can't believe you talk to your Mom about me" he continues to laugh. That's enough.

"You know what Reid, of course I have! I work with actual murderers on a daily basis and somehow you've been the only real source of friction in my life since I joined the BAU!" He stops giggling a little, but not entirely, he looks like he's making an effort to contain himself.

"I'm sorry. I guess I just never knew I got to you like that" he still finds the whole thing amusing, but I sure as hell don't.

"Directions, now" I demand, looking straight out the front windshield.

"Fine, keep going straight on this road for a while and I'll tell you when to turn" he says, finally playing nice.

The two of us drive silently for most of the journey, the radio playing softly in the background. Eventually we arrive outside his building, and it's nicer than I thought it would be. But I have no idea what I was really basing that on. For some reason it hadn't occurred to me that Dr. Reid lived in an actual home, I had pictured him sleeping upside down in a cave maybe, or in a cryogenic chamber with all the other life-like genius robots.

"So," he says, breaking the silence, "When is this wedding?"

"4 months from now, in and around" I respond, matter of factly. Spencer nods, taking it in.

"Alright, so I've got 4 months, in and around, to learn enough to convincingly pass as your loving boyfriend. Doesn't sound so difficult." he jokes, his tone harsh and sarcastic.

"Look Spencer, I know this is insane and honestly kind of stupid. But in all seriousness, you can back out right now if you're not on board with whatever this is. I'm telling you this is the last exit ramp." I try to say it with sincerity, giving him a genuine out if he's not comfortable with the weird set-up that Penelope pulled on us both. He thinks on it for a moment and shakes his head.

"So how are we gonna do this?" he asks, and I really thought he was going to back out. So I don't have an actual answer.

"Well, I uh, I haven't really given a plan much thought. How about I come over and start working on some of the stuff you want digitized like Garcia mentioned and I can use the time to give you the footnotes on my life?" I suggest, at least that would make it easier to knock things out all at once. Rather than having to spend even more of my free time with Reid than necessary. He looks content with the improvised plan.

"Alright, sounds good." he undoes his seatbelt and opens the door to hop out of the car before turning back to me, "Are you coming inside or what?"

— —

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

[incorrect-primarchs-quotes]

Primarchs ranked on who has the best singing voice:

Lion: 8/10. The man can sing pretty well, but his repertoire is a bit bland.

Fulgrim: 9.9/10. His voice is near perfect. I gave him 9.9 to annoy the EC.

Perturabo: 5/10. Average. Can sing karaoke inoffensively. He doesn't like singing though.

Jaghatai: 8.5/10. Can throat sing AND do a perfect ACDC impression.

Leman: 7/10. Can sing „My mother told me" PITCH PERFECT. The perfect voice to start a campfire jam.

Rogal Dorn: 6/10. Literally like a grandpa singing along to Johnny Cash.

Konrad: 8/10. Okay. Hear me out. Konrad has Ollie Sykes voice. Straight up emo screaming.

Sanguinius: 10/10. Perfect. *chef's kiss*

Ferrus: 3/10. Your drunken uncle singing on a wedding. Not good. But amusing.

Angron: 0/10. He doesn't sing. He does deep gutturals that would make every member of Cannibal Corpse cry. But he never sings so I cannot rate this.

Roboute: 4/10. Just... Nah. He doesn't even like singing and his voice is very uninspired. Nah.

Mortarion: 5/10. He can do that Marilyn Manson whisper singing thing, but not really anything else.

Magnus: 6/10. Literally the voice of the weird kid singing anime openings in class.

Horus: 7/10. Just plain good. Nothing special. Just good.

Lorgar: 9/10. I mean he IS a choir boy.

Vulcan: 8/10. He probably has one of those really soothing voices that makes you feel all happy and warm and fuzzy inside

Corvus: 10/10. Personal headcanon: Corvus totally had a punk band back on Deliverance. He even tried starting one with Fulgrim on keyboards, Jaghatai on guitar, Ferrus on drums and Vulcan on bass.

