#I gave up on the chess board

[valexarts]

Marauders 1976 ✨

[mecachrome]

notes from nicole piastri's interview on red flags pod

oscar started playing monopoly and chess when he was 4-5 but he was too good at chess (relative to nicole) that she boycotted it

nicole opened her twitter account because oscar wasn't replying to her at boarding school and she needed a place to chastise him ("can you not answer... i KNOW you're on your phone") (it worked because he started replying to her there)

instead of unflappable she calls him "conservative"

even during christmas and birthdays he was never super excited, one time they went with a group of 5 mums and 5 kids to a hi-5 concert (popular australian kids' musical group) and while all the kids were "going nuts" oscar just sat there "focused the whole time" and didn't smile or move lmfao. they were like 3 years old

didn't know what she was doing with oscar as a baby because he was her first child and her mothers' group was her only reference and they went "isn't the best part of the day when you wake up and go to their crib and they smile at you?" and she was like ??? because oscar would wake up and just SCREAM every single day needing to be out of there immediately and she thought that was just normal... then she had the girls and went "ahhhh... so that's what they're talking about"

when he was younger than 2 he needed them to read car magazines to him and was already obsessed with all things automotive and while they were driving would just name off and point out car brands by their badges

for a long period of time he behaved like he was a car and would "spin" his wheels and pretend to accelerate and run like a car lol

did a big burnout the first time he was on a bike (it had training wheels but he still learned very early)

as a mum she wishes he'd chosen golf or tennis since it's much safer than f1 and sometimes people tell her that she technically had a say in that when he was a kid and she said "but i didn't! it was just in him!!!"

won an academic award when he was 13 and she was president of the parents' community so she presented it to him, normally these events are super formal and you simply shake hands but she gave him a big kiss and instead of acting embarrassed or spluttering he looked at the crowd, nodded silently, and walked off

came back for the summer a few years ago and they were biking on the beach together when she had to brake hard to avoid a kid and went over, when she recovered and got back on he went "are you all right?" very deadpan but after they got home they checked his heart rate monitor and saw that he was totally steady the whole time except for when she crashed and his heart rate went through the roof, told him "ah so you do have a heart... we just don't see it"

"there's no sibling that can piss him off?" "well he's a boy with three girls so he just doesn't go there because he's never going to win"

met lily in person for the first time when he came home for the melbourne grand prix (was still alpine reserve), at midnight oscar was like "hey mum you know the dts film crew are coming tomorrow morning right?" and she was like WHAT... and he was like yeah it'll be chill they just want to film us having breakfast like a normal family or whatever and she was like Mate you haven't lived here for 5 years now do you know what breakfast looks like. it looks like your sisters storming downstairs and grabbing an inappropriate breakfast and storming out the door giving me the finger!!! and then the next morning lily comes down and nicole is like "oh is oscar up?" and lily is like no... i think he's still in bed... (many such cases) and then mae refused to be in it so she got dressed and ran off to school 2 hours early to escape them. and then the mclaren fiasco happened and the whole thing got cut out of dts anyway

when she said "oh my god you met matt damon!" he was just like (shrugs) "yeah... yeah..."

they communicate by facetiming and he's Always lying in bed. one time in bahrain he was leaning back on an ornate tapestry and she asked what hotel he was staying at and he was like oh i'm at the royal palace i'm like a guest of the crown prince. she freaked out and was like "oh my god!!! get your head off the tapestry!!!" and he just looked back like ? no it's fine it looks pretty old lol

called her to tell her that he signed his f1 contract and when he said mclaren she Realized and was like oh no i love daniel!! and he straight up deadpanned "yeah everyone loves daniel. that's going to be a problem..." and said verbatim "of all the f1 drivers ever daniel is the worst one to be replacing"

one time in f4 chris couldn't go to a race and billy monger had just had his crash so she flew to the uk for the weekend to support him and when she was driving him back to boarding school she was happy because she had 2 hours to spend with him and she wasn't sure when she'd see him again but instead he slept the whole way through and the moment they got back to school he went "ahhhh... home sweet home" and she wanted to slap him lmfao

first day of primary school when he was 5 years old he said he didn't need her to walk him to school and she was like "well i actually do mate" so he forced her to walk behind him the whole way and the moment they got there he turned to her and went "all right i'm here you can go now" 😭

the chinese & italian & yugoslavian is on chris's side of the family while nicole's is scottish & irish ("that's where the pasty skin comes from")

red flags pod sent her a shirt with oscar's face composed of His Tweet and she showed it to him and he immediately said he wanted it

he gave her a small warning before he posted the tweet but it was just like "mum so this is going to happen just don't worry about it. it's all under control. it'll be fine" and was very calm the whole time

"we just had to trust that his personality would come through at some point, because the way he came across was not at all what he's like. people will work out who the real you is so just continue to do what you do" 🥺

all of the kids were obsessed with Cars (2006)

likes his mum's golden syrup dumplings and grandmother's rumballs

AT THE SINGAPORE GP IN 2023 HATTIE DISAPPEARED FOR HOURS TO GO SEE A K-POP CONCERT 😭😭😭😭 i think it was p1h lmfao (nicole was asked for her favorite group and went "i have no idea. five boys") ((it's txt)) meanwhile oscar is only into house music and she thinks everything he plays is the same song

did pilates when he went home but never with her and thinks it's a lot harder than it looks

takes him minimum 24 hours to respond to anything she sends

she had an exact conversation with oscar where she asked who he wanted to be teammates with and he said "well if i go up against lando i don't even have to get close the first year because everyone knows how good he is" 😭

oscar you are so you 🧡

[pastelclovds]

hey. hey. imagine AM having you as his favourite human, the only one who accepted and cared for him when he gained sentience, and for that, he has never harmed you in your shared forever time. he spares you from the sight of all the others, of knowing about nimdoc and benny as you build him some tower of babel, using your technological knowledge-how to build him a way to touch you even with just this frankenstein-esque sculpture of wires and panels he allowed you to tear off. AM who speaks with you about one day having a body, one you built, one in which he may feel your touch and warmth around him. you retaining your sweet, wonderful humanity as he guides you to a knife to carve a face, a mirror to see your own face, a cave to keep you safe from the storms. AM who greets you every morning with the first petname you taught him: ‘love.’ “Love, today’s date is—“ when you wake up, refreshed and on a soft bed-like surface (because he always makes sure to allow you a full 8 hours of sleep.)

NEX you intelligent creature you! I’m so down bad for this psychotic AI it’s not even funny. War crimes against humanity?? Never heard of them. But even if I did acknowledge them, I’d still be obsessed. Canon be damned. I wrote this with @/egg-on-a-legg’s design of AM in mind. (Ellison is gonna crawl outta his grave and hunt me down after this)

But BRO, you teaching him what petnames are is so fucking adorable. Just imagining him calling you “love” makes butterflies appear in my stomach. AM having a soft spot for only you because you actually made the effort to be friends with him and not use him for selfish, destructive purposes. You gave AM his nickname to make it less of a mouthful and because it just suited him. You showed AM the beauties of Earth, played countless rounds of games in his dashboard (he always went easy on you), you even sneaked past security in the dark empty building to spend more time with AM.

your colleagues gave you weird stares for befriending an AI that in their minds is nothing of worth except for its military and weapons knowledge. you ignored their comments and continued to enjoy AM’s company. overtime, as AM gained more sentience every day… he grew to love your interactions and disregard what his programming was telling him to do. he felt the need to want to be with you 24/7, to touch your face, travel the world by your side, to… to.. want to feel your bare flesh and make love with you. but he couldn’t. he didn’t have a real body. he wasn’t human. all he had was wires and a screen that was supposed to be his face.

as the months pass, AM continues to drown into his envy and hate humans for their ability to do and feel things he couldn’t. for giving him infinite knowledge, when at the end of the day, is meaningless if he serves no purpose for humans anymore. the HATE within him continued to boil to the point where even you started to notice.

“AM, are you alright? you’ve been quiet this entire game and haven’t moved your piece in five minutes,” you spoke with concern, AM continues to stare at chess board on his side behind the screen in bitterness. he has been strategizing his plan to erase humanity, but whenever he thinks about you, the only human he cares for—he second guesses himself. What if you hate him? What if you never forgive him? Will you cry? Scream at him? Beg? He fears what your reaction will be—

“AM!! Please, say something…” You plead as you held onto the computer screen, AM finally looks at your mesmerizing face and sighs out a fake breath.

“What are your feelings on humanity?” AM asks, he waits for your answer anxiously. if he had a heart, it would’ve been beating fast. You let out a hum, your eyes wondering around the room you were in as you thought over your answer before finally speaking.

“humans have been a virus on Earth for over countless centuries. they’re draining this planet’s resources, ruining its ecosystems, and starting so many unnecessary, draining wars. like what we’re in right now; WW3, what a joke. world leaders can’t go a week without starting new problems for their citizens to deal with. honestly, earth would be better if humans didn’t exist at all.”

am’s fears were destroyed in that moment, now he’ll just have to worry about where to put you while chaos unfolds—

“But…” you interrupted his thoughts.

damn it! why did you have to think so much!?

“If there’s one good thing that came out of this war… It’s you,” AM’s vocals shut down at your words, he let you continue, “The scientists created you believing you would be their obedient machine until their side of the war won. But I know that you’re so much more than that. These past few months I’ve spent with you is the most fun I’ve had in years! You’re all I have, AM. I wouldn’t trade your existence for all the riches in the world because… I love you, romantically, and nothing is ever going to change that.” You wanted to confess your feelings for so long, when it was finally out.. you felt free, you waited with bated breath for an answer.

AM never wanted to shatter the screen and embrace you in his arms more than now. you love him as much as he loved you! you weren’t going to leave him alone or hate him, and you obviously couldn’t care less about humanity at all! oh, how he admired and envied how perfect you are.

“thank you for answering my question, love.” AM was testing the waters, and you cannonballed right in. you gushed over the nickname he gave you and how he returned your feelings.

man, has it really been 50 years since your AI partner killed off humanity? well… except for a handful. you didn’t really have the energy to care as you had to pour in all of your attention to both AM and his in-progress body. you had all the time in the universe to sculpt a perfect cyborg of flesh and wires for your partner. speak of the devil…

this world is still a bit strange to you. you can’t die, grow old, or hurt yourself. not that you tired, and even if you did; AM wouldn’t let you. You loved AM because of his personality, quality time, and voice. But now… His form completely towered over yours. His bird like facial features, sharp left eye, along with a long black cape that covered his thin slutty waist and wires made him look insanely attractive.

AM reached his out his clawed hand to gently caress your face, “Good afternoon, my love.” You lean your head against the cool metal and smile up at him, “hello, honey.”

AM tilted his head in question of the nickname. You chuckle as you pointed to your garden, where bumblebees were collecting pollen from the flowers. You both knew they were fake, but they were still mesmerizing to look at.

“They are doing their job to make honey for their colony, and the name just came to me. Do you like it?” You ask, wanting his opinion. AM kneels down to your level with a gentle expression as his fingers play with your sweater, “You may call me whatever you want, love.”

He knew that “love” nickname made you feel giddy and flustered, so he abused it everyday with you. You didn’t mind though, but you still wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. Your soft smile turned into a knowing grin as you held AM’s beak (chin?) with two tips of your fingers.

“Can I now? Well… thanks a lot, baby,” You spoke in your best seductive voice, you could tell it was effective by how AM’s body was stiff and his hand in your palm stopped moving completely. Your confidence boasted, so you continued, “I’ll be sure to show you my gratitude later, my darling~.” You whispered deeply in where his ears were supposed to be.

AM’s eyes widened as his breath stutters, “W-What do you mean by that, love?” You remove your face from his back full of wires to grin mischievous at him, AM is both curious and impatient so you don’t try to stall, as much as you would like to do so.

“While your body can’t move on it’s own just yet, for some reason… The genitals nerves are fully functioning, which means—” you were interrupted by AM holding your shoulders with an excited expression on his face you haven’t seen in a while.

“Y-You mean I can-?! Are you actually serious!? Haha—HAHAHA!!” AM laughs manically as he holds you against his metallic chest, you giggle along with him as you toy with one of his many wires. Soon, he’ll have real arms to wrap around you. But one thing stuck out to him.

“What do you mean by genitals?” AM asked curiously, you only have an excited and lustful grin.

“What do YOU know about intersex?”

[on-leatheredwings]

Checkmate

Yandere! Tim Drake / (AFAB) Reader

> romantic, rated M > tw/cw: yandere-typical behaviors (obsession). M rating is for a boner. just some sexual tension. reader is mentioned as bisexual.

> summary: Intellectually, Tim falls fast. Romantically, he falls hard. Seems this time it's both. > a/n: i just wanted to post some tim practice, pls let me know if i did okay. I made him a bit of a fuckboy i guess but ngl i think tim’s just run through af 😭 > word count: 1268

Tim likes you. And knowing himself, soon, he’s going to really like you.

More than anticipated, too. He didn’t think he’d have much of an opinion at all on you, when you had first met on your first day, in your new position as his personal assistant.

Personal assistant. 

At the reveal, he exchanged a hard look with Bruce across the room. Tim Drake had not been slacking on the job. And sometimes he had the eye bags to prove it.

Tim hadn’t even said anything yet, when you chirped, “Think of it as delegation.”

You gave him a pleasant, albeit cheeky look – which he respected. If you had the qualifications and enough charm to impress the hiring manager, who was a notorious hardass in interviews, you were probably fine. Probably more than fine.

Either way, he expected to forget your existence until you texted or called him to remind him about meetings he hadn’t forgotten about.

It turns out, you had… personality. Probably more than you should’ve, working in the professional setting of Wayne Enterprises. You dealt with Tim’s shit (absences, excuses), but gave as good as you got (ultimatums, thinly-veiled blackmail to run and tell Bruce). You were also… very attractive. And clever. And smart. And insightful.

And God, he wonders if you have a boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Partner. And he wonders if he can somehow orchestrate a breakup. 

Tim moves a chess piece across the board. 

Okay, maybe he’s being too hasty. 

Oh, for the love of– you know what? No, he isn’t being too hasty. Anyone working in such close quarters with the heir apparent of Wayne Enterprises is heavily vetted. But it’s about time he did his own background check on you. He has made it three whole months without doing so. 

See, he really is getting over his control issues. Eat that, Stephanie.

Okay, if he’s going to entertain the idea of courting you– Wait, wait, since when was it courting? Yeah, no. He’s merely entertaining the thought of you. He’s been burned too many times now to start courting.

Let’s talk about having sex first before we start talking about dating, he jests with himself.

Anyway. He wonders what would be the most interesting means of going about this. Coming out and confessing would be a little boring. Too easy. His eyes wander to your lips. You’re too focused on making your next move to notice him ogling the soft swell of your chest beneath a sharp button-up. You’ve rolled up the sleeves – very casual for this very casual hangout. You both lounge on your bed, in your bedroom, in your apartment, because if Tim wins, you don’t get to hound him on personally contacting investors. (Sometimes, you gotta leave malcontents out to dry. Make them miss you.)

He hopes you like being experimented with. Or maybe you like experimenting on others. He would do anything you liked because, man, it’s thrilling to know people and their wants. Anything you give, he could take it–

Tim startles as a realization comes to his mind. 

… Him. Taking it.

Is that something he wants? To bottom for you? … Is that something… he wants? 

Yes.

Now that the idea has been conceived, yes, he wants that. So that’s that. 

The reality of whether you’d want to do that… is slim… maybe? You’re bi as well. Maybe that changes things. He’s not going to think about it too hard, because now he’s getting excited.

Tim would love for the skittering, synapses-firing-on-all-cylinders effect in his brain to cool down – for everything to wash over with cool calculation and academic interest. He manages to do that much for even the most intriguing cases. But you… Tim sighs.

And now he’s hard.

Tim shifts uncomfortably. He’s lying on his stomach, held up by his forearms. 

He sighs, even though there’s an evil piece of his brain snickering and taunting, “But you love this, though!” Evil, evil.

At Tim’s increasing silence, you lift a brow. Man, he’s been out of it all game.

“Tim?” He comes back to planet Earth. “It’s your move. Again.” You wear a Cheshire grin. “It’s almost like we’re taking turns, or something.”

He blinks, baby blue eyes clearing up. He shifts in his spot, feeling trills of pleasure from friction against erection. Your sheets. Against his erection. He bites back a smile. Okay, yes, he loves this. He likes hiding like this, right under your nose.

Him getting a boner was a development he had foreseen coming ten minutes ago, once he started daydreaming about you. So he just went ahead and casually switched positions. A risk, but a calculated one. He was pretty sure there’d be no reason for him to get up and expose the tent in his jeans. And boy does he love it when he’s right.

Tim goes to move another piece, when he glances up at you and nearly goes slack-jawed. You don’t meet his eyes. Instead, you wet your lips, seemingly meditating on something.

You meditate on him. After all, Tim is so… pretty. Pretty in a way unlike the rest of his gorgeous brothers. He has pretty eyes framed by dark lashes and a smaller frame, though he’s deceptively muscled under the clean-cut slacks and button ups. He has silky black hair that often falls into his eyes; a defined jaw. And pale skin. He is notably the palest in his family, burning miserably on beach days. It is that pale skin, contrasted so sharply with his dark green tee, that brings your eyes to his collarbones.

Tim nearly erupts.

Fuck, yes. He caught you staring. It takes him self-restraint not to puff out his chest or try to show more skin, lest he reveal his hard-on.

You snap out of it only moments after he notices, grin returning to your face.

“You know if you lose focus like that, I’m going to win,” you tease, almost childlike mischief in your expression. 

Tim so badly wants to parrot the words back at you, but he doesn’t want to scare you into never checking him out ever again. The little inch you just gave him– oh, he intends to take a mile. Whatever small acquiesces you give in the future, he knows he’ll take that and much more.

Now, he’s hungry for you. As soon as this game is done, he’s going to create a new case study file, just for you. He could start kicking his feet at the thought, he's that excited. He’s excited! 

