#I gave up on the chess board

[valexarts]

Marauders 1976 ✨

[plutosschild]

Romione as chess art piece I’ll probably never finish but spent too much time on to not post <3

[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.

[reidsmanuscript]

Seven Seconds

Summary: when Katie Jacob's gets abducted in a Mall, setting the clock for the BAU, who needs a legal favor, and it's been a year since the A.D.A. has know anything about Spencer Reid. Pairing: Spencer Reid x lawyer!reader Genre: pinning, SLOW BURN, maybe right moment?, angst bc i love angst wc: 4.6k! (i know so small comparing to part 1 bear with me) TW: cm canon typical violence, set in 05x3 "Seven seconds" (obviously lol), sexual violence, implied reader's dark past, glimpses of female rage. A/N: my idea for the serie is be taylor jenkins reid and have you question if lawyer reader exists or not (delusional bitch), english is not my first language and let's pretend it's proofread part I - part II - part III - part IV

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Spencer sat on the park bench reading a book while playing chess with Ethan, brilliant kid for his age and good opponent, not good enough though because when he cheered “I see checkmate in 5, What do you see?” It took Spencer one glance to calculate all the movements necessary.

“I see it in 3” he answered looking at his book again, the kid turned around the board and moved the pieces

“We've missed you out here” he said, staring at the board amazed.

“Thanks. I, uh, I had to take a little break”

“How come?” His hands froze on the book for a second before closing it.

Spencer had been clean for over a year now, it was 14 months and 2 weeks ago that he had freaked out after noticing his stash of Dialud was gone along with his needle. Where could he find more? Who knew about his addiction? Where was his stash? Who the fuck is Dr. Fitzgerald? Did you report him?

His first instinct was confronting you, given that you were the only person who found out his drugs that he knew, the first days he was a complete paranoid, he jumped every time Hotch called his name, or that Gideon looked at him a little too long.

At the end of the week he was thinking where he could find more, and when that thought scared him, he called the number of the card you had left in the same pocket his drugs used to be.

“Hello this is Dr. Fitzgerald” said a calm voice, it was 10 p.m. so there was a higher chance of going to voicemail, but he got an answer and the tremor of his hands got a little worse. Was it the anxiety or the withdrawal?

“Umm hello.. this is.. Dr.. this is Spencer Reid and someon-""I've been waiting for your call Dr Reid” the other line interrupted, he froze for a second.

“I used to play with a co-worker friend of mine. He's probably the best mind I ever went up against. One day, he just decided that he didn't want to play anymore.”

Fast forward, she helped him get clean and stay clean after Gideon left, getting tested regularly, and gave him the contact of the help group of FBI addicts. He was better, he was alive.

“So you gave up, too?”

“Just the opposite. I attempted to play Through every permutation of moves on a chessboard.”

“That's an infinite number of games.”

“It's not infinite. It's just- it's exponentially large.”

“You couldn't have played through them all.”

“There's an average of 40 moves per chess game, And I'll tell you something– the more I played, The more I realized that every single match every single chess game, Is really just a simple variation on the exact same theme. You know? It's aggressive opening, Patient mid-game, inevitable checkmate, And I realized why my friend quit. He was tired of repeating the same patterns And expecting a different outcome.”

“That's because you haven't come up on Fridays or Mondays in a while” the way his eyebrows went up along his voice tone made him feel like he knew something that he didn't.

His eyebrows furrowed “What do you mean?”

“There's this great player who comes around those days, she even brings the best pastries, and her games is similar to yours, always two or three moves ahead, she always beats everyone here… i think her boyfriend called her Buzz or something like that, like the Toy Story character”

“Buzz?… i don't really remember anyone with that nickname”

“It’s probably not that one but you don't know her because she started coming like 8 months ago.. I'm sure you have a lifetime of chess strategy in your head that you're just sitting on, but when you meet her?” He made a dramatic pause “You'll have to play it.”

He glances at his watch to realize his 15 minute break is coming to an end. “I still use it. I just, uh... I apply it differently. I have to go. It's good seeing you.”

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That evening, the BAU was called in for a local case—a little girl, Katie, had been kidnapped from a busy mall. A week earlier, another girl had been taken from the same location and found dead hours later. Now, they were all racing against the clock.

Katie’s parents were desperate. As any parents would be in this situation, right? But when Hotch asked the father if either of them was having an affair—a routine question in abductions—the man took offense. Deep offense. So much so that he refused to let the FBI search their house.

Now, what kind of parent refuses to help the police find their missing child?

In a small surveillance room, Morgan and Reid sat with Garcia, who was visibly frustrated by the mall’s ancient security system. They were surrounded by screens displaying grainy footage from different angles—well, almost every angle. They had a single glimpse of Katie in one video, and then, seven seconds later, she was gone.

JJ and Prentiss were with the mother, aunt, and uncle, trying to get a read on the family dynamic. Meanwhile, Morgan and Reid had conducted a cognitive interview with Katie’s cousin. It had led nowhere.

“The family has refused permission to search the house,” Hotch announced as he stepped into the room.

