#checkmates chatter

[akinachiri]

everyone: SHINOBU SAY THE LINE

me: i..... i legally cannot comment de gozaru..........

everyone: LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

[aemoglobin]

if character so bad, why boobs so big?

[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."

[weasleyreidstyles]

a game of wizards chess on a rainy day

~∞~ i've never written for enzo before but my mutuals (love you all🫶🏼) have slowly been turning me into an enzo girlie 🤭🤭 this if for week three of @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge!!

pairing: enzo berkshire x fem!slytherin reader, platonic mattheo riddle x reader

prompt: wizards chess/"you filthy cheater, we go again!"

warning(s): none its all fluff!!!

The weekend's rainy weather brought with it a sense of serenity and peace as it swept across the Scottish highlands like a flurrying storm. The castle grounds were barren of people, everyone making the unanimous decision to avoid the heavy downpour that had steadily been building in a crescendo all week. The corridors were even emptier, avoided by those who wanted to escape the cold, only the odd person running late to a detention, or for a quick stop in the kitchens, could be seen or heard amongst the chattering painting and silently gliding ghosts.

The common rooms however, were teeming with students, from all year groups. In the Slytherin common room, you and your friends had been some of the lucky few to snag a small grouping of pleated seats, right beside a roaring fire. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that one of said friends was the feared Dark Lord's son, but either way, you were grateful that you could relax by the fire for a few hours, soaking up what little warmth the dungeons could provide in such miserable weather conditions.

Except that you feel anything but relaxed right now. You had somehow found yourself sitting across the small coffee table from Enzo, a fierce game of wizards chess playing out between the two of you. It was common knowledge, between you and your friends, that you absolutely sucked at it, but that didn't stop you from trying, and failing, to beat Enzo at his own favoured game.

You jumped back on your haunches as his bishop savagely destroyed one of your lone pawns and gaped as he jumped up and cheered at his small victory, ignoring the way students around him violently shushed him with scowling faces. Your friends, who only paid sporadic attention to the pair of you, smirked as Enzo sneakily glanced your way, to watch how your face would scrunch in barely restrained irritation.

"And he strikes again!" He says with a cheer, that has Draco glaring at him from over his Potions homework with narrowed eyes. Enzo vehemently ignores him in favour of watching the way your face shifts between a million and one emotions in a split second. "I'm like two moves away from checkmate, sweetheart. Are you sure you can handle losing, again?"

The way he's smirking at you, with mirth painting his face, those brilliantly vibrant eyes of his shining as he stares across the table at you, has a blush fighting it's way up your neck. You scowl at him, menacingly.

"No one likes a show off, Berkshire." You snap, as you move your last remaining rook to take his knight. When Mattheo and Theo snicker from behind you, you turn and rapidly send a glare worthy of one of their own that has them covering their faces to try and hide their laughter from you. Even Draco, who'd been more withdrawn lately, had let out a quiet chuckle.

Sorry love. Mattheo says to you wordlessly and you narrow your glare, solely, on him. But you're not doing a very good job at this.

"Well there's no need to laugh at my misfortune, Matt." You reply and he smirks as he watches the way Enzo looks questioningly between you and him, before he moves another one of his pieces, putting you in checkmate.

You turn towards the table again as you hear the sound of shattering porcelain, watching as your rook is destroyed by his queen, which is now somehow in line with your king piece. You search the board for somewhere you can go, and come up agonisingly empty. You gape at the smug boy across from you.

"You filthy cheater!" You accuse and Enzo sends you a smirk that could bring you to your knees at anytime of the day.

"I did no such thing, sweetheart." He says, but the mischief shining in his russett eyes makes you believe otherwise. "Maybe you should pay attention next time."

His words ignite a challenge within you and you steel yourself as the pair of you become locked into a heated staring contest. In your peripheral, you watch as your friends whisper conspicuously between each other, but you pay them no mind.

Huffing you use your wand to fix and rearrange the pieces to their original positions.

"We go again!" You say resolutely, kneeling closer to the table, as if it would somehow make your wizards chess abilities rise to the surface. But you knew that it was wishful thinking.

Ready to lose again, sweetheart? Enzo speaks to you wordlessly, and your glare intensifies at the way his voice lowers a decibel or two, making it a low rasp in your head. I promise I'll go easy on you. He's smirking to himself as he moves the first piece.

And the cycle continues for another hour, until Blaise lets out an aggrieved sigh and takes your place. You sit beside Pansy huffing as you cross your arms over your chest, casting a look of contempt at Enzo, who does a terrible job of hiding his smug face. After half an hour, their game is a close one, and Blaise only just beats Enzo with a move of pure luck.

The latter comes to sit beside you after that, the game becoming abandoned on the table, an arm reaching across the back of the sofa, hand tracing featherlight patterns against your jumper covered shoulder. He's staring at the side of your face, tracing the way your hair falls in rippling waves as you tilt your head in favour of engrossing yourself in a book instead of focusing on him.

"Still bitter that I won, sweetheart?" He murmurs, leaning in close so that his lips brush the shell of your ear.

The twitch of your lip is the only thing that gives away that you hear him, but you choose to ingore him in favour of finishing the chapter, or at least you try to.

Since Enzo had sat down, you'd read the same sentence at least five times now. He pokes your shoulder with the hand that had been previously caressing it and you turn to him, breath hitching imperceptibly when you realise just how close he is to you.

"I'm only bitter because you cheated. I could've won fair and square." You say, your lips falling into a pout that Enzo desperately wants to kiss away.