Alpharius/Omegon: 5/10. The most generic voice imaginable. Indistinguishable from every other voice in the universe.

[luninosity]

Okay, so, some Falcon and the Winter Soldier thoughts (will have some spoilers) for episodes two and three. General non-spoilery comment first: I feel like these were both *okay* episodes - neither as good as the first, but I didn’t dislike them, either. I’m still really curious to see how we’re going to wrap this all up in three more episodes; it doesn’t feel like we’re halfway done yet!

Okay, more spoiler-y notes below the Read More, not in any real order, just as I think and type. I’ll probably forget some things, but for now, here’re some thoughts...

--I like ep 3 slightly more than ep 2, mostly because of Zemo!

--I actually really love Zemo here (I liked him in Civil War, too): complex, sardonic, enjoying poking at people, a villain we do feel sympathy for even as he’s still sharp enough to remind us that he is a villain. Daniel Bruhl has always done a fantastic job flipping between calculated cruelty, wry humor - the whole “I am a Baron” moment was great - and pain that for him is still raw, about the loss of his family. (Some things’re awfully cliche - look, the supervillain’s playing chess and reading Machiavelli in his cell? really? - but, y’know...sure. Why not. We expect some cliches in the superhero genre, and this is an inoffensive one.)

--also Zemo dancing. That’s it. That’s everything.

--moving on from that: I’m also really liking how they’re writing John Walker. He does have charm, and there’s a certain amount of sympathy - especially as we see him worrying about filling the Captain America shoes, in ep 2 - but we’re also getting this really subtle sense of wrongness about him. He’s clearly vindictive and angry when things (and people) don’t act according to his mental script for them, and he’s willing to use his name and power to do things like get Bucky released...which in context and given our sympathies for Bucky is a good thing, but...it’s also an indicator of his willingness to do what he wants, because he can. (To be fair, Steve Rogers also often did that! - but Steve earned our trust, both in narrative and character. From his first introduction to WWII leadership experience to all the Avengers stuff, Steve consistently acts to protect people, and he’ll also listen if someone else has a good idea or if someone needs to talk, like with Wanda.) So I’m really liking this slow-fuse character development.

--mixed feelings about Sharon. I love that the show’s acknowledging how much she sacrificed for our main heroes, with no reward. On the other hand, she also clearly knew the consequences that could happen; she said as much at the time. The level of bitterness seems like a lot. But I’m also interested in everything we still don’t know about her - if she’s not the Power Broker herself, she’s obviously Up To Something. So that should be fun.

--hey, look at that X-Men location, with Majipoor! Also a nod to Wolverine’s favorite bar there, I think?

--I love heist and disguise plots!

--I also really like Bucky’s having to revert to the Winter Soldier - Sebastian Stan does it so brilliantly, with so many layers of emotion: not wanting to, loathing it, recognizing the necessity, shutting off all emotion and just coldly doing it, hurting but covering it up...just fantastic, and you know I love some hurt/comfort, and this seems like such a great set-up for emotional hurt

--but! this also seems like...a weird plot hole, kind of? Bucky’s pretty famous at this point, right? I imagine the criminal underworld knows he’s been pardoned and deprogrammed, right? or do they assume Zemo, with his knowledge of Hydra, still has some special control over him?

--along the same “this seems like someone didn’t think this through” path, Sam, you’re a professional, turn off your phone on a mission. Oh my god. Face-palmingly stupid - and I think somewhat lazy writing, as the writers plainly needed a giveaway, and went for the first idea they had. Even if it made a main character look incompetent.

--the Flag Smashers and Karli are...fine. They feel very Generic Marvel Villain - not the big space alien type, but the other type, the “I have a personal loss and motivating pain so I’m a little sympathetic but also Clearly Evil, watch me kill civilians so the audience won’t ever find me TOO sympathetic” type. Meh. Fine. Zemo’s more interesting, but...fine.