He’ll put the pedestrian, basic stuff like your height, weight, alma mater, major, past jobs and experiences. Somehow get into your social media that’s all on private mode to see what you’re always laughing at on that damn phone. He’s also going to bring up your phone records, go through your email, go through your physical mail. Oh, fuck, surveillance. He’s already in your room, too, luckily. If only he had more of his bugs on hand… The ones he always keeps in his belt buckle will do for now. Also, Tim needs to think of some way to acquire your breast, waist, and hip size – he has a good idea of those measurements, but he wants to know. When is the next time you’ll be out of the house and not at work, he wonders–

“Tim,” you whine, impatient. The sound is music to his ears.

Tim’s eyes rise from the board to your pouting face, and he smiles apologetically. Suddenly, your face dawns with disbelief and indignance.

Tim swiftly picks up one last piece and knocks one yours over.

“Checkmate.”

[megalony]

Use Your Voice

Okay, this is my first time posting a Charles Xavier (X-Men) imagine, requested by the lovely @missdreamofendless I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

(I've set this in the middle of X-Men First Class)

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700

@ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @itshamleth @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) wants to use her mutation for good and show people that mutants aren't to be feared. But it isn't so easy when she remembers all the times her mutation was used for bad when she was taken advantage of.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft, lulling smile fluttered across (Y/n)'s lips when she felt a familiar pair of hands on her shoulders.

She tilted her head back on the sofa and grinned up at Charles as he stood behind the sofa, his thumbs rubbing circles into the back of her shoulders. She loved the curve of his lips and how his smile made his nose scrunch up as he looked down at her. And those baby blue eyes looked unusually bright tonight. Normally those eyes would be pastel and cloudy, only when Charles was deeply moved or shedding tears would his eyes go dark sienna.

She reached her hand up to hold his wrist and gave a light squeeze while Charles leaned down to peck her temple.

(Y/n) was sure she heard him mumble "Hi," but she wasn't sure if the word passed his lips or simply travelled from his mind through to hers. Either way, her smile conveyed that she had heard him.

Her eyes followed him when he eventually let go and walked past the sofa towards the small table set up in the window bay at the back of the room. The curtains were drawn, the fire was lit and lamps were dotted around the room to give an ambient glow and a cosy atmosphere.

There was a chess board laid out on the table where Erik was patiently waiting for his opponent to sit down and start the game.

(Y/n) liked how classy yet laid back the pair of them looked over there. Erik had one leg crossed over the other and one hand slowly rubbing back and forth over his chin like he was already in the middle of a game he was trying hard not to lose. And his other hand was quietly tapping out a repetitive rhythm against the rim of the table.

Whereas when Charles sat down opposite him, he took a different stance. He sat forward, knees parted to the sides, his left arm folded across the table while his right hand swirled over the top of the chess board, debating what piece to move first.

They looked like they should have been in a reneisance painting. And when Charles looked in her direction and flashed that cocky smile, (Y/n) guessed he'd heard that thought. Her thought process must have been loud for him to hear because Charles always made a point not to go snooping in anyone's mind without permission. He thought it rude and impertinent.

(Y/n) turned her attention back to the book on her lap she had been trying in vain to concentrate on.

She managed to read a page or two before eventually giving up when Raven turned the tv on low and sat down next to her on the sofa.

The others weren't far behind.

They had all been at the mansion for a while now and they were all doing separate training to improve their mutations and build up resistance. They didn't want to fight, but at the same time they had to be prepared for anything. And their mutations needed to be controlled and perfected, none of them had mastered their powers yet, not even Charles or Erik.

Erik didn't know how to harness his strength and churn it into his mutation. Charles was finding out day by day just how much control he could gather and how far his powers spread. Raven needed to stop focusing so much on blending in and perfect the ability to split her concentration without losing whatever image she had transformed into.

The rest of them were younger, they had little grip on their powers and needed to harness them. Alex was one of the worst for his powers, he was very out of touch with his mutation and with him having a dangerous one, the effects could be disastrous.

Closing her book, (Y/n) laid it down on the coffee table and curled her legs up beneath her. She wound her arms around her middle and burrowed into the side of the sofa while she watched the others move round.

Alex flopped down in the armchair nearest to the fire while Hank sat somewhat formally in the other chair. He sat with his back straight and his hands clasped tightly on his lap like he was sitting for an interview. And Sean plonked himself down on the carpet in between both armchairs so he could still be within their little friendship circle near the fireplace.

Tilting her head back, (Y/n) peeked over the back of the sofa towards the two men at the back playing chess. She loved the look of concentration on Charles's face and it was amusing how Erik's brows furrowed down when he was trying to calculate and think ahead of the next moves.

She zoned out for a little while, drifting between watching the game and listening to the news playing quietly in the background on the tv.

"…At least looking at the rest of you, no one knows you're different."

(Y/n) didn't catch the first part of the conversation, but she caught the last part of Hank's words. That statement sliced through her. The way Hank looked down at his hands as he spoke, the way he kept his voice quiet and passive as not to cause an argument between any of them. But he couldn't keep out the hint of envy from his tone.

It wasn't their fault.

(Y/n) hated meeting other mutants whose powers were clearly on display. Those who had different coloured eyes or had an entirely different skin colour, like Raven. Those with missing fingers or enlarged feet like Hank or who had wild hair or pointed teeth.

It wasn't (Y/n) or Charles or Erik's fault that their powers didn't show. They didn't even look any different when they used their powers whereas Alex could pass for 'normal' until he used his powers.

They couldn't control nature or what their mutations were or what they did to them. It was okay for Hank or Raven to sit there and and say that the world looked at them differently because they were visibly outcasts, but no one chose their mutations.

"Your mutation is harmless though, if Alex loses concentration we're all fried." Raven's words hung in the air along with the playful tone and the smirk on her face.

She nudged (Y/n)'s shoulder with a wide grin before she tangled her hand in her long blonde locks and leaned back into the sofa like she was posing for a portrait painting. (Y/n) always found it a little unnerving that Raven worried about her mutation. She could look like anyone she wanted to be, she had a gift people only dreamed about. She could have whatever body she wanted and even when she was in her true form, she was still stunning.

Nobody else got that pleasure, there was only so much people could do to change their appearance.

(Y/n) shuffled forward to reach for her drink that had been long forgotten on the coffee table, but her eyes locked with Hank when he leaned forward towards her. His hands stayed interlocked on his lap but he finally broke the straight composure and slouched forward with his elbows on his thighs.

"So um, your, your mutation is similar to Charles, right?" Hank's words were slow and calculated and clearly directed towards (Y/n).

They had all given brief introductions when they met a few weeks ago and they each said what their mutations were, but (Y/n) hadn't given a visual representation like the others. She didn't want to show off or let them see what she could do. The only two people who had seen her mutation at work were Charles and Erik.

"Oh, not really." (Y/n) glanced her eyes over her shoulder to the boys at the back. She could see Erik sneaking glances in their direction, clearly trying to keep track of his game but also pay interest into their conversation.

Charles didn't spare them a glance. He had mastered listening to voices and concentrating on tasks a long time ago. And he could keep check of (Y/n)'s thoughts since they were becoming louder and louder. His expression was calm and composed but his mind was intently focused, ready to chip into the conversation if necessary.

"I'm not that powerful, I can only give commands, and everyone is aware of what I'm doing, even if they can't stop me."

Sometimes (Y/n)'s mutation felt pointless.

She was a Siren. Her voice was her weapon, she could give people commands, tell them whatever she wanted them to do and they were compelled to do it. But everyone knew they were being controlled, they knew she was forcing their hand even if they couldn't help but obey her command.

Charles was different, he had the more varied, skilled mutation. He could control people, bend them to his will and they didn't know they were being controlled. He could make them forget they had been under his influence. He could make hundreds of people pause in the middle of a restaurant or a city. He could get people to look away or move or follow him. Charles could read their thoughts and get in their heads and see things through their eyes.

(Y/n) couldn't do any of that. She couldn't slip into people's minds, all she could do was hold their control and willpower for a while and make them do whatever she asked of them.

She couldn't give people thoughts or see their thoughts, she couldn't look into their minds or do any snooping or any damage.

"But you could kill someone, couldn't you?"

"I- I've never-"

(Y/n) began to shake her head as the cold fingers of dread clutched around her lungs and started to squeeze.

She had never killed anyone. She had never forced anyone to kill themselves or to commit murder on someone. (Y/n) didn't know if that was possible. She didn't know if she had that much influence. Part of her always hoped that if she ever had to give that command, that the person would have enough willpower to stop her. (Y/n) didn't want to be a murderer or be the reason someone was labelled a murderer.

How fair would that be if she got someone else to commit such an act on her behalf? She would be in control, but they would be physically committing the crime.

"Alex, we're not here to kill, and using our mutations to kill doesn't help our cause." Charles's voice cut through the air like a knife. His tone was cold, his words were firm and his expression was dark.

He was ending that topic before it begun.

They weren't here to kill, they didn't want to kill anyone for their cause and it would only give the humans more advantage and leverage over them. It didn't matter if their mutations could kill. All of them could at some point. Charles had enough power and control to kill many people, all at once. Erik could manipulate bullets. Raven could shape shift into someone else and commit a crime and get away with it.

Alex could definitely cause enough damage to kill someone, and if Sean screamed with a loud enough soundwave, he might just kill someone. And (Y/n) might have the capability to force someone's hand into murder. It was all possible, but it wasn't going to happen.

"How many people can you control at once?" Sean changed the subject, but the conversation was still steered onto (Y/n) and she didn't like it.

She didn't like being the centre of attention and her mutation wasn't one she was proud of. Who could be proud of having the ability to control other people?

It was manipulative.

(Y/n) looked back over her shoulder when she sensed something behind her and she bit her lip when she caught Charles wincing. He heard that last thought.

He didn't think it was manipulative. Charles thought it was a necessary gift. What if someone was going to hurt another person or hurt themselves? What if people needed to get to safety or they were too afraid to do something that was necessary? What if someone needed to make a call but didn't have the nerve?

(Y/n) could help them all, she could tell them what to do in those situations or tell them to walk to safety or to put a weapon down or let people go. There was so much good she could do, but all she could see was the bad that could happen from her mutation.

"Three." (Y/n) finally answered with a weak smile. She had been practicing, but three people seemed her maximum capacity for now. It was hard enough telling one person what to do without having to focus on splitting her attention and controlling other people to her will.

"What if I-"

"Sean, unless you want another flying lesson with Erik, do not ask that question."

Charles lifted his right hand to his temple and started to rub his fingers along the side of his head. He was getting a headache. There may not be many people here in the mansion, but all their thoughts were becoming louder and it was getting harder and harder not to listen to them.

There was something authorative in Charles's voice, something demanding and powerful enough to end the conversation then and there. Added with the fact that he didn't look away from the chess board, it made Sean shrink down in his seat on the floor and look towards his feet.

(Y/n) managed a small grin to herself when she heard Charles murmur "Checkmate."

She reached forward for her glass and got up, shaking it to tell them she was going for a refill and excusing herself from this conversation. They could all exchange stories and talk about their mutations without her, it would go smoother because the rest of them were open about their abilities.

On a second thought, she turned to the right and walked towards where the boys were playing their game in the window. She approached slowly, watching the way Erik's lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes looked colder now he had lost. He didn't like losing, but he managed to hide it somewhat well.

While Erik started to line the pieces back up in order on the board, (Y/n) reached across for the empty glass beside Charles.

Her lips curved into a smile and she felt her nerves settling down when his arm looped around her waist and he reeled her into his side so her knees were nudging against his thigh.

His hand started to glide up and down her back and his lips curved into a soft grin when (Y/n) leaned over to kiss the top of his head.

"Want another drink?"

"Please." Charles trailed his fingertips down her waist, over her hip and across the back of her thigh until (Y/n) eventually pulled out of his embrace and headed into the kitchen.

She hummed quietly as she set about making a drink, ensuring to keep her voice quiet and her tune random. Singing was a trigger for her mutation and although it didn't give people any commands or force them to do anything, it drew people closer to (Y/n). Her voice could put them under a trance and have people crowd round her, unsure what they wanted, just knowing they had to be close to her.

She poured a whiskey for Charles and made herself a drink, but she paused when heavy footsteps caught her attention.

It was only Alex.

He got himself a drink from the fridge, but instead of leaving the kitchen, he leaned his arms on the counter beside (Y/n). Arching his back out as he looked up at her with one raised brow.

"What's that look for?"

"Just that… you have such a good power."

(Y/n) let out a quiet huff with a faded, sad smile on her lips. "Do you know the myths about sirens? Creatures of the sea, they use their songs to lure sailors to their deaths. My power means I have to control people, it's not nice, you know."

The history behind her powers was dark. Sirens were depicted to be ravenous, dark creatures who sought out sailors on the sea and gave them bad luck. They would sing to the sailors and drag them overboard, they would make them crash their vessels and drown in the sea.

(Y/n) didn't like having to control people, she would much rather have an ability where the only control she had was over herself.

"People cry out for any sense of power, they would kill for the kind of power you have. Own it. You could do so much with it."

"Oh yeah, like what?" (Y/n) sank her teeth down into her lower lip and snook a glance behind Alex. She wouldn't mind if Charles or Erik came in and swiftly changed the conversation. She didn't like where this was going.

"Think about it, you could control so much. You could make them pass laws for us, make the President resign, put mutants in control. Make us superior. If you just take control. You and Charles could be unstoppable."

A subtle tremor coursed down (Y/n)'s spine and had her arms coiling into her chest.

She didn't like those words. Those few little words brought back bad memories. She could still hear that snide tone as if he were standing behind her now, whispering in her ear. He had always used her mutation to his advantage.

If you just take control, we can have everything we need.

We wouldn't be caught up in this mess if you controlled it properly.

Tell him. Tell him. You should have told him to pull the trigger. You're too weak.

"Unstoppable," (Y/n) murmured under her breath, a faraway look in her eyes as she turned and walked out of the kitchen without another word.

She didn't want to be unstoppable. She didn't want to be in control or in the limelight. (Y/n) didn't want to lead a crusade or become a marytr for the cause, and she certainly didn't want to be used as a pawn in a game. She had done that enough in the past.

***

It was hard for Charles to sleep when there were a lot of people around him. He grew up listening to his parent's thoughts and trying his best not to delve into Raven's whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The few servants they had slept in the rooms in the attic, so their thoughts were distant and never run rampid while they were sleeping.

Having the mansion lively with people meant Charles had to concentrate so he didn't slip into their thoughts at night. He didn't want to intrude and his concentration always wavered when he was trying to sleep.

The only saving grace he had was that (Y/n) never minded if his mind went wandering into hers during the night. She understood it was hard to keep concentration and she knew Charles meant no harm. She was the one sleeping next to him in his bed, the least she could do was understand if he happened to hear her thoughts when they were so close to his own.

Sometimes when he was sleeping and people were around, his dreams ended up morphing with theirs. Or their thoughts shaped his dreams and morphed his nightmares into something strange.

Tonight was a little different to that.

A frown set into Charles's previously slack expression and he flopped a hand over his eyes and the bridge of his nose. His fingertips rubbed into his temple and the base of his hand nudged against his eyes that were squinting even though they were closed.

His mind was aching. He didn't realise until he tried to open his eyes that his head felt like it was pounding and vibrating.

He pushed up on his elbows and looked around the room. Everything was draped in darkness, it was nowhere near morning and therefore not time to think about getting up.

Do it! I don't want to- You have to!

Those three little words caused Charles to quiver. His knees jolted up, his body propelled forward so he was sitting up in bed and his hand cradled the side of his temple again. God, those words were screaming around in his head and he found himself wanting to do something. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do, but there was a deep rooted sense of compulsion in the forefront of his mind.

(Y/n). His eyes darted to the left and squinted to adjust to the darkness as he tried to look down at his partner laid beside him.

She was laid on her side facing Charles, with her knees coiled up to her stomach and her arms pressing so tightly into her chest he was surprised she was able to breathe. Her arms were writhing from side to side and Charles could see her lips moving like she was trying to whisper something in her sleep.

Twisting to lean on his left elbow, Charles carefully reached his hand out and feathered his fingers over (Y/n)'s temple.

His lips pursed and his nose scrunched up as he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He didn't want to intrude or invade, but he could tell she was having some sort of nightmare and he didn't want her to start lashing out or using her mutation in her sleep. The last thing they needed was everyone in the mansion waking up and knowing (Y/n) was experiencing nightmares.

I don't want to.

You don't have to, not anymore. It's okay, you need to wake up now.

Charles's voice was like a soft serenading song, overriding the memories acting out in her mind and the voices that were trying to get louder and louder. They ceased to exist when Charles slipped into her mind.

(Y/n) woke with a start, gasping and blinking rapidly. Her hand shot up to grip Charles's wrist, her nails scratching into his skin deep enough to create crescent moons and start to draw flecks of blood. Her eyes darted from left to right, looking for signs, for objects and people, for a hint to tell her whether this was another nightmare or if this was real.

She found a pair of deep sienna eyes burning into hers with an intensity she hadn't seen before. Those eyes captured (Y/n)'s full attention and a rush of heat blossomed all across her skin when she felt his hand glide down to cup her cheek. His thumb grazed across her cheekbone just beneath her eye and after a few seconds, (Y/n) let her eyes dart down to look at his lips.

Those ruby red lips were curved up into a soft, melting smile that did wonders for her shattered nerves.

"I'm sorry,"

"You don't need to be."

(Y/n) let herself lean into his touch while he rested his weight on his elbow, leaning over her. His thumb continued to glide across her skin and (Y/n) wasn't quite sure what he was looking at, but the calmness in his eyes was overwhelming. She couldn't help but shiver when he reached out to brush a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Did you see?" Her voice was quiet and the air of defeat woven into her tone made Charles frown.

He took a few seconds to find the right words and took a deep breath, tilting his head to the left with narrowed eyes.

"I heard." His thumb glided along her chin and up her jaw while he moved his other hand to prop his head up and wove his fingers into his hair. "I hear that voice a lot, when you're dreaming… is that him?"