"I'm no cheater." He says with enough self assurance that you might be inclined to believe him. "You were the one who turned away from the game."

"Only because Matt distracted me!" You retort, your face moving closer to his on your own accord.

"Perhaps I should put you out of your misery and teach you how to play." He whispers. The tension building between the two of you could be severed by a knife with how palpable the charged atmosphere is.

Said knife appears in the form of Theodore's hushed voice, which sounds fed up as much as it is amused.

"For Salazar's sake, please put us all out of the fucking misery of witnessing this and kiss." It was meant to be a muttered statement between himself and your other friends, but it reaches you nonetheless, causing you to recoil from the close proximity to Enzo, covering your reddening cheeks with your hands.

Enzo doesn't bother to remove his arm from where it practically cradles you into him as he scowls at his best friend. But when you don't move away from his touch, he thanks any god he can think of that you don't shy away from him.

The rest of the afternoon is spent in content silence as you and your friends bask in the murky green glow of the lake, warmed only by the heat of the fire. But you feel heated for a whole other reason, because Enzo's arm is yet to be unwound from your shoulder as you busy yourself with burrowing into his body heat, the position cosy enough for you to settle into finishing your book, and eventually even lulling you to sleep.

Enzo stares down at you with a smile as your book falls limply into his lap. He gingerly picks it up and slides the bookmark, that you'd left on the coffee table, into place before gently putting it on the floor beside your bag. He brings your body closer to his and marvels at the way you instinctively nuzzle your face into his chest, relaxed by the steady beat of his pounding heart.

He places a barely there kiss to the crown of you head and he swears he sees the ghost of a smile gracing your pretty lips.

One day. He'd confess to you one day.

And by the twin looks that he spies on Matt and Theo's faces, that day may come sooner than either of you may think.

~∞~

A little bonus scene:

"I don't understand how the two of them are so oblivious." Pansy says quietly as she watches the way you berate Enzo with no mutinous ammunition behind your words. "They're so obviously in love with eachother."

"Well they are idiots, bella." Theo says with a laugh. "It'll take it being spelled out for them to realise it."

"We cannot meddle with their love lives." Blaise counters, although his glimmering eyes give away that he wants to do exactly that. Draco looks like he agrees.

"Oh come on, B!" Mattheo retorts, a devilish look overtaking his features. "Where's the fun in that?"

"I'll bet twenty galleons that you can't get them to admit it by the end of the month." Pansy offers with a feline smirk and Mattheo's eyes light up in challenge.

"You have yourself a bet, love. Prepared to lose?" He smirks at his friend who only winks back at him before she settles into Theo's side.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." She says and they all turn to watch the way Enzo blatently stares at you, eternal love shining in his russett eyes. "Enzo's looks like he's about to burst with it."

[astrumark]

── CHECKMATE, I COULDN'T LOSE ★.

PAIRING: aegon ii targaryen x female reader.

SUMMARY: frustrated by your unsuccessful attempts to charm prince aemond, you should have known not to turn to prince aegon.

WARNINGS: fluff kinda, curse words.

WC: 3.4K

You have put so much effort into your looks for the evening, so specific when you ordered a new gown for the most high-priced seamstress from King's Landing. Your sleep the previous night had been uncomfortable as you went to bed with the tightest buns to achieve luscious and perfect hair. Getting ready had been exhausting as well, the dress buttons and ribbons were too complicated and tight, your skin was scrubbed almost raw, and the strong fragrance splashed over your body made you sneeze repeatedly. You'd gone as far as wandering around the city to find good and reliable pastes, powders, and paints, something you have never tried before, though a few of your friends loved to use them. Your eyelids were painted blue and cheeks a faint tone of red.

And in all honesty, you were looking splendid. Almost all eyes were on you the moment you stepped into the ballroom, many lords gawking and immediately asking you to spare them a dance. No matter where you went, heads turned in your direction. But not his.

The reason for all of your pampering barely glanced your way, except when you acknowledged him and curtseyed. But you didn't give up. At some point you approached him in the corner, and asked questions, trying to strike up a conversation. You tried to talk about topics you believed he was interested in, dragons, sword training, history and philosophy, and more. He didn't even pretend to be interested, his violet eye focused on everyone around the room but you, his responses guttural. It felt as if you were talking to a wall, and you started to feel fidgety, gulping down all the wine goblets that passed in front of you carried by servants.

You hated wine, the taste of it was too bitter and strong, but it was a good distraction to your pounding heart and dizzy head, certain you were embarrassing yourself. Although distasteful in the beginning, the warmth the wine provided in your chest was welcoming, and after a few more cups, the most you have ever consumed in your life, you felt yourself loosening up. You were completely conscious, but your body and mind seemed to be a lot lighter than usual.

Reuniting all of your courage, perhaps fueled by the wine, once you ran out of topics, you decided to test your luck. It went against all of the etiquette lessons, and it might as well be humiliating, but you doubted Aemond would brag about such a thing. You had hoped for him to ask the question, but each new celebration, and even his lack of initiating a simple conversation with you, proved that it would be unlikely. So instead, you sighed and did it.

"Would you like to dance, my Prince?"

He finally looked at you, his face as blank as an unpainted canvas, so emotionless it made your skin crawl and heartbeat quicken so much you could hear the blood rushing in your ears. It was only seconds before he blinked slowly and answered, but it could've been hours, anticipation eating you inside out.

"I do not enjoy dancing, my lady." 