“What do you mean they denied?” Morgan’s frustration was evident. “Your only child goes missing, and you refuse to collaborate?”

No one disagreed. They were all thinking the same thing.

“The cousin didn’t say much,” Reid added. “He was too distracted in the game room to notice anything.”

Hotch exhaled sharply. “I’ll speak to the detectives, see if we can get a warrant.” His tone was firm, but they all knew time wasn’t on their side.

Garcia adjusted her glasses. “Sir, I mean this in the best way possible, but it’s almost 8 p.m. I don’t think-”

“I’ll handle it,” Morgan interrupted.

All Reid and Garcia turned to him with identical looks. What do you mean you will handle it?

Hotch’s eyebrows furrowed, but after a moment, he gave a small nod and walked away. Morgan was already pulling out his phone.

“I have a contact,” he explained, dialing.

He put the phone on speaker. It rang once. Twice. On the third ring, a voice answered—sharp, direct, and all business.

“A.D.A. Woodvale.”

Reid went rigid.

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It was late in the office; most people had already gone home, including your assistant Molly. All but Austin, who was still there because he had a lead on one of your cases. You knew he was still hanging around because, over a year ago, when someone had snuck into your office to harm you, you’d become a little paranoid. You’d gotten better, but Austin insisted on keeping you company, especially since your car was in the mechanic’s.

You were reviewing a legal brief, pen in hand, skimming the margins to jot down notes when the desk phone rang. Without looking up, you hit the speaker button with the tip of the pen.

“A.D.A. Woodvale.”

There was a beat of silence before a familiar voice cut in—smooth, direct, urgent.

Morgan called your name “Hey. We need a warrant. Fast.” You blinked, setting the pen down.

Reid and Garcia exchanged glances as Morgan jumped in without hesitation.

“Katie Jacobs. Eight years old. Abducted from a mall earlier tonight,” Morgan started, all business. “Another girl was taken from the same place a week ago—she was found dead hours later. We’re working against the clock.”

You frowned, swirling the pen, going through the multiple scenarios. You had heard about last week’s case, and how slow the police had moved back then.

“We’ve got mall surveillance footage,” Morgan pressed. “At first, we thought she just vanished, but Garcia finally pulled something from one of the side corridors. Katie wasn’t taken by force—she was walking calmly with someone.”

Your fingers tightened slightly around her pen. “Someone she knows.”

“Exactly,” Morgan confirmed. “That narrows it down to family or close acquaintances.” They all shared a silent thought. Family.

We know they’re hiding something,” Morgan corrected. “We just don’t have the probable cause to kick the door down.”

Garcia watched as Morgan paced slightly, his tone firm but urgent.

“That’s thin, Morgan,” Your voice came through the speaker, steady and unyielding.

“We don’t have time for airtight,” Morgan countered.

Your jaw tightened. “You don’t have time for me to get laughed out of a judge’s office, either. Refusing a search isn’t a crime, and suspicion alone doesn’t cut it. I need more.” You understood where the suspicious came from, how are you supposed to help them if they had nothing?

There was a pause. A beat of silence. Then, another voice—one you hadn’t heard in over a year.

“99% of abducted children who are killed due within the first 24 hours” He cleared his throat, willing his voice to stay even. Spencer Reid. “75% within the first 3 hours, and what only law enforcement knows is Jessica Davis joined the 44% of children who are abducted and killed within the first hour. We’re already past the three-hour mark. If we don’t act now, statistically speaking—”

“The likelihood of recovery drops exponentially,” You sighed, already standing up, ignoring how his voice sounded. So different. So… clean.

Your gaze flicked to the clock. 8:06 p.m. Damn it.

You grabbed a blank warrant form from her drawer and reached for a pen. “Send me the address and everything else you have. Give me 20 minutes.”

Click. You didn’t have time for goodbyes.

Austin raised an eyebrow from his seat. “Guess you’re not going home anytime soon.”

You didn’t look up as you started writing. “I never was.”

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The courthouse was mostly deserted at this hour. The fluorescent lights hummed quietly, and the stillness of the evening was only interrupted by the sharp click of your heels on the polished floors followed by Austin’s boots toward the judge’s chambers.

“You sure you don’t want me to take this one? Sweet-talk her maybe?” he teased.

You shot him a look. “You think Judge Holloway is the type to be charmed? Plus, you’re a private investigator, not a lawyer.”  

“She’s not gonna like you showing up this late.”  

You didn’t miss a beat. “If she’s still up, she’ll make time for this.”  

Taking a steadying breath as you stopped in front of the door, you quickly ran through your notes, making sure you had every detail in order. Then, without hesitation, you pushed through the heavy wooden doors of Judge Evelyn Holloway’s chambers.  

Inside, the judge barely glanced up from her paperwork. “You have two minutes, Woodvale.”

Stepping forward, you set the warrant request on the desk. “Your Honor, I apologize for the late hour, but we have a child abduction case we’re working against the clock. A young girl, Katie Jacobs, was taken from a mall over three hours ago. We’ve obtained surveillance footage showing her walking with an individual—someone she likely knows. We believe the family is withholding information, and they’ve refused to allow us to search the residence.”