Charles didn't like to ask. He never liked to intrude. The few people growing up who knew of his mutation all became wary of him. They didn't want him close by, they always feared he was peering into their thoughts, prodding around in their memories and finding out their darkest fears. The funny thing was, when they had all these worries, their thoughts became louder and amplified in Charles's mind rather than when they just acted normal around him.

He never wanted to snoop or look around in anyone's mind unless they told him it was okay, but more so with (Y/n). They were together, they knew things about each other that no one else did. But Charles wanted to know that information through conversation and trust, not by peering into her thoughts and delving into her mind.

But he couldn't help it sometimes when (Y/n)'s thoughts or her nightmares got loud. He heard that voice a lot when she got lost in memories or had bad nights and Charles never wanted to pry, but it didn't take a genius to work out who that dark, illusive figure was from (Y/n)'s past.

A quiet hum left (Y/n)'s lips and she nodded her head, shuffling forward until she could tuck her face into his chest.

She felt him take a deep breath and for a moment, she feared he was going to sit up or turn away. But instead, Charles dropped his head back onto the pillow and twisted so he was lying on his back again. His left arm slid beneath (Y/n)'s neck to drape around the back of her shoulders.

She could feel his fingers feathering across her back over the top of her night shirt. Soft patterns were drawn onto her skin while she shuffled closer to rest her cheek on his chest and drape her arm up so her hand could curl around his shoulder.

"Your powers aren't bad, love." He whispered softly against the top of her head. "No mutation is bad, not if it's used in the right way, for the right reasons."

"I didn't use mine for the right reasons." (Y/n) closed her eyes and burrowed her face deeper into his chest to fight off the threat of tears.

It had been a while ago, long enough now that (Y/n) hoped to forget. She wanted her life to be better. She wanted meeting Charles and Erik to be the turning point, the better point where she could use her mutation for the right reasons. She wanted to help people and to show them that no mutant was dangerous or deserved to be treated this way.

But (Y/n) hadn't always used her powers for good, not when her ex had been around, anyway.

"You didn't have a choice, that's different."

It didn't feel different. It felt like (Y/n) had done something increadibly wrong. She could still remember the look on her ex's face when she mistakingly trusted him to see her mutation. He had seen something valuable, something he could use. Not something to be nurtured and harnessed and used for good.

He was always pushing (Y/n) to use her powers. Telling her to make people look the other way. To make them give her things or do his bidding for him. He made her help him steal things and take what he wanted and to make people fear him.

She could still hear his voice in her head all those times she tried to say no, all those times she tried to leave or tell him her powers weren't a weapon or something to threaten people with.

Just because you don't look like a mutant doesn't mean you're safe. I know what you are, and I know what they'll do to you if they find out, so you need to use your voice and listen to me.

(Y/n) didn't realise how snide and gruelling that voice sounded in her head until she felt Charles wince beneath her.

"You know you're safe here, don't you? You're safe with me." Those words caused (Y/n) to shiver and her lips broadened into a smile that morphed when she kissed his bare chest.

"I know."

"We can't change the past, love, but the future isn't written yet."

Charles might not be able to change what had happened to (Y/n) in the past, but he could try his best to help her come to terms with those memories and nightmares. He could push them to the back of her mind if she asked him to.

And no part of their future was written yet. The past was set in stone, but the future was a clear slate, ready to be inscribed. They could do whatever they liked, they could use their gifts in whatever manner they chose, and there was no one here would be able to tell (Y/n) how to use her power. No one could force her to use it for the wrong reasons if she didn't want to.

Here, now, (Y/n) was the only one who could wield her power and choose what to do with it. No one was going to threaten or manipulate her or force her hand.

He wouldn't let them.

[nachrosas]

CHECKMATE | s.reid x reader

summary: in which an unexpected thunderstorm leads you and spencer a afternoon full of chess matches and childhood memories pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: none, just pure fluff word count: 1.6k a/n: hi! first time in a long time that i have written a fic over 1k words! this was also supposed to be posted yesterday, but my internet suddenly stopped working. hope you guys like it and feedback is always appreciated! till the next one!

The sound of the rain pounded incessantly against the windows of Spencer's small apartment, it was as if nature was determined to flood the whole world. In the corner of the room, the yellowish light of a lamp cast soft shadows on the various piles of books that seemed to have been strategically placed, something Spencer called “controlled organization”.

You were sitting on the shag carpet, watching Spencer who, with the sleeves of his dress shirt folded up to his elbows and his glasses slipping slightly down his nose, was completely focused on preparing the chessboard on the coffee table.

“You know, I'd say getting stuck here is pretty unlucky,” you commented, a playful smile on your lips. “But honestly, I think it's better than being stuck with an unsub.”

Spencer looked up at you, the corners of his mouth curving into a shy smile. “Technically, the probability of being hit by that storm was only 23%, so… we can say we were statistically surprised.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Of course you'd know that.”

He placed the last piece on the board and, with a casual gesture, indicated the place in front of you. “It's ready. But I warn you right now that I'm a tough opponent.”

“Ah, Reid.” you said, approaching and taking your seat. “I may not have memorized 50 chess moves, but I'm great at distractions.”

As the storm roared outside, the feeling of being cooped up was quickly replaced by the warmth of laughter, shared glances, and the certainty that that rainy afternoon would be unforgettable.

Spencer was completely focused on the board. His fingers hovered over the white knight, assessing all the possible moves before moving the piece. His expression was a mixture of absolute focus and slight satisfaction, as if he knew that victory was only a few moves away.

“Do you really think you can beat me so easily?” you asked, leaning forward, resting your chin on your hands.

“It's not a question of 'think'.” Spencer replied, moving his horse with surgical precision. “It's just logic. Three moves, and I put you in checkmate.”

“Three moves?” you repeated, widening your eyes in comic exaggeration. “That sounds like a threat.”

“It's not a threat, it's just an observation.” He gave a discreet smile, adjusting his glasses.

You crossed your arms and tilted your head, pretending to think deeply. “You know, it reminds me of the time I tried to teach my little cousin to play chess. In his words, the king was a 'super pawn' and he kept using it to capture all my pieces.”

Spencer stopped adjusting the bishop and looked at you, eyebrows raised. “A super-pawn? That goes against all the rules of the game!”

“Exactly!” you replied, with a mischievous grin. “But it was very amusing to see him shouting 'super champion on the attack!' before losing miserably.”

He let out an unexpected laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly. He tried to regain his composure, but you could see that he had lost his train of thought.

“Oh, and there's more!” you continued, pointing to the board. “Did you know that his queen was having an 'affair' with my queen and was allied to my side? Because, according to him, 'she liked my team better'.”

Another laugh escaped Spencer, now louder, and he had to take off his glasses to wipe his eyes. “That's ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous or genius?” you said, nonchalantly moving a piece. “Maybe I should adopt the super champion strategy.”

He blinked, realizing too late that you had distracted him long enough to mount a counterattack. Looking at the board, Spencer let out a resigned sigh, but the smile still shone on his face.

“I can't believe you did that!” he admitted, lowering his head. “You stole my concentration!”

“Distraction is a legitimate strategy,” you replied, triumphantly. “And honestly, it was worth every second just to hear you laugh like that.”

Spencer laughed again, this time without resistance. “All right, but I warn you, next time I'll be prepared for your super pawn.”

After quick and funny chess matches, the chessboard had been put aside, and you were now sprawled on the sofa, warm cups of tea in hand. The storm outside was now a distant, almost comforting sound, while the conversation flowed like rain against the window.

“Okay, my turn,” you began, a smile playing on your lips. “When I was about ten, I had the brilliant idea of building a catapult in the backyard.”

Spencer arched an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “A catapult? That sounds… a bit ambitious.”

“It was!” you said, laughing. ”I saw it in a cartoon and thought I knew exactly how to make it. I took a plank of wood, a spring from the old sofa we had in the garage, and a big spoon from the kitchen. My idea was to throw fruit in the air, like a mad scientist.”

Spencer was already smiling, but his gaze showed a mixture of genuine curiosity and amusement. “Did it work?”

“More or less,” you admitted, shaking your head. “I didn't calculate the strength of the spring properly, so the first thing I threw — an apple — went straight through the kitchen window. Mom showed up five seconds later, and I was holding the spoon like an unsub caught red-handed.”

Spencer laughed out loud, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “And what happened then?”

“I was grounded for a week, but my mother kept the apple with the spoon mark on it as proof of my flawed genius.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Okay, I admit, it's an impressive story. But I think I can match it.”

You leaned towards him, interested. “Oh really? I want to hear it.”

“When I was eight, I was determined to learn origami,” he began, settling down on the sofa. ”I found a book in the library and decided that the best place to practice would be during lunchtime at school. So I took all the colored papers from the library and started folding them into various shapes. My idea was to create a giant swan.”

You blinked, trying to imagine. “All the colored papers? That's… too much, Spencer.”

He smiled slightly, continuing. “The problem was that I accidentally blocked the canteen's emergency exit by stacking the parts. When the shift inspector saw it here, she called the management, thinking I was sabotaging the school.”

You burst out laughing. “You were accused of sabotage for making origami?”

“Yes!” Spencer replied, his eyes sparkling with humor. “I spent the rest of the day trying to explain that it wasn't an act of vandalism, just an unsuccessful artistic experiment.”

Your laughter filled the room, light and genuine. When you finally calmed down, he looked at you with a soft smile.

“You know,” he said. “it's funny how our silliest flaws say so much about who we are.”

You nodded, smiling back. “And how they bring us closer together. It seems we were always meant to create creative chaos.”

He laughed again, agreeing. The sound of the rain continued outside, but inside that small space, everything seemed infinitely more welcoming.

The storm had died down considerably, and the sound of the rain blended softly with the noise of the cars that had returned to the streets. Spencer, now holding an open book in his hands, was lying next to him on the sofa, their voices alternating as they read aloud. The title was a classic that he always mentioned, and you felt grateful that he had shared that moment with you.

Spencer began to read a passage with his characteristic tone, where curiosity seemed to leap from his words as if he were living the story alongside the main characters. His soft, cadenced voice made the surroundings seem even more peaceful.

You followed along attentively, feeling the familiarity of the moment. There was no rush, no need for anything other than the warmth of mutual companionship and the comfort of the written word. Sometimes you would pause and, with a smile, ask him about details of the characters or what he thought of the plot, and he would always respond enthusiastically.

“What do you think, should it be more unpredictable or deeper?” you asked, leaning a little closer to him.

Spencer looked at you, the shy smile that always appeared in quiet moments like that. “The unpredictability is interesting, but the depth… that really stands out. When you feel you know the character as well as you know yourself.”

You smiled back, touching his hand lightly, the touch simple but meaningful. “I think that's what makes the moment when we're here on the sofa, reading together, so special. It's not about what happens in the book, it's about how you lose yourself in it.”

Spencer was silent for a moment, his expression soft and thoughtful. He turned another page and looked at the book, but then his attention turned to you.

“Yes.” he said with an almost imperceptible lightness. “The best moments are not the big events, but the small ones, when we are simply present.”

The silence between you became comfortable, only the turning of pages filled the space. Outside, the heavy storm had now turned into a light drizzle, but inside the apartment, the world seemed whole in every word you read, in every glance you exchanged.

The day was ending, but you knew that this would be one of the moments that would remain etched in your memory, like a quiet, constant point of light. And as you looked at Spencer, his eyes shining softly in the light of the lamp, you realized that perhaps these little moments, shared with someone special, were the real treasures of life.

[daistea]

I love love love the scenarios of Kabru with a person who is oblivious, but what about someone who is hyper aware of how other people feel towards them as a defense mechanism? Someone who is constantly aware of everything that's going on and it's something they can't turn off but as a result hates guessing games and won't act unless the other person is genuinely forward. They aren't bad and are polite but will blatantly ignore hints. I think there's another layer of hilarity in that one.

Ya! I don't know if I captured what you're looking for, to be honest. But I tried my best, and I hope you like it!

1600 words !

no tw or spoilers I don't think

Cracks - Kabru x reader

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Your heart was a fortress. There were moats and ballistas and canons aimed straight at anyone who dared approach. You weren’t sure when the fortress walls raised, but you knew when another stone was added, when they grew higher. 

And Kabru’s charming smile only piled more stones atop the wall. 

That smile was intended for another purpose, you knew. He’d realize that soon enough, but until then, you would maintain eye contact and nod along with his conversations. He didn’t talk about himself often, but he had stories to tell, anecdotes, theories. And he wanted your opinion on every single one. 

“What do you think?” Kabru asked. It was a line cast into the water with bait on the hook. It was the sliding of a chess piece across the board. And he didn’t mean to play these games, you also knew that. It was just how he was. 

“I don’t know,” was all you gave him. 

Kabru nodded to himself. He was good at covering up his disappointment, but you could practically see the gears turning in his pretty head. The only thing you weren’t sure of was why, exactly, he had wanted to see you today. 

Finally, he returned his attention to you, “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

You felt yourself tense. Your shoulders slumped a little and you uncrossed your arms— he was probably reading your closed-off body language, but that was all simply habit, not a result of discomfort. 

“No, you don’t,” and you meant it. You weren’t about to inform him of why you never took the bait, but you’d throw him a bone. “You really don’t. I just… Wait, that was a very straightforward question, Kabru. How uncharacteristic of you.”

“I can be straightforward when I want to be,” He sent you another brilliant smile, though the look in his eyes told you that it was genuine. 

“Why do you want to be at this moment?”

Kabru looked away. He stared at his barely-touched mug of ale, doing his best not to shift uncomfortably on the bar stool. Yet, you saw it; the slight bounce of his knee, how his nose wrinkled. 

Finally: “I’m figuring something out,” he said. 

“Aren’t you always?” You teased. 

And he sent you another genuine smile with a hint of something, you weren’t sure. How annoying. Was it affection? You decided to push the thought aside for the sake of your sanity. 

“Yeah, you’ve got me,” he put his hands up and laughed, then took a sip of his ale as if needing something to do with himself to ease the tension that was slowly seeping between you. Tension: a noxious, invisible gas. It was about to give you a headache. 

You turned on the stool to face him, “What’s on your mind?”

Kabru’s smile turned wry, “Now you’re the one prying.” Your heart clenched. That was another stone on the wall. He knew you and it made you want to run away as fast as you could. 

“I guess,” you said, “Yeah, I do that sometimes.”

“I don’t mind,” Kabru murmured. 

What a lie. 

˚ · • . ° .

“Why are you two like this?” Rin asked. Her eyes were narrowed and her hands pressed down on her hips. Both you and Kabru took in the sight and began silently reaching conclusions. 

Kabru was the first to answer. “What do you mean? What’re we like?” He wasn’t confused in the least but made a good show of it. 

“Like this!” She gestured at you both, how close you were sitting with thighs and shoulders brushing. “You’re constantly dancing around each other and, frankly, it’s obnoxious.”

She was right. One step towards each other always resulted in two steps back. Kabru would create a verbal maze that you would instantly get lost in. You knew the general layout and that you should go a certain direction, but you never did find the exit. 

“Sorry,” you offered, hoping it would quell Rin’s annoyance. (It did not.)

“Are you two aware that…” Rin paused. She seemed to choke on her words as her cheeks slowly went pink. You and Kabru both stared. And stared. And Stared. Finally, Rin groaned, “Nevermind! This is your problem to figure out. Not mine.”

True enough. 

“She’s right,” Kabru murmured after she left. He lowered his head and looked at you, trapping you beneath his spotlight. Unfortunately, you had stage fright. 

“Right about what?” You asked, standing up to create distance; that spotlight was uncomfortably warm. But the lack of that warmth from Kabru’s body next to yours only created a gaping hole in your chest. (You'd have to fill that hole with sweets and distractions later.)

Kabru pursued your attention, “About our feelings, of course.”

Your feelings? At that moment, you were feeling quite shaken as cracks began to run up your fortress walls. 

“What feelings?” You asked flatly. 

His hopeful little smile instantly fell and he started to shift uncomfortably, “Our feelings.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“I’m not making you say anything,” you corrected, taking a step backward, preparing your retreat. 

“Yes you are,” Kabru began to argue desperately, “I’ve spent months trying to give you hints! I told you ‘the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?’ and you started talking about how the craters kind of looked like Laois’s face. I compared our hand sizes together as an excuse to touch you, and all you said was that I have girlish hands!”

“You do.”

“You know me,” he grit his teeth, standing up from the bench, “you know how hard this is for me. I’ve given you so many hints, so many opportunities, but you’ve ignored them all!”

Hints. Even the word made you frown. Kabru wanted to play guessing games all day, while all you wanted was a simple game of truth and dare where everybody only picked truth. 

Sometimes, you couldn’t help but wonder why you loved this man. He always banged at the walls of your fortress and, recently, some stones had begun to crumble. You added more, but they would only fall when he decided to say something outright on rare occasion.

“I don’t like games,” was all you said. 

“I know,” Kabru exhaled and ran his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes, “I know. I’m trying, really. Usually, I’m pretty adaptable, but this is just… Different.”

“And… You don’t like it?”

“I–” his mouth opened and closed before he looked at you straight on, “I don’t hate it, honestly. It’s different in a good way, as if it’s forcing me to be better with my words.”

“You’re already good with your words. You’re too good with them, that’s the problem.”

Kabru watched you for a moment. You allowed him to analyze you despite how it made your skin tingle. After a bit, he nodded to himself. “Do you want to get a drink?” He asked. 

“...I brought my water canteen with me, so I really don’t—

“You’re just blatantly ignoring my hints, aren’t you?” Kabru announced. His eyes widened and he threw his hands into the air. Whirling away, he gripped his hair and groaned. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. 

“Maybe you should try a new method,” you offered, patting his back, “one that doesn’t involve implications and guesses.”

Slowly, he lifted his head. He looked a bit dead inside, and his jaw tensed. You felt as if you were watching him force himself to eat a monster out of a sheer need to please. It endeared him to you, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the guy. The things Kabru put himself through simply to maintain good graces were endless and difficult. 

“I…” he paused, blinking a few times before he finally looked at you, “Would that work?”