You didn't move a muscle, an uncomfortable silence pairing between the two of you, your mouth slightly agape and mind fumbling to find a response. Suddenly, the music and chatter around you sounded much louder. There was a heavy sense of shame, certainly, but underneath it, there was also an odd relief, doubt no more weighing on your shoulders. He did not wish to dance.

"I understand," You said as composed as you could as if it was a casual offer and didn't hurt your heart deeply. "If you will excuse me." You curtseyed once again and got away, not waiting to see or hear his response. 

Body aflame, your eyes searched for an exit with purpose, the room now too crowded for you. All the lightness of the liquor disappeared and you just felt heavy and uncomfortable, throat drying out and chest tightening. 

If one asked when you fell in love with Aemond Targaryen, you would not be able to pinpoint it. Most likely around the age of ten and two, when your eyes could not help but look for the usually staid prince. Although even earlier in your childhood, when you were just small things sprinting around the castle with a few missing teeth, you considered him the coolest of all your acquaintances. Why you hold such feelings for him for so long was an even harder question, you do not know. Maybe you fantasized about him too much before bed, deep in your illusion. You have tried to discount those feelings and surpass them but to no avail. It was as if you were sick, and there was no antidote. Maybe that was your curse, to forever long for someone you could never have.

You rushed to where you knew there were huge double doors, now covered by dark green curtains for the decorations of the ball. Fresh air would probably do you some good. Closing the doors, you stopped dead in your tracks as you spotted the back of the head of a certain silver-haired, the strands cut short.

"Seven, did you bathe in a tub of fragrance?" Aegon didn't attempt to look at you.

Groaning, you stepped further into the balcony, making your way to his side. Unsurprisingly, Aegon was drinking, a jar of wine upon the balustrade, and silver cup in hand. You supported your elbows on the structure of stone, breathing in the cold wind that caressed your face. Countless stars and a full moon graced the dark blue sky.

Despite your wishes, you have grown used to Aegon's presence in the last few months due to some unfortunate circumstances, and pairing it with the fact you cared very little about his opinion of you or how unrefined he might think you are, there was no reluctance about what you said next, frustration clear in your voice, now unusually slurred.

"How can I charm Aemond?" 

Aegon snickered. "Oh. Yes, well, don't expect me to help," He shook his head, looking at you up and down. "Though I am certain you will find your way anywise." 

"You seriously cannot be solicitous for once in your life, Aegon?" You crossed your arms in annoyance. 

"Why do you assume I need to be solicitous?" Aegon scoffed. "You seem quite charming, I am sure you can find out how to get his… favor." 

"You are his brother! You could at least offer me some advice." 

"Alright, I will offer you one piece of advice," He took a big gulp of wine, his lips glistening with the liquid. "Don't act so desperate," He smirked. "And that's all you are getting. "

You rolled your eyes, facing the city ahead of you again. "You are of no use." 

"That's not what your sister told me." He laughed cynically. "If you want to succeed, then you have to do it alone. Can't have it all spoon-fed to you, can you?" He leans against the railing, staring at you with a mischievous grin. 

Oh yes, your sister, who's been sneaking around with Aegon for a few moons now, and essentially dragging you into her rendezvous as well. She always used you to cover and support her claims to your parents, a habit of hers. It wasn't even constant, their trysts. You doubt your sister could remain interested in just one man for more than a few weeks. However, you didn't have much of a choice other than being her accomplice and helping in her escapades, as you would never purposely have her get into complicated and shameful situations.

"I would rather have it spoon-fed, thank you."

Aegon chuckled. "Then, I wish you good fortune with charming my brother," He winked. "Just remember that you will get nowhere without the right attitude." He nudged you.

Your eyes came back to his face as your eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you could be the most beautiful woman in the world, but it means nothing if you don't carry yourself right. Aemond won't be charmed by looks alone. You will have to give him more than that." 

You nodded. "Yes, he is not an easily impressed man," You sighed exasperatedly. "It would all be so much easier if I fancied you instead." 

"Now, that's very presumptuous of you to say. Why would you think I am easier?" The tone of his voice was exaggeratedly offended. "Maybe I am the hardest to charm." 

"If you were the hardest, half the women of King's Landing wouldn't be able to say they have laid with you, would they?" You cocked your head. "Or are all of them just awfully skilled?"

His smirk faltered for a second and he narrowed his eyes, leaving his cup behind. "Is that so, my fair lady?" He stepped closer to you, which made you turn your body towards him. "You have heard rumors? And who are you to say they are true? Besides your lovely sister, of course. Or do you prefer to believe them because it's convenient?"

You scoffed, shaking your head. If he truly believes his well-known behavior could be easily denied, he was delusional. "Rumors do come from somewhere, my Prince, and since we are talking about attitudes, you do not act any different than a… man-whore."

Aegon smiled disturbingly calmly at you, but his gaze was piercing. "Oh, do you get to decide that? Or are you judging so you can feel better about yourself in your righteousness?" He taunted you.

You chuckled incredulously at how he tried to change the topic from him to you, to give him some merit, he was not awful at it. And someone who doesn't know any better could easily be fooled by his falsely insulted speech, as he definitely sounds like he believes his words, but you're very aware of who he is.

"I can often see the disdain in your eyes… You must think every woman who's ever come close to me has some kind of hold on me, isn't that right?" He approached you even more, so much you took a hesitant step back. "What would you even know about me?" 

