#flip writes

[flipomatic]

Arm's Length

Summary: Aerith had learned to keep people at arm’s length. All it took was a little deflection here, a question turned around like barbs instead of answered there, an engulfing smile or sometimes a pout stretched coyly across her face. She learned that if she acted as they expected, then they would accept her.

Though Aerith felt safe, she was also so often alone. There was one person though, someone who Aerith had only known for a few months, who she felt could see right through her.

Aerith glanced up at the window where that one person had waved from earlier, but Tifa was gone.

Word Count: 2,000

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Aerith glanced down at the high ankles of her boots, which dangled back and forth beneath her. The gap below extended far past the reach of her limbs, all the way down to the dusty dirt paths that led through town. Gravity kept water moving through the pipes, from the water tower to the surrounding buildings and then back to the ground, with a force as unstoppable as souls returning to the planet. If Aerith were to gently kick one of her boots off it would succumb, perhaps beaning an unsuspecting black cloak over the head in the process.

The thought brought the hint of a chuckle to her lips, but no she wouldn’t do that. Instead, her eyes tracked a distinct spattering of spiky blonde hair emerging from the house across that distant path. Cloud staggered slightly when the sun hit his gaze, right foot faltering as he turned towards the inn.

When he stumbled again, this time bumping roughly into a pedestrian, Aerith’s hand tightened against the edge of the scaffold. His behavior had been worrying for a while and had been even more troubling lately. Especially in Gongaga, though Aerith hadn’t seen it Tifa told her later what had happened. Even knowing that the Weapon hadn’t meant any harm didn’t stop her from remembering the chilling wash of fear and panic as she had searched the mako desperately for any sign of life. Learning that Cloud had knocked her in, put Tifa in immense danger, only made the feeling worse.

When he reached the inn, vanishing inside without so much as a glance back, Aerith released a sigh. It had felt strange to sit up here with him, to be together where so many of his childhood memories had been formed. It must’ve been nice to have a normal childhood, she thought, with friends who actually liked you.

That was a sour thought, bitter in the back of her throat as Aerith swallowed it back. It wasn’t that she didn’t have any friends as a child, but even as a young girl her heritage had hung like a hammer over her head. When they found out, or even if they didn’t, things would always change for the worse. When they decided she was rude, or angry, or introspective, or as so many unkind kids had put it, creepy, they always turned away.

Aerith had learned to keep people at arm’s length. All it took was a little deflection here, a question turned around like barbs instead of answered there, an engulfing smile or sometimes a pout stretched coyly across her face. She learned that if she acted as they expected, then they would accept her.

Though Aerith felt safe, she was also so often alone. There was one person though, someone who Aerith had only known for a few months, who she felt could see right through her.

Aerith glanced up at the window where that one person had waved from earlier, but Tifa was gone.

Her eyes were next drawn down to the entranceway of the house. On the right side, near where the mailbox was, she found Tifa. The other woman leaned against one of the pillars that supported the second floor, eyes closed with her head tilted back against it.

Perhaps it was time to go see her. Aerith carefully gathered her feet beneath herself before standing up, brushing any loose dirt from the back of her dress. The breeze rustled her braid as she descended slowly from the platform one rung at a time.

Once she reached the bottom of the ladder, her destination was only a few steps away. Tifa hadn’t moved from before, not so much as an inch. From this distance Aerith could see that she almost looked relaxed if not for the familiar clench of anxiety in her fingers.

Tifa’s eyes fluttered open when Aerith approached, a hint of red visible within them even in the shaded light. Her hair was mussed slightly as she rightened herself from the post, lips lifting in a warm smile.

“Enjoying your tour?”

Aerith tucked her arms behind her back and nodded as she responded. “The water tower made for a great look out point.”

“I bet.” Tifa broke eye contact to glance up at the tower. “You can see everything from there.”

“Pretty much!”

When Tifa’s gaze came back to meet her own, her expression had shifted into a more pensive one. “Well, not quite everything. I know you saw through the window but…” She faltered in her words and turned her eyes down towards her hands, which came together to fidget. Tifa’s tone was soft, almost uncertain. “This is where I grew up, well, it used to be. Would you like to see it?”

Aerith’s heart panged in her chest. “Of course, if you want to show me.” She stepped forward and placed her hand gently on Tifa’s joined ones. “Lead the way.”

Tifa nodded once, mouth setting in a resolute line, before turning to do just that. Aerith trailed behind her through the front door of what used to be her home.

They passed through the downstairs areas one at a time, dodging around men in black cloaks throughout the first level of the building.

Tifa told her a story about how she used to train with her dad in the living room, but one time he deflected her kick straight through the wall and that was the end of that. She pointed out where the damage would’ve been in the old house, though this new one showed no sign of it. Tifa ran her hand over that spot on the wall, closing her eyes for a moment before pulling back.

“He sounds like a wonderful dad.” Aerith said, trying to keep the melancholy out of her tone. She hadn’t realized it until long after breaking out of Shinra, but she had never known her father or even a real father figure. It didn’t bother her too much, but in times like these she couldn’t help but think about it.

“Yeah, he was.” Tifa looked over at her with a hint of emotion in her eyes, head tilted slightly. Then, inexplicably, she smiled broadly. “I’m sure he would’ve loved you, you know. He looked after everyone; he was always kind like that.”

Aerith inhaled sharply, the response being an unexpected one. It cut straight through her thoughts, directly to her concerns and worries. This time when Aerith’s heart throbbed, it was a warmer feeling. It took a few moments for her to gather herself for a soft reply.

“Like father like daughter.”

This drew a hint of pink to Tifa’s cheeks, as well as a shake of her head. “Those are big shoes to fill.”

“I believe in you.” Aerith said strongly, her voice steady and firm. She believed every word.

Tifa’s reply came low under her breath, her face already turned away from Aerith. “Thank you.”

The two continued their trip through the house until they reached the upstairs. There were only two rooms up there, one of which Tifa pointed out as her dad’s room.

“And this one is mine.” Tifa didn’t hesitate as she pulled open the door, allowing both of them to enter.

The room itself was small and looked about the same from the inside as it had from the view on the water tower. There was a cabinet, a bed, and a piano all occupying space within the room.

Tifa went over to linger by the piano, while Aerith moved to look out the window. She could imagine past her sitting out on that platform, staring down at the abyss beneath her feet. She was on the second floor here as well, but with an entire building below her.

Aerith sat down on the side of the bed, longing again for a childhood home like this one with a childhood friend right next door. How was it that Cloud was lucky enough to know Tifa his whole life, but Aerith didn’t get to meet her until a few months ago?

“A gil for your thoughts?” Tifa’s voice came chipper and inquisitive from right in front of her.

Aerith looked up at her, covering up her surprise by lifting one finger to her chin. “For anyone else they’re not for sale. But for you, hmm…” Tifa’s eyes glimmered with emotion, concern or worry perhaps, as she waited for Aerith to finish her response. She must’ve been watching her think for a while.

They had come here into Tifa’s house to dig up her old memories, haunting and sad and terrible memories, but she wanted to know what Aerith was thinking about? If it was anyone else Aerith would’ve thought they were prying, or perhaps stalling or deflecting, but not Tifa. No, Tifa asked because she cared.

Lately, in what felt like a completely incomprehensible way, Tifa had pushed past the invisible boundaries Aerith erected around herself. This was just another moment, one of hundreds or thousands or more. In the gaze of Tifa’s kindness and care, there was nowhere for Aerith to hide. And, for perhaps the first time, she didn’t want to.

“Free.” Aerith declared with a smirk.

Tifa let out a half chuckle, gaze softening a little. “Tell me then, please.”

Aerith followed Tifa with her gaze as she sat down to her left, their knees almost touching. She took a deep breath, warm from just how close Tifa was. “I was thinking about this town. It feels odd to be where you and Cloud grew up. I never had that kind of childhood.”

Tifa moved one hand to cover Aerith’s in her lap when she paused, a silent gesture of support.

Aerith kept talking. “I always wished for a childhood friend, someone who would understand the real me. Even after escaping Shinra it was hard, being here just reminds me of that.”

“I see.” Tifa replied quietly, voice barely audible. Her face was close too, their foreheads only inches apart.

“But I’ve also been thinking that we only have so much time ahead of us, I can’t just dwell on the past.” Aerith continued, smiling softly as she spoke. “I need to appreciate the friends I’ve made, who see me for who I am. Especially you, Tifa. Ever since we met, my life has changed for the better.” Aerith finished without hesitation. “You’re the best friend I could ever ask for.” Maybe there was more to add to that once Aerith had more time to work through her feelings. For now, this was enough.

“Aerith….” Tifa’s slow inhale, so close yet still too far away, sent a tremor down her spine. “And you’re mine. You brighten every day and inspire me to push on despite the odds. No matter what happens, I’ll always be there for you.”

“Thank you.” Aerith blinked away the start of a few tears, unable to stop one from escaping. Tifa’s hand released hers and rose gently to brush that tear away. “Thank you…” She repeated, voice trailing away this time.