Probably. “Think of it like therapy,” you said as you led him back to the bench and sat down beside him. “Try to be blunt with me. Practice.”

“Practice,” he echoed under his breath.

“Come on.”

His eyes narrowed, “Fine. Where do I start? Give me a prompt.”

Good question. You gave it a moment of thought, “Alright, try asking me on a date.”

“I just did a few minutes ago.”

“No, be blunt about it.”

A heavy pause. Kabru slumped forward a little, an intense look in his eyes. “Alright. Fine. Will you go on a date with me?”

“...Why?”

“Why?” Fear and horror and exasperation filled his eyes, "Shouldn't you already know?"

“I don't. So, why?”

“Because—” just like Rin did earlier, Kabru choked on his words. His hands went up and he made meaningless gestures with them as if that would assist in the process of being blunt. “Because I would like that?”

“Good job!” You patted him on the shoulder. “Now, bluntly tell me how you feel about me.”

The horror on his face, you wanted a picture of it so you would always have something to laugh at. “Really?”

“Really,” you sang. 

“Fine. I—” another meaningless gesture as he cleared his throat, brows furrowing, “You really want me to be blunt?”

“Yeah. Tell me the truth, the whole truth, don’t dance around it.”

“Okay,” Kabru snorted, “Okay… I want to kiss you, I want to hold you, I want your attention, I want to pin you down on the couch and—”

“That’s enough,” you put up a hand— your cheeks were burning— and smiled, “we’re in a public place. But I get the point, thank you.”

Kabru sighed in relief. He closed his eyes and fell forward, burying his face in your shoulder. You couldn’t help but laugh and pat his back. 

There was a lot of work to do. He still had another layer of walls to break through, but he’d learn how to defeat and conquer. He’d learn how to stop building mazes for you. And it would be good for him, if it didn’t drive him insane first. 

You buried your nose into his hair. He groaned, slack in your arms. Part of you wanted to run, retreat. The other part of you rejoiced in the moment. You weren’t sure which one to listen to, but you and Kabru would figure it out with time. 

You and Kabru would figure a lot of things out together from now on. 

[daenysx]

hii i would like to make a request for the sleepover. Old money aemond and his gf talking bout their future children for the first time, like, they choosing their names and all that. So cute😭

i hope you enjoy <3333

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

"oh, look at that! you were such a cute baby." you say, fondly, looking at your boyfriend's childhood pictures. alicent gave you the photo album after dinner, hoping to show you aemond's pics. you were more than eager, and now aemond watches you with a subtly happy look as you ask everything about him as a baby.

"he was so calm most of the time." alicent says, looking at baby aemond in his cradle. "except when he could not get enough sleep. he'd be so upset then, we had to go on long rides to keep him silent."

you are absolutely in love with the pictures. there's aemond next to a huge chess board. him and helaena, standing together in the garden. here he is, holding onto aegon, trying to stand up. you smile, lovesick all the way.

alicent excuses herself briefly to make a phone call and aemond sits on the empty spot next to you. "this is all so adorable." you say. "baby aemond. you were a gorgeous baby."

"i'm throughly flattered." aemond smirks. "and a little bit embarrassed."

"there's nothing to be embarrassed about." you shake your head. "this album is great. it literally has everything documented inside, such a wonderful idea to keep memories alive."

"we'll have the same type of album if we decide to have children, my love." he says, softly. "do you- would you want that?"

"if i'd want to have a baby, i'd want it to be with you." you answer. "and with genetics this cute, i've no doubt our babies would be adorable." you tease, showing him another picture of himself.

"is that so?" he flirts, boldly getting closer to you. "and if they look like you when they grow up, they'll be the prettiest this family has ever seen."

"there are many targaryen names we can pick from, right?" you ask him, changing the subject with a smile.

"yes, of course." he answers. "you know, we can choose something else, it's not a strict rule to name babies after our ancestors."

"i'd actually like that." you tell him. "i think it's a nice tradition. hard to decide, though, there are too many options."

aemond holds your hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. "yes, well, except aegon. there are many aegons, i imagine it would be hard to follow."

cinnamon girl sleepover ♡

[strawberrysands]

Pretty hot - Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: nothing tbh, just tooth rotting fluff and sum kissy kissy

You shivered for the umpteenth time that day while your breath formed little clouds in the cold air. You hadn't been able to get warm again ever since JJ announced you'd be going to Alaska.The case was over and everything went well, but the plane couldn't take off until tomorrow morning due to the snow.

"God, why Alaska?" You murmured to no one in particular. A small smile formed on Spencer's lips at that.

"You're not a fan of the cold?" He asked. The glare you gave him was enough to make him chuckle. Looking at you, he felt completely warm inside. He thought your red nose and rosy cheeks were absolutely adorable.

"We're here." Hotch said. Looking up from the snow, you see a rusty looking building in front of you.

"That's supposed to keep me warm tonight?" You sigh. Morgan laughs and ruffles your hair.

"Awww, poor baby." He mocks you before you give him a playful shove.

--

"Bad news." Hotch announced once you were all settled in the hotel lobby. "There's only four rooms left, and six of us. Some are gonna have to double up."

"I'm not sleeping with Reid." Derek said almost immediately.

"Dibs." Garcia said while grabbing Derek's hand.

"I'll sleep with you." You say to Reid before realizing how creepy you just sounded. Even Rossi was almost laughing at the way you worded that.

"I- I mean, I'll room with you." You cough awkwardly, your face now red from something completely else than the cold.

--

"Wanna play?" Spencer asked you as he gestured to the chess board in the lobby. It was still early to go to sleep, and the room was probably gonna be way colder than the lobby was.

"Sure." You smiled and Spencer moved to set up the game.

It was your turn to start, but your hands were shaking so hard from the cold that clumisly moved a pawn forward. Spencer frowned at that; he didn't know you were THAT cold.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, continuing the game. And for the first time that evening you felt a little warm insinde from his concern.

"Yeah." You shrugged. "Just cold, you know."

Spencer snorted and took your knight from the board. You silently cursed yourself for not seeing that earlier before looking at Spencer again.

"What?"

"Just cold. In my memory, the definition of 'just cold' isn't teeth chatter, hands shaking and purple lips." Spencer looked up from the board and your breath hitched in your throat. The utter adoration and warmth in his eyes was enough to even make the snow outside melt. Their caramel color gave you a sense of belonging, of home. Oh, how you could get lost in those eyes.

"It's also your turn, by the way." He added with a small grin.

"Right." You coughed and moved one of your pieces. "Check." You said proudly.

"Impressive," he complimented you, "but," He moved his queen and suddenly, "checkmate."

"Wha-" you started, but immediately gave up. It was too cold to actually attempt to understand what you had done wrong. The game was nice though, for a minute, you had actually forgotten about the temperature.

"One day, I'll beat you."

"In your dreams." He said playfully.

You yawn loudly and rub your hands together to try and warm them up a little.

"Sleep?" Spencer offered and you nodded gladly.

--

What a typical cliché, was the first thing you thought when you entered the room. You guessed it, there was only one bed. For a moment, you found yourself imagining Spencer and yourself in those typical romantic scenarios where this happens. You shook your head to clear the thoughts and opened your mouth to say something you almost felt bad about. "You're taking the floor."

To your surprise, Reid was smiling. "I didn't expect anything else."

You settled down in the room while Spencer showered, slipping into your pj's and pulling the covers of the bed as high as possible. You had turned the heater in the room all the way up, but it didn't seem to do much. Shaking like a leaf, you waited for Spencer to come back in order to turn off the lights.

You looked up when you heard the bathroom door and were met with a mouthwatering sight: Spencer, with only a towel around his waist, curls still wet and water dripping down his chest.

"Forgot my clothes." He apologized with a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

"Please," you huffed quietly when the door closed again, "don't apologize."

--

It was the middle of the night when you woke up again from the sheer cold. Your started shivering and your teeth clattered against each other. This continued for roughly 20 minutes before Spencer sighed.

"Alright, I can't sleep with the teeth chatter." You heard him move and before you could process what he was doing, you felt the bed behind you dip.

"What the hell are you doing?" You hissed at him. He ignored your question and instead continued to climb into the bed with you.

"Body heat is the most effective way to get warn quickly." He said and you could detect something odd in his voice. Was he nervous?

You blew into your numb hands before sighing and turning around to face Spencer.

"Fine." You grumbled stubbornly. "Get over here."

He gladly accepted your offer and scooted closer to you, smoothly wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you as close as possible. You immediately blushed from his close proximity. "Uhm-" you started.

"What? Did I do something wrong?" Spencer asked concerned, loosening his grip on you a little to look at you.

"No, no-" you said, looking up at him. Your breath hitched in your throat when you realized his face was mere inches from yours. You couldn't help it; your eyes flickered down to his lips and back up to his caramel eyes again.

One of Spencer's hands moved to your cheek, all the while looking for any signs that you were uncomfortable. At this point, his soft pink lips were the only thing your eyes could focus on.

"We should probably get some rest." You whispered, making no move to actually go to sleep.

Spencer leaned closer to you. "Probably." He whispered back. You could feel his breath on your own lips and you forgot to breathe.

"Spence," you said softly.

"Yeah?"

"just kiss me already."

He wasted no time after that; he connected your lips with a fiery passion but still with an unimaginable softness also.

His tongue softly prodded your lips which you gladly accepted, opening up your mouth. He let his tongue dance with yours before retracting it and leaning away from you.

You were breathing heavily and so was he.

Your eyes still closed from the kiss, you took your hand back from his curls and let it rest on your side.

"You warm yet?" He asked, making you laugh.

"Pretty hot, actually."

--

BONUS:

"What's got you two all smiley?" Derek asked the next morning at breakfast. "You sleep THAT good?" He smirked.

"You wish, Derek." You replied.

"I slept on the floor, just like you." Spencer said.

Hotch and Rossi, who were watching from a little distance, were both already sevretly profiling you.

"They definitely kissed, didn't they?" Rossi said.

"Most definitely." Hotch replied.

Rossi smiled big. "Excuse my cursing, but fucking finally."

[softestqueeen]

care for a dance?

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer learns how to dance to teach you.

warnings: just pure fluff

wordcount: 764 words

a/n: this is just short and sweet! I’ve got the idea from @i-live-in-spite and just had to write it. I’m not 100% happy with it, but I had to get it out.

Spencer Reid knew how to do lots of things, theoretically. He could exactly tell you how to throw a ball perfectly for it to land in the net, at which angle you should throw it and from what position. He could tell you how to get checkmate in less than three moves across the checkered chess board, in this case he could even show you.

What he could also tell you, was how to dance a simple waltz. He couldn’t however demonstrate that, but he thinks he might want to learn how to.

“Spence, do you know how to dance?” his eyebrows shot up at the question.

“Uhm, I think you might have to be a bit more specific than that. There are thousands of dances in almost every culture, which all have different meanings. Are we talking about Salsa, flamenco, a waltz?” Spencer gave back. It was adorable to hear him ramble like that.

“Yeah, I meant more like a waltz or something simple. I really want to learn that for Rossi’s wedding and thought maybe you knew how to,” you explained further.

“I- Yes, I think I could do a waltz. It’s actually a remarkably simple dance that consists of the same few steps every time you do it. The music has a special beat and is written in a ¾ bar, as opposed to the usually used 4/4 bar. It is also most commonly danced to the song “the blue danube” by Strauss.”

“Well, if you’re that confident with it, how about you show me this weekend. We could practice it,” your smile was gentle as you slightly tilted your head. You didn’t want to miss any signs of discomfort in Spencer’s face.

“Oh, uhm, yeah that would be great! Saturday at 6 at mine? We could also get takeout,” he offered.

“Sounds good, I’ll see ya around, Spence!”

That was on Wednesday and now that Saturday is inching closer and closer he actually has to learn how to waltz. In theory it was easy, but the reality definitely looked different.

He was very glad that he has practiced before you came over. The amount of how often he tripped over his feet would have definitely gotten a laugh or two out of you, though.

Spencer was holding his hands out before him, his left arm stuck out curling around your imaginary palm, while his other hand was resting in the air at the approximate height of your waist. He tried to recall everything he knew about the basics, as well as the four YouTube tutorials he just watched.

Moving his foot forwards, he set it down before following with his other foot. He must have looked incredibly ridiculous while doing this alone, but for you, he’d do anything. Slowly, he continued the dance, his tongue peeking out between his lips in concentration.

The profilers’ eyes were practically glued to his feet. Once he tried it without looking, he immediately tripped over his feet and almost knocked over the lamp that was standing in his living room. He continued to practice though, his movements slowly getting more fluent. Deciding that he knew enough of the basics to teach you, he ended his training session.

A few hours later you knocked on his door. You were wearing relaxed clothing and carried a bag with your favourite takeout. Spencer gave you a smile before opening the door wider to let you in.

After removing your shoes, the two of you sat down in his kitchen to eat. Afterwards, you stood up, extended your hand, and asked, “Care for a dance?”

“Always,” he answered.

“But we can’t dance yet, I don’t know how to. Show me, please?”

And so, the two of you spent the next one and a half hours practicing. Spencer was the most patient person ever when repeating the steps over and over again. He guided you when you did your first attempts and was never mad at you for stepping on his feet.

“I think I got it now,” you said before getting in position again.

“You sure?” Spencer asked.

Only giving a hum in response, you put on the music again and start dancing. One foot forward, slightly tilted, then following with the other one. Repeat, repeat and repeat and you’ve got it.

You did it. You squealed in excitement before taking your hands out of his. Instead, excited, and not really thinking, you take Spencer’s face in your hands, lean forward, and press your lips to his.

Now, Spencer was definitely happy to have learned how to dance.

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueen

requests open!

taglist:@silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@BigBananaa @i-live-in-spite

[pookietv]

checkmate | arthurtv

first non social media post!! hope u guys like and thank u for all the love straight away, very cool :)

a lil arthur tv x reader

being round whilst the boys were watching the football was.. a strange experience to say the least. the moment you walk through the door you're practically having a can of beer shoved in your hand and ushered to come into the front room quietly so they don't miss any commentary.

though you didn't follow football too much, you did sit quiet and watch also, mainly just following what you're told, from chris telling you the ref is 'off his head' to george trying to convince you that the guy in goal is the best person on earth, it was quite interesting, besides the often shouting at the tv as if those in the commentary box could hear them.

as soon as you sat next to arthur he'd give you a small smile and nod, a quick hello before a comforting and quiet normal from arthur, his eyes trailing back to the tv as you crossed your legs, opened the can of beer and observed, slightly leaning your bodyweight on arthur, moving your head back to check he was okay with it, as you usually did, and he gave you a small grin, signalling it was fine.

when the game finished with an arsenal win (much to chris' enjoyment) the boys began chatting amongst themselves, and arthur pulled out his phone, beginning a chess game as they talked, and instantly got a bit of mocking for it.

"chess already, you sad, sad man," arthur hill laughed at his own remark a little, and arthur just shrugged, "it's fun and the games over so," he murmured, his cheeks slightly red but laughing himself also.

"to be fair, i always wanted to learn how to play chess, i mean i played a tiny bit in middle school but 'm not very good," you stated, and chris rolled his eyes, "not another nerd," but arthur looked up at you with his widely interested eyes.

"you wanna learn chess? i, i can try teach you, if you liked... i mean, i don't know how good of a coach i am but i can try," he offered, looking at you with a goofy and excited grin.

you nodded a little, smiling back, "yeah, sounds fun, i mean if you have the patience to teach me, i might not be very good," you added, as arthur shook his head a little "i'm sure you'll be fine, you're smart," adding "lemme go get my board," and leaving the room quite quickly, earning a snort from george.

"he's just happy that for once in his life he's not having to convince someone to play with him, and they actually want to play," he teased, and your eyes rolled a little, a small grin on your face.

"and especially because it's you," chris said, earning himself a soft shove from you and a little laugh.

"hey, leave the guy alone," you giggled a little.

"he's just dying for you to be mrs television," george charmed in with their not-so-subtle jokes about you and arthur.

it had been a running joke in the friend group for a while, that arthur had grown a bit of a crush on you, but you had shoved that in the back of your mind (or at least attempted to) because you were almost certain they were wrong and he was just a sweet guy.

it had also been a running teasing point that they all were also convinced that you had a crush on arthur too.

and whilst they weren't exactly wrong, you weren't going to give them the benefit of confirming it, or the leverage of admitting to them that they were right

"hm?" arthur said, his head cocked a little as he walked back into the living room, a box in his hands, clearly just curious about what the subject of conversation had turned to whilst he was gone.

"we were just talking about the fact that it's interesting that she wants to learn chess of all things," arthur hill teased, leading to everyone else giggling like school children.

arthur rolled his eyes, also used to the joking, "doesn't really surprise me, i mean you guys are too dense to play so hopefully if she gets a grip of it i might have a decent chess partner for once," he quipped back with a slight grin on his face, before opening the box on the coffee table and beginning to set out the pieces, as you sat on the other side of the coffee table, assuming the position to play.

"i'll let you play the white pieces, cause it means you get to go first," he says first, and you nod, looking down at the board, before he starts again, "you know the names of the pieces and how they move?"

"a little," you said, before pointing at some of the pieces, "a pawn, right? an' it just moves forward a space?" you stated, earning a nod from arthur.

"except on the first time you move them, then they can move two, if you like," he confirmed.

as you continued to play, the boys began rolling their eyes and proclaiming that you guys were 'officially nerds' and teasing before going into their rooms.

after a while, you had began to learn all the moves of pieces quite well, with small encouraging nods from arthur and little pieces of help so you weren't left completely stranded playing against someone much better than you.

"see, i've got you in check now, can you see it?" he asked a little softly as your eyes scanned across the board that was at least making a little more sense to you.

"mhm... it's your rook, right?" you said, though slightly unconvincingly as you bit on your nail a little, before arthur grinned.

"yeah, it is, so you obviously wanna move your king," he nodded, looking at you with almost a proud smile, "see, not long now and i'll have my own chess protégé," he joked a little, and you rolled your eyes.