The sharpness of his words made you shiver, but you did not falter. "Fair, I do not know you much despite your reputation, but what I know certainly precedes it. It's a quick observation, it would be easier to charm you other than Aemond. Don't take offense." 

He laughed mockingly. "Well, then I challenge you to prove it," His smile turned almost cruel. "Let actions speak, and we shall see if you are right… or just a foolish, presumptuous woman." He raised his eyebrow in defiance.

"Prove it?" You repeated his words, brows furrowed.

"You have claimed that I am a man of want," His hand caressed the hilt of Blackfyre absently and your eyes were drawn to the movement, remembering his position. "So prove it. Prove that you are right and I am wrong." 

You gulped, finally understanding the meaning of his challenge. "I…"

"Is that the end of your words?" He chuckled again. "You are intimidated now?"

You remained silent, struggling to answer him. 

"Tell me, my fair lady, am I wrong?" Aegon opened his arms in invitation while smirking. "Prove me wrong." 

Your heart drummed, breath hitching as your eyes remained locked on Aegon and his mocking face. Infuriated, you start to walk towards him, however much slower than you expected, as if your body was not as sure as your mind. The prince observed you like a proper dragon, his eyes twinkling as the purple orbs silently goaded you to continue.

You stopped only inches from him, bodies brushing, and you could feel the scent of wine mixed with an interesting blend of cedarwood, saffron, and magnolia.

"Well? I am waiting." His voice sounded much more raspy now that you were close.

Chewing on your lower lip, you placed your hands on Aegon's chest, moving it up until you clasped them together around his neck as you looked at him with your most innocent doe eyes. However, your voice sounded anything but, now a lot more enticing. "Do you find me beautiful, my lord?" 

Aegon chuckled, his heart leaping. Never did he think he would see or have you this way. Too close, and looking at him so adorably. He seized the opportunity to stare at your features, eyes trailing over your face, and he concluded he adored all that he saw, even the tiny flaws that weren't noticeable from afar. He resisted the urge to touch your face, staring at your exposed chest and then back to your eyes. You are beautiful, but that is no wonder, he's been aware of your beauty for a good while now, even if you two are completely different.

Now your sister is a lot more like him, wild and spontaneous, and it was no surprise they found themselves often tangled up in bed. You, on the other hand, though not entirely shy and unafraid of speaking your mind when necessary, was a lot more reserved and dutiful. When he noticed your smitten stares at his younger brother, he thought there couldn't be a better, and boring, match. But Aemond never made a move, and there is no way that he might be clueless about your passion, anyone with eyes, either a pair or just one, could notice that. Much to Aegon's bafflement, he just deliberately ignored you. 

"Oh…" He pretended to be in deep thought before smiling teasingly. "How could I not?"

You tried not to show how embarrassed you were by his words and how genuine they sounded, pressing your lips together for a second. 

"Well, I think you are a very pretty boy," You leaned even closer. "Those lilac eyes of yours are so enchanting..." You rubbed his cheek admirably. 

Aegon shuddered with your closeness paired with the compliments, but he managed to stay still, hands firmly by his sides. He would gladly drown in your warmth and scent on any other occasion, but not right now. He smirked, masking his nervousness with confidence, even if his warm cheeks indicated how affected he was by just a small amount of your attention.

"My fair lady, I do believe you are giving my ego a bit too much validation." 

"It is well deserved." Your lips met his cheek in a light kiss, then moved it to his jaw.

Aegon bites his lip to not whimper right there, fist clenched to continue unmoving. Due to his silence and stillness, you continued to kiss his neck, nipping and licking the soft flesh, and you felt surprised to like the taste of him so much.

"What would you say you are doing?" Aegon asked amusingly. 

"Nothing." You said nonchalantly against his neck, kissing his throat before moving to the other side of his neck.

Aegon's eyes closed as you continued your ministrations on his neck, kisses getting wetter and sloppily. He grinned, lower abdomen burning, and still fighting the need to touch you. What an agreeable turn of events.

When you finished kissing the left side of his neck and face, your lips found his, unsure what else you could do to stir him up. Aegon didn't move for a while and you prayed that he would react soon, not certain if your pride could handle being rejected twice in the same night. Your fears drifted away the second your tongue brushed his lips and he finally gripped your waist harshly, eagerly returning the kiss with a grunt.

It was ferocious, but mindful, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. You have kissed before, once, and it felt nothing like this. Eerie fitting, balanced, and enjoyable. Your hand caressed his neck, the taste of wine not displeasing to you, not at this moment. It felt as if you were merging into one, drowning in each other's taste. You shouldn't indulge so much, but it was incredible, the attention and intimacy unlocking tons of repressed desires inside you and making your body tingle. A whimper left your lips and your heart thundered inside your chest. You forced yourself to pull away, eyes half-closed, feeling everything twice as strong as you should.

Then, you finally remembered you have won the challenge. Aegon didn't resist you, he was easy to charm. The victorious grin on your face made its way as fast as it disappeared when your eyes focused on the silver-haired man. Looking down at you, the prince looked absurdly delighted. 

"Congratulations, you've just proven yourself right, my fair lady," He didn't even try to hide his amusement as he moved away. "It seems I am truly a man of want. How surprising."

Your stomach lurched, your mouth agape in shock as a mortifying shame devoured your whole. This had been his plan all along, he wanted you to kiss him, obviously never truly feeling offended by your words. Aegon had tricked you, and you have fallen into his trap as easily as a rabbit. Seven, you could've vomited.