The touch of Tifa’s finger lingered against Aerith’s cheek for a heartbeat longer as silence took over the room, quiet but safe and warm.

Aerith leaned her head against Tifa’s shoulder for what she told herself would only be a few minutes. The warmth of an arm around her back followed, pulling Aerith even closer. The two sat together in this small room, on the second floor of a rebuilt house, in what should’ve been a destroyed town, enjoying the kindness of each other’s warmth.

What did Aerith do to deserve her? She didn’t know, but she prayed to the planet, to the lifestream, to any being out there that would listen for this relationship to last. She hoped against all odds that the cruelty of her fate would leave well enough alone and not tear the two apart, that the inevitability of gravity wouldn’t send them tumbling to their doom.

She prayed to be able to spend another day at Tifa’s side.

[kiss-inthekitchen]

no vacancy | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

set sometime in early s2; you get stuck sharing a room with your favorite boy genius who absolutely cannot know that you have feelings for him. and also, there’s only one bed. fluff, f!reader (i think there's only two usages of gender markers)

word count: 4.7k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3. i'm thinking i'll do more of these, i've got a few spencer fics in the vault and it was fun to rework this and see how my style has changed :)

You shivered against the cold desert air. Twirling a keyring around your finger, you headed for the door marked 3. You were exhausted from the day and so, so ready to collapse into bed as soon as you got inside your room. 

You turned the key in the lock while Spencer waited behind you. It was late, and you and the team had pulled into a motel for the night, having been dragged out to a tiny rural town by the unsub after days of tracking him through surrounding areas. He’d been apprehended, finally, and handed over to local police around midnight. You all had decided it best to spend the night before driving back into town in the morning for take off. 

So here you were, at one of those single story motels that still used actual keys instead of key cards. Given the time of night, you knew vacancies would be scarce, so you’d already expected to have to double up on rooms. Gideon had stayed behind at Quantico, leaving Hotch and Morgan in one room and JJ and Prentiss in another, with you and Spencer sharing the last room. You’d hung back while JJ got everything figured out with the concierge (who was just a bored looking kid posted at the desk), and then she’d passed you your key with its little keyring attachment listing the room number and you all bade each other goodnight.

You’d been on the team nearly a year already, but you were still the rookie compared to everyone else. Even Spence had two years on you. But seeing as you two were the youngest, and the least inclined toward the more physical parts of your job– the chasing, tackling, firing your weapon parts– you were paired off with him more often than not. 

You weren’t complaining. You’d come to know Spencer pretty well, and you didn’t feel much apprehension at the thought of sharing a room with him for one night. 

That is, until you opened the door. 

“Oh,” you said involuntarily.  

"There's only one bed,” Spencer said. 

“Sure looks that way.” 

"At least it's a queen?" 

There was a brief pause before you both started speaking at the same time. 

"Maybe we can go back to the concierge–" Spencer began. 

"I mean, I guess I don't really–" 

"–although, JJ did say we got the last–" 

"–mind as long as you–" 

You cut yourself off this time. It’s not like there was another good option, unless one of you wanted to sleep in the car. "This is fine?" it came out as a question rather than a statement. 

"I think so? I wouldn't want to– to make you uncomfortable or anything."

"This is fine," you repeated, more sure of yourself this time. “And you don’t make me uncomfortable.”  

It was only kind of a lie. You trusted Spencer with your life, of course. But he also made you nervous. He was sweet, kind, always seeming genuinely interested in anything you had to say. And of course, anyone could see that he was attractive. You were developing feelings for him, and in a job where your coworkers and your crush himself were all adept at reading people, it really wasn’t a good position for you to be in. You just hoped Spencer was as oblivious with women as Derek made him out to be. 

"We should get out of the doorway," Spencer suggested, and you realized you'd been standing in the threshold this whole time.

"Right."

The two of you walked in, Spencer closing and locking the door behind you. It was a modest room in a tiny town; your standard ugly-patterned, faded bedspread draped over the queen bed in the center, a window looking out into the parking lot, and a dresser that didn’t even have a TV on top of it. You headed straight for the bed, sitting on the edge and removing your shoes while Spencer stood by with his hands in his pockets.

"You know, if it's a problem I can sleep on the cou– uh, the chair," Spencer offered, looking back mid-sentence and realizing that the only additional furniture this motel offered was one rigid looking armchair by the window. 

"No, you're not doing that."

"What?" he asked, taken aback by the quickness of your response.

"You're not sleeping in that chair. It looks horribly uncomfortable and I’m sure it’s never been cleaned, and I know how you’d feel about that.” 

Spencer grimaced, not having thought about that particular detail. “Yeah, but, I mean… I’d do it for you.” 

God, why did he have to say stuff like that? Like you were something special. And why now, when you were stuck in the same room with him until morning? It probably didn’t even mean the same thing to him as it meant to you. He was one of the most caring people you’d ever met. He’d probably say that to any one of you on the team. 

Or maybe sleeping in a chair meant nothing to him at all. Maybe he actually didn’t want to share the bed with you and that’s why he was trying so hard to avoid it. 

Ugh. You just wanted this day to be over. It was late, the case had been a week long, and now you were probably in for a fun night of overthinking and second guessing when you’d been expecting silence and easy, dreamless sleep. 

Okay, maybe that last part was never really an option, but still. 

“Look,” you sighed, “I know this isn't an ideal situation but there's a perfectly good bed here, so let’s just share it. If you’re okay with that. It's just one night and tomorrow we'll be back home and nobody has to know about it."

You had to fight from squeezing your eyes shut in regret. You wished that had come out differently. You chanced a look at Spencer, realizing that you’d been staring down at the faded carpet pattern while you spoke. 

The look on his face was one you hadn’t seen before, and you almost couldn't place it. He seemed sort of disappointed. Disappointed that he had to share a bed with you? Or that you'd made it sound like you didn't want to share a bed with him? Nope, you could not go down that road tonight. You shook your head once as if it would clear the thoughts from your tired mind. 

“I’m okay with that," he said, casually enough that you could almost convince yourself that you’d just imagined the look on his face before. "So, do you want the shower first, or...?" Spencer asked.

"No, I can wait, you go ahead," you said. You desperately needed the moment to yourself anyway.  

You started rifling through your bag for pajamas, toiletries, and your charger as an excuse to look busy while Spencer made his way into the bathroom with his things. As soon as the door closed behind him, you flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it might hold all the answers. 

Spencer couldn't know about your feelings. For one thing, you were pretty sure there was a rule against dating your colleagues in the BAU. If not, there probably should be. You were such a close knit team, and if anything went wrong… you couldn’t imagine how difficult that would be. But then, the evil and uncooperative part of you also couldn’t help but think that things might go right. 

From the beginning of your time at the BAU, you’d been drawn to Spencer. It just kind of made sense. You’d gotten through school at an accelerated pace– though not as quickly as him, the man was on another fucking level when it came to academics– and you were one of the only people who found his fact dropping actually interesting, often asking him follow up questions. He’d looked adorably shocked the first few times you’d done that. 

He listened intently to your passionate rants about your favorite films and tv shows, even though he hadn’t seen any of them. When the two of you had discovered a shared interest in mythology and folklore, Hotch nearly had to separate you so you would actually get some work done. It was like you were a kid in school again, and you might’ve been embarrassed if you didn’t find it so funny, if you weren’t so giddy at the idea of a friendship that could make you feel like a kid again. 

Spencer understood you in a way that other people didn’t, laughing at your jokes even when they didn’t land for anybody else. When people interrupted or spoke over you, he always paid attention, and in situations where you were trying to add details to the profile he’d bring the conversation back around to you. 

Throughout your life you’d learned– through painstaking trial and error– to fit in pretty well in most any group you found yourself in, but you’d always considered yourself to be a little weird. A little too different. But when you were with Spencer, you felt like you didn’t have to try so hard. You could both be a little different, together. 

Spencer opened the bathroom door then, startling you. You’d been so lost in thought you hadn’t even noticed the water turn off. You looked over to see him wearing a loose white t-shirt and pajama pants, his hair still damp. And now you knew what Spencer looked like fresh out of a shower. And of course it was endearing as hell. 

“If that’s how you’re planning to sleep,” Spencer began, referencing how you were laid out in the dead center of the bed, your arms fully outstretched and hands hanging off the mattress, “then I think we might have a slight problem after all.”  

You walked out of the bathroom a short while later, dressed in your usual sleepwear of shorts and an oversized shirt. You’d put your hair up in a bun to protect it while you showered, and now it hung loose around your shoulders. You simultaneously wished your outfit was cuter and uglier; knowing your giant t-shirt wasn’t flattering your figure while also feeling like you had too much skin exposed. Not that it mattered. You were just going to get some sleep and then wake up in the morning and head home. Everything would be back to normal. 

Spencer’s in bed already. He’d turned off the big light while you were showering, the lamps on either side of the bed casting him in a softer, warmer glow. He looked up from his book to find you standing there, and the soft, familiar look in his big brown eyes had you rooted to the spot. 