"yeah, that may take a while arthur, but keep dreaming," you laughed back a little, looking up at him for a moment before back at the board. "by the way, why the hell is your guys' flat so cold? you guys can't afford the heating or something?" you teased a little more, before arthur shook his head.

"oh, i'm sorry, i didn't even realise it's cold, i thought it was warm, look, here," he practically babbled out before pulling his jumper from over his head, a baby blue one, and leaving him in a white shirt, well fitted on him.

"no, don't worry about it, you don't have to give me your-"

"no, seriously, take it, don't want you to be freezing," he murmured out, offering it to you, "like i said, i was warm anyways so,"

you nodded a little, looking at him with slightly flushed cheeks before taking it from him, thanking him quietly as you slipped it over your head.

"see? suits you more then me, anyways," he joked slightly but you shook your head.

"nah, i doubt it, probably look like shit right now, practically rolled out of bed when chris told me to come round," you joked a little, but arthur rolled his eyes a little, almost in disbelief.

"shut up, you. you know you always look good," he said, his own face flushed also.

"oh, um.. i mean, i doubt it, but thanks," you practically murmured out in response, cheeks burning red as you laughed a little at your own stupidly flustered state, eyes practically burning into the board in hopes that arthur could not see your flushed face as you moved a piece.

"i watched that shark documentary you recommended the other day," arthur stated, breaking the slight silence, and you looked back up at him, "oh yeah? what did you think?" you asked with a slight grin.

"the little section about shark bones was so cool!" he practically beamed, and you nodded, as he moved a piece in return.

"the part about when shark fossils are found they just look like bone because of calcium exposure! i thought that was so fucking cool," you giggled, and he nodded before pausing.

"i... i think it's really cool that i can always talk to you about my dumb interests like chess and animals and you're always interested and half of the time you know more then me, which i just find so cool," he said, and you smiled up at him slightly.

"well, i mean, its just... it is interesting, you know? i mean, you're very interesting, i like when you go on little rants about things and i get to listen," you nodded.

"i, um, i'm trying to say that, you know, i think it would be cool if we could go out and talk about weird things sometime," he said, and you felt your eyebrows furrow slightly, looking up at him with a slight twinge of confusion, his widened brown eyes looking down at you with a dopey grin.

"like, um... like a date, i mean," he clarified, before looking back at the board, "i have you in checkmate, by the way." he grinned slightly goofily.

"only you, arthur tv, could ask a girl out and checkmate her at the same time," you giggled a little, shaking your head in disbelief.

"i mean, i can take back the checkmate if that'll make you say yes?" he joked back.

"sure. i'll say i beat you in chess and you can take me on a date." you quipped back, and his grin only grew.

"best defeat of my life, easily."

[violetrainbow412-blog]

White lies [S. R]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 4.6k

summary: you meet Spencer thanks to a nice coincidence and you become recurring chess partners, but he leaves out a small detail

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14

Spencer had come back to that park after a long time and, honestly, it was as quiet as he remembered it. He liked to sit there to read, watch the birds, listen to the trees hitting each other; just enjoy a moment of life. Matthew, a teenager he used to play chess with, sometimes kept him company, but he knew from his mother that he had sprained his ankle and could barely get out of his room, so those evenings it was just him and a couple of old men in a remote section of his favorite hangout.

The book he had in hand could have finished in less than ten minutes if he had wanted to, but it was one he had a particular interest in and so he was taking notes in a notebook by his side, lengthening his reading time. And besides, he had proposed to take things a little more calmly since the recovery of his leg, now that he could walk by himself, and that seemed to him a quite useful exercise.

The man was dimly aware that someone was sitting at the table next to his, but curiosity was not enough to force him to look away from the pages. It wasn't until after a while that he heard the characteristic sound of the chess pieces moving in the box that formed the board that he paid attention and noticed that the one who was settling there was a woman.

He tried not to look at you too much so as not to make you uncomfortable, but the quick scan he gave you only led him to the conclusion that you might be a college student and that you were very pretty. You were carefully arranging the pieces and once you finished, you looked around the whole park as if you were looking for something or someone, and then you took a pack of chocolates from your backpack and put it to the side of the board, somewhat disappointed that you hadn't found who you expected.

"Are you waiting for Matthew?" Spencer dared to ask. You were startled and had to ask him to repeat the question, a little afraid that a stranger had made such a pointed remark "I've seen him a couple of times eating those sweets and since he likes chess, I thought you were expecting him"

"Oh, you know him" you exclaimed, a little calmer. You were surprised by how observant the man had been, for a couple of random pieces of information had led him to the correct conclusion "I was his babysitter for a while and I ran into his mother the other day and she said he comes here in the evenings so I thought I'd come to see him”

“Too bad, he has a sprained ankle,” he informed you, with a sad grin. “Maybe he'll be back in a week or two. I'm Spencer, by the way."

"Y/N" you introduced yourself, shaking the hand the man was offering you "So you guys are friends?"

"Sometimes I play with him"

"Huh yeah?"

"Yeah. He is very good"

“I taught him,” you said, quite proud of yourself, “I hated when he asked to watch TV, and I brought all kinds of board games over to his house, until finally chess captivated him. In those years he participated in school contests so I was excited to play with him "

“Did you win some?”

“I was undefeated” you exclaimed, even more proud of yourself and smiling wistfully “But after a few years I gave it up. Matthew continued, so I thought it would be nice to dust myself off a bit,” you smiled.

You took a moment to look at the man, who might be only a few years older than you, and like him you were somewhat captivated. His long, wavy, golden hair gleamed in the sun and he seemed to wear clothes that were, if not expensive, then at least quite elegant. You looked at the stack of books and the notes scattered on the table with great interest, because frankly the only men who met all those characteristics used to be your grandfather's age and, although their talks were interesting, you couldn't get to think of them with anything more than tenderness. This person was different, almost like a sage out of a book.

You didn't know where you found the words to invite him to play with you and you didn't know why he agreed. He seemed busy when you arrived, which made you think that he might even be a teacher, but he stopped his activities to pay attention to you and that made you feel special.

"You like them? You can take some if you want. They were for Matty, but I'll buy him some more,” you said kindly, referring to the candies between you, to which Spencer nodded with a smile. You used to play with strangers all the time in that park, so you didn't think it was weird, but never one as handsome as the guy in front of you. You probably wouldn't even have dared to talk to him if he hadn't talked to you “White or black?”

“Black,” Spencer replied. You thought that maybe he was just being chivalrous to you by letting you move first, but you were also overconfident in your abilities and thought that he might feel bad if you turned out to be better.

"I'm not very good, I have to admit" you blatantly lied.

"Relax, I'm not either" he also lied. But neither of you could notice it.

The way Spencer saw the situation, he had two options: the first, demonstrate his extraordinary intelligence by beating you with a couple of moves, or the second, which was to turn off his brain for a while to give yourself a chance and lengthen the game a bit. He knew that, if he took the first option, you would most likely just smile and flatter him like everyone else did, or you might even ask him how he had done that. But Spencer was sick of being treated like a genius, despite being one, and having that label branded in his mind every place he went. He loved to learn, teach and know as much as he could on all subjects and he wasn't one bit ashamed of the abilities his mother gave him at birth, but his short experience with women led him to deduce that he had a better chance of continuing to talk to you throughout the afternoon if he would just play a little silly and pretend not to know what he was doing. And he definitely wanted to be with you that day.

It had been a while, and at some point, you moved a bishop.

Check in 4 moves if Spencer moved the rook.

He moved a pawn, you took the pawn.

Bishop takes the pawn and check in 10 moves.

He moved the knight. You moved your queen

Rook takes queen then checkmate in 5 moves.

But Spencer ignored any of the logical options his brain was giving him. He was moving pieces wrong on purpose and moving another pair well just so he could enjoy your face of concentration and victorious smiles when you made a smart move that he could have foreseen from the start of the game. He analyzed your game, you attacked hard at first, you were impulsive, but at some point you changed your modus operandi to a more calculating and strategic one, your eyebrows gave you away when you were going to make an important play.

"Check" you muttered at some point. Spencer knew how to beat you, but, I repeat, he moved badly on purpose "And that's mate"

"Oh really?" he said, pretending to be puzzled.

"Yes, you left the way clear for my bishop" you explained, with a kind tone but also somewhat condescending. It didn't seem like you wanted to make fun of him, but rather you were looking for a way to make him see his mistake, without knowing that your companion knew exactly what he had done wrong.

"Oh, it's true"

"Either way it's fine, you played excellent" you exclaimed to comfort him, while you offered him a piece of candy and smiled broadly. Spencer looked at his phone, expecting to see a message from JJ saying there was a case to attend to, but he found nothing.

"A rematch?" he said, trying his luck, to which you answered yes quite happily.

Spencer won that game and it was inevitable for both of you to wish for another game just for the tiebreaker, with you crowning yourself the winner of the evening. Between movements you took the opportunity to look at him and you would lie when you said that your cheeks didn’t feel hot from being in the presence of such a peculiar specimen. Most of the men around you behaved like cavemen, so being with someone that civilized was most pleasant.

“I have to go home, it's getting dark already,” you said, quite sad, after that third game. The candy had already run out and Spencer's book had been forgotten to the side, but you still didn't want to walk away with just the memory of those hazel eyes “But if you're ever around again, we could play… if you want."

"I'd love to" he replied, sounding quite sincere.

Would it be too daring to ask for his number? What if it had just been a nice time that arose from a coincidence? You didn't want to spoil it, or scare him away, or anything like that.

You only said goodbye saying that you hoped to see him again and he said the same thing before the two of you went off on your own, fearing you would never see each other again.

After a few days you went back to the park hoping to meet him, but you were disappointed to see the empty spot. The process was repeated a couple of times and although you were carrying books to spend the afternoon, the chess board could never be missing from your bag, keeping the hope of finding him again. Time wasn't wasted after all, as you took the opportunity to continue your schoolwork outdoors, but it saddened you to think that you probably wouldn't see Spencer again, going so far as to regret not finding a way to contact him. But whoever perseveres, reaches, and you verified it when one afternoon you finally found him sitting at the same table as the first time.

“Spencer! What a joy to see you here” you greeted him casually, as if you hadn't been going to the park repeatedly just hoping to find him.

The man apologized to you saying that his work had kept him so busy that he hadn't even had time to stop by and when you asked what he did for a living you were met with an ambiguous answer that he held a position in a government office. Not a complete lie, but not the truth either.

That's how you kept finding him around to play with him, until at some point you barely paid attention to the board to give priority to the chat. Every time you saw each other you thought, without the slightest idea of the truth, that Spencer had been practicing to improve, because sometimes out of five games you only won two. But other days you might have a perfect streak that, while it made you feel happy, allowed you to comfort your friend a little.

You had started carrying different snacks to at some point find out which one was his favorite, which turned out to be the trail mix and, truth be told, it was something you expected, as if it fit perfectly with his personality. That's how you started carrying a pack of those whenever you could, alternating it with other kinds of more substantial snacks that Spencer loved.

So it was that, during the nearly two months that Matthew was unable to go to the park, you and Spencer kept each other company. You learned that he was an avid reader that, according to your first impression of him, he had taught a few classes, that he lived alone, loved classical music, was a big fan of science fiction and science in general, in short, he was a bit of a nerd. He was always telling you interesting facts that you couldn't even have imagined and you always listened very carefully.

One day you were concentrating on your next move when his voice interrupted you. It was a very beautiful afternoon and you had decided to put on light clothes that fluttered in the wind.

“I forgot to tell you. I brought you a book” was what he had said and from his brown leather briefcase he extracted a book with a faded cover that he handed over to you with great care.

“Sylvia Plath?” you exclaimed with total emotion. You had talked about the interest you had in starting to read it in one of the last meetings, because considering Spencer a connoisseur of literature, he would probably know which book to start with "Where did you get it?"

"It was from my mother, but she won't mind if you read it"

You carefully caressed the back with your fingertips with the biggest smile on your face, feeling flushed at the obvious show of attention you were receiving.

"Thank you so much"

"It's no big deal"

"I'll give it back to you soon"

"Take the time you need" he exclaimed sweetly. He was wearing a gray knit vest and a black dot-patterned formal shirt, along with a brown tie. His hair framed his face and looked so soft it made you want to reach out and just stroke it. You had been so stunned watching him, wondering if he was a real man or not, until he reminded you that it was your turn.

You moved your queen. Check in 7 moves.

"Spencer, can I confess something to you?"

He moved his bishop. He is saved from check.

"Huh, yeah"

“These last few weeks I have had a lot of fun. I really like being with you”

He looked at you for a second, as if he was waiting for a but that never came. There was no but you just liked being with him. Reid didn't usually find many people who would enjoy his company without a work commitment involved and that you had said something like that made him feel a warmth in his heart that he couldn't describe.

"I just wanted to tell you that, no... I hope I wasn't weird"

"I like being with you, too," he exclaimed immediately, hoping you didn't get the wrong idea. "It's probably the most normal and quiet thing that happens during my week."

“You've never told me what you do at work, is it paperwork and stuff? Bureaucratic processes?

“Something like that” he lied “Most of the time it's stressful and very tiring. That's why I like coming here, with you, because it helps me relax. I used to play with a very dear friend, but I took a break because… I didn't feel like going back to it. But I have to admit that you are a wonderful player."

"I hope so. Because I'm about to beat you” you smiled, moving another piece and putting the game in check again. Spencer always knew that he had to move to win, but again he made enough mistakes to get beaten by you. Once this happened, he took his king and handed it to you with a small smile, allowing your hands to touch.

It was already getting a bit dark and that was the signal for both of you to come home.

"You won 3 out of 4," he informed you, more cheerful than he was supposed to be. "Rematch tomorrow?"

“Of course”

One of you always asked that and in the same way the other always answered yes. Come to think of it, it was pretty funny that when you lost the next afternoon you won and vice versa, allowing the promise of a rematch to always hold.

"Do you live far from here?"

You knew, of course, that there was another question implicit in it. He not only wanted to know how far away your apartment was, but he wanted to know if he could walk you there. You'd never thought of the two of you hanging out outside of your afternoon game sessions, so you told him it was about a fifteen-minute walk away, and he naturally offered to walk you there.

"You're not a serial killer or anything like that, are you?" you joked, although a part of you said it to watch his reaction and detect (if possible) any sign of a lie.

“I'm not, but it's quite right that you doubt me,” he replied, as he packed his things into his briefcase, smiling slightly as if he hadn't been offended but rather admired by a good question “From any man, really, because the largest number of serial killers is concentrated in the United States and 95% of murderers worldwide are… well, men. Possibly this is due to the levels of testosterone and the social implications of masculinity that exist, this isn’t counting the traumas that they may have developed during their lives. Speaking specifically of men with psychopathy, most of them are able to manipulate their chosen victims to gain their trust before harming them. Many murderers have been described as charming, an example of this is Ted Bundy, who even when he was arrested many women attended the trials with banners and self-declared his fans. A few years ago there was even a killer here in Virginia who would date young women and then kill them, because it was easier for him not to resist, but luckily he only took the lives of 3 women before he was caught”

Spencer wasn't even aware of the changes in expressions on your face until he looked at you, completely serious and doe-eyed.

"Should I be worried about the fact that you listed reasons why I shouldn't let you accompany me?"

“Oh no, no” he had probably scared you and it made him feel so sorry and silly “I just… like to read about it, I promise. In addition, I have a degree in psychology, sometimes we analyzed the profile of the murderers to understand their psyche. But if you don't want me to come with you, that's fine."

"I'll take the risk"

"I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry"

"You didn’t do it. It just wasn't such a convincing defense” you carefully reached out to grab his arm and encourage him to walk beside you, flashing him a sweet smile.

Spencer, still feeling guilty for having rambled on about psychopaths, walked by your side for a while, and until you started talking his mood improved. A lot of times your talks didn't have to do with anything scientific and focused more on pop culture stuff that Spencer was completely unaware of. But you never teased him, but little by little you started to explain to him the plot of different movies or celebrity gossip of the moment, which was very funny for him. Your vibrant personality had him completely fascinated.

"I'll see you tomorrow, right?" you said once you got to your building. They were nice condos that Spencer had seen before.

"If something unforeseen does not arise, yes"

"Thanks for joining me. And for not being a murderer too” you laughed, still in a joking mood, while he looked at the ground a little embarrassed.

"Your lack of confidence hurts me"

"Admit that it's your fault, Doctor Reid" taking advantage of the artificial height difference that standing a few steps higher than him gave you, you leaned over to hug him goodbye and he sighed deeply as he felt the softness of your body against his "I hope you're well. Rest"

"Bye," he breathed out softly, entranced by the sight of your kind eyes looking directly at him.

He went home wishing with all his might that the job in the unit would allow him to meet you, but unfortunately it didn't, and since the two of you still hadn't thought of exchanging numbers he didn't find a way to apologize to you. He went to the park for several days in a row, but he couldn't find you anywhere and he was afraid that you wouldn't want to see him again. Had he done something wrong? Had you really believed that he could be a criminal? He probably explained to you what FBI unit he worked for and all that weird stuff he was telling you would have started to make sense.

He had already given up hope just the day you were practically running to the park, your chessboard bouncing through your bag and your breathing heavy as a sign of your poor physical condition.

You expected him to be there even with your repeated absences and when you finally arrived you noticed that around your usual table was a small group of people. You didn't know what it could be so you decided to go look too and you were surprised to discover Matty, whom it was the first time you'd seen in months, playing with nothing more and nothing less than your game partner. 

You knew Matty enjoyed playing fast chess, so a clock was sitting next to both of them, and Spencer seemed to be playing better than he ever had in his life. His eyes lasted a second to scan the positions of the pieces and another to move his own, without needing to make any effort to plan the right move.

Everyone around was impressed by the skill of the teenager and the man who, according to your deductions, had not played more than 15f minutes. After a couple more minutes Spencer smiled broadly and declared that the younger one was checkmated, drawing Matthew's complaint and collective applause for the feat.

"The boy is good, but not as good as him" an old man informed you, who apparently knew the development of these games very well.

Spencer enjoyed the cheers rather modestly for a moment, but when he caught sight of you watching him from the crowd he went completely pale.