The judge narrowed his eyes, folding her hands on the desk. “And what do you propose I do about it? What evidence do you have to warrant a search?”

Alex kept her voice steady. “We have footage of the girl with someone who wasn’t a stranger, Your Honor. The parents are refusing cooperation, and the father was evasive when asked about possible affairs, which raises red flags about his involvement.”

Holloway sighed, leaning back in her chair. “That’s thin.” You were ready for that.

“I have the full footage from the mall security, including a timestamp showing the precise time the girl went missing. She is last seen walking calmly with someone she knows, most likely family.”

There was a brief pause, and for a second, you thought you were about to lose her. So you pulled Reid’s words from memory, adjusting them just enough to make them your own.

“Time is working against us. Statistics show that 99% of abducted children who are murdered lose their lives within the first 24 hours 75% within just the first three. And only law enforcement-”

She cut you off with a raised hand, signaling you to stop.

The judge exhaled through her nose, it was late and you were rambling about statistics and you knew she wanted you out as soon as possible when you started citing numbers. So pushing himself out of her chair with a slight groan. “Fine. Get me the paperwork. I’ll sign it—but you better have your ducks in a row.”

You nodded, her demeanor unflinching. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

As you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the hours ahead of you. But you were used to this—fighting against the clock.

“Let’s move,” motioning to Austin. He gave you a small nod. “You got it.”

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Exactly 15 minutes after the call, 5 minutes earlier than promised, Morgan’s phone rang. He answered it without even looking. 

"You got your warrant. I'll meet you there," Alex’s voice came through, crisp and businesslike, just as expected.

Morgan exhaled, his relief barely hidden. "Thank you, Woody."

He paused for a moment before adding, "I owe you one," then hung up, turning to Reid.

“Tell Hotch we’re heading to the Jacobs’ house,” he instructed, already moving toward the door.

Spencer had been timing her. It wasn’t the first time he'd gotten caught up in the tense waiting game of law and order, but the pressure of it had a different weight today. The memory of your voice, clear and resolute, echoed in his mind, sharper than before.

For Reid, part of getting clean wasn't just the physical withdrawal—it was the emotional weight of confronting his mistakes. The memory of how he'd lashed out at you a year ago still haunted him. How could he have been so cruel? The hurt in your eyes, the way he dismissed you, the way it all spiraled… it wasn’t just the drugs that had made him say those things. And the fury he saw when you looked at him, Dialuid in hand, how you looked like a timing bomb when he was trying to see if he could talk to you, the tension in your shoulders, the lock in your jaw, the grip on the file. He’d been battling so much more since then, in his mind, you saved his life by doing what he couldn't do.

He’d rather die than relive that moment again, than say those things. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of another chaotic case, still carrying that guilt with him. He stayed behind Morgan for just a beat before pushing down his feelings and moving quickly. 

　　　　 　　　 .˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅.　　　　

The engine of Austin's bike rumbled to a stop as they pulled up in front of the house, where Morgan and Reid were standing in front of the black SUV. You slid off the back with practiced ease, taking off the helmet and letting your hair fall loose.

Austin followed your lead, taking his helmet off with a groan. “So, what exactly are we looking for?”

You shot him a quick, sidelong glance, handing him the helmet, keeping your expression flat knowing he’s about to be a drama queen. “You’re not coming inside. The warrant’s for FBI and police only. Not P.I.s included”

Austin paused, a mock pout crossing his face. “Excuse me? I just got you here, through all that traffic, risking myself to get a speeding ticket and now I don’t get to search? This is the second time in the night that you P.I. shaming me. Do you hate me?”

“If I hated you I wouldn’t have bailed your ass out of jail… twice” you remark the last part. He had a talent for sticking his foot where he shouldn’t be, maybe that’s what makes him good at his job.

“You act like you wouldn’t do it a third time” he was mocking, but he was right, something you would never admit to him. 

You start walking to the house “Mhm.” you hum rolling your eyes, heading towards where Morgan and Reid were. 

You didn't expect him to be there, or maybe you did, maybe you wanted to see him and know what had happened to him since the last time you saw him. They were looking at you, Morgan with a curious already-profiling-you stare, while Reid expression was more… cautious. He looked so different, his cheekbones were prominent in an attractive way and not sickly, he had put on some healthy weight and was not fidgety. You were not mad anymore, because of course at the moment the hurt had turned into rage like it always does for you, but it was more because of phantoms than anything else. 

“Got your golden ticket” you said, avoiding Reid’s gaze as you pulled the warrant from the inner pocket of your gray coat and swung it toward them.

Morgan nodded “You staying?” He gestured with his head to Austin who was leaving.

“I have to make sure you find something, otherwise the judge will have my head for this,” you said dryly, shrugging as though the threat didn’t bother you, but there was a flicker of seriousness behind your words. You were only talking to him, which felt rude because Reid’s stare was locked in your profile. 

Reid was thinking how pretty you looked, how the black vest suited you, and he couldn’t ignore the fact you had changed your brown bag to a black one that looked nothing like his. Your white shirt and gray coat gave you an older, wiser look, but as Reid analyzed your features, he realized he didn’t even know how old you were. You couldn’t be older than him. Serious, sharp, and young... How was it possible for someone that young to be the A.D.A.?