“Hey,” he said softly, patting the space next to him in invitation. 

You conceded, finding your legs again and sliding into bed beside him. “Hey.” 

He fidgeted with the pages of his book, ultimately shutting it closed on his index finger to mark the page. “So, uh, are we okay?” 

“Yeah, of course,” you answered genuinely, feeling bad that your internal struggle had manifested in a way that worried him. 

“Okay, cool,” he said. He paused long enough to let you explain if you wanted to, another invitation. You knew he wouldn’t push it if you didn’t offer something up. You wanted to give him an explanation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. 

“Sorry,” you managed. 

“For what?” 

“I don’t know… acting weird, I guess. It’s just been a long day.” 

“Oh, well, you don’t need to be sorry about that. You’re always weird.” 

Your mouth dropped open as you looked at him. “Look who’s fucking talking,” you scoffed. Some of the tension dropped from your shoulders, glad he hadn’t questioned you further. 

“Language, please,” he held up a hand to stop you. “I’m delicate.” 

“Wha–?” you let out a surprised little laugh. “You’re an idiot!” 

“Yeah okay, tell that to my I–.” 

“Oh, my IQ of 187,” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. Even that was full of endearment. “God, you are so annoying.” 

“Hm. Y’know, this might be a long night for you. I’d hate to keep you up with my annoyingness.” 

“I feel like you could’ve come up with a better word than annoyingness, Mr. 187,” you tilted your head where it rested against the headboard, looking up at him. 

“Oh, she’s being a smartass now!” he split into a surprised grin, and you could swear your heart skipped a beat. 

“You just said ass.” 

“Wow. How quickly you’ve corrupted me.” 

“Right, of course. It’s my fault.” 

“I knew you’d agree.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you laughed. 

Things felt a little bit more normal after that, joking around with Spencer like you normally did made the rest of the night feel less daunting. 

Shortly after that, the two of you agreed that you should get some sleep, each reaching over to turn out the light on your respective sides of the bed. 

You let yourself sink into your pillow, the exhaustion you had been feeling giving way to a hyper awareness of Reid’s body next to you. You were kept awake, completely overcome by the foot of space between you and Spencer; the consequences of crossing that space, the way it might feel, the curiosity over whether he was laying awake too, thinking the same thoughts as you. Even with that foot of space separating you, you could feel his body heat. You longed to move closer to him, to touch him, to let his warmth seep into you and lull you to sleep. 

But you didn’t, and you wouldn’t, because this was just an unfortunate booking mishap. It didn’t mean anything. Tomorrow it would be over, and you could more easily go back to hiding your feelings from everyone else and yourself. 

Eventually, exhaustion won out. 

You woke what could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours later, the sky still dark. You couldn’t tell what exactly had woken you up, only the sense that you’d moved, almost like you’d fallen. But fallen from what? 

You blinked in the dark, the street lamps in the parking lot providing enough residual light to keep the room from being pitch black. 

Reid was sitting up. He must’ve bolted upright, you thought. Had that been what moved you? Were you lying on him?! 

“Hey, you okay?” 

“Sorry. Just a nightmare,” he said as if it was nothing. “Sorry to wake you.” 

“What was it about?” you ignored his apologies, sitting up as well. 

“I don't really even remember,” he breathed, almost like it was funny. “Just having a physiological reaction to whatever it was, I guess.” 

You had nightmares too, of course. You all did. You hated remembering them, but you also hated the times when you woke up in the dark, dazed and inexplicably scared. Without thinking, you reached for his hand. 

He turned to look at you then. “I really didn't mean to wake you,” he reiterated. 

“I figured,” you smiled slightly. You noticed his breathing was just a bit too fast. You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand, leaning over to rest your weight against his side, your head on his shoulder. His nervous system would regulate itself quicker this way. 

“You were on my pillow, by the way.” 

“What?” you ask, your head jerking back from him. 

“I totally called it. You rolled right into the center of the bed in your sleep. Total bed hog.” 

“Hey!” you protested, pulling your hand back from his in embarrassment. So you had been lying on top of him. Or at least really close to him. His hand chased after yours, finding you again. 

“That wasn’t me complaining about it.” 

“Oh,” was all you could think to say back. 

It was quiet for a minute. You let your head fall back onto Spencer’s shoulder, but your heart raced in your chest. 

“Can I ask you something?” he questioned, his tone becoming more serious. 

“Oh– of course,” you answered, your brow creasing. 

“What did you mean when you said ‘it’s not ideal’ and ‘nobody has to know about it’?” 

“Wh– I– Spencer, come on.” 

He didn’t give you an out this time. Just waited for an answer. 

“I don’t even really know,” you sighed.  

“I believe you’re being partially truthful about that.” 

“Don’t profile me.” 

“I’m not. I just know you.” 

You sighed. “You know, sometimes I hate that stupid memory of yours.” 

“I don’t need an eidetic memory to remember that. It was a weird thing to say, and it happened like four hours ago.” 

“You’re guesstimating. And it wasn’t that weird.” 

“Maybe not, but the way you said it was. And you’re avoiding my question.” 

You continued to avoid it, biting down on your bottom lip. 

“And you stuttered when I brought it up.” 

“I told you to stop profiling me.” 

This time, he just hummed in response. 

“And so what if I stuttered?” 

“Stuttering is usually more my thing. A nervousness thing.” 

Maybe this was actually your nightmare. Maybe you’d wake up soon and none of this would’ve been real, and you wouldn’t have had to explain to Spencer that the reason you’d had an attitude was because the situation tonight had made it harder to hide your feelings for him. Big feelings that became a lot harder to ignore when he was this close to you, still holding your hand, the mix of scents from his detergent and deodorant clouding your judgment. Of all the embarrassing scenarios that you could’ve imagined playing out tonight, this was very high up on the list. 

“I said ‘it’s not ideal’ because it’s not, just by definition. We were supposed to get a double room and we didn’t. Not ideal. And I said no one has to find out because I can already see Morgan having a field day with it and I know the exact expression that’ll be on his face–” 

“The eyebrows,” he nodded, lips pursed. 

“And then everyone else will get in on it and I just figured…” you sighed. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to deal with that.” 

“That all makes total sense.” 

“Good,” you breathed. Too relieved. 

“Now tell me the rest of it.” 

“God, Spencer–” you huffed out, frustrated. He knew you too well. 

You wanted to run. Maybe you could go sleep in the car after all. And then ignore Spencer for the rest of the day, and then the year, and your life, and– 

“Don’t make me say it,” you breathed. This had to be a dream. 

“But there is something to be said?” he questioned, his tone hushed, almost reverent. 

It was just vague enough. You could pretend it was nothing. 

“Yes.” 

You felt like you’d just blown your life up with one word. 

Spencer took a deep breath, your body cresting and falling with the movement of it. 

“You make me feel better about being myself,” he confessed.  

You shut your eyes. You had a constricting feeling in your throat suddenly, and the awful realization that you might cry. 

He spoke again, because you couldn’t. “I haven’t always felt good about it, you know? And then you joined the team, and, well– you changed a lot of things for me. And you’re beautiful, obviously, and I was scared to mess up what we have, because it’s special, I think–” 

“It is.” 

“–and then you started freaking out when you saw the bed,” he was smiling now, you could hear it, “and I thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so crazy… maybe I could make you feel that way too.” 

“You do. Of course you do. I feel like I can be my full self with you. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt like that before.” 

Spencer laughed, a little delirious giggle, and squeezed your hand in his. You’d managed to avoid crying, thankfully, and you grinned along with him, looking down at your joined hands as you squeezed him back. 

Things seemed to still for a beat, the two of you sitting with this moment and letting it stretch out. You still couldn’t really believe this was happening. You might have to tell Spencer to pinch you. 

“So what does that mean for us now?” you asked. 

“Well, for right now at least, I think it just means that we can go back to sleep without overthinking things into oblivion.” 

“I was not–”

“Okay, this time I am profiling you, and you’re lying,” he cut you off, his smile still evident.  

“Oh, this was such a mistake.”

He continued like you hadn’t spoken, laughing a little as he went. “I could practically hear it. It’s like, you know when a computer is trying to use too much processing power and the fan starts whirring really loud? Like that but just like right next to me, like tangible—“  

“Okay! Thank you so much, I actually totally got it, you can stop now.” 

He laughed, and your cheeks warmed. 

“For the record, I meant we could both stop overthinking.” Then he shifted a little, facing you a bit more. With the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, a fake pout on his lips. “Sorry I make you nervous.” 

You cackled at that, if it was possible to cackle in hushed tones. “Oh, I bet you are. Besides, I know you like me now, so you’ve lost that card.” 

“Are you certain of that?” 

“Certain that you like me or certain that you can’t make me nervous?” 

“The latter. I do like you, if that was unclear.” 

Your heart sped up, contradicting you as you answered, “Then I’m certain you can’t make me nervous.” 

He titled your face up to his then, using his index finger underneath your chin to make you look at him. “You’re an awful liar.” 