Embarrassment quickly turned into anger. "You cunt!" You raged, voice rising in a way that made you sound like a squirrel. "How could you do this?! You are so… unscrupulous and vile!"

"I didn't do anything," He laughed derisively, raising his hands in surrender. "You kissed me. I stayed right there, unmoving." 

You groaned, throwing your head back in frustration as you paced. "You are terrible!"

"Thank you, my dear." He smirked, supporting his weight on the door.

You rested your hands upon the balustrade, fidgeting them nervously. How could you have been so daft to not notice exactly what he was doing, consciously getting a rise out of you to his benefit? This night was disastrous.

When he spoke next, you jumped. Not expecting him to be so close, his breath tickling the back of your neck as he moved a piece of your hair out of the way. "Would you like to dance with me?" 

You sneered as you looked at him over your shoulder, voice dangerously low. "What?" 

"You have not danced tonight," He pointed out. "Were you expecting my excuse of a brother to ask you?" 

"That does not concern you." You said sharply.

"You are looking far too pretty not to dance." 

"There are plenty of men willing to dance with me inside that room." 

"None deserving of the honor." 

"And you are?" You chuckled humorously.

"Not even in the slightest," He whispered in the shell of your ear, sensuously. "But I can promise not to bore you to death." 

"You truly are shameless." 

He shrugged. "Be reasonable, my fair lady. It is just, after our shared kiss, is it not?" Your body trembled when he rested his ringed fingers on your lower stomach, pulling your body flush against his chest. "I know you enjoyed it. And I can say I'm as good a dancer as I am a lover."

You concluded you were not in your best state of mind when you didn't refuse immediately. There were no good reasons to accept his invitation, still, you felt tempted to. It is the thrill that he evokes when you are near him that you do not want to let go yet. It's an uncommon emotion for you, but one that reminded you that you were alive. The night had been dreadful already, so honestly, how bad could it be?

Aegon smiled wickedly when you accepted, and extended his hand for you to hold. You ignored the goosebumps that arose on your skin when your hands touched. He led you inside, separating for an instant to go and speak with the musicians.

Multiple eyes watched curiously as you made your way into the dancefloor. The music, of his choice, was soothing and sweet. Your arms were raised and intertwined as you both twirled around slowly, a matching playful grin on your faces as you switched arms and directions. 

Aegon meant it when he said he would not bore you to death. To your bewilderment, amongst fluid and precise movements, absolutely worthy of a prince, he also decided to add some childish dance steps. Wriggling his hips or clapping his hands in such a ridiculous way that made you laugh out loud and try it out yourself. In no way suitable for the grand event you were in.

You would've noticed some disapproving looks if your eyes weren't stuck on Aegon. Your dancing seemed effortless, a silent understanding floating between you, along with known giggles.

When he lifted you off the ground, putting you back down slowly as his hand went to the small of your back, you felt yourself getting lost in the lilac of his eyes. Perhaps to never be found again.

[justabigassnerd]

Treat You Better

Pairing - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x reader

Word count - 4,256

Warnings - swearing, alcohol, mentions of cheating

Song - Treat You Better by Shawn Mendes

Summary - your boyfriend is a dick, and Bradley knows he'd be ten times the boyfriend he was

A/N - I legit came up with this on the walk home from the bus stop and honestly we love my brain sometimes bc I have this and then (shock horror) a Hangman fic planned which I'm super excited to write bc it features something I've loved since I was like 11/12 so that's fun! Anyways I'll stop rambling, as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!!

Entering the Hard Deck after a long day of training was one of your favourite things to do, especially when all of your friends from Dagger Squad were there too. This time, however, it was just you and your boyfriend Mike, better known by his callsign ‘Checkmate’ going to the bar for some drinks. You and Mike settle down on the stools just in front of the bar and you tuck your phone firmly into your pocket, not wanting Penny to ring the bell on you.

“Can I get you anything?” Penny asks, wiping down the bar as she smiles at you.

“Just one beer.” Mike says quickly, not even giving you a chance to say anything. You liked Mike, you’d only been dating a month and the relationship was running somewhat smoothly but you couldn’t help but have your doubts about some parts. You wouldn’t bring them up to Mike, knowing he’d get defensive and make you seem like the bad guy for bringing it up in the first place.

“Anything for you, y/n?” Penny asks, noticing that you got spoken over.

“A beer would be nice Penny. Thank you.” You say with a smile as Penny nods, grabbing two beers and placing them on the bar.

“Speak over her like that again Checkmate and that bell is ringing.” Penny warns as Mike rolls his eyes once her back is turned, taking the orders of other patrons.

“Just because she’s an Admiral’s daughter she thinks she can talk to me like that?” He scoffs, making you bite your tongue to stop yourself from snapping at him.

“Let’s just move if she’s bugging you so much.” You say, gesturing to the open tables you can sit at. Just as Mike goes to respond, his gaze wanders to be behind you.

“Didn’t know they were coming tonight.” He mutters, making you look over your shoulder to see Dagger Squad chattering amongst each other as they entered the bar, heading to their usual spot by the pool table.

“Pegasus! Checkmate!” You hear Fanboy call, and you look over at him, smiling as he waves madly, making you wave back as Payback and Coyote gesture for you to come and join them.

“Shall we?” You say, looking back at Mike who shrugs.

“Sure, I’ve been meaning to catch up with Hangman since he got back from his mission.” He replies, both of you grabbing your beers and crossing to your friends. Mike immediately approaches Hangman, striking a conversation as Phoenix greets you.