--Anthony Mackie is such a fantastic actor - every bit of his reaction to the Isaiah Bradley reveal is so good. The anger, pain, frustration, ferocity...heartbreaking. Actually that whole scene is so good - his emotions at discovering this secret history are palpable, and it’s so painful, because we also understand why Bucky would keep the secret - as someone who knows about pain and trauma and being experimented on, and knowing Isaiah wants to be left alone - we feel really deeply for both characters here, and it’s great.

--I actually liked the abrupt swing from the Isaiah Bradley encounter to the casual everyday racism of the cops on the street - is it subtle, no. But it’s not meant to be: it’s meant to be standing up and shouting about how not that much has really changed, and about how pervasive racism is. I know some reviews were all, “this was just too much!” or “too forced!” but...look, it needs to be shouted sometimes for people to hear.

--Bucky’s notebook being Steve’s, oh, ouch, my feelings. If I had the time and energy to write fic...

--(also, if I had the time and energy to write dark!fic: where’re my fics in which Zemo’s implication about the Winter Soldier “doing anything you want” gets played with? what or who does Bucky have to do to keep the undercover charade going? so many Bad Wrong Kinky power dynamics and explorations of consent and what this would do to Bucky’s head, here, and honestly I’d totally read them all, just saying.)

--Sam and Bucky together...I don’t know. This is one of the elements that I’m not actually a huge fan of, but I think it’s partly a personal genre / sense of humor thing that’s not clicking for me, personally, again. Like...

--I don’t find people shouting aggrievedly at each other to be funny? I’m not sure why it is.

--I mean, I get that they’re doing, like, eighties buddy cop movies, but...it got old really fast then, and it’s not something we needed to bring back. It’s not clever, and it’s...well, shouty and annoying.

--(I say this as someone who genuinely likes the first two Lethal Weapon movies...but the significant difference is, I think, we’re also shown in both those movies that Riggs and Murtaugh care about each other. They don’t want to be partners initially, and they don’t get along initially, and they do argue over tactics**...but they immediately feel responsible for each other and act to protect each other even as they argue, because it’s the right thing to do and we’re shown moments of them awkwardly trying to connect, because they both have that deep sense of...protectiveness...that makes them Good People - like, if they learn something that the other person needs to know, they tell each other. They protect each other’s families / love interests. So by the end of the second movie, with that fabulous character death fake-out, Murtaugh’s initial shock and grief is real and powerful and painful, and so is his genuine relief when the worst isn’t true - and it’s all earned.) (**however, they tend to argue tactics *before* jumping in - “is it 1, 2, 3, go on 3? or 3, then go?” And then once that’s established, they go ahead. That makes a difference as far as...well...competence and teamwork!)

--(Sam and Bucky, as far as I can tell, don’t do the above, and just...maybe shouldn’t be working together?)

--I also don’t find grown men acting like my youngest nephew, when he’s having a temper tantrum, to be funny. Staring contests? Random insults? Sulking in silence? Oh, grow up.

--(Also, yes, writers, we see you with the “couples therapy” and “get closer and make your legs touch” and “landing on top of each other as they hit the ground” moments. I, at least, personally, am very tired of...I don’t know that I’d call it queerbaiting exactly, but this idea that we’re supposed to find these moments funny...because why? Because, ooh, they’re two men getting close to each other, physically or emotionally? Why is this a thing we need to draw attention to? Do you think you’re doing some sort of fan service? Please either make Sam/Bucky happen or stop doing this.)

--both Sam and Bucky are highly competent and professional agents, or they should be. They should know how to work in the field - even with people they may not like - and adapt to shifting strategy, make best use of available assets, include people in the plan, etc. I can’t help but compare this to something like, say, Leverage, which also has a team who mocks each other and makes jokes but clearly absolutely respects each other’s capabilities, has a plan going in and tells everyone what the plan is, and adapts (and trusts each other to adapt) on the fly as necessary, and does it all without random insults about someone’s (PTSD-related) staring and “robot brain”.