Reid’s mind couldn’t let go of the numbers. The average age of an Assistant District Attorney in the U.S. is 36. You couldn’t be older than 25, and yet you were already in that position.

You glanced at him for a moment before stepping inside the house, feeling the weight of his stare. The look made him snap out of his trance-like state, and of course, his eidetic memory hated him, because for that brief second, he remembered how you had looked at him a year ago.

Morgan nodded and thanked you again before he and Reid walked into the house. You left the warrant on the hall table with a deliberate touch, your fingers lingering for just a moment—as if to remind yourself that you weren’t entirely done with this.

“Somebody lit a fire last night,” you heard Reid say.

“Well, there are dirty dishes for three in the kitchen, so they eat together as a family.” Morgan’s voice carried from the other room as they moved through the house, taking in the details.

If Katie was in danger, the signs wouldn’t be in plain sight. You had to look where they hid—where children kept their secrets. Their bedrooms.

“Hey, my favorite movie from when I was a kid.” Reid held up a DVD, turning it in his hands before pulling it from the player just as you passed by him, tugging on latex gloves before heading upstairs, you did feel a little guilty for not even looking or talking to him, but it was something you did unconsciously. 

“So they watch movies together, too,” Morgan mused. They were starting to build a picture of the family’s dynamic.

“By a fireplace in a house that’s straight out of a catalog,” Reid added. “Norman Rockwell couldn’t have painted this any cozier.”

“That’s what worries me.” There was weight in Morgan’s voice. A tension that sat between them.

Upstairs, you searched through the rooms with careful precision.

When you first became a lawyer, you made a promise—never ignore a sign. Since then, you have gone further. You didn’t just refuse to ignore them; you searched for them. Hollow eyes. Unexplained bruises. Small bloodstains. You looked for them in teenagers, in young adults, in the elderly. But nothing—nothing—was more painful than a child who couldn’t speak up.

Because they were small. Because someone older, someone stronger, was hurting them. There's nothing more hurtful than not being able to speak out, to say something and stand up for yourself. Except when someone did—someone saw the bruises, the fear, the signs—and they looked away deliberately. Because a child’s pain was inconvenient. Because it came with a mountain of paperwork no one wanted to touch.

You had spent your whole life making sure you never looked away.

That’s why you were hunched over the small desk in Katie’s bedroom, flipping through her drawings when Morgan and Reid entered the room. They started searching, their movements efficient and methodical.

“Katie’s been wetting her bed,” Reid said as he lifted the duvet, inspecting the mattress beneath it.

“A lot of six-year-olds do. Could be bad dreams,” Morgan replied, crouching beside you as he sifted through a pile of toys.

You considered that possibility—it was perfectly logical. In a perfect world.

“Some kids won’t get up at night because they’re afraid of the dark,” Reid added, his tone careful. Almost knowing.

“Or it could be a lot more complex than that.”

Morgan had found a doll. Not a Barbie missing a shoe or one that had simply been played with too much. No—this doll was different.

Its hair had been hacked off, jagged strands sticking out unevenly. Red marker smeared across its face like smeared blood. Its clothes were yanked askew, twisted, and wrong.

“Most girls covet their dolls like an extension of themselves.” He took the doll in his hands like it was made of fine glass. 

“Reid, I know these signs-— acting out on her toys, wetting the bed. She's obviously covering up something about that necklace.”

“And her cousin might be holding something back.”

“Well, this looks more like a man than a boy to me,” you said, holding up a drawing of a tall, shadowy figure towering over a small, crying child.

Morgan took it from your hands, his expression hardening as he analyzed the image.

“Psychology says drawing is a child’s way of channeling their inner world. Look at the strokes—how harsh they are,” you pointed to the dark, jagged lines forming the tall figure, then traced your finger over the smaller one. “And this looks like Katie to me. She forgot to draw the hands, which means she feels powerless… helpless.” 

Morgan took his phone out, dialing up “Hotch, we think Katie’s being molested,” Morgan said, his voice clipped. “And we both know the odds.”

A brief silence. Then Hotch’s response, firm and certain. “Most likely by someone under the same roof.”

He hung up, and both men started toward the door, their movements brisk with purpose. But you stayed behind for a moment, rooted in place, taking in the scene. Trying to quiet the distant sirens that echoed in your mind, the same ones always shouting when you were face to face with these situations. A loud pause—maybe out of respect for Katie and her pain, for everything she had been forced to endure.

From the doorway, Spencer glanced back. The dim light from the hallway cast your figure in stark contrast, outlining you in shadow—your form dark against the soft glow of the room. He couldn’t see your expression, couldn’t read your face. He focused on the way your hands curled into fists at your sides, the tight set of your shoulders.

And he wished—just for a second—that he could see more.

　　　　 　　　 .˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅.　　　

You stood outside, leaning against the wall, arms crossed tightly over your chest. By your side were Morgan, Jeremy, Katie’s cousin, and Reid.