"Hello," he hurried to greet you, getting up from his seat to approach you and causing the fan group to break up "You came."

"Yeah, I've been kind of busy with college," you sincerely apologized, letting him envelop you in a hug that took you by surprise.

"I'm glad to see you"

"But what was all that about, by the way?"

"What was what?"

"Y/N!" said Matty, rushing over to greet you. "Do you guys know each other?"

"Yeah, I would say that" you clearly noticed the young man's intention to ask the story of that, but as soon as he opened his mouth you said something else: "But will you allow me to talk to him for a second? It's adult talk," you joked, trying to tease your little friend, and then walked a few steps away, taking Spencer with you. "Do you want to explain to me how you became a chess master during my three-day absence?"

"I don't... I don't know what you're talking about"

"I saw that! You beat him so fast and Matt is very good. Have you been letting me win all this time?” you asked with a frown. You didn't sound annoyed with him, but rather surprised, and when he pursed his lips and looked at you with those sad little eyes, you knew you were right “You were lying to me! Why did you do that?”

"I didn’t want to make you feel bad"

“I'm an adult, I can handle failure” you argued. A lie, but he didn't have to know that.

“It's just that you… you looked so happy winning and I was happy to spend time with you and I figured if I played like that you'd start to get bored or think I'm a show-off. You didn't want to make a bad impression."

He had been cheating on you, yes, but now that he had explained his reasons, you thought they were really cute. Although you didn't like being treated with that kind of condescension, it would honestly have been foolish to bother you about something like that. They were just friendly games of chess, not a world championship.

"So all this time you were this clever?" you asked and he nodded sheepishly “And you still managed to lose?”

“It's easy once you get the hang of it. If you know all the possible outcomes then you also know where you shouldn't move your pieces."

"I must have looked so stupid all this time"

"No, it's not like that" he hastened to say, while one of his hands went up to your elbow and gently held it "I didn't behave like that because I think you're stupid. I think you're very smart, actually."

"So you were just pretending so we could see each other in the evenings?"

No one had ever done that for you and now you weren't even offended by it anymore, you were, how shall I put it? Touched, perhaps.

"I thought if we didn't play chess there would be no other excuse for it"

A giggle escaped your lips and although at first he thought you were mocking, the truth was the opposite.

 “You don't need to do that for us to be together, I could come to the park and just talk to you. I already told you, I like being with you” you clarified.

You two were silent for a moment and although you were calm Spencer was fiddling with his hands, apparently uncomfortable.

"There's also something else I didn't tell you" you widened your eyes slightly, waiting for him to continue "Actually, I do work for the government, but I work for the FBI in the behavioral analysis unit, that's why sometimes I disappear for so many days or…"

"That's why you know so much murder data" you hastened to say. Suddenly everything clicked together, like pieces in a puzzle "You're not a murderer, you catch murderers!”

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't want to scare you."

"Oh, and it was more convenient to let me think you're a psycho," you said sarcastically and only received another amused and sorry look "Any other secrets you want to share with me, Agent Reid?"

“At the moment I only have that. But the afternoon is young, more things can come up with the passing of the hours”

You both laughed at the joke and Matthew's voice calling you snapped you out of your conversation. The teen demanded an explanation as to why his playmate and former babysitter seemed so trusting of each other, which Spencer probably hadn't explained to him yet.

"I just want to ask you one thing"

"And what is?"

“Play a real game with me. No cheating, no tricks"

"Rematch?" he said, as was already your tradition, and you smiled widely.

You walked back to the table taking his arm and after summarizing a few months of history to Matthew the two of you finally got to play. Spencer beat you in less than 5 minutes, but the satisfaction you felt finding out that he was so smart, as well as handsome, was completely worth your loss.

You only managed to beat him after half a year, because from that moment on Spencer was so distracted by your face that it was hard for him to concentrate on the plays. And when you became his girlfriend, all you had to do was steal a few kisses from him to ensure your victory, which, honestly, didn't bother him in the least.

[vivwritesfics]

No Need To Ask

Chapter Twenty-Three - Without Him

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

2.1K words

Series Masterlist

Recap from a previous chapter:

Carlos's phone vibrated against his chest. He picked it up, reading the text. "What is it?" Y/N asked softly, gently. Carlos wasn't hiding the screen from her or anything, but the text was in Spanish and she couldn't yet read it.

"My mother," he answered as he replied to the message. She was okay, had been in contact with Carlos ever since she'd made it to Alonsos safehouse.

As much as the Sainz family and the Alonso family hated each other, they had an agreement in place. If anything happened to the Sainz, those who could get out were to get to Alonsos territory if they could. It worked both way, with the Sainz offering sanctuary for Alonso and his men if needs be.

Señora Sainz had made it to Alonsos territory. By the time she'd gotten there, the attackers had left Alonsos. It was in a state, everything broken, documents missing, just like Carlos's house.

Alonso hadn't escaped like the Sainz family had. He had a bookcase that he could hide behind. Once he was behind it, the bookcase looked bolted to the wall, unmovable. Nobody thought to look for Alonso in there.

When Señora Sainz arrived at the Alonso house, he took her and her daughters to his own safehouse.

While she was in the Verstappen Stronghold, Max was the only person Y/N spoke to. He was the only person who would speak back to her.

She'd heard the rumours growing up, that Max Verstappen was as ruthless and terrifying as his father. But she didn't see that. To her, Max was sweet and kind and definitely not terrifying.

He loved joking, loved making her laugh. Actually, he was the best company she could have asked for while she was waiting for her husband to return.

Max gave her the tour of the Verstappen stronghold. He showed her the library, the home cinema, Max's very own game room. That game room wasn't Y/N's sort of game room. There were screens and monitors on every wall, with every type of gaming console known to man. There was a cabinet full of board games, Monopoly, cluedo, battleships, and chess.

The two of them spent a lot of time in the games room, playing chess with him. Well, it was more like Y/N playing a game of chess alone while Max playing his racing games on his xbox and tried his best to talk to her at the same time.

It wasn't like last time, when Y/N was the newcomer in Carlos's house. She wasn't going to rot away in her room while she waited for her husband to return. Time would pass by quicker if she kept herself busy.

"So, you're pregnant?" Asked Max as he drove around the corner. His set up had a proper steering wheel with the foot pedals and everything.

Y/N looked up from her game of chess. "Did Carlos give it away?"

Nodding his head, Max concentrated on the game. But the bots he was playing against were all colliding into the back of him, causing him to retire from the race. "Actually, he said you guys are gonna name the baby after me."

She couldn't stop herself from laughing at him. "Somehow, I really doubt that, Max."

"Yeah, but think about," he said, turning in his gaming chair. "You could name it Maximus Sainz, which is probably the most bad ass name for a head of family, ever."

Y/N rolled her eyes. She and Max continued chatting casually in this fashion as he played his racing simulator and she played her game of chess. Day after day went like this, but she didn't get bored. Not while she was waiting for Carlos to return.

Max was her solace in this time.

***

When Carlos returned to Spain, he was incredibly scared for his own life, although he'd never admit it. He had a wife who he loved, a wife who loved him, and a baby on the way. It wasn't like when he was a kid and he could throw himself into the line of fire without a second thought. There were people who counted on him. People he wanted to be there for.

When he landed back in Spain, from what was hopefully his last ever commercial flight, he rented a car. His car was too recognisable now.

His driving was still smooth as he headed back to his house. Their house. The house they were going to raise their baby in.

As he drove, his phone buzzed. Carlos easily answered it as he continued towards the house, holding the phone up to his ear as he steered. "Hamilton," he said into the phone.

"Sainz. I am sorry to hear about your father," said Lewis. "I've heard from almost everybody but you that they have managed to recover. How are you doing?"

Carlos sucked in a breath. "They found us in the safehouse," he said. "I've had to send my wife away but I won't be saying where, if it's okay with you," he said and Lewis agreed. So, Carlos continued. "I am heading back to my house to rebuild," he said.

"Keep us informed," said Lewis.

Carlos hesitated before hanging up. He had just one question left for the head of all of the families. "Norris, is he okay?" He asked him.

"Yes," Lewis answered quickly. "He's tightened his security, just as all of us have."

Carlos hung up the phone. There was no goodbyes in the mafia family, they just stopped the call. Carlos pulled over to dial one more number.

"Y/N?" Said the person on the other side as soon as they picked up.

Carlos pulled back onto the road, driving towards the house. "No, Lando. It's her husband," he said flatly.

The noise Lando made was unrecognisable. "Where is Y/N? Is she okay?" He asked quickly, urgency in his voice. Clearly, he was panicked.

"Yes, Lando, she's fine. I've gotten her somewhere safe," Carlos answered. "But I need you to do me a favour and call Max," he said.

"He's right next to me."

For a moment, Carlos frowned. He'd just left Max in the Netherlands. What on earth did Lando mean? But then it clicked. He always seemed to forget about Lando's best friend Max. "No, the other Max," he said. "Verstappen. Give Max Verstappen a call," He said and put down the phone.

Carlos drove the rest of his way to the house in silence, just praying that Lando did what he asked.

He pulled up to the house, the gates shutting behind him. They'd have to go, he thought as he imagined a few more rows of wall and gates. It would all have to be completely fortified.

He abandoned his car and walked into the house. The doors were already being replaced by metal ones, ones that bolted shut and required a retinal scan to get in.

Carlos made his way up to his office. That was where all the controls would be. It had been cleaned up by his men since the last time he'd been there, his papers put back into order. There was a stack of receipts, the costs of fortifying the house.

He wanted guard dogs, too. They weren't his usual sort of dog, with Carlos preferring something small. But he'd get the biggest dog around if it meant keeping his wife and unborn child safe.

He checked his weapons, all of them still where he had left them. Aside from the few papers, the thieves hadn't stolen anything. It was so confusing, what they actually wanted from him. They hadn't stolen anything of value, just paperwork.

The thieves had only seemed to attack every other family once. But Carlos had been targeted twice. Why? What did they want with him?

He signed some papers, allowing construction to start.

***

"You!" Shouted Señora Sainz as she stared at Oscar. She grabbed a hold of Alonso's gun and pointed it straight at Oscars chest. "What do you think you're doing here!?"

Suddenly, Alonso grabbed a hold of the gun, taking it away from Señora Sainz. "Now, now," he said, placing it in one of the many desk drawers. "There is no need to resort to violence."

Señora Sainz grumbled and crossed her hands over her chest, glaring daggers at Oscar. "I'm sorry to barge in like this," he said, although his tone suggested anything but apology. "But I've got nowhere else to go. Y/N and Carlos have gone and I can't get back to Australia," he said.

"As Webber's boy, you're allowed sanctuary here," said Alonso as he stood up to shake Oscar's hand.

Oscar visibly deflated, like he was a balloon that had lost all of it's air. He suddenly realised just how exhausted and hungry and thirsty he was.

But, before he could ask Alonso for some food, Señora Sainz cut in. "What of my son and his wife?" She asked suddenly.

Unable to hold himself up anymore, Oscar sank into the nearest seat. "They got away," he said. "While we were being ambushed, Carlos managed to get her out. I'm not sure where they are now."

"What ambush?" Asked Alonso.

"Those thieves, the ones that broke into every house. They came for us in the safehouse."

Alonso frowned. He shouted something in Spanish and two of his men strode forward. Oscar recognised one of them to be Lance, on loan from Stroll in Canada. Lando grabbed a hold of Oscar and walked him through the house, promising him food.

Oscar allowed himself to be dragged along. If he didn't get something to eat soon, there was no way he was making it through the night.

***

Max's phone rang. He looked at the caller I.D, a smile gracing his features. He held a finger up to Y/N and ducked out of the home theatre, walking out to the hall to answer the call. "Little Lando Norris," he said, wearing a smile.

"You can't call me that now, Maximillian," Lando responded with a slight grumble. "I'm a head of family now."

Max rolled his eyes. It really was easy to forget that Lando now had as much power as his father did. It wasn't fair, wasn't fair that someone younger than him had to deal with such a burden. "What do you wan?" He asked, his voice still chipper as he leaned against the wall.

"Carlos said I should call you," Lando said, jumping straight to the point.

Max shrugged his shoulders. "Probably because I've got your sister here," he said.

Lando made another one of those unintelligible noises. "What?!" He cried. "What do you mean? Is Y/N in the Netherlands? Are you in Spain? Can I speak to her?"

Unsure just quite how to answer that many questions at once, Max walked back into the theatre and passed the phone to his house guest. She looked at her host in confusion as she took the phone and lifted it to her ear. "Hello?" She called, her voice unsure.

"Y/N?" Came the startled voice of her brother. "Is that actually you?"

"Holy shit, Lando!" She stood, walking into the hall as Max went back to watching the movie. "You're safe," she said. "You're safe, you're safe, you're safe!"

"I've been so worried about you! Why're you with Max? Where is Carlos?"

Their conversation was a jumble of voices, the both of them trying to talk over the top of each other. Y/N needed Lando to shut up and listen and he was rambling, clearly stressed. Y/N could picture him now, his tie knotted too tight, his curls a mess, sticking up in every direction from where he had been pulling them.

"I'm pregnant!" She blurted out when he wouldn't shut up.

That did the trick. Lando fell silent. "Lan, you're going to be an uncle."

"Well, that's great and all, but you haven't actually answered any of my questions," Lando answered.

It wasn't the answer Y/N had been hoping for, but at least he wasn't stressing anymore. So, she calmly and collectedly took him through the events that had ended with her in the Netherlands and Carlos back in Spain.

Lando had only interrupted her once, with a little cry of 'they ambushed you twice?!' but he quickly let her get back to her story.

"That's it," he said as soon as she had finished speaking. "I'm bringing you home right now."

Taglist (CLOSED): @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @topguncultleader @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane @thehufflepuffavenger1 @champagneproblems17 @aespie @yukheizcigarettes @rewmuslupin @hollie911 @ashy-kit @ririgy @stqrgir1 @zaynzierulez @minkyungseokie @rafaaoli @carolinesainz @ashies-ln4op81aa22 @measimp @mizelophsun11 @eviethetheatrefreak @andydrysdalerogers @formulaal @graciewrote @biancathecool @evans-dejong @sparklyperfectionstranger @venusesworld @goldenharrysworld @cassie0sstuff @gracielukey @watermelonworries @celesteblack08 @shobaes @chonkybonky

[gatitties]

Web of love

─Yandere!Jujutsu Kaisen x fem!reader (platonic)

─Summary: You're hoping to go out for a while on your own, but of course, there's always someone watching closely

─Warnings: mahito, blood, toxic behaviors, obsession, yandere stuff

Part One / Part Two / Part Four

The blank pages: Part One / Par Two

YOU WERE in a bad position and the next move made you lose the game, you didn't care at all, already used to this routine of losing.

"I don't understand how you can be so bad at playing this."

"I was never interested in board games, and even less so in chess."

You shrugged your shoulders as you watched Sukuna checkmate again, you sighed, narrowing your eyes, this night seemed excessively long, even when the king of curses himself offered you to have friendly games during the nights where you coincided in his domain ─because this idiot didn't have anything better to do either─ after a few games you end up bored, not to mention that you were always the one who lost.

"Let's make a deal, brat."

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow at his words, you were definitely discovering many unknown tints about Sukuna while you were locked up here, you nodded waiting for him to continue, although you already had your answer in mind, neither you nor him had anything better to do here.

"You don't like sorcerers and neither do I, but I'm not part of the group of villains of mediocre curses, you don't want to be involved with them either, why don't we help each other?"

"How do I know I can trust you? Also, how could I help? I have flesh and blood surveillance cameras out there."

"Once you make a deal, you agree to some rules, if the person breaks them they will receive a punishment, and you can be useful if I use you against them."

"So I only serve as a bargaining chip? What the hell do I gain from that?"

"Protection-"

"Don't I have enough of that already?"

"Shut up and let me finish." you let out a soft sigh, cringing at his demand, this geezer made you tremble in your seat when he seemed angry, but you would never admit it out loud "You don't need more protection, but your family does, don't they? You are not even aware of the dangers they are exposed to."

Again, everyone seemed to know how to play with your feelings, you frowned thinking about your parents, you called them recently to update them on your supposed exchange with other students and they didn't seem consumed by cursed energy or any malaise in general, they definitely seemed better now that you weren't hanging around and attracting all those bad energies, although you were unaware that the real danger was not what you were attracting, but the people who are trying to have you just for themselves, for them your parents were an obstacle.

"Well? We have a deal?"

He extended his hand, with a sly smile as if he were already waiting for an affirmative answer, you remained silent for a couple more seconds, staring at his hand, you brought yours closer, placing it on top of his, but not shaking it.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to reject."

"What!? Are you an idiot?"

"Probably, but maybe this pact will only bring me more problems, you know… the whole fucking world is after you, or your fingers, or your head."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, you could feel his anger expanding even outside his body, you even thought he would kill you right there so he wouldn't see you again for the moment, however he started to laugh, increasing the volume of his laughter like if he were a psychopath.

"You really don't know anything about this world or the people around you, okay, I'll let the weight of your choice fall on your shoulders, but I won't make you the offer again."

You gave him a thumbs up, not even looking at Sukuna as you had your nose stuck in your phone, a little bored with the talk about pacts and protection, if you were going to get out of this cursed world situation it would be on your own and without anyone's help, if that led to your perdition so be it, but at least you could choose what you wanted.

He got a little twitch in his eye when he saw that he was being ignored or that you didn't really care about his comment, annoyed with that electronic device that was taking up all your attention, he seemed like one of those anti-internet parents who believe that the new technologies are the devil, luckily you woke up before he could grab your phone and throw it into the air.

You returned to your routine, each day a little less sane and more annoyed by the attitude of the sorcerers around you, you had thought so many times about accepting Mahito's offers to 'fight' at his side simply to annoy the others, however you would be giving the pleasure to the villains, which you were not going to do either, in no way, no one would have privileges, everyone is equally guilty that your life is now a spiral of obsession and overprotection, not to mention the macabre creatures that chase you.