--one of the very specific moments that bothers me a lot is the ending of the therapy scene (yay for showing heroes in therapy! but also I’m pretty sure she’s...not a great therapist?). Bucky finally opens up and says something real, about his own self-doubt and wondering whether Steve was wrong about him....and Sam just...brushes it off and goes, “we’re done here,” basically. Not only does that feel wildly out of character for former counselor Sam, it feels cruel. I really deeply dislike that moment the more I think about it. Makes me want to scream.

--Sam insults Bucky way more than the other way around. It’s starting to feel very one-sided (it’d be better if more clearly reciprocal, though it’s still not a dynamic that’s my favorite), and again, feels out of character - maybe this is Anthony Mackie’s sense of humor, but Sam isn’t Mackie, and Bucky isn’t Seb, and it reads as...a weird unbalanced power-trip thing to me. And also out of character for Sam, who can be sarcastic (”If you guys eat that sort of thing,” about breakfast, when Steve and Nat have randomly shown up at his door) but that’s not the same as just throwing unprovoked insults at a person who’s trying to recover from trauma, and a lot of those insults seem to center on things that were done to Bucky, that he had no choice in (the staring, the arm, etc), and that feels....it just feels mean, to me. Make fun of things he’s had a choice in / can do something about, if you have to - hair, clothes, liking “old people’s games” like gin rummy or pinochle, not knowing who Beyonce is, I don’t know, there are so many options that aren’t cruel! Do that instead. Let Bucky have a good comeback for once, too!

--the action scenes are action scenes. Also fine.

--Sam might be right about destroying the shield, and the show may even be (unintentionally?) setting that up as the best outcome, but that’s a problem for the future, Sam; get it back first. Also it’s a problem you caused by giving the shield up - did you really trust the government to leave it unused in a museum? You’re not that naive.

--overall, it’s...a perfectly fine show, so far, I think? Solid, and interesting, but not great. I think some of what doesn’t work for me is because it doesn’t work for me personally, as far as the shouty insult-heavy action “comedy” bits that I’m not enjoying, but I think they’re doing what they aimed for with it, so in that sense, I guess it’s working? There’s a lot of really cool stuff around the edges - John Walker, Isaiah Bradley, that Dora Milaje stinger, the bigger world of a history interwoven with racism and superpowers, the chillingly effective use of Bucky’s past - but I wish I liked the central Sam-Bucky relationship more. Individually they’re wonderful - they’ve both had such powerful scenes dealing with family, trauma, and consequences - but I feel like, in the effort to do the buddy comedy dynamic, the writing has just made me really sure that they actually genuinely don’t like each other? To such an extent that if they show any affection / caring / interest in each other in the last three episodes, it won’t be believable. (I mean Sam and Bucky, not Mackie and Seb. Mackie and Seb’re adorable.)

--I just want to think about Zemo dancing some more.

[midnightsnapdragon]

Are you still taking tlc prompts? Love cress/Jacin brotp (reluctant shortcake and grumpy softie Jacin).. or maybe Jacin giving Thorne the shovel talk? He’s be scarier than wolf even without the teeth

...

Thorne opened the doors to the Rampion’s hangar and reached inside for the lights. When they came on, he screamed a little and clapped a hand over his heart.

Jacin glanced over his shoulder from where he sat, cross-legged, with a truly chilling array of weapons spread around him on the floor. Daggers. Throwing knives. Two pistols. A wicked-looking hook thing on a chain. A small axe with a wooden handle. He held a saber in his lap - one of those curved decapitation swords, at any rate - and a rag in one hand, as if he’d been polishing it.

Or cleaning something off of it.

“Stars!” Thorne said, trying to sound annoyed to cover his embarrassment. “What are you doing here?”

There was a pause before Jacin replied, levelly, “What does it look like?”

It looked like he’d been in the middle of inspecting his arsenal. Thorne should have known, then, to shut up. But he’d never exactly been the most perceptive person. “Can you even see in the dark?”