You just shrugged, watching triumphantly as Spencer’s gaze fell to your lips.“It’s been working out pretty well for me so far.” 

“I guess it has,” he murmured, closing the distance between you and finally kissing you. 

After so many months of imagining (and berating yourself for imagining) what Spencer’s lips might feel like on yours, you weren’t disappointed. 

For once you didn’t have to think at all, the chemistry between you and him drowning out everything else. His hand fell to your waist, and yours moved to the curve of his jaw, pulling him closer as his mouth moved against yours. Your teeth grazed his bottom lip and he gasped, and your skin felt like it was lit up from the inside. 

You pulled away to breathe, and to process, and to try and stop your head from swimming. You were rewarded with the awestruck look in Spencer’s eyes as he opened them again. 

“Okay, was it just me, or–” 

“That was crazy,” you breathed.

“Crazy,” he agreed. 

“Spence?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t think we’re getting back to sleep tonight.” Your eyes widened at the implication of saying those words at that time. “Not, like, in the sex way, though,” you hurried to correct yourself. “I need like, 4-5 business days to process things first, and I– well, I just meant, like– you know?” 

Spencer was nodding at you even as his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Can I still kiss you during those 4-5 business days?” 

“Oh, yeah,” you said, sounding breathless. 

“Cool,” he agreed. “You seem really nervous, by the way.” 

“Well, you kissed me.” 

“I did.”  

“How were you not nervous?” you breathed. 

“Oh, I was. Your reaction is making me feel a whole lot better about it though.” 

You scoffed half-heartedly. “I do so much for you.” 

“You do,” he replied earnestly, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We could lie back down, if you want. Like we were before I so rudely woke you up.” 

“Yeah, I’m super mad about that,” you joked. “Anyway, I was asleep for that, so you’ll have to show me what I was doing.” 

He seemed all too pleased to do so. “Okay, so you were basically like,” he leaned back against the pillows, pulling you down with him, moving his hand to the side of your head to guide you to the place where his shoulder met his chest, “Like that, and then your arm was over here,” he picked up your arm and guided it around his waist. 

“Oh god, that’s so embarrassing,” you said, realizing that he must’ve been awake when you’d done it. 

“Yeah, I know. Really terrible time for me.” 

“I can imagine. I can scoot back over to my side of the bed, just say the word.” 

“Don’t you dare,” he said, squeezing you closer. 

You trailed your fingers up and down his waist, feeling more content than you had in ages. 

“I can’t believe you’d suggest that I would have sex with you right after confessing my feelings. Like, take me to dinner first at least.” 

“Oh my god,” you half-exclaimed, half-laughed. You felt your cheeks heat up again, grateful it was still too dark in the room to be noticeable. “You’re right, I’m so sorry. How’s next Friday?” 

“Hmm, I don’t know. My work schedule is kind of unpredictable. I’ll have to get back to you.” 

“You’re such an ass.” 

A few short hours later, you were back on the jet with the rest of the team. You were lying on the couch while Spencer sat in a seat one row up and across from you, both to avoid suspicion and so you could try to catch up on sleep. He sat facing away from you, but with the angle you were at you could still see one side of his face if you tilted your head up. 

You were just beginning to fade when your phone buzzed next to you. 

Spencer: I have to tell you something, coworker to coworker. 

You looked up to see him blank faced, looking down at the book in his right hand, holding his phone in the left. 

You text back: okay? 

Spencer: My crush asked me out last night. 

You’re exceptionally glad no one was sitting close enough to see you. Spencer had caught you off guard, and you felt an infatuated grin spreading across your face. 

You: what did u say? 

Spencer: Wanted to get your opinion first. 

You: i think u should say yes, obviously. 

Spencer: Idk, I’m kinda nervous. I think she’s trying to jump me on the first date.

You just barely managed to refrain from laughing out loud. You looked up at Spencer again, and he’s looking at his phone as if it contained nothing more than a weather report. You’re astounded. 

You: one could argue that technically you’ve already slept together, so there’s less to be nervous abt

You saw his eyebrows raise just slightly. Success. 

Spencer: You’re trouble, you know that? See you Friday night

You: i promise i won’t try to jump you 

Spencer: Oh

Spencer: I fear I may have shot myself in the foot here

You: i wouldn’t worry about it too much

Spencer: That’s rich coming from you 

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn't see you. 

You: whatever. wear something sexy ;) 

You heard him blow air out of his nose, an almost laugh. 

“Something funny?” you heard Derek ask. 

Shit. 

“This book contains a historical inaccuracy that was proven incorrect eight years before its publishing date,” Spencer replied without missing a beat. 

Unbelievable.

You: you’re unhinged :*

Spencer: Go to sleep already, would you? 

You: coworker to coworker? my crush keeps interrupting my beauty sleep 

Spencer: He’s probably worried about the worldwide implications of you becoming any more beautiful 

You: i guess that’s why the universe gave you insomnia :( too pretty 

Spencer: Stop flirting with me

You: bc you’re too delicate?? 

Spencer: Yes 

You snapped your phone shut, feeling dazed. You watched the clouds go by in the window across from you, and you couldn’t help letting your gaze slide over to Spencer. He’d put his phone down as well, concentrating on his book. Or pretending to concentrate. He was turning the pages much too slowly for his actual pace. 

You: you have got to do a better job of fake reading than that

You heard a page turn. 

You looked up again to see the ghost of a smile threatening the corner of his mouth. 

This was going to be fun. And also, you were so screwed. 

[echo-stimmingrose]

I have funny but first a quick history lesson

In Ancient Athens they had things called ostracons. Basically every year everyone would carve a name of someone they didn't like into a small stone tablet and then submit it. Then they would look at all of the ostracons and if there were too many of one person then they told that person to get tf out. They had ten days to flee Athens and couldn't come back for ten years.

So now I would like you to imagine Dionysus doing a pseudo version of this at Camp Half-blood every month because we all know he LIVES for the drama. (He's stuck there for a hundred years he might as well have some fun)

He would hand out stone tablets (it was very important to him that the names were carved don't ask why) and every person at camp would write a name.

Whoever had their name written down the most would be sent to live in a cabin in the woods for two weeks. If they survived they would be allowed to return to camp.

Mr. D always makes sure there's a crowd around to witness their walk of shame and he takes a picture of said person every month. He keeps them hung up on a wall in the big house.

[stevebabey]

part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

-

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

[vampykween]

love the idea of ghost watching you hehe, as always nsfw mdni thank u

Simon comes home and is surprised when you don’t greet him at the door like you normally do. He figures you’re probably sleeping – always one to nap when you get the chance. The sight he was met with is not remotely what he expected.

You’re spread out in the middle of the bed – looking effortlessly angelic – eyes closed and the sound of your breathy moans permeating the air. You’re fucking yourself relentlessly with your fingers clearly on the precipice of an orgasm, and Simon is quickly debating on pulling his cock out and just watching you get yourself or if he should hold off and join you on the bed.

It’s decided for him when he lets out a deep groan at the sound of you moaning his name – your movements halt immediately and you sit up in surprise.

“Oh my god, how long have you been standing there,” you ask your boyfriend a blush creeping over your face. It was one thing for him to see you like this when the two of you are having sex, but somehow it feels so embarrassing to have him catch you pleasuring yourself.

“Long enough to know you think about me when you’re stuffing your little pussy full.” He’s walking towards the bed now, and he pulls at your ankle dragging you to the end. Your chest is heaving now, he was reigniting the fire that was burning in you shortly before he caught you. His large hand covers the expanse of your throat and slowly treks down the length of your body, stopping momentarily to tweak at each of your nipples. When he reaches the softness of your stomach he stops, leans down merely inches from your face and whispers, “Beg me to fuck you pet, tell me you want me to fuck you far better than your little fingers ever could.”