Turns out, Katie’s uncle, Richard, was her abuser. A disgusting son of a bitch who deserved to rot in hell. And you were going to make sure he did. He had destroyed Katie’s childhood, probably more than just hers, shattering an entire family in the process. His own son, standing right next to you, was collateral damage he clearly hadn’t spared a thought for. And then there was his wife. The woman who had chosen to look away. Who had taken Katie and nearly gotten her killed, all for the pathetic, desperate hope that it would somehow stop her husband from creeping into little bedrooms at night. She deserved the same hell he did.

A stretcher rolled past, Katie’s small frame barely visible beneath the blankets as the paramedics guided her into the ambulance. Her mother clutched her tiny hand, whispering something—words meant to soothe, to promise safety.

A young voice cut through the air. “I heard her call my mom’s name. That’s what I remembered before.”

You closed your eyes, your mind already racing ahead. Your attorney brain was piecing it together, sketching out the battle that was coming. If the kid had heard it, that made him a witness to the abduction. His own mother had committed the crime against her niece. And God only knew what else he had seen—what else had been happening in that house—without fully understanding it.

“We get it, kid. That’s your mom,” Morgan said, his voice steady. But you knew the truth: if Jeremy could barely say those words to them, getting him to the stand in front of a jury would be another fight entirely.

The boy shifted on his feet, staring at the ambulance. “What’s gonna happen to me now?”

If God existed, He had already been too cruel. He had let all of this happen. And you knew how these things worked—knew there was a very real chance that Katie’s parents, burdened with their own grief, would resent Jeremy by association. That they wouldn’t take him in. That he would be swallowed by the foster system.

You wouldn’t let that happen.

The sirens blared outside the mall, cutting through the air with urgency, but it was the ones inside your mind that were louder—screaming in the same rhythm, as if they were one and the same. Distant and deafening, they filled every corner of your head, drowning out everything but the grim reality unfolding before you.

“I don’t know, Jeremy,” Reid answered, his voice gentle. “But we’re gonna make sure you’re alright, okay?”

Jeremy didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed fixed on the ambulance. “Is Katie gonna be all right?”

You wished—desperately, violently—that you could tell him yes. That you could say it with certainty and make it true. But how could you give him something you didn’t have?

“She will, eventually,” Morgan said, his voice firm.

You exhaled sharply. The words made your skin crawl.

“Is she?” The question slipped from your lips before you could stop it—low, bitter, nearly spat out under your breath. Just quiet enough that the kid wouldn’t hear. Just loud enough that Morgan did.

Before he could respond, you were already moving.

Your feet carried you toward the police car, toward the sick, selfish bastard they were shoving into the backseat. Your hand shot out, slamming the door closed—harder than necessary, just enough that it cracked against Richard’s face.

Morgan watched. So did Spencer.

And for the first time, he realized just how much of a puzzle you really were.

Partially because, throughout all of this, you hadn’t looked at him once. Not when he entered the room, not when he spoke, not even now, standing just a few feet away.

Partially because your eyes, when he finally caught a glimpse of them, were full of something he rarely saw outside of a case like this. Pure, undiluted rage.

Not just anger. Not just frustration. Something deeper. Something personal.

　　　　 　　　 .˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅.　　

Feedback feeds motivation! Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated <3

[nachrosas]

CHECKMATE | s.reid x reader

summary: in which an unexpected thunderstorm leads you and spencer an 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. 

[fungifanart]

Checkmate?

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Grim, Yuu!reader, male reader

Cw: Chess *horror movie scream*

Word count: 1.9k

Notes: Look! It's my piece for the @princes-uprising zine! It's been an absolute blast working with everyone, so I hope y'all enjoy our work!

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

Life is one big chessboard.

This is the mindset that Leona has abided by ever since he was young.

It's the easiest way to make sense of the world around him.

People are forever bound to positions given to them upon birth with no hope of changing, such as how a pawn has no hope of becoming a king.

Everyone has a finite amount of actions they can take, which are clearly defined, leaving whether or not they succeed as a matter of skill.

Which also means that luck, too, is calculable and thus, predictable.

Or at least, it should be.

That is, until the school's spelldrive tournament happened and everything fell apart like a harsh wave crashing into a sand castle.

And because of such a stupid plan, too. To this day, Leona is mortified that he got blindsided by such a ridiculous plan, thought up by a magicless herbivore, no less.

Well, there's no way he'll let himself get played like that again.

Much like he did with Azul, Leona decides to observe how the herbivore strategizes.

His plan for knocking the Octavinelle housewarden down a peg gave Leona some good initial insights, such as how he places a LOT of faith in the people who have the shallowest reasons to help actually pulling through. He should consider himself lucky that Leona had a deeper reason to help than what he gave.

But that's not enough for him. Being lucky is not a strategy and clearly not the only factor at play letting a magicless nobody pull the wool over the eyes of TWO separate housewardens. It baffles him to think that both him and that octopunk actually got suckered in by those schemes.

Ok, now Leona's getting angry.

Simple observation isn't enough this time. There's only one way to get to the bottom of this irritating little conundrum.