“Hey, Phoenix!” You greet her happily as you sit down; she hadn’t been at training today, so you missed out on seeing her, so you were happy she came to the Hard Deck. As you converse, Bob gets a round for those who had just entered the bar before joining yours and Phoenix’s conversation.

“No Rooster then?” You ask, glancing around for your friend who was the only member of your friend group that hadn’t shown up.

“He said he’d be coming. He’s probably just running late.” Bob says, glancing briefly at the door before turning back to you.

“’Late’ and ‘Rooster’ can’t be in the same sentence. I swear he’s never been late for anything a day in his life. He might not be up for coming and I wouldn’t blame him. Training was tough today.” You say, looking at the piano that Rooster often sat behind, playing songs for you all to sing loudly along to. You felt a pang of sadness in your heart at the realisation that Rooster most likely wasn’t coming to the bar. You and Rooster had been friends since forever and you hadn’t seen much of him since you told him you were dating Mike. You still saw him but not as much as you wished you could. You take a sip from your beer and as you place the bottle down on the table you hear Coyote dramatically call out to someone.

“Rooster, how nice of you to join us!” He says as Rooster crosses to the group, taking his aviators off and grinning at his friends.

“Hey, Roo!” You exclaim happily, leaping up from your seat and pulling him into a hug he wastes no time in returning. You couldn’t deny that you had some feelings towards Rooster, but you accepted he didn’t have the same feelings for you, so you started going on dates to try and move on from hopeless pining. That’s what led you to Mike.

“Hey, Pegasus.” He says as he hugs you tight, glancing around the room and locking eyes with Checkmate who scowls at the way Rooster is hugging you. When you begin to pull away, Rooster lets you much to his displeasure. He was harbouring feelings for you and the day you told him Checkmate asked you to be his girlfriend was the day he was going to confess how he felt to you. He knew that he’d be ten times the boyfriend Checkmate was, but he loved you too much to meddle in your relationship despite how clear it was that Checkmate didn’t give two shits about you.

“How’d you find training today?” You ask, pulling him over to sit with you, Phoenix, and Bob, unaware of Mike’s angered glare in your direction. As you discuss how Rooster found training, Mike comes over and plants himself in the seat next to you.

“Hey Pegasus, come talk to Hangman with me, his latest mission sounds like something I’d nail.” He boasts proudly, pulling you out of your seat and over to Hangman who greets you with a friendly smile.

“God he’s such an asshole.” Phoenix groans, rubbing at her face.

“I don’t understand how y/n chose him.” Rooster mutters, staring over at you as you chat with Hangman, smiling as he recounts his mission’s success. As Rooster stares at you, Phoenix and Bob exchange a glance. All of Dagger Squad had figured out Rooster’s crush on you and they had been rooting for the two of you to get together ever since.

“You know, even Hangman hates Checkmate. He thinks Pegasus could do so much better than that douchebag.” Payback says as he sits himself in the seat you were previously occupying. The group watches as Hangman laughs at whatever Checkmate had just said, although it was more of a light scoff than a laugh.

“With how much Checkmate is like Hangman I’m surprised he hates him.” Bob says, glancing over at his friends rather than staring obnoxiously at the three by the pool table.

“Give Hangman some credit. He’s not the same guy who waltzed in when we first got called back. Pegasus is one of his best friends he just wants her to be happy.” Coyote says, defending his friend quickly before taking a swig of his beer. Everyone in the group turns to chat amongst each other, seemingly done with staring at you and Checkmate while Rooster continues to watch you as Checkmate downs his beer and excuses himself to head over to the bar to seemingly get himself another drink. You continue to chat with Hangman while he’s gone and when Checkmate returns, he has two beers in hand, giving one to Hangman before taking a sip from the other. Not even a second passes and Checkmate excuses himself again, moving to talk to Fritz with Hangman coming over to join the group while Rooster crosses to you.

“Did Checkmate just buy Hangman a drink and didn’t even offer to get his girlfriend one? What a gentleman.” Rooster states sarcastically, leaning against the pool table with his arms folded.

“It’s fine. I wasn’t planning on drinking much anyway.” You mumble, clearly a little upset that Checkmate didn’t even think to offer to get you a drink.

“I’ll get you something, what do you fancy?” Rooster asks, making you shake your head and let out a breathy laugh.

“You don’t need to buy me anything Roo, I’ll get something myself in a bit.” You say, attempting to push Rooster away from walking to the bar but he simply took your hands off his shoulders, held them in his and spun the two of you around, so you’re now stood where Rooster was previously, and he was now stood where you were.

“I insist, it’s my treat.” He says, releasing your hands and slowly backing away in the direction of the bar as you fold your arms and shake your head jokingly, knowing there’s no way to convince him otherwise at this point. You felt your face flushing slightly at the contact and you glanced around to see if anyone was paying you any mind, thanking whoever was looking out for you that no one was looking your way. You watch as Rooster walks to the bar, talking to Penny before returning with two beers in hand, giving one to you with a soft smile as you take it and thank him quietly.

“So Bradshaw. How come you didn’t arrive at the same time as everyone else? You’re usually the most punctual out of all of us.” You muse after you’ve taken a sip of your beer.

“Well I, unlike everyone else, hate coming to the bar in my uniform, so I had to make a pitstop. And I may have forgotten to ask them to wait so we could all arrive together.” He admits sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand as you let out a small laugh. You took a second to look at Rooster’s usual choice of casual clothes, a trusty Hawaiian shirt on top of a white t-shirt, a pair of jeans and his aviators. He certainly had a unique fashion sense, but it was one of the things you loved that made him Rooster.