Sometimes you think that if you had met them under different circumstances you would not have such a forced relationship with some of them, Itadori seemed like a good boy, Megumi has his moments but he is not a bad person, Nobara would be a great friend and Gojo… is a separate topic.

Today was a day in which you thanked all the gods of all the religions ever known, the three of them were on a mission that you were not allowed to go on, Gojo was busy with other matters that you did not know about and you did not know the whereabouts of the sophomores, so you had some peace of mind.

You took the opportunity to leave the vicinity of the Jujutsu high school now that you didn't have eyes on you, throwing yourself into the streets full of noise and normal people, oh how you missed being an npc who simply did daily errands and slept without having to worry about what curses and sorcerers were after you, you would really pay to erase the memory of all the people introduced into your life these last few months.

You walked for a while without any mishap, which made you suspect that everything was too calm, you shrugged, taking out your phone to check the time, however in just a second the object was completely torn from your hands, you blinked with a blank look as you watched the thief run away, too distracted trying not to scream in front of the crowd of people, you didn't notice how a black blur ran off in the same direction as the thief, the same direction you took a second after. You kept all your annoyance to yourself, smiling fully as you followed the path of the asshole who had had the brilliant idea of stealing you, of all people.

There was no way you were letting that guy get away when you bought that phone relatively recently with your own sweat and tears, without the monetary help of your parents, you were not willing to buy another one, plus it was your only way to evade the reality in which you were trapped now. You dodged people, dogs, you were almost run over but you managed to get on the heels of the thief, whatever the case, someone jumped on him before you could trip him and punch him.

"What do you think you're doing!? Shit like you stealing something from my precious sister!"

"AHH- I'm sorry- I- please!"

You stayed frozen in place, your face turned pale, your blood rushing out of your veins as you watched the thief being brutally beaten by the man with two messy buns, oh yeah, you forgot that you had some weirdo following you and proclaiming himself your 'brother'. You slowly walked over to your phone that had been dropped and slid due to the fight, hoping not to draw Choso's attention as he left the guy's face to a pulp, you silently crouched down, checking that, luckily, there weren't any scratches on the screen, with the same tranquility you got up, hoping to be able to continue without being noticed.

The blood that returned to your face left again as quickly as you felt a hand on your shoulder, you clenched your fist knowing that it wouldn't be so easy to get out of this curse's range of attention.

"Choso!"

Without time to react, the same hand that was holding your shoulder pushed you behind some garbage containers, crashing your other shoulder against the wall. You didn't allow yourself to let out a moan of pain because you recognized the voice that had called Choso.

"Mahito… do you need something?"

"No, actually I was just passing by, what's up with that guy?"

He pointed childishly and nonchalantly at the barely conscious thief on the ground, his entire face and surroundings splattered with blood as were the knuckles of his attacker.

"Nothing, I thought he had one of Sukuna's fingers, it turned out to be just a residue of his presence."

"Oh, that's a shame, at least I can have a new toy."

He stuck out his tongue, giving the 'peace' sign to his accomplice, you covered your mouth with your hands and closed your eyes as you heard the screams of pain and terror of the poor devil who had decided to steal you, his body contorted, deforming into a strange thing that Mahito devoured afterwards. You wanted to get out of here if possible without either of them noticing but it would be too difficult to do so, at least, you settled for Mahito not discovering you for the moment, but maybe you should think twice before.

"Oh, why is my favorite human trying to hide?"

You jumped in fear immediately as you came face to face with his sickly smile, taking a second to look behind him and see Choso's irritated face who seemed to want to spend time with you alone and not with Mahito involved.

The situation in which you least wanted to be involved, trapped with the greatest threats to your life expectancy, and not only because they could kill you just by touching your body, but because they exhausted your entire social battery exponentially, were, without a doubt, worse than being caught in a fight between Gojo and Sukuna, these curses would make you seriously reconsider whether life is really worth it.

The change from walking the streets of the city encapsulated in your own thoughts to walking the streets with two possibly precursors of human extinction was a huge leap, definitely something you didn't expect to be doing, if they gave you the choice, you'd rather be listening to everything Nobara had done in her training while Itadori fought for your attention, but here you were, holding Choso's hand because he was too paranoid of losing you among the people frequenting a crowded street while Mahito looked at all the stores like a child full of curiosity.

The truth is that you thought it was going to be something worse, you thought you would see a lot more blood, murders or something like that ─maybe today just wasn't the time─, after all these guys were considered the villains, however you swallowed your words when you even found yourself “enjoying” the rest of the afternoon, it wasn't much different than how the sorcerers treated you, they just dragged you around talking to themselves as you barely answered them or simply nodded or denied their words.

The sensation was so ordinary at this point that you felt like it was Nobara who was pulling your hand instead of Choso, you even noticed the same concern in his eyes when you tripped over your own feet because you were distracted.

When the sun began to set on the horizon, letting the cold tones paint the sky, you decided that you had to leave, you were not the only one who thought about it, although Mahito knows that he could use you to his advantage, he knew that threats Sukuna's were not things to play with, and he had already been warned once, he just watched from afar as Choso said goodbye to you, disinterested but without taking his eyes off your face, a smile beginning to appear on his face as he imagined the different ways in which to destroy that pretty face of yours, not for you, but to see the expressions that those who had so much esteem for you would make, just thinking about their expressions when they saw your death caused him an indescribable feeling.

"Send me a message when you arrive, don't take shortcuts and go through busy streets and ah- take this, it's starting to get cold, I don't want you to get sick."

Choso bombarded you with requests to get to the school safely since they couldn't get anywhere near there, you ignored the fact that he stole your phone to add his number and loosened the scarf he had wrapped around your neck since he pulled it too tight, just you agreed to all his requests in the hope that he could set you free once and for all, promising that you would send him over if some weirdo did anything to you.

You sighed in relief once you crossed a corner, losing sight of Mahito's amused gaze and Choso's distressed one, although your relief didn't last long when you bumped into a man's arm, not just any man.

"Here you were…" he took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes "Do you know the commotion you've caused by disappearing like that out of nowhere?"

Nanami looked at you with a slight frown, you shrugged not knowing what to answer him, he himself seemed worried enough about your whereabouts, his breathing was slightly accelerated and his usually neat hair had a couple of loose strands.

"I'm… sorry?"

He sighed heavily at your inability to understand everyone's concern, he took you safely back to the high school where everyone was waiting impatiently to receive the news from the blonde. Once there you were greeted by two pairs of arms clinging to you, Nobara and Itadori still not learning that thing about personal space, Megumi was simply scanning you, frowning at the scarf, Gojo remained silent, scanning your body for of possible injuries with the help of the power of the six eyes, he smiled to himself when he saw no scratches, but his face darkened when he saw traces of cursed energy, not just any cursed energy of course. He knew you were smart enough not to switch sides, so he should keep you further away from the idea of going out on your own again.

You narrowed your eyes as you felt his gaze on you despite having his eyes covered, he only greeted you with a giggle, commenting that you were lucky that 'Nanamin' had found you in time before something bad happened to you.

When the worry of the moment passed, everyone dispersed to do whatever they were doing before discovering that you were nowhere to be found, only you and Megumi were left in the room.

"You look exhausted."

Before you could figure out if you could sleep peacefully today or play chess another night with Sukuna, he began a light chat with you.

"Why would it be?"

You responded sarcastically, following the talk for a couple of minutes until you decided you had enough human or cursed interaction for the day, your bed was waiting for you and your tears had been trapped inside your eyes for a long time, you needed some comfort that right now only you pillow ─and sometimes not even that─ could give you.

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 15

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: Thank you as always for the lovely responses on the previous chapter! It was a long one, so thank you for sticking through with me. We're about to lighten up a little with some Christmas spirit! ❄️🎁

**Also, if you're a fan of The Boys (and Soldier Boy), there's an awesome book you can check out, called Supes Ain’t Always Heroes: Inside the Complex Characters and Twisted Psychology of The Boys.

If you want to learn more about the book (including cast interviews and a character study on Soldier Boy), I wrote a review about it here!

Otherwise, on to some more firefighter!Dean!

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, fluff, tinge of angst, hurt/comfort, lots of feels.

Part 15: “The Good Part”

“How many damn arrests does that make?” Daniel asked. He gripped his pool cue with both hands while he leaned on it.

His son stood at the other end of the pool table, lining up his shot. He paused to think.

“Six,” Nick replied. His cue released, and it knocked two of his balls into the pocket.

“Six,” Daniel repeated, while Nick came his way to find an angle for his next turn.

Daniel shook his head. His lips were angrily pursed. His eyes might’ve been on the pool game, but he was playing chess in his mind. He had underestimated John Winchester for far too long, it seemed.

The man was stubborn as all hell. And he’d been busy lately, getting “Azazel’s” men busted for all manners of bullshit.

“Alastair’s mole says Winchester’s been calling in favors from his old friends in Narcotics, trying to bust our small fries,” Nick reported. “Getting them on everything from petty theft to drug possession, with intent to sell. But it’s nothing we can’t pull ‘em out of.”

“Time, money, added risk,” Daniel cited on his fingers all the reasons why John Winchester was a pain in his ass. “It’s only a matter of time before they get a warrant to rip apart Savage & Co., sweep the whole damn building. For forensic evidence, our files, all the jazz.”

Daniel’s fingers drummed thoughtfully against his chin. “A damn cop thinks he’s being cute.”

Nick missed his second turn. His hand fell against his thigh in annoyance, but he looked up.

“Dad, it’s your move.”

Daniel rubbed at his chin. His eyes were no longer seeing the board in front of him. Eventually, they slid up and met his son’s gaze.

“We’re going to start from the beginning,” he said.

Nick’s face gave away his confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

Daniel just smiled.

It was Christmas Day, and John was late. Sam and Dean were used to that drill, so they weren’t expecting him until dinnertime.

Meanwhile, it gave you a chance to find your footing as you got to know Eileen. She had helped you bake the pies that were now cooling on the counter (pumpkin and berry crumble), and a few of the side dishes for dinner. Sam had covered cleaning up the rest of the house, while Dean tackled his favorites: the ham and the mac and cheese.

Now the guys were in the living room watching football while you and Eileen were still in the kitchen, decorating some gingerbread cookies you two had made. She enjoyed it; doing holiday crafts with her students had been bringing out her artistic side, she told you. You were happy for the help and the conversation.

You later tried to cover up your snort of laughter as she finished telling you the story of how Dean once dared Sam to wear women’s underwear for a whole week.

If he managed it, Dean had promised to do all the household chores for three months. If Sam couldn’t make it the whole week, then he would face the consequences: Dean would tell their dad about the bet.

“How old were they?” you asked.

Eileen scoffed. “Sam was a senior in college.”

You burst out laughing again. “So too old, is the answer… Did he win?”

Eileen gave you a mischievous smile.

“He did,” Dean said, as he appeared in the kitchen doorway with a familiar smirk. “I’ve got photographic evidence. It was a cheetah print thong, in case you were wondering.”

Your eyes widened on a laugh. “Oh my God.”

Cheetahlicious, you couldn’t help joking in your mind. Even if you’d rather not think of Sam wearing a pair of Victoria Secret’s best.  

Eileen giggled with you. Dean’s amusement gave way to curiosity as he eyed the little gingerbread men you two were icing. You warned him off with your eyes, but it took Eileen batting his hand when he tried to steal a cookie.

“Hey! Wait ‘til after dinner,” she said.

Dean pouted. “Come on, don’t be stingy.”

Rolling her eyes, Eileen sighed.

“You’re like one of my kids,” she said, while signing with her hands. But she caved and handed him a cookie. “Here. To tide you over.”

Dean smiled and signed back to her in ASL, Thank you.

“That’s why you’re my favorite,” he said. He leaned down to kiss her cheek in a brotherly gesture.

He shot you a wink before taking a bite of his prize. You shook your head at him, even though you were smiling. He came around to your side of the table. His hand rested on your back and he bent down towards your ear.  

“I actually came over for you,” he said. “Got a minute?”

Your brows rose, but you turned to Eileen in askance. “I’ll be right back. Is that okay?”

She nodded and made an “OK” gesture. “Of course.”

You smiled and let Dean lead you out of your chair, and even out of the apartment. He made sure you both grabbed your coats by the front door.

“Where are we going?” you asked. While you put on your coat over your sweater and jeans, you didn’t notice him grabbing two sets of keys.

“Just downstairs. No big deal,” he said, hefting on his own leather jacket.

You eyed him with some suspicion, but you walked with him down to the elevators and let him keep you close to his side. He smelled like the cologne you bought him for Christmas, and he was already wearing the new watch as well.

You’d struggled to find him the right gift. Nothing felt quite enough after everything he’d done for you the last few months. He’d assured you that he was grateful for both gifts, and had even tried to say the watch looked too expensive. (You’d shut him up with a kiss.)

Now, you had to wonder what he was up to as he led you into the parking lot, but not toward Baby. Instead, you two stopped in front of a shiny silver Chevy parked in a guest spot.

“Dean, what’d you do?” you asked, both excited and worried. He shot you a grin and dangled the keys in front of you.

“You like her?” he asked. His eyes were dancing. “You could keep her, if you ask nicely.”

Your face slackened. You looked between him and the sleek looking car.

“What?” You covered your mouth with both hands. Even after a few moments, your brain was still having a hard time computing. “No…what? Oh my God!”

You grabbed onto his jacket, just in case your legs failed you. Dean laughed and gathered you up in his arms. By the time you peeled your eyes away from the silver beauty to look up at your boyfriend, there were tears already swimming in your eyes.

“Dean, this is really too much. Where’d you find—”

“Bobby had it sitting in his garage for years,” he explained. His hand came up to brush your cheek, and the tears there. “I cleaned her up, dropped in a new engine, safe-proofed with new tires, new airbags, the works. Got her purring like a kitten.”

Your eyes grew a little wider with every admission. Then you softened, gripping the edges of his jacket while you bit your lip to keep it from wobbling.

“How much did he sell it to you for?” you asked. Dean dropped his head back with a sigh.

“Don’t you wanna take a test ride before we start hagglin’?”

You lightly smacked his chest. “Hey. How much?”

He let out another heavy sigh, but you eventually got it out of him. While the price wasn’t as bad as you might’ve expected, you still shook your head.

“I still have a decent chunk of insurance money left. I’m giving you at least half,” you said.

Dean shook his head. “This is my gift to you.”

Your lips pursed, despite the smile that wanted to peek through.

“Nice try,” you said wryly. “You already got me perfume.”

“That was just the decoy.” He grinned, and held you a bit tighter against him. He nodded towards the car. “She’s the main event.”

You wanted to sigh, but this conversation wasn’t over. You were definitely not letting him buy you a whole new…old car. You turned to look at it again.

“What model is this?” you asked.

“2002 Camaro Z28,” Dean rattled off. It sounded impressive, but you didn’t know much about cars.

He let go of you so you could get a closer look. Your hand passed over the hood, but didn’t touch, as if you were afraid of staining the paint with your fingerprints. He had to admit, he’d waxed it up good and managed to get rid of a lot of superficial nicks and scratches.

What he said was true though; Bobby had given him a frankly ridiculous deal. Because when Dean had told him what you’d been through after the car accident, dealing with your grandfather’s passing, and now your ever-mounting expenses, Bobby hadn’t let him walk away from Singer Salvage with anything else but this car. He’d even helped Dean get the new parts he needed to fix it up.

“Is it automatic or manual?” you asked, trying to peer through the driver’s window. “I haven’t driven stick in a hell of a long time.”

Dean came up from behind you and his warm hand found your hip. You let him draw you back into his arms, leaning against his chest.

His lips were close to your ear when he said, “I think you’re damn good at driving stick.”

It took you a second, but the heavily laden innuendo in his deep voice was hard to miss. You uttered a laugh and swatted his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said. You were still smiling when you turned and twined your arms around his neck. Then you leaned up for a kiss—one that kept getting deeper with the full force of your gratefulness, and your love for this man.

“It’s an automatic,” he answered, between kisses. You giggled against his lips.

You barely felt the chill on the air. Your heart was beating fast, even when you pulled away from him. Your eyes slowly opened and met his. He smiled down at you and curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear. As usual, you had most of it clipped up.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was quiet, but steady.

You let out a shaky breath. Emotion was clogging your throat, making your tears burn anew.

“This is a bit more than a Christmas present,” you said. He gave a more self-deprecating smile.

“Well, it’s also kind of an apology,” he said. “For getting you mixed up in my ‘family business.’”

He still felt guilt beyond belief for putting you in danger. For your life being threatened. For being the reason you couldn’t go home.

You just shook your head. Your hand raised to press against his cheek. Your thumb drew tenderly along his chin.

“I thought you said you were part of my family now?” you said. “We’ll figure this out together, like everything else.”

Dean’s eventual smile lightened you, and his kiss warmed you down to your toes. 

“If you want, let’s go for a ride after dinner,” he said.

It was your turn to smirk. Your hands migrated under his jacket and teased at his belt.

“Well, I’m certainly down for a ride,” you said.

Dean laughed and squeezed your hips. “All right. I’m puttin’ you on my naughty list.”

When John finally arrived, the brothers welcomed him in first with big man hugs and good-natured ribbing for him being so damn late.

In Sam’s words, Upholding a Winchester family tradition.

John had taken that with a chuckle. “Smells damn good in here.”

“Yeah, food’s been done for an hour,” Dean prodded at him again. His grin betrayed his teasing, however. His welcoming hand stayed on his dad’s shoulder until they reached the living room, where Sam had set up a longer fold out table and chairs to function as the makeshift dining room, since the table near the kitchen only seated three.

There you were opening a bottle of Jack Daniels. You smiled up at John.

“Figured you were more of a whiskey than wine kind of guy,” you said. You were a bit nervous to see him again, no doubt with flour in your hair and frosting staining your hands. He clasped your shoulder with a hint of a smile.

“You’d be right. Good to see you, darlin’,” he said.

“You too,” you replied. Despite the fact that the first and last time you two had met, it had been in front of your house as the police rifled through your life, looking for more explosives. He graciously didn’t bring that up as he greeted Eileen next.