[heartnosekid]

the wisteria reading journal by thequirkycupcollective on ig

[roosterr]

by your hand | 01

kyle garrick x gn!reader x john soap mactavish

wc: 3.4k summary: johnny leaves you alone again, and kyle is more than happy to fill the space he left behind. warnings: unrequited love (for now), love triangle -> poly pipeline, lots pining longing and desiring, gaz is kind of a nervous wreck, a tiny bit of angst, tasteful clichés, everybody is down bad

so,,, i'm starting another series. don't look at me. based on a request i got forever ago and this idea <3

will you let me know if john is coming home tonight? 21:04

the text from you sits open on kyle's phone, the only light illuminating his face in his otherwise dark living room. a deep sigh escapes him as he drags a hand down his face, a fruitless attempt to rid himself of the sinking feeling weighing down on him.

johnny's not coming home, kyle knows he’s not, and if you’re texting him then deep down, you must know that too. he’s meeting up with the same hookup from last week, some guy he met at the pub that kyle knows nothing about because he’d hung up the phone before soap could get too into his usual bragging; and though he hadn’t listened to the details, a twisting ache lingered in his chest for the rest of the day after that.

didn't he tell you? he's staying with another friend tonight 21:07

oh okay 21:11

your curt response sends another pang of guilt through him. how soap could be so blind – as well as just plain stupid – he had no idea, but he'll be damned if he doesn't take advantage of this opportunity.

his fingers hover above the keyboard, twitching over the letters as he tries to come up with something to say. he could do what he always does, tell you 'of course' and 'don't worry'; or, he could actually do something. he could give in to his selfish desires for once and allow himself to have you, if only for the evening.

and, really, it's been months of this; all the lingering stares he sends your way, touches that last just long enough to still give him plausible deniability – and when you text him like this, the going back and forth over whether it was the right time to make a move, but every time he he finds some bullshit excuse not to.

tonight is different though. he's been patient, and he's not sure he can stop himself from giving in this time.

the decision was made before he even finished the thought. he types out the message and deletes it five times before he decides to just bite the bullet and send it.

maybe i could come round and keep you company? i'll stop by tescos and grab popcorn and we could watch a film? just the two of us? 21:22

the minutes between him sending the text and you reading it are borderline painful. he doesn’t know how you’re going to respond, and that was utterly maddening. maybe he crossed a line, or maybe he'd come on too strong and you could tell how pathetically into you he was–

the buzz of your response cuts his overthinking short. he unlocks his phone with lightning speed the same moment the notification comes through.

that would be nice thanks kyle :) 21:24

his heart stutters in his chest, and an excited grin lifts the corners of his lips. he reads the message a few more times, just to make sure he didn't dream it up, but it doesn't change between blinks. a light feeling replaces the guilt from earlier.

you said yes. you’re going to watch a movie with him, in your flat, just the two of you. with a slightly embarrassing fist pump, he thanks the stars for aligning to make this happen and rushes to the front door. he grabs his jacket and pulls his shoes on in record time, and he's just about to slip his phone into his pocket next to his keys, but it buzzes again before he can.

get sweet and salty pls xxxxx 21:25

a fond chuckle passes his lips at that, the feeling in his heart only getting warmer as he locks the door behind him and makes a beeline for his car.

on it boss 21:25

less than fifteen minutes later kyle is standing outside your building, plastic bag in one hand and the other pressing the buzzer for your flat. he absently wonders what soap would think if he knew about this, if he’d object or if he’d even care in the first place, but once again his worries are interrupted by the click of the front door unlocking.

the easy, if slightly more toned down, smile from earlier is back on kyle’s face as he takes the stairs two at a time – the lift would’ve been too slow, he reasons, and he wants to make the most of every second he has with you.

his footsteps echo through the hall as he finally approaches your flat, his grip on the bag tightening and his heart rate picking up the closer he gets. he’s a moment away from knocking, fist poised above the door, when it swings open to reveal you with a similarly excited grin on your face.

kyle eyes gravitate to yours, lifting the hand holding the bag and somewhat awkwardly leaning the one still hovering on the doorframe. "package secured, boss."

his words get a soft chuckle from you, as you step to the side and gestures for him to come in.

"good work, sarge," you tease, shutting the door behind him and taking the bag from his hand as you make your way to the kitchen, "you can pick what we watch, i can't make a decision like that!"

"roger that," his smile is evident in his voice when he calls after you, "but you're not allowed to complain about my choice!"

"better not pick something shit, then!"

kyle watches you go while he undoes his laces, and takes the opportunity to admire the way you look in your pyjamas. it was just a big jumper and some comfy trousers, nothing special, but a burning heat still rises to the tips of his ears all the same.

this is what soap had to come home to every night? and he still chose not to?

he shakes his head to rid himself of the thought and hangs his jacket on the empty hook by the door, beside yours. tonight, you were his, and he was determined to push all thoughts about his idiot best friend out of your mind.

the movie he'd picked is already waiting for you when you shuffle into the living room, the bowl of popcorn in your hands as you flop down onto the sofa beside him.

"hot fuzz?" you ask, placing the bowl in the space between you and popping a few pieces into your mouth.

"yeah, you seen it?" he presses play on the remote, and you shake your head with a curious smile on your face. he grabs a few pieces of popcorn himself, and tilts his head to give you an eager grin. "oh, it's brilliant, love, one of my all time favourites."

you hum thoughtfully, and with your eyes locked onto the screen, kyle takes the opportunity to lay his arm across the back of the sofa, just behind your shoulders. his heart hammers against his sternum, and he subconsciously holds his breath when you settle further into the sofa, closing the distance between you ever so slightly.

"well, you've set my expectations very high, kyle." you shoot him a playful look that he readily mirrors, before focusing your gaze back on the movie. he breathes a quiet sigh of relief that you didn't comment on his manoeuvre, the nervous tension melting from his muscles.

it's hard not to be comfortable around you. even when you're just sitting in each other's presence, it comes so naturally, like it's by design. despite the movie being one of his favourites, he can't help the way his gaze drifts to your profile.

do you see this as a date? because kyle definitely does. or, he wants to, but does it really count if it's just him that thinks that way? was he reading too far into this?

lost in his anxieties, he doesn't realise that when he reaches to grab some popcorn that you do the same, and the sparks that fly up his arm from where your fingers brush startle him back down to earth. he braves a look at you, a bashful smile finding its way onto his face as he meets your eyes.

"you were right," you murmur, and dart your eyes back to the screen in an almost nervous way, "this is really good."

a satisfied feeling blooms in his chest knowing that you liked his choice. "it's part of a trilogy, y'know. we'll have to watch the other two at some point."

there's a pause then, where you get a contemplative look on your face, and kyle holds his breath waiting for your response.

"maybe not tonight," your gaze falls to your lap, and he's afraid for a moment that he'd overstepped before you continue, "but i'd like that."

he smiles at you again, giving your leg a small nudge with his own. "next time soap is out pub crawling, then, yeah?"

your expression twitches downwards, darkening for a split second that he just about catches, before you put on an obviously forced smile. "yeah, sounds good."

fuck.

why did he say that? soap is the last person you want to be thinking about, and the last person he wanted to bring up tonight, so why on earth did he say that?

the silence that follows is negatively charged. your eyes are locked onto the tv screen, but there's a distracted look in them now.

kyle clears his throat, trying to swallow down the hot embarrassment rising to his face, "sorry. shouldn't've brought him up, should i?"

you seem to flinch at his words, your head snapping to fix him with an incredulous look as you stumble over your words. "why– what? why? he does live here."

"i know you like him." kyle frowns when you click your tongue, continuing with a more serious tone than he's had all night, "and i know you know where he is."

you open your mouth to respond, but no words come out. guilt claws at the inside of his ribcage watching you swallow hard, blinking away the despair in your eyes as you face the tv again.

"i don't like him." you mumble, pulling your knees up to your chest and pointedly ignoring kyle’s eyes on you.

he wants to say something, to make this better somehow, but the damage has already been done. god, why did he even start this in the first place? everything was going so well before he said anything, so why did he have to spoil it? 

your brows pull tighter and tighter the longer with every second that goes without a response from him, until you eventually get tired of the concerned look he's giving you and snap. "i don't, kyle! and why should i care what he does with his free time? he's his own man!"

there's a waiver to your voice that only adds to the heaviness building in the pit of his stomach. he shifts his arm from where it rests on the back of the sofa to curl around your shoulders. the movie is still playing in the background, but neither of you are paying attention to it anymore.

"i'm not judging you. we both know how much of a dickhead he is." kyle murmurs, a soft attempt to comfort you while he gently tugs you closer to his side.

you turn your head towards him again, a drained look in your eyes. they glisten with steadily building tears, and kyle's heart breaks at the sight.

"but he's not, not to you or your friends, it's just me that he's– he's like this, i…" your words get stuck in your throat as the first few tears spill past your eyelashes. "...why did it have to be him? i don't–"

"hey, hey," he coos, moving the bowl of popcorn to the coffee table so he can pull you fully into his embrace, "take a deep breath for me, alright?"

you bury your face into his chest, but he still hears the way your breath hitches, and feels the subtle trembling of your shoulders. he draws soothing shapes over your shirt, and he knows that now is the most inappropriate time to be thinking this, but when his fingers brush the skin of your upper arm, the sparks from the contact are impossible to ignore.

the minutes that pass by listening to your muffled sniffling could've been hours and kyle wouldn't have known the difference. he wishes more than anything that he could take your pain away, but the most he can do is be your listening ear and your shoulder to cry on.

eventually you do lift your head from his chest, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks and facing the tv to avoid his eyes. "i'm sorry, i don't know why i'm– i ruined tonight–"

"no you didn't, i'm the one who upset you," kyle murmurs, still with his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close to him. he tilts his head to catch your reddened gaze in the dim light from the tv screen, watching you slowly nod in response.

"god, fucking hell…" you mutter, leaning forward with your elbows n your knees, dropping your face to rest in your palms. his frown deepens as you slowly release a deep breath, the anxiety from earlier returning to worry him that he'd crossed a line.

"if you need some space, i can go?" kyle removes his hand from where it rests on your back, suddenly hyper aware of how close the two of you had just been – and the hot feeling of his blood as it races through his veins. "if… if you want, yeah?"