“Well, it’s always good to see you. Can we expect any performances tonight?” You ask, glancing at the piano as Rooster smiles.

“Maybe. We’ll see how I feel. And how much Hangman annoys me with his song choices.” He teases, both of you laughing as you remember how much Hangman can irritate Rooster by playing the same three songs on repeat on the jukebox the bar has. The two of you continue to chat until you finish your drinks. You excuse yourself to go to the toilet and as you wash your hands, you hear the familiar opening chords to ‘Great Balls of Fire’ and a knowing smile covers your face, making you dry your hands and exit the bathroom so you can join in with the other patrons of the bar as they sing loudly along to the song as Rooster plays the piano. You stand alongside Payback and Fanboy, laughing and singing with your teammates, all of you cheering loudly after you sing the final words. As you glance around the bar after the cheering has died down, you notice that Mike is nowhere to be seen.

“Fanboy, have you seen Mike?” You ask, continuing to look around.

“I saw him leaving not long before you came back from the bathroom. I thought you knew. I also didn’t know you were in the bathroom, so I figured you were heading home with him.” Fanboy says sympathetically when he notices your demeanour shift. You nod silently and start to head towards the doors of the Hard Deck. As you cross the bar, Rooster notices your dejected expression and he leaps up from where he was sat at the piano and following you outside.

“y/n, are you okay?” He asks cautiously as soon as you’re both outside. You stop in your tracks and take a deep breath before turning to face him, unshed tears shining in your eyes that break Rooster’s heart.

“Mike went home without letting me know so I’m just gonna head back to mine. I was supposed to spend the night at his but clearly, that’s not the plan anymore and since he was my ride, I guess I’m walking home. Finding out that he left from Fanboy kind of hurt so I’m not in the mood to hang around anymore. Tell the others I’ll see them in the morning.” You say, shrugging and turning back around to start the walk back to your house.

“I don’t think so.” Rooster mutters to himself before jogging to catch up with you, walking alongside you with a gentle smile. In this moment he’d never been happier to have not taken the Bronco to the bar so he could keep you company on your walk home.

“Bradley, you don’t need to miss out just because I’m leaving.” You say when you notice that Rooster is walking alongside you. Despite saying he didn’t need to walk with you, you were hoping he’d ignore you and continue to walk by your side. His presence was always comforting.

“You think I care about missing out on Hangman and Coyote’s millionth darts match? I’m not missing out on anything. I’d rather be making sure you’re okay because I’d be a shitty friend if I noticed that you were upset and still let you walk home alone.” Saying the word ‘friend’ out loud always stabbed at Rooster’s heart, knowing that your relationship would never transcend friendship hurt him but he’d still rather live with you as his friend than living a life without you in it. At Rooster’s affirmation that he’d stay by your side and walk you home, you felt a smile cross your face as you quickly rubbed at your eyes to rid yourself of the unshed tears. The walk home was filled with the two of you talking about everything and nothing at the same time. By the time you reach your front door, you don’t want Rooster to leave but you knew it wouldn’t be worth holding him up when he had training early in the morning.

“You going to be okay?” Rooster asks softly as you unlock your front door.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Mike probably just forgot about our plans. Thanks for walking me home Roo.” You reply with a smile as you wrap your arms around Rooster for a hug he returns happily.

“You take care. I’ll see you in the morning.” Rooster bids you goodnight as he releases you from the hug before turning and walking away, not before throwing one last smile over his shoulder before you close your front door, the smile not leaving your face even as you get ready for bed and bury yourself under your covers.

The next couple of weeks of training were tough, Mike had been constantly pulling away from you and spending less time with you. At first, when you first noticed it, you figured it was because of stress so you went around to his house one evening to surprise him. You were shocked, however, when Mike answered the door, a woman sticking her head over his shoulder as the door opened.

“Mike… who is this?” The girl asks, glancing from him to you when no one speaks.

“Just someone from work.” Mike says dismissively, making your jaw clench at how he discarded you so quickly.

“I wanted to see how you were doing after training, but I can see I’ve interrupted something. I’ll leave you two in peace.” You force out, fighting back your hurt tone and struggling to keep a neutral expression on your face as you take in their flushed faces and slightly swollen lips. You nod stoically with a small smile and bid the two goodbye before turning and walking away. Only when your back was turned, and you heard the door slam behind you did you allow your tears to fall. Your vision was blurred as your feet took you to the one place you knew you could be comforted.

“y/n?” Rooster is shocked when he opens his door to see you sobbing on his doorstep.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.” You whisper through your tears, your arms wrapped around your middle as you look up at Rooster.

“No, you’re okay. Come in.” Rooster says quickly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and ushering you inside and leading you to his sofa where he wraps you in a hug and allows you to sob into his chest. Rooster held you securely and felt his heart breaking further and further with each sob that fell from your lips.

“I got you, y/n/n. It’s okay.” Rooster whispered as he ran a hand up and down your back, continuing to whisper reassurance until you begin to calm down, pulling away when you’ve regained your breath and your tears have stopped.

“I’m so sorry Rooster. I promise I wasn’t planning on showing up sobbing.” You say, your voice hoarse as you clear your throat and wipe at your eyes, embarrassed at the state Rooster saw you in.