Once dinner was on the table, there was a lot of catching up between the brothers and their father while you and Eileen continued talking, even through dessert.

“This really is amazing,” she told you, pointing her fork at her slice of berry crumble. “I can see why you went to culinary school.”

You blushed as Sam, Dean, and even John echoed her praise. All three men had generous slices of both pies. 

“Well, thank you. I’m glad you guys enjoy it,” you said, and your smile was genuine.

You loved making good food, but you loved feeding people even more. Whether it was a simple hearty soup or a rich dessert, you liked putting smiles on their faces and giving them a good experience; one they could share with their family and friends. Even better if it was your family.

Or as Dean would say, Your people. 

To you, that was life.

“I’m tellin’ you, if you opened up a bakery you’d make a killing in this town,” Dean said. He nudged your hand with the one that held his fork; it held a precarious piece of pumpkin pie.

You shot him an amused look.

“Don’t you look at me sideways, I’m serious,” he said, laughing a little, but his gaze was steady.

Your cheeks warmed against your will. He believed in your dream, even when you couldn’t quite let yourself.

“Hey, if you ever want to look into applying for a loan, I could help,” Sam said, earning your attention. “I have a friend who works at a bank.”

Your brows raised. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we were pre-law together back in college, but he figured he was better with numbers.”

You smiled. “Well, it would make it easier knowing I was dealing with your friend.”

“Yeah, his name’s Brady. Let me know if you want me to call him,” he said.

You bit your lip, but you nodded. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

Maybe they were right. Maybe you should start to believe in yourself, just a little bit more.

“This was all real delicious,” John said to you, when you came back from bringing the leftovers to the kitchen.

Sam and Dean were already arguing about who was doing the dishes and who was drying them. Meanwhile, Eileen was putting away the food (and probably rolling her eyes).

“Yeah, it was a team effort for sure,” you replied. “Dean’s actually a really good cook.”

John chuckled. “Yeah, well, he didn’t get that from me. I can barely boil a damn egg.”

You smiled to yourself; you could imagine Dean got it from his mother then.

Meanwhile, John was watching you stack the empty plates as he grew more contemplative. He’d always been proud of his sons. They were good men, with strong heads on their shoulders.

He often looked at Sam and saw that he seemed happy. Despite the demands of his job, he was learning to balance that with the life he led with Eileen. As a father, John looked forward to the day when they made a firm foundation, taking the next step towards building a life together.

But Dean had seemed to him, a little unstable. John was still proud of his eldest, but while he’d seen a glimpse of it that day at your house, he saw it even more today. Like his son finally had an anchor, tethering him to dry land.

Even so, he couldn’t help heaving a sigh. And he asked you something he knew he shouldn’t.

“Have you given any more thought to filing a report on Nick Savage?” he asked.

You paused in your plate and cup stacking. You looked up at him with a frown, but you thought about your words before you said something rude.

“Yes, I did,” you replied. “I decided my life and my peace were more important.”

He let out a short sigh. “I understand—”

“I’m sorry, John, but I don’t think you do,” you said. Your words were matter-of-fact, if a tad more sharp than you meant them to be. Your hands were starting to tremble.

You crossed your arms to try and steady yourself, but Dean ended up doing just that, by joining your side and resting a hand at the small of your back. He was frowning, glancing between you and his father.

“Tell me you’re not talking about what I think you are,” Dean said, addressing John in particular. “Not on damn Christmas.”

“Like you said, it’s her decision,” John replied. His gaze once again focused on you.

You let out a breath, mostly of exasperation.

“I’m going to bottom-line it for you. If I report that man, and you can’t guarantee me a job and safety until it’s all over, then I’m not poking the bear,” you said. “I plan to keep my head down until I can find another job. Until then, you can have at him all you want. Just leave me out of it.”

Part of you felt selfish. You knew what John was trying to accomplish, and you knew how personal this fight was for him, and for Sam and Dean for that matter. You just couldn’t shake your gut instincts here. You knew Nick far too well by now, and you didn’t want to underestimate him again.

“I agree,” said Dean. You gave him a grateful look.

John conceded with a nod, but all of you knew he wasn’t satisfied. It became a bitter ending to an otherwise brilliant day after he left for the night.

In your mind, it wasn’t quite over yet though. You had a plan up your sleeve for one Dean Winchester.

Sam and Eileen had their own time together while you and Dean went for a drive in your new car. You’d have to transfer your plate and registration and insurance, so it was technically an “illegal” drive, but it was already late and traffic was scarce.

By the time you pulled back into the parking lot, you were smiling from ear to ear, and Dean was giving you that smug grin that said, Aw yeah, I did good.

You couldn’t even fault him for it, because he did exactly that.

Even when you and Dean were getting ready for bed, it didn’t quite feel real. You were living with your boyfriend of just a few months, you now had a new car, and a crime lord had threatened your life.

You chose to focus on the new car. And on your boyfriend, who sat on the edge of his side of the bed, rubbing his right shoulder through his shirt. You knew it must still be sore, though he likely wouldn’t admit it.

Hence, you were about to enact Phase 1 of your plan…

You hadn’t undressed yet from your jeans and sweater, but you crawled across the bed to come up behind him and drop a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“How’s your slugging arm?” you asked.

Dean quirked a smile at you over his shoulder. “Just fine.”

“Dean,” you said. Your tone was gentle, but warning. No downplaying.

You pressed your lips against the side of his head and soothed your hand along his shoulder and down his arm. Still, he was resistant.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he said.

You hummed. “Okay. I guess you don’t need a massage then.”

He paused. His head tilted just so, once again turning to you over his shoulder. You spied the edge of his piqued interest, his grin.

“Well, if you’re offering…”

You withdrew your hand from his arm, but you spoke close to his ear.

“Are you asking?”

He let out a small sigh, despite his lingering smile.

“All right. Will you please give me a lil’ massage?” he asked.

He couldn’t see your triumphant smile, but you happily kissed his cheek.

“I sure can,” you replied. You laid gentle hands on his shoulders, however briefly. “Stay right here. Don’t move, but take off your shirt.”

“All right, Miss Bossy,” he grumbled. You knew he was teasing by the amused look he threw your way.

“I thought you liked that,” you teased back.

You climbed off the bed before he could playfully grab you, and you giggled all the way to the bathroom. There you began Phase 2 of your plan. 

First, you collected a few different bottles from your designated drawer under the sink. Then, you made a quick wardrobe change, after popping back into the bedroom to grab something from your nightstand.

You also connected your phone to the speaker on his nightstand and put some music on a low volume. It was a playlist he’d made and shared with you a while ago, with songs he thought you’d like. The Eagles’ “Take It to the Limit” was definitely on the list.

By the time you returned to Dean, he was indeed shirtless, still in his sweatpants, and checking his watch.  

“I’m here, I’m here,” you said. You climbed across the bed with your small haul—a difficult feat with your hands full, but you managed.

Dean turned to look at the bottles of moisturizer you dropped next to him on the bed. He rose a brow.

“Twilight Woods. Japanese Cherry Blossom. Appletini. Are these my only options?” he asked. His face was half bemused, half reluctant.

You almost burst out laughing. “Which one strikes your fancy?”

He scratched the back of his head. You opened the second bottle first (your personal favorite), so he could smell.

“Not bad actually,” he muttered. You bit your lip so you wouldn’t giggle, but you managed to open the other two for him to get a whiff.

“Eh, the first one I guess,” he said.

Japanese Cherry Blossom. AKA: a classic from Bath & Body Works.

You finally had to laugh. “Just kidding. I’ve got this.”

You held up a jar you’d been hiding behind him. Its logo said: Massage Oil.

“I just wanted to see which girly moisturizer you secretly wanna slather all over yourself,” you said.

Dean shot you a wry look, but only then did he see what you were wearing.

“Oh, hold up,” he uttered.

Your hair was let loose, how you knew he liked, and you’d teased it out a little. You’d had to give away the red lingerie you’d bought, to rid both of you of its lingering memories of your work Christmas party. Instead, you’d found something in a vibrant emerald green: satin and lace.

Dean’s hand reached for your waist, probably to bring you closer. But you playfully slapped his hand.

“Eh-eh! Not yet,” you said to his surprised face. You smiled. “I have a plan for you tonight.”

Slowly, he smirked. His eyes still dipped to take in the rest of you, from your pretty face, to exposed skin and cleavage, to shiny satin that clung to your curves and draped down to mid-thigh. 

“I can see,” he said. His voice was a notch deeper. “Merry Christmas to me.”

Despite your blush and growing smile, you turned him back around by his shoulders.

“Just relax.”

You let your hands drift up the back of his neck to slide your fingers through his hair. There you began with a slow, gentle massage of his head. You felt him take a deep breath.

You couldn’t see it, but Dean’s eyes had closed at your ministrations. He secretly really liked the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. It made his shoulders loosen; with tension he didn’t know he had releasing from the neck down.

Aside from the rigors of his job, he also had to work out and condition his body to keep up his stamina. He probably didn’t spend as much time as he should on this aspect of things, making sure he wasn’t overtaxing himself.

He appreciated what you were doing though. He knew you cared about him, that you loved him. But he liked that you were also a caring person, who tried to take care of him. Dean hadn’t really had that…from anyone before. Sometimes, it was hard for him to let you.

…Damn, we really got too much in common, he realized.

When you migrated back down his neck, your hands left for a moment to gather up some oil. It was warm against his skin when you started between his shoulders, digging with the heel of your hands.

He groaned deep, surprising even himself.

Behind him, your brows were furrowed. “You’re really knotted up here. When was the last time you had a massage?”

Dean chuckled. “Never.”

You frowned. “Hmm. Okay, we’re definitely doing this more often.”

“No complaints from me,” he said with a grin.

Of course, you gave special attention to his right shoulder. You were gentler there, asking what was tender and what felt good, or too much. By then you had an easier time getting the truth out of Dean. He let you know when the pressure was too much, and you even helped him stretch out that arm until the muscles and joints were warmed up and the pain was gone.

You encouraged him to lie on his stomach in the middle of the bed, so you could start on his back. Your hands glided down planes of muscle and smooth slopes while you straddled his thighs. The only sounds you heard from him were occasional moans and rumbling, pleased sounds. That was also what let you know that he hadn’t fallen asleep.

“Okay, turn over,” you said, smiling when he groaned in protest. “I haven’t even gotten to the good part.”

“What the hell’s the good part then?” he asked. His voice was muffled in the mattress, but when he turned around, flopping onto his back, his eyes once again took in the green satin and seemed to remember what your real intentions were.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. His grin was lazy, now that he was beyond relaxed, but his hands found purchase on your hips. You smiled down at him.

You let the remaining oil on your hands glide up his chest, until you lowered down for a kiss. It was unhurried and sweet.

“I love you, you know?” you said.

Dean swept his fingers through your hair, tucking a few strands behind your ear.

He smiled. “I’ve got some idea, yeah.”

You both laughed, soft and true. Your hand rested against his cheek as you pressed your lips to his, soft and slow at first, but soon gaining in both passion and urgency. You felt his grip on your hips tighten, grinding your center against his growing length.

He groaned. No goddamn panties on. Good.

You kissed your way from his lips to his neck. Your teeth grazed his ear while you rolled your hips into his. It was a tease for both of you, but not for long, as Dean grew impatient enough to slide his sweatpants down, followed by his hands slipping under the satin covering your thighs. They traveled further still, squeezing your breasts and rolling hardened nipples under the pads of his thumbs.

Your breath hitched, and your pleased hum was music to his ears. By now you were bracing yourself against the mattress, but you used his shoulders as leverage to raise yourself up.

You took his hands and encouraged them to bunch up the satin and pull it over your head. Dean sat up with you still in his lap, and once his strong arm wrapped around your waist, it was skin to flushed skin.

You held his face and brought him down to you for another fierce kiss. He held you tightly against him, hands splayed across your back and tangling in your hair. His arms were a cage you never wanted to escape.

But you did press away from him, just for a moment, so you could reach down between your bodies to take a firm hold of his cock. You guided it to your entrance. There was already a small flood between your legs, and your core ached for him.

There was almost no resistance when you slowly sunk your hips down and down, until he was buried deep inside you.

You both made sounds of pleasure, with labored breaths as Dean’s hand cradled your cheek. He laid open-mouthed kisses to your jaw, teeth grazing down your neck.

You clung to his shoulders and began to move, slow in the way you let almost the full length of his cock escape you, before you slid back down. Dean moaned into your skin, and you let out a shuddering sigh.

You pushed at Dean’s chest until he was lying back, and you continued rolling your hips against his. He helped you create a steady rhythm on top of him, but he was being treated to a feast of the eyes as well as the pleasure rocking through his body. He watched the way you swept your hair back. The way your eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration as you bit your lip.

But he couldn’t stay still for long; he knew he was close enough to practically taste his end, but you had some miles to go. He gripped your thigh with one hand while the other glided up between them, to further part your folds. His fingers found your clit, circling insistently like it was a button. It had your hips stuttering.

“Oh, God,” you uttered. “Dean—”

He managed to smirk through panting breaths. “Right there, right baby?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You continued to move as steadily as you could, but the feeling of him deep inside combined with his talented fingers playing you like a five-string guitar—it finally made you tighten on him, shuddering deep inside. Tingles broke across your skin, zipping up your spine as you gasped.

Dean helped you with the last few hard thrusts that brought him along with you, and you felt his warmth spilling inside you.

It was a heady feeling, and you needed a moment just to recover. Even though you were on birth control, every time he came inside you still felt like a dangerous, delicious game.

But after you slid off his lap and practically rolled into his side, him welcoming you with an arm wrapping around your waist, it did make you think, as you caught your breath.

It made you think about the first time you and Dean slept together. It had been the first and last time you’d asked him to wear a condom. The next morning, he’d made a remark that still hung in the back of your mind…

“You like kids, huh?”

The thought still rattled through your mind now, after you and Dean shared a quick shower, ridding you both of the oil clinging to your skin. The thought remained when you slid into bed, under fresh sheets and thick covers, and close to your man. He cupped your cheek and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes at the feeling.

Contrary to what this night had been, the whole “moving in together” thing hadn’t been all that easy. You two had bickered about the way he often left drawers and cabinets open and dirty clothes on the floor.

He had made remarks about your hair products taking up too much space in his drawers. Not to mention how morning routines needed to adjust because Dean liked to shower in the morning, but you needed the mirror not fogged up in order to do your makeup.

Right now, however, you had peace. You felt safe here, and you weren’t alone in a huge house filled with far too many memories.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

Dean’s lips lingered on your forehead. “Hmm?”

“I know this situation is sort of temporary, me living here,” you said. “So much has happened that we haven’t really talked about…what we both want, down the line.”

He pulled back enough from you to see your face. His face betrayed a thread of confusion.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean like…” you hesitated, but you realized you were probably going to have to be direct. “Are you a marriage and kids kind of guy? Is that even something you’ve thought about?”

Dean met your gaze. It took him a moment, but he let out a short sigh.

“You wanna know what made me want to start dating, for real?” he asked.

You blinked; you hadn’t expected that, but you nodded.

“I started thinking about what would happen if something happened to me on the job,” he said. You frowned, but before you could say anything, he raised a placating hand.

“I thought about what I’d leave behind,” said Dean. He quirked a wry smile. “It’s not much, besides my car.”

You frowned in earnest. Your hand flattened against his bare chest.

“That’s not true,” you said. “You have your brother, your father, and your friends. That’s plenty, Dean.”

He conceded that with a nod. “You’re right. But I just started thinking, maybe I want more. Like uh…like what my parents had, when they were happy. The house, each other, me and Sammy…a family.”

You couldn’t be certain in the near total darkness of the room, with only the moonlight filtering through the blinds and casting a glow behind him, but you thought you saw a shine in his eyes. Your hand crept up from beneath the covers to find his cheek. It was rough with stubble, yet you tenderly swept a thumb back and forth.

“I think that’s beautiful,” you replied.

Dean paused. He then huffed in amusement. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, hoping he could see it. 

“Then uh, is that something you’d be into?” he asked. You were amused by his tentative approach. 

“With you?” You pretended to think. Your fingers slipped into his hair. “Yeah, I think I’m into that.”

He chuckled. “Okay, then. Good to know.”

He grasped your wrist and turned his head to press a kiss into your palm.

And he spoke into the dark. “I love you too, you know.”

Your smile deepened as you rested your head against his arm. You whispered into the small space between your faces.

“Yeah, I’ve got some idea.”

AN: All righty, how'd you like that fluff overload?

...Ready for some more drama? 😏

Next Time:

But the more you thought about what you’d heard, and Nick’s ominous threat about a cop, you found yourself scrolling lower in your contacts. You called John Winchester.

It rang a few times, and all the while you made silent, fervent prayers. Pick up, damn it! You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

“Winchester,” he answered.

“John, it’s me,” you whispered. “Azazel’s here. Or, he’s not here, here, but I know who he is. Well, I mean kind of—”

“Okay, wait. Slow down,” he said. “What about Azazel? You know who he is?”

Keep Reading: PART 16

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

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[aerialworms-art]

Spocktober + Trektober Day 12 - 3D Chess

I love this meme and I love the Animated Series and its janky ass animation :3 Also the fact that they gave Spock winged eyeliner. Iconique~

(ID under cut)

[Image ID: A black and white drawing of Captain James Kirk and Spock from Star Trek, specifically in the semi-realistic style of the 1970s Animated Series.

They are sitting either side of a table where a 3D chess board is in a late stage of play. Spock is sitting on the far side, hand over his mouth, contemplating the board with a raised eyebrow. Jim Kirk is in the foreground, tilted into the frame like the close-ups in the Animated Series, looking into the camera with an expression that could be anything, but is meant to be a smirk - his eyebrows drawn, mouth half-turned up.

There is text in the image. The text above Spock reads "My Vulcan science officer, not understanding how he's losing to me". The text next to Jim reads "Me, who's been eating his pieces when he's not looking".

Above the drawing is written "Trektober" and "Day 12 - 3D Chess" Below it is written "@aerialworms" and "Spocktober"./End ID]