"no, no. i– don't go." you stutter, lifting your head just enough to give him a weak glance from the corner of your eye.

"alright," he murmurs, feeling a sense of relief that you didn't outright tell him to piss off, "i'm here."

he moves his arm to rest on the back of the sofa again, an open invite that he's desperately hoping you'll take.

for the second time tonight, the stars align perfectly in his favour, and you lean back to fit seamlessly to his side, your head resting on his bicep. he has to force himself to relax, and consciously remember to breathe.

he would've been satisfied with just that, your proximity to him more than he could've hoped for, but then you whisper something that threatens to stop his heart completely.

"...why couldn't it've been you?"

what?

…what?

did he hear you right? you want it to be him? it could've just been a throwaway comment, but kyle’s never felt such a light feeling in his chest, his head spinning like he might wake up from this dream at any second.

but it's not a dream, because when you stiffen in his hold, he feels the way your muscles pull taught, and he feels your lungs expand with the sharp intake of breath as he says his next words, barely more than a whisper.

"...it can be."

time seems to freeze as you both process what he means. his stare doesn't falter on your profile, watching every minute expression and waiting with bated breath for a response. moments go by with nothing but the white noise of the tv in the background, illuminating the room in multicoloured flashes that highlight the wide-eyed expression you wear.

"what?" you mumble, slowly turning you heard as your eyes give in to the pull of his, meeting kyle’s equally astonished gaze as the air between you turns thick.

he swallows hard, resisting the nervous urge to look away. "it can be me, if that's what you want."

you stare at each other, a good kind of tension sparking in the distance that still separates you.

"kyle, i… i can't do that to you." you murmur, your brows tilting in a display of the turmoil just under the surface. "you deserve more than that…"

you blink and turn your gaze down to the buttons on his shirt. he still stares at you. he takes your hand with his free one, dragging his thumb tenderly over your knuckles. you look back to him, uncertainty swimming in your eyes.

"i– i don't care," the blood rushes in his ears, anticipation and disbelief lighting his nerves on fire as he stares intently into your eyes, not even daring to blink, "i've always wanted you."

"kyle…" you whisper, quiet and unsure, but you don't pull away.

he's toeing the line, he knows, but you're not rejecting him. there's something in him that just can't ignore the fact that he's making a move on his best friend's flatmate, especially when he knows you like soap – but there's a bigger part of him that doesn't care, that just wants you in any way he can have you.

he lets go of your hand to cradle your face, moulding his hand to the shape of where your jaw meets your neck, and edges his face closer to yours.

"tell me you don't want this," kyle murmurs, watching your lashes brush your cheeks as you let your eyes flutter closed, "tell me to stop, and i will."

he waits, his breathing shallow, for you to say something. he almost wants you to stop him, if only so he doesn't get a chance to fuck this up – but you don't.

you lean further into him, placing your own hand over top of his, and respond in a breathy sigh that he just about hears, "...don't hurt me."

and without a second of hesitation, kyle whispers in reply, "wouldn't dream of it."

he only just gets the words out before you're gently slotting your lips against his. there's a split second of shock where all kyle can do is reel from your touch, but he quickly shakes it off and reciprocates with a shaky sigh against your mouth. he uses the hand on your face to draw you even closer, moving to hold the back of your head while his other arm winds around your waist. 

everything except you is completely forgotten – the drag of your finger as they find his neck, the soft noises you let out under his ministrations, and the dizzying, borderline addictive feeling of your body against his.

he can't help the groan that escapes him when your nails meet his scalp, the blunt scratch only adding to the list of sensations that he'll be thinking about long into the night.

there's a twinge of disappointment within him when you eventually pull away, both of you breathing heavily and holding each other as close as you can. kyle watches your eyes flutter open again, looking deep into his with a hazy, unfocused look to them.

an easy smile pulls at his lips, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek where his hand still rests. you let your own hand fall to his chest, a tiny smile of your own finding its way onto your face.

"we can take it slow, yeah?" kyle murmurs, searching your eyes for any hint of uncertainty that could be hiding there.

"yeah." your voice is airy, still somewhat out of breath as you rest your forehead against his. "you're too good to me kyle."

kyle huffs a quiet chuckle at that, leaning back just enough to be able to see you properly. "'course i'm not, you've just never been treated right."

he feels the heat that rises to your face, and sees your smile grow before you tuck your head just under his collar, turning your attention back to the movie while he chuckles at your reaction.

for the rest of the night, it feels like he's on cloud nine. even as the movie ends and you agree to call it a night, the only thing on his mind is when he can see you again.

"next week," you promise, "we can watch the next one."

he's never wanted the days between today and next friday to pass him by so badly.

when he stands in your doorway and gives you one last peck on the cheek, the smile you give him makes his head and heart feel unbelievably light. even as he's leaving, sending a longing glance back down the hall just before the doors of the lift close, that giddy feeling doesn't leave him.

soap doesn't deserve you, he never did, and kyle would help you finally see that.

[kazumist]

THE WAY YOU LOOK AT ME .ᐟ

✩ — includes: aventurine x gn!reader. fluff. no cws. wc: 359. idk aventurine is probably still in denial abt his feelings in this i think. you could interpret this in any way you like tbh LOL. i grew a soft spot for him after finishing the recent penacony quest and had a huge revelation in the car that this song (the title of this post) really suits a guy like him imo. or maybe im just delusional who knows?

Aventurine couldn’t seem to grasp why you tend to look at him with such a loving gaze.

There’s just something in the way you look at him—like he’s safe. Accepted. Loved, perhaps. It’s been so long since he felt loved—he practically only had himself, even when he had the IPC by his side. However, when you came crashing into his life, maybe that was when things started to change.

The fact that Aventurine liked to gamble with his very own life didn’t shock you. Nor scare you. And it certainly didn’t make you distance yourself from him. But he still doesn’t get it. Why? Why do you look at him like that? Why do you look at him like he’s the only thing your eyes would choose to focus on? Like he’s the only one you’d care to look at?

Calming, soft, and full of admiration. Those were always the things that Aventurine could notice whenever he looked you in the eye. It scared him at some point because he wasn’t used to this at all. But as time went on, he just grew to accept it. If he could freeze a moment in his mind, it would be the second your eyes met his. Because that’s when Aventurine feels like he could let his guard down, at least for a moment—when he’s with you. He would stop the clock if he could, for that’s all he wanted to feel.

(To be safe in your presence is the last thing he asked for, but he wouldn’t ask for anything more.)

Sometimes, he tends to wonder. How could a simple look in the eye have such an effect on him? Surely there wouldn’t be some scientific explanation behind it (and he doesn’t even bother trying to ask the doctor about it either). Well, he doubts he will get an answer right away. He doesn’t know how or why he feels different in your eyes. Nonetheless, all he knows is that it happens every time.

Aventurine never understood why you would choose to look at him with such emotions swirling in your gaze, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[riickgrimes]

"The key thing was of course, the fact that Rick has PTSD and that's very much what's driving a lot of his behavior and being in a place of that level of vulnerability, back with the love of his life in that way.

It's also the thing he fears, the loss of her. It manifests itself in a way that is visceral and leads to the lovemaking not just being about love, but the revealing of pain and trauma and fear. That informs Michonne, that she can't just blast him into making sense. There's something deeper going on here that he can't verbalize. She has to help him get through in a different way. So she gets to see him, as well, as he reveals what's really in there, the wound. That's going to happen most likely in that most vulnerable space." — Danai Gurira

"Yeah, I think it is about pain. As Danai just said, it's about him wanting her and then fearing what he's about to unlock again. He gets to sort of articulate it in the scene further in the episode, when he gets to say that, 'I can't do this again. I haven't got the capacity to do this again. I've worked out how to die and live again.' So it is an absolutely necessary scene that allows Michonne to realize that there's something really broken here, more broken than she's ever anticipated. [...]

So the scene was about a real intimacy, a sort of frightening intimacy. This is a part of his personality he has shut down. It's almost like he's trying to stop himself from feeling this love again. She sees that and she just says, 'Just trust. We're back. We're the same...' I find it very moving. I think it's a very, very moving scene, because it's about them connecting in a way that he's had to deny for seven years. He's denied that connection for the sake of living on in this half life for the CRM" — Andrew Lincoln

Andrew Lincoln and Danai Gurira Discuss Episode 4 of The Walking Dead: The Ones Who Live

[kichiyosh1]

━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟScaramouche asks you out to prom but all hell broke loose

pairings!: scaramouche x reader ft! anemo boys

bonus!: ya'll get a visual (edited by yours truly) of how he asked you out

He had it all planned out. He'd practiced asking you out the moment it was announced there was gonna be a prom, he prepared in advance what he would wear, he practiced all necessary dance steps, he got his hair trimmed and tidied. He envisioned it was going to be perfect

but alas, they just had to insist on helping.

.