Portable chessboard in hand, Leona begins the trek to the place the herbivore almost lost with that gamble of his, otherwise known as Ramshackle dorm.

After knocking on the door, Leona hears a ruckus on the other side and the sounds of both the Prefect and his feline companion yelling before the sound of footsteps approaches the entrance.

The door then opens, revealing the Prefect in his infuriatingly enigmatic glory.

"Oh, Leona! Hi! It's great to see you!" He greets the lion warmly, "What brings you here?"

'Figuring out what makes you tick.' Leona thinks to himself, but what he actually says is, "I was bored and thought you'd be able to amuse me with a game of chess."

The simplest of lies, one that any other person at this school would see through and reject instantly, but the Prefect smiles nonetheless.

"Well, I don't know if I can really provide the mental stimulation you're looking for, but if that's how you want to spend your afternoon, then why not, I guess." He responds while stepping to the side to allow Leona in.

Leona pulls up a chair to the table in front of the lounge couch and starts setting up the board as the Prefect rushes to the kitchen for refreshments.

After coming back with water and snacks, the Prefect takes his place on the couch in front of the white pieces leaving Leona with the black.

"Myeh! So how does this 'Chess' thing work, anyway?" Grim asks while hopping up beside the Prefect and shoving chips in his face.

*crunch*

"Well, both players take turns moving one of their colored pieces at a time across the board in an attempt to capture their opponent's king piece. And each piece has its own way of moving to account for," The Prefect answers while picking up one of his pawns and moving it forward one space, "For example, your pawn can usually only move one space up, down or to the side at a time."

"Mm." Leona adds, having already shifted into his focus mode and moving one of his pawns two spaces forward.

*crunch*

"Hey, wait! You just said the pawns can only move one space!" Grim complains between bites in that irritatingly shrill voice of his.

"Pawns can move forward two spaces when it's the first time you're movin' 'em. Next question." Leona explains bluntly while trying to refocus on the board.

"Yeah, what Leona said." The Prefect agrees before picking up his bishop and using it to capture Leona's first pawn, "Next is the bishop that can move as far as it wants, but only diagonally."

Tch, why did he move his pawn there?

*crunch*

The next few turns involve the moving of pawns, but, just when Leona had them lined up to leave the other man's bishop open to his queen, he quickly moves his bishop back to its original spot.

Is that so?

*crunch*

Moving another pawn forward to capture one of his opponent's, Leona then finds said pawn captured by the Prefect’s knight, "Next, we have the knight, which can only move in an L shape in any direction, but is the only piece that can jump over other pieces in its path."

"Whoa, that's cool!" Grim comments before shoving a whole pawful of chips into his mouth, making a loud crunch that makes Leona's ear twitch in annoyance.

"Herbivore, can ya get the furball outta here?" He says, slightly rubbing his temple while sending his rook out to capture the Prefect's rightmost pawn.

"Don't be mean, Leona. Grim's not hurting anyone." The Prefect responds before using his other knight to capture Leona's first rook.

With a slight smirk, Leona uses his other bishop to capture the knight that was left exposed.

*crunch*

The Prefect's eyebrow twitches and Leona notices the kind, calm gaze he'd held since his arrival lose its warmth, becoming more calculating.

Looks like the kid gloves just came off.

*crunch*

The Prefect moves his pawn.

*crunch*

Leona moves his other rook directly downwards.

*crunch*

The Prefect captures said rook with his other bishop.

*crunch*

Leona moves his queen into place--

*crunch*

The Prefect moves his pawn.

*crunch*

Leona uses his queen to capture the other bi--

*crunch*

The Prefect moves his--

*crunch*

Leona captures--

*crunch*

The Prefect moves--

*crunch*

Leona--

*CRUNCH*

Leona pounds his fist onto the table in great frustration at the unceasing sounds of that DISGRACE of a feline chomping away at his chips with no regard for the people trying to focus, "Will ya just can it, ya little runt?!"

"It wouldn’t kill you to be nice for once, you know! The game's almost over, so it doesn't matter much anyway." The Prefect protests, making Leona's eyes widen.

"What...?" He responds before quickly looking back at the board.

Wait.

What?!

Well into his side of the board stands a single white pawn, clear as day, which the Prefect moves into Leona's first rank, setting it up for promotion.

"Well, well. I think I'll be promoting my pawn to a queen." The Prefect says, his face a twisted mirror of the smirk the lion himself had worn not too long ago, "And I do believe that's more or less checkmate!"

Scanning the board again, Leona realizes what the other man means.

He'd never moved his original queen, which left her poised to shut down any attempts to retreat on Leona's part and even if he did escape at first, there's no outrunning two queens with so few pieces left on the board.

He's well and truly trapped.

Begrudgingly accepting his defeat, Leona sighs, "Fine. I surrender."

"Yay!" The Prefect pumps his fist in the air, looking very pleased with himself before reaching into the bowl of chips the little runt had been devouring, finding it empty, "Grim! You know it's rude to eat all of the food meant for everyone! Go to the kitchen and get some more for me and Leona."

The direbeast complies with a disgruntled look on his face as Leona goes over the match in his head to figure out what went wrong.

How did he let himself get cornered like that?