“I don’t need to see,” Jacin said, “to aim.”

His tone was bland. Inoffensive, even. But there was a sharp glint in his eye, hawklike, as he turned away, a look that said Thorne was piecemeal prey. Thorne felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“You know what,” he said, “I think I’ll collect those rations later.”

He backed away through the hangar door, but not before he saw Jacin pick up the saber and give it an experimental swing.

...

Shiiiiiink.

Thorne squeezed his eyes shut against the darkness of his bunk.

Shiiiiiink. Shiiiiiiink.

It was like hearing nails on a chalkboard. He stuffed his head beneath his pillow, pressing it down over his ears. But the sound wouldn’t be muffled. This time, when it came, it was slow, almost caressing, like someone wanted to drag it out for as long as humanly possible.

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiink.

Thorne threw aside the covers and leapt out of bed. When he emerged into the dimly lit Rampion corridor, he found Jacin leaning against the opposite wall, holding a whetstone against a knife as long as his forearm. His posture was relaxed, his expression unconcerned. As if he did this every night.

Which was, of course, exactly the case.

“I’m getting really sick of this,” Thorne said, in as friendly a way as possible. “Can you please sharpen your creepy guard knives somewhere else? It’s really freaking me out and I can’t sleep.”

Jacin glanced up at him, and nonchalantly lifted an earbud from his ear.

“Sorry, what?”

“Can you please go somewhere else?”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“Yes,” Thorne said, emphasizing in case it was a difficult word to understand. “And I bet it’s disturbing Cress and Scarlet, too.” They’d all volunteered to distribute the new version of the cure together, to combat the new strain of letumosis; Wolf was taking care of the Benoit farm in Scarlet’s absence.

“Scarlet and I have an understanding,” Jacin answered indifferently, as if this was supposed to explain anything. “And Cress sleeps with headphones on. It’s not disturbing them. Besides,” he added, like it had only just occurred to him, “I thought you were staying up late to talk to one of your old friends?”

“Suzie from school,” Thorne said slowly, uneasy about where this was going. “But she’s in a different time zone, so she had to go to sleep.”

“I see.”

Something about the way he said it sent a chill down Thorne’s spine, as if someone had walked over his grave. He backed away into his room, eyeing the dagger.

“I’m going to sleep now, too, so. Uh. Please be considerate.”

“Sweet dreams,” Jacin said.

Thorne closed the door in his face. Then, after he’d stood watching it for five minutes, he shoved a chair up under the lock for good measure.

...

“I think Jacin is going to kill me.”

“Oh yeah?” Cress said absently. She was playing a game on her datapad with her legs kicked up onto the desk, and she was not paying attention to Thorne at all. He gave her a pathetic look from where he lay sprawled on her bunk bed.

“I’m serious. He’s been acting really scary. Well,” he amended, “scarier than usual. You know what I mean.”

“Jacin isn’t scary. Shoot!” Cress said, abruptly, in disgust: one of her flappy birds had hit a pipe. “I was so close. Damn it.” She set the datapad down and wrung out her hands. “Ten points away from beating my high score ...”

She was so cute when she tried to swear. “He’s not scary to you,” Thorne said, looking at her fondly. “Which I get, obviously. But whenever I walk into the room, he starts ... he starts ...”

Cress frowned, finally looking at him. “Has he said anything?”

“No, but ...”

“What?”

“Well, yesterday I was talking to Émilie, right? Scarlet’s friend? It’s cool, we’re having fun, we’re even starting some inside jokes. And then he comes into the kitchen and sits down on the other end of the counter and gives me this -- this -- this look. Like I’m this insect. I had to hang up early because he was killing the vibe.”

“Huh,” Cress said.

“I know. Weird, right?”

“Hmm. Nope,” she said, picking up her datapad again and focusing on it. “Doesn’t seem weird to me.”

Thorne stared at her. “It ... doesn’t?”

“Mm-mm.”

Silence. Thorne opened his mouth to ask her something, thought better of it, and closed it again.