What awaited you at your doorstep was quite the surprise, two of them to be exact. One, THE scaramouche was at your doorstep with a bocay of flowers in hand, and second, was his whole group of friends behind him holding what appeared to be— signs?

it was a disaster

it was venti's idea that they'd do the cliche "will-you-go-to-prom-with-me" sign

and of course, HE was the first one that made a mistake, instead of the signs saying 'will you go to prom with me' it instead spelt ' you will go to prom with me'

"So is this meant to be an invitation or a demand?" you giggled, you were only teasing, but scara's face paled.

utterly unbelievable!

and awkwardly enough you had to crane your head a bit to the side in order to read it in full sentence because xiao was too embarrassed to be seen in such a ridiculous situation

"Xiao! I did not agree to this just to have you hiding in the bushes!", "but it's so embarrassing, and lame"

Back to venti

aether was frantically trying to swap places with him to correct their positions but venti was so light on his feet that he tripped and fell

"Venti, the signs are all wrong! what are you doing?!" aether shook him back and forth, but then he noticed how dazed venti looked and how he reeked of alcohol upon closer inspection. "when did you have time to get a drink?! and now of all times too! whatever, just swap signs with me instead!"

So the summary of how it all went down: venti drunk on the floor, aether still trying to get him up, kazuha trying to pull xiao out of the bushes, and heizou giving scaramouche a big thumbs up while shouting "you're doing great!"

He still couldn't believe you actually went to prom with him after all that chaos

"ehe, I told you it would all work out in the end~"

"I'm gonna shove that 'ehe' right up your—"

[theladyeowyn]

#he prayed for a miracle and there she was; don’t LOOK at me

[flipomatic]

Say It - Chapter 1: Shine

Summary: After Yang stopped laughing, her expression softened once again. It was a look that made Blake’s heart freeze in her chest, one that terrified her almost as much as it thrilled her. “I really am glad that you came tonight.” The grip of Yang’s fingers tightened minutely between Blake’s as she spoke, her tone quiet and low. Maybe a human would’ve had trouble hearing it above the music, but even with the bow Blake’s cat ears picked it up perfectly.

“Well, you did invite me.” Blake replied bluntly, ignoring the increased hammering of her heart in her chest. She considered telling her, sharing those thoughts she held so close. To tell Yang how much she appreciated the talk the other day, or how incredibly strong she thought she was. Or even to tell her about the forest and how grateful she was to have picked Yang as her partner.

Or

Many times that Blake and Yang don’t say what they’re thinking, and one time when they do.

____________________________________________________________

The sun was setting in the distance as the day drew towards a close, casting a steadily elongating shadow of Blake’s form across the ground. Soon it would vanish as the fragmented moon rose over the school and blessed the students with its soft rays of light. Though Blake’s hand was tucked securely into the crook of Sun’s arm as she walked, her mind had already wandered far from there. It drifted towards a sun of a different sort than either of the ones present.

Blake’s mind traveled to a memory from just a couple days before, when her partner had pulled her aside to talk. It hadn’t been a conversation that Blake went to willingly, but she didn’t regret it.

With a wink and a flirty line, Yang had invited Blake to the dance. That was normal behavior for Yang. If that was all she had done, then Blake would’ve ignored it. It would’ve been easy to roll her eyes and deflect that effort to lighten the mood.

But that wasn’t all she did, not by far. What wasn’t normal was the talk preceding it, the story Yang told about her mother and her childhood. The warm hug that Yang gave her in that classroom stuck with her, along with the emotions conveyed within it. Blake learned something about Yang that day, about her immense drive but also her restraint and caring heart.

The night before the dance, Blake went to sleep early.

Now, as the sun set above and she approached the front doors of the dance hall with Sun by her side, she felt more alive than she had in weeks. The doors opened in front of them, letting light and music pour out of the enclosed space.

The two walked forward into that light together, and Blake’s eyes locked on the person standing near the entrance. Any other person might’ve looked around at the decorations, like Sun was doing, or combed the crowd for people they knew. Blake didn’t that or anything else, just looked straight ahead.

She only watched Yang, who stood behind a podium and was examining something with her eyes narrowed in concentration. She tapped her finger against the slanted surface a couple times, lips shifting in a half frown. She wore a stylish white dress that showed off her shoulders and accented the vibrant purple of her eyes.

When the sound of the doors shutting echoed into the hall, Yang finally looked up. Her eyes locked onto Blake’s, and her frown shifted immediately into a bright smile.

“Welcome to the dance!” Yang practically glowed as she greeted them, gesturing with one hand towards the dancers behind her. Blake knew that Yang only actually glowed when she used her semblance, yet it was hard to believe that she wasn’t doing so now. “Glad you could both make it!” Blake allowed her lips to quirk up as she nodded in reply.

“Thanks!” Sun responded with the same high level of energy as Yang. “The place looks great!”

Yang’s eyes left Blake to move to him. “You can thank Weiss for that, she made the final touches juuuust before it started.” Her eyes twinkled with the extended word, as if there was a joke being left unsaid.

“I think I will.” Sun lifted his head and looked around the crowd, turning back to Blake after a moment of searching. “Want to come with?”

There was something she needed to do first, something important. “You go on ahead.” Blake gently removed her hand from his arm. “I’ll catch up with you.”

“See you on the dance floor.” Sun winked, gave a half wave, and then vanished into the crowd. Blake didn’t watch him go, instead turning her attention back to her partner. Yang, who was gleefully using a pen to check something off on her podium, looked back up at Blake.

For a few seconds, silence hung between them. Or rather, only the music emanating from the dance floor carried through the air past them. Blake inhaled to speak, but the words she looked for faded before they could leave her lips. She foolishly hadn’t expected this to be difficult. “How’s the dance been going so far?” She asked an easier question instead.

“Better, now that you’re here.” Yang’s smooth reply was accompanied by a toothy smile, one that stretched across her face. She looked at ease, unbothered by the tumult of the dance she had planned going on around her.

“Did you still want to, umm…” Blake could feel her cheeks warm as she tried again to put this question together, hoping she hadn’t misunderstood what Yang said before. A worse fear flashed through her mind, sending a cold chill down her spine. What if Yang had been lying to her? She had no reason to think that, no indication that Yang had ever been anything but honest, but it had happened with others.

For a moment Yang gave her an odd look, as if she didn’t understand, before her eyes lit up with recognition. “To dance?” She asked with a smirk.

Blake fought back an unwanted and unasked for wave of relief as she nodded her reply silently. When Yang extended one hand towards her over the podium, fingers outstretched and eager, she took it without any further hesitation.

The walk onto the dance floor was only a handful of steps, but with Yang guiding her by the hand Blake hardly paid attention to them. Yang’s grip on her fingers felt steady and secure, much like Yang was as a person. She weaved them effortlessly past the moving couples until they stopped in a relatively open space.

Yang turned back towards Blake, releasing her hand and stepping close so they were less than a foot apart. She gingerly placed her right hand around Blake’s back, while offering her left one up and to the side. Blake knew how she was supposed to respond. She lifted her left hand to Yang’s shoulder and brought her other one to meet Yang’s waiting hand. Their fingers intertwined in a way they hadn’t before, with those two points of contact spreading a comfortable warmth to Blake’s chest.

As the pair started to move, to step forward and backward in time with the music, Blake eased into the patterns of the dance. Her nerves and fears from before had been unfounded, now she could just enjoy the evening and their time together. That was what Yang had told her before, to slow down and relax. Blake was starting to realize that she truly meant it.

She kept her eyes on Yang as they danced, exploring her features and searching for something; she didn’t know what. She was always watching the people around her, waiting to see how they would react and what they would do. Even now, in this calm moment, Blake’s behavior didn’t change. Her partner looked serene as they moved in a way that was so different from her usual self. She hardly looked like the same woman who could take down a whole pack of Grimm by herself. Her lips were lifted up in a soft smile, eyes glimmering in the low light of the dance hall. Yang always wore her emotions clearly visible like this to anyone who took the time to look, even if Blake didn’t always understand what she saw. Her eyes swam with emotion, practically overflowed with it. They were purple now, as they usually were, but Blake had seen them red and angry.

The first time was when they became partners, all the way back at the start of the school year. Blake had decided to hang back and watch in the forest before committing to a partnership with anybody. After how her last partnership ended up, well, she was being cautious. When she saw Yang, she watched and waited first. After seeing her search for her sister and demolish a large Grimm in the process, Blake made up her mind and hadn’t looked back.

With every passing day she was gladder that she did. Somehow, she had found a partner who would be there for her, who would fight by her side. She found someone who would offer advice when she struggled, who would be a ray of light in the darkness. To have a partner she trusted to watch her back was a new feeling, one that filled Blake with comfort and warmth.

She hadn’t told Yang yet about the forest; there was never a good time. Maybe now as they danced, maybe she could muster herself to share a bit more with the woman who shined in her life like the sun.

Yang suddenly interrupted her thoughts by pulling her hand up to spin Blake around, much faster than the song they danced to called for. She laughed as they came back together, likely at the confused look on Blake’s face. Blake couldn’t help but smile back as the pair kept dancing.