"It’s called 'Misdirection', dearest." The Prefect says smugly, no doubt after reading Leona's expression, "When you keep someone's attention on one thing while you're busy doing something else under their nose?"

"Ok, but when did ya 'misdirect' me, as you so eloquently put it?" Leona fires back, rapidly losing patience.

"Well, technically *I* didn't do anything beyond trusting in those powerful beastman ears of yours." He answers in a way that makes everything click in the lion's brain.

"You had the furball eat those chips so loud that it would distract me from the game?" Leona asks in slight disbelief.

"Yes and no. I really wasn't confident that I'd win on a completely level playing field, so when Grim jumped in, I thought I'd play along and see where it would go." He answers matter-of-factly.

Leona can't believe what he's hearing, "So you're tellin' me that you based your strategy around the whims of a CAT?"

"Isn't that a mark of a good leader, though?" The Prefect tilts his head, "Being able to improvise and pull through when things aren't going as planned, I mean.”

"Ya say that like it's some failsafe 'Get out of jail free' card." Leona says, slightly irritated, "Ya came up with some halfway decent plans in the past, but no amount'a 'improvising' would've saved ya if they went south."

"Wh– says the guy who fell for one of those 'halfway decent plans!'" The Prefect counters, hitting the scar in the lion's pride dead-on, "Look down on my strategies all you want, it doesn't change the fact that they worked!"

"Only because ya skated by on dumb luck!" Leona stands up from his chair, thoroughly offended, "At least I have the sense to not leave the crux of the plan up to chance and 'improvise' if it doesn't work!"

"Well, at least it's better than shutting down and giving up once something goes wrong like you did just now! Like you did at the Spelldrive tournament!!!" The Prefect stands up as well, unyielding to the lion's gaze.

"ARE YA CALLIN' ME A QUITTER, YA MAGICLESS NOBODY?!" Leona practically roars, shoving his forehead against the other man's, uncaring of personal space, but the Prefect stands his ground all the same.

"BETTER A MAGICLESS NOBODY THAN A COWARD PRINCE!!!" The Prefect yells while pushing back and maintaining eye contact.

"WHAT'D YA JUST SAY?!"

"YOU HEARD ME!!!"

"Hey, Henchman! Turns out that was the last of those chips, so I made popcorn instead--" Grim says as he walks in on what may well have turned into a fistfight, "U-uh, what're you guys doing...?"

The Prefect quickly breaks away and sits back down, taking a deep breath to calm himself, "Nothing, Grim. Just a little discussion between friends. Right, Leona?"

"...mm." Is his sole response before sitting back down with a huff as well.

“Are ya sure?? You guys looked like ya were ready to throttle each other!” Grim says while cautiously walking forward and placing the bowl of popcorn on the table.

“Don’t worry, Grim.” The Prefect reassures his companion with a headscratch, “We were talking about what strategies we might use for the next match, isn’t that right?”

‘The next match, huh?’ Leona thinks to himself, initially not interested, but eventually deciding to “see where it goes.”

This was his thought after the first match.

And the second.

And the third.

And the four-- oh, screw it. He's having fun.

He can't really explain why, but playing with the Prefect has caused a fog he didn't know was there to lift from his mind.

It's made Leona realize something he should've known from the start.

A pawn has no hope of becoming a king, but with time, effort and some luck, he supposes, it can still become a queen, which is more than enough to win the day.

"Checkmate.”

[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 ♡

[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

[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."

[certifiedposeidonhater]

PERCY JACKSON HEADCANONS!!

this is part 2! hope you guys enjoy! 💙

1. Percy took a psychology class in school and he really liked it. It was the first class he got an A in. The teacher was amazing too. One of the only teachers who really believed in Percy. And Percy profited from it. (He was good. He was really good.)

2. He’s AMAZING at card games and board games (no one else likes playing with him because he always wins (except for trivial pursuit; Annabeth always wins that one.)) And chess. He is AMAZING at chess. He is also super competitive when it comes to board games and card games. Like wayyyy too competitive. It’s a problem.

3. There was a group of older boys in his apartment building that he would hang out with sometimes. They weren’t the best people but they helped him clean up cuts and bruises he got from G*be and looked out for him. Think The Outsiders type thing maybe. He would rather be with them than be alone on the streets as an elementary school kid.

4. He tried his first cigarette when he was 9. A couple of older boys in his apartment lifted a pack and gave him one.

5. Percy has a crazy irrational fear and hatred of snakes (bc Medusa)

6. He has a GREAT intuition. Peter-tingle level great.

7. One time he accidentally led a girl on for over 3 months bc he didn’t realize she was flirting with him and he was accidentally kind of flirting back and then she found out he had a girlfriend and it was a whole thing.

8. He has a lot of scars from G*be throwing beer bottles at him. There’s a specific scar on his upper cheek from one that he always lies and says was from the minotaur. Only Grover and Chiron remember that he had that scar long before the minotaur. They never mention it though.

9. He’s super good at learning new languages because the sea stretches so far and connects everybody that it’s a representation of the ocean’s versatility? It’s just a Poseidon thing. He gets semi-conversational and then the rest just magically comes to him. It helped him pick up on Italian and Ancient Greek when he was younger. And it helped him learn Latin when he was at New Rome.