...

“Frankly, I’m not surprised,” Scarlet said, as they stacked empty crates onto empty crates in the hangar. “Can you get the ones in the cart outside? I’ll roll out the next batch for Craiova.”

They were making their way across Romania, distributing new loads in between trips back to Luna for supplies. “What do you mean, you’re not surprised?” Thorne demanded, standing over Scarlet as she checked the empty wooden crates for fissures. “He’s not a Lunar guard anymore! He never seemed like the type to go around sticking knives in people in the first place. He’s not a killer. Just an asshole,” he added under his breath, glancing over his shoulder in case Jacin had snuck up on him again. But there was no one else in the hangar with them.

“It doesn’t take an asshole to want to stab you,” Scarlet said, straightening with some difficulty: they’d been lugging crates all morning, and both their backs were aching. “What makes you think he treats you differently from anyone else?”

“Well, yesterday I was helping Iko pick out an outfit for this cotillion she’s attending with Cinder --”

“What, on video call?”

“Yeah, and then Jacin came by --”

“Did he hear you compliment her?”

Thorne stared at Scarlet. “What?”

“Did he hear you,” she said impatiently, “tell Iko she was pretty? Or gorgeous, or whatever it is you think sounds suave?”

Thorne distinctly remembered telling Iko that she was statuesque and that anyone would be lucky to romance her. A sinking feeling starts in his stomach. “Uh. Maybe?”

“And what did Jacin do?”

“He made some comment about applying to Cinder to change the laws on Lunars fighting Earthens, or duelling, or whatever.”

“Mother of stars,” Scarlet said, closing her eyes in the manner of someone asking the heavens for patience. “Thorne. Jacin is Cress’s friend. He knows she’s in love with you. And that you’ve agreed to be ...” She flapped a hand. “Romantically involved with her.”

“Romantically --” Thorne spluttered. “I’m in love with her!”

“Tell him that, or he might get the wrong idea about you flirting with everyone in sight,” Scarlet said severely. “And out of sight. Now help me with these, or I’m not cooking tonight. You can eat oily artichokes straight from the jar.”

...

“I’m in love with Cress,” Thorne announced to the kitchen.

Jacin, who’d been reading something on his datapad at the counter, raised his eyebrows and looks around exaggeratedly, as if to see who else Thorne might have been talking to. When this search found no one else to be present, he turned back around and said, “And?”

“And I’m not going to hurt her,” Thorne said firmly.

Jacin just looked at him, waiting. Thorne went on:

“So if I compliment other people or try to make friends with them, it’s because I’m a shameless hussy and need friends to validate me. Not because I’m faithless. And for all the stars,” he said, exasperated, as Jacin raised a mug of coffee to his lips and sipped, “Iko and Émilie are already dating, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Jacin said nothing, but his eyebrows rose higher above the mug, as if he couldn’t imagine what Thorne thought this had to do with him. 

“I ... thought you might want to know,” Thorne finished lamely. “As Cress’s friend. So you don’t have to fight me or anything.”

Jacin put down the mug. “That’s a relief. I didn’t want that on my conscience.”

This sudden forthrightness took Thorne by surprise. “Oh,” he said. “Really? I didn’t think you’d be a pacifist.”

“Not pacifism,” said Jacin, getting to his feet. “Rules of engagement.” When Thorne looked confused, Jacin shook his head in a pitying sort of way. “You’re a civilian. Do you honestly think it would be a fair fight?”

By the time Thorne figured out what that meant, Jacin had already left the kitchen, and the coffee in the mug was cold. Thorne spluttered, spun around and yelled after him, into the corridors of the Rampion.

“HEY! Who are you calling a civilian? I was in the army too, you know! Hey! Come on out, I just want to talk! No one has to know! Thirty univs says I can get in a hit before you knock me out, eh? Those aren’t bad odds! Hey, JACIN! Who are you calling --”

...

send me a prompt and I’ll write a quick(ish) drabble!