After Yang stopped laughing, her expression softened once again. It was a look that made Blake’s heart freeze in her chest, one that terrified her almost as much as it thrilled her. “I really am glad that you came tonight.” The grip of Yang’s fingers tightened minutely between Blake’s as she spoke, her tone quiet and low. Maybe a human would’ve had trouble hearing it above the music, but even with the bow Blake’s cat ears picked it up perfectly.

“Well, you did invite me.” Blake replied bluntly, ignoring the increased hammering of her heart in her chest. She considered telling her, sharing those thoughts she held so close. To tell Yang how much she appreciated the talk the other day, or how incredibly strong she thought she was. Or even to tell her about the forest and how grateful she was to have picked Yang as her partner.

The song carried on around them, but the words didn’t come. The treacherous fearful part of her brain hissed to pull back, to flee, to not let these feelings grow. Blake shoved that feeling down but couldn’t stifle it entirely. “Thank you.” Was all she managed to say.

“For you, anytime.” From the look in her eyes, from everything Blake knew about her, Yang seemed to mean that.

A moment later when Yang pulled back for a spin, she also released Blake’s hand. This was the end of their single dance together. The two bowed once before Yang turned and walked away, quickly replaced by Sun.

Blake took up a very similar dancing position with him, resuming her movements to the music. It was different, dancing with him, but still fun.

Even as she danced the rest of the night with Sun, she wouldn’t forget that single dance with Yang. How could she forget her partner, the reason she came to this dance at all, and the person she was most grateful to have met.

Perhaps, Blake thought as she glanced over to where the rest of her team had gathered, she had finally met the right people. Perhaps someday she’d be able to tell them.

_________________________________________________________

Despite that, or perhaps because of it, there were many times that Blake and Yang didn't say what they were thinking.

Next Chapter

[krazieka2]

Lil comic about the kind of paralogues the Engage characters could have had hehe

Additional Bunet Paralogue:

[clockwayswrites]

What yes? I didn't write one.

WC: 808 Masterpost

Jason didn’t see Danny until Tuesday. Which was fine.

It was fine.

He knew how busy Danny’s Monday classes were. But knowing that Danny was busy and waiting out the other’s expected arrival were two very different things. Jason did his best to occupy his time with reviewing the proposition for the new Park Row Library.

His kitchen counter covered in baked goods showed how well the distraction went.

It’s just that if he thought to much about Danny and all of the… surrounding Danny-ness, he started over thinking everything about it. It was better to just not think, which was hard, so baking. Baking always calmed him down. But now Jason had nowhere to set down the tray of cookies that were in hand. Maybe he should invite his siblings over, all of this would be gone by nights end with that swarm of locust.

A knock at his door paused Jason’s attempts to Tetris his counter into order. Thanking his good balance, Jason pulled up his door camera on his phone.

It was only Danny.

Fuck, it was only Danny.

Plate of cookies still in hand, Jason opened the door. “Danny, hi.”

Danny opened his mouth, closed it, and then took a step back. He brought a hand up to cover his grin. “Jason.”

“Danny…,” Jason said back warily.

“I, um,” Danny did his best to muffle a snicker. “,ah, like your apron. Did Dick get you it?”

Jason had to glance down at the apron he had put on that morning. He didn’t really look at them, it’s just whatever was on top of the clean stack. Today though, meeting him was the upside down text of ‘Titty Protector’. It was bright white on the blue apron.

As Jason sighed Danny gave up on trying to hide his laughter and just cackled.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up and see how many cookies you get.”

“No! I’m sorry,” Danny whined, trying to get his laughter back under control. “It’s a great apron. Amazing. Would ogle again. Dick totally bought it for you, didn’t he?”

“Actually it was Stephanie, friend of the family.”

“She must be something,” Danny said. He snagged a cookie as Jason backed up to let him through the door, only to pause with it halfway to his mouth. “Um, prepping for a bake sale?”

“No,” Jason grumbled. He locked his door before joining Danny in staring at the counter covered in baked goods. It really was absurd looking at it with fresh eyes. Even his siblings might have issues with this pile.

“So… ah, why all the food?”

Jason just frowned and clicked his nail against the edge of the plate. He didn’t know how to explain this to Danny.

“Oh Jason,” Danny sighed. He took the plate from Jason’s left hand, snagged his right, and led them over to the couch. The cookies got set down on the coffee table. “Hood talked to you, didn’t it?”

Jason nodded.

“Jason, it’s okay. We can still just be friends, right? I promise I won’t try anything with Hood either, it’s both of you or neither of you—”

Jason jerked his gaze to Danny. “What?”

Danny smile was sad and a little wobbly. “Like I told Hood, I’m not a home wrecker and clearly this is stressing you out. You don’t have to worry about letting me down gently.”

“Danny.”

“I just… I’d still like to be friends?”

“Danny! I’m stress baking because I want to say yes. I mean, we both want to say yes.”

Danny’s mouth snapped closed. His brow furrowed. “Saying yes is stressing you out?”

“Well… you have kept me waiting. You never did ask me, actually, and—”

“Hey Jason?” Danny asked, cutting Jason off.

Jason didn’t know whether to smile or sigh. He settled for both. “Yes Danny?”

“I’d really like to date you and your boyfriend. I think you’re both pretty amazing and I’ve gotten permission from your boyfriend to ask you. So, what do you say, want to date me too?”

“It could be dangerous.”

“Luckily I’ve been getting self defense lessons.”

“I’m a public figure.”

“I’m pretty oblivious to news, or you can keep me a secret like Hood.”

“He’s a crime lord.”

“Let’s be real, he’s a philanthropist with guns.”

“I’ve… only dated Hood. I might be really bad at it.”

“Luckily I already like being around you. And you feed me. Come on Jason, date me?” Danny asked, finally taking a bite of the cookie he had been holding this whole time.

Jason rolled his eyes, but could feel the smile pulling at his lips. “How can I say no to that?”

“That a yes?”

“Yes.”

Danny whooped and leaned in to press a quick kiss to Jason’s lips.

“You taste like cookies,” Jason said. He was grinning now.

“Yeah, and who’s fault is that?”

---

AN: Thank you for the suggestions! I actually had a few lines of this one written so I went with it because I've been slayed. Had some bad new from work on the end of 3 meetings and then came home to a disturbing comment so I'm just a little done today.

BUT! We got something cute! And the boys have the scene where they start dating! Woohoo. Stay delightful and kind, darlings.

I no longer tag, you can instead subscribe to the masterpost.

[primus-why]

Okay but imagine if in TFP when Optimus loses his memory and becomes Orion, he's not automatically so trusting towards Megs?

Like how funny would it be if it went down:

Orion: Where are we, Megatronus?

Megatron: Don't you remember, old friend?

Orion: Evidently not, seeing as this isn't the Citadel. It looks like we're stuck in a cave... and don't you 'old friend' me, I shouldn't even be talking to you after what you said following that disastrous Council meeting...

Megatron: Wh-- what I said?!? Need I remind what you pulled when you decided to go off-script in front of said Council?

Orion: I had to do something, you were freaking them out!! Security would have kicked us to the curb if I didn't step in!

Megatron: I was heading a revolution, Orion; it would not have been the first time I've found myself thrown out on my aft by policemech!

Orion: Ah, you're right! How dare I imply you could ever be antagonistic on purpose?

Arcee: Uhh what is happening right now?

Orion: Are you sure it was your aft? Indeed, the culprit must lie with how frequently you've been tossed out onto your helm-- the dents have clearly scrambled your processor.

Megatron: Wow, disparaging my processor? Spoken like a true mid-caste! I always knew you had it in you, bravo!

Orion: Ugh, just tell me what mess you've gotten me into now?

Bulkhead: Um... Optimus?

Orion: Are you talking to me?

Bulkhead: Yeah I--

Megatron: -- Nevermind them. You know what your problem is??

Orion: Oh, please, enlighten me!!

[willowser]

every single day i think about the influence touya would have had on shouto as an older brother.

he has to take him everywhere he goes, so they're always jamming to the same hardcore music in touya's shitty car. shouto, obviously, develops a taste for the same bands, same songs. shouto is also in the ride-along to buy cigarettes and beer at midnight, and touya threatens his whole entire life if he tells rei, but shouto would never because he likes going too much.

shouto 100% would attempt to kick the ass of anyone that talked shit to his brother. little string bean, doesn't matter, this little boy is throwing HANDS for touya, and touya very much has the attitude of "no one can fuck with my little brother but me". whenever shouto gets in trouble for doing something he shouldn't be doing, touya is always taking the fall for him, no questions asked. shouto lies for touya like it's second nature.

shouto wants an earring because of touya, and touya probably GIVES the piercing to him, which makes enji blow a gasket. touya learns to play the drums and then shouto wants to, too — though he ends up being better than touya and touya promptly quits after that. touya teaches him to drive. shouto gets drunk for the first time with touya BECAUSE touya wants to be there to take care of him. they hate each other, they get into fist fights all the time, rolling around the house as fuyumi screams at both of them. they're best friends. they understand each other more than anyone else ever could.