10. Languages: He knows some Italian (mostly curse words) from G*be and Nico, Ancient Greek, Greek, Latin, Spanish, and Portuguese (bc I think him and Sally are either Hispanic or Portuguese.) He also started learning French before the Battle of Manhattan bc Silena was teaching him but he gave up on it after she died. He took it up again when he was in college. He also knows some Russian (because he was involved with the mafia for a bit) and Arabic (because he got bored and decided to learn it from a neighbor when he was a kid.)

11. He has really bad depressive episodes. Only Annabeth, Grover, and his mom can get him out of them. (Beckendorf used to be able to but…yk.)

12. He desperately needs things to be clean (but not necessarily tidy) bc of all the years G*be made his room and apartment super disgusting and dirty. He’s such a clean freak. He gets annoyed and stressed out if somebody sits in/on his bed in their outside clothes. He has people take their shoes off at the door. He does the dishes as soon as they’re there (unless he’s depressed. Then he doesn’t have the energy.) He obsessively cleans his apartment daily. He CANNOT handle his place being dirty.

13. Sally grew up semi-religious and she got this fancy antique cross necklace from her mom before her mom died. It’s the only thing she’s got left of her parents. She wore it all the time because it made her feel closer to her parents. When Percy was a kid, he would take it from her jewelry box while she was at work bc it made him feel closer to her. It made him feel safe. Sally realized this and gave it to him on his birthday one year. He still has it to this day and he wears it all the time under his shirt to remind him of his roots and his childhood; to remind him of his mom.

14. He is OBSESSED with blue takis. Frank got him a ginormous bag for his birthday and Percy LOVED it.

15. He is constantly cold. It could be 80° degrees outside and he could be wearing sweats and a sweatshirt and STILL be chilly. It’s a kind of chill and cold that will never leave his bones.

16. He can fall asleep a n y w h e r e. In the middle of a restaurant, on the grass in the strawberry fields, in a bar stool, literally anywhere. But, he has to have some sort of sound in the background, it can’t be too quiet. In New Rome, he typically turns on some music or movie/tv show to provide some noise.

17. He sleeps to escape his problems, but sleeping usually doesn’t help. That makes him oversleep a lot.

18. He’s constantly exhausted, no matter how much sleep he gets. That contributes to the oversleeping. He could sleep for 12 hours and still be exhausted an hour after waking up.

19. He’s a super good driver

20. He doesn’t like cops. When he was younger, he and one of his friends were walking in the street (maybe or maybe not spray painting the side of a building.) They heard sirens and starting running. But then his friend was shot and killed 5 times by a cop in the street. Safe to say that really traumatized Percy. He looks over his shoulder and tenses up astronomically whenever he hears sirens. The only person who knows about it is Grover.

21. He uses his hands a lot when he talks

22. He HATES the phrase chef’s kiss. He doesn’t have a reason, he just doesn’t like it.

23. Silena let him borrow her lighter before the Battle of Manhattan (he needed it for some reason.) He still has it bc she died before he got the chance to give it back. He never has the heart to use it though.

24. He doesn’t have a middle name. He was never given one. So whenever Annabeth or Sally is mad at him, they just make up a new middle name for him on the spot. But eventually they ran out of good names so they just started using random words. e.g. “Perseus Aeneas Jackson” or “Perseus Soliloquy Jackson” or “Perseus Prevalence Jackson.” Thalia once called him “Perseus Mistake Jackson” and they started fighting.

25. G*be used to rub his mouth a lot, it was like a stress tic or a drunk tic or something but he did it a lot. Now Percy does it whenever he’s tired or stressed, but he tries to stop cs he hates himself (even more) for doing anything related to G*be. But focusing on it just makes him do it more.

26. When he’s upset he touches his head and face a lot. He also covers his stomach.

27. When he’s happy, he messes with his hair and hands a lot

28. He loves snow and rain to an abnormal degree

29. He used to call Beckendorf “Beck” and “Becky”

30. LOVES hugs

31. His love language is physical touch so he’s super physically affectionate with anyone he loves including his friends and family as long as they’re comfortable with it (e.g. hugs, holding hands, kisses on cheek and forehead, sitting close tg, that kinda stuff.)

32. As much as he hates it, a little part of him will always resent his mom for staying with G*be. (he will never admit it to anyone.) He, obviously, completely understands why Sally did what she did. He understands that she was protecting him, but a little part of him is still that 6 yo boy who doesn’t understand why his mom won’t leave their abusive stepdad. He can’t help but blame her a little. Logically, he completely understands that she was trying her best; that she was still a child. But that doesn’t change the fact that she wasn’t there and she put him in that situation. Yes, she was a child, and no, he doesn’t blame her necessarily, but the slight resentment is still there. He was a kid too. He needed somebody to blame. He needed a stable, safe place to live. He will never bring it up or mention it to ANYBODY. EVER. That is one of the secrets that he will forever keep to himself.

Part 2. Hope you guys enjoy!

[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."