“Hey, I said it was okay. I don’t care. You’re upset I’d be a shitty guy to just slam the door in your face. My mum raised me better than that.” Rooster says with a cheeky smile as you let out a soft laugh.

“I went to Mike’s house. We hadn’t seen each other outside of training for a while so I figured I’d go to his place. When he opened the door, he was there with another woman. I don’t know why I wasn’t good enough for him. Did I do something wrong?” You explain after you fall into silence. You felt like you owed Rooster an explanation as to why you showed up sobbing at his house. A fresh wave of tears emerging at your explanation and Rooster pulls you back into a hug, resting his chin on top of your head.

“That dickhead. You listen to me, and you listen to me carefully. He’s not worth all these tears, okay? You did nothing wrong. He’s the one who fucked up. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You deserve better than him. There’s someone out there who’s perfect for you and when you find them this asshole will be a distant memory who won’t be worth thinking about.” Rooster says softly yet firmly, his chin gently digging into the top of your head with each word spoken. You don’t reply, just sniffling slightly and curling further into his side. Accepting your silence as an answer, Rooster reached for the tv remote and put the tv on, putting a random tv show on as background noise. You continued to cling to Rooster, not that he minded, relishing in his warmth and how safe you felt in his arms. Before you knew it, you felt yourself drifting off as exhaustion sets in. Rooster hadn’t noticed that you had fallen asleep until he noticed the time on his watch.

“y/n/n, you want to crash here for the night?” He asks and when he only receives a soft snore in response, he smiles.

“Guess you’re crashing here then.” He whispers, gently scooping you up in his arms and carrying you upstairs. He laid you down in his bed and covers you up with the duvet after taking your shoes off.

“Sleep well, sweetheart.” He mutters before grabbing a blanket and heading back downstairs to sleep on the sofa. He wanted nothing more than to storm over to Checkmate’s house and give him a piece of his mind, but he knew he wasn’t worth his time. Besides, once the rest of the team found out, Checkmate would be running for the hills.

When you woke up the next morning, you were confused when you realised you were in a bed since the last thing you remembered was sobbing in Rooster’s arms as he reassured you that what transpired last night was not your fault. As you sat up the smell of pancakes hit your nostrils and you couldn’t stop yourself from climbing out of bed and heading downstairs where you’re greeted by Rooster humming lightly to himself as he cooks breakfast.

“You know you could’ve just woken me up and sent me home?” You say teasingly, laughing as Rooster jumps and turns to face you.

“Like I said last night, my mum raised me better than that.” He replies with a shrug, plating up the pancakes and placing the two plates down on the table with cutlery as he gestures for you to sit down. You sit down opposite him and start to dig into your pancakes.

“Thanks for breakfast. And thanks for being there for me last night.” You say quietly after a mouthful of pancakes.

“I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.” Rooster assures softly, a smile gracing both of your faces as the affirmation.

“Did you mean what you said last night?” You whisper after a brief silence falls over the two of you. Rooster lifts his gaze from his plate over to you and his expression softens.

“Of course I did. Checkmate is an asshole, and you deserve so much better than him. I never liked him, even before you started dating.” Rooster says, looking down at the table at the admission that he never liked Checkmate.

“Why didn’t you say anything? You were the first person I told when he first asked me to be his girlfriend.” You question, head tilting innocently as you ask him. When Rooster stays quiet, you start to put things together in your head.

“You wanted to…” You mutter, watching as he lifts his gaze to meet yours, nodding hesitantly.

“I wanted nothing more than to tell you to say no. But you seemed happy, I couldn’t do that to you.” He admits, watching as you process the information.

“I wish you had told me to say no.” You say quietly, regretting the words the second they slipped past your lips, fearful of what Rooster’s reaction could be.

“You… what?” He whispers, his heart pounding loudly at what you said.

“I wish you had told me to say no to Mike. I would’ve if you had asked me to.” You repeat, watching as Rooster stands up, picking his chair up and moving it to sit alongside you, your knee brushing up against his as your heart pounds at the contact.

“I wish I did too. This way you wouldn’t have gone through all that.” He says, finding the courage to reach across and take your hand in his.

“I knew me, and Mike wasn’t going to last if I’m being honest. I just…” You start, struggling to find the words.

“You just…?” He prompts gently, his gentle brown eyes searching yours.

“I just thought I never had a chance with you, so I went on dates to find someone. Mike was the only guy who looked my way but when I told you he asked me out I was hoping you’d tell me I’d be stupid to say yes.” You say, dropping your head and staring at your intertwined hands instead of looking up at Rooster as you worry about what he could say. You were mentally preparing to get up and leave Rooster’s house when his grip on your hand tightened as he pulled your hand closer to him.

“God, I’m so stupid.” You hear him mutter, making you look at him with a confused expression.

“Bradley, if anyone’s stupid in this whole scenario, it’s me.” You say.

“No. I’m the stupid one. I came to your house the day you told me Checkmate asked you to be his girlfriend because I was going to tell you how I was hopelessly head over heels for you and when I had the chance to tell you how I felt I backed off. I’m the biggest idiot.” Rooster scoffs lightly as he admits what he’s been holding in for a month and a half. Your expression softens at his words, and you lift your free hand and cup his cheek gently, smiling as he ever so slightly leans into the touch.

“I wouldn’t say you’re the biggest idiot. You’re at the very least half an idiot.” You say, both of you letting a soft laugh escape your lips.

“Does that make you the other half an idiot? I need another half to be a whole idiot.” Rooster replies, pressing a quick kiss to your palm.

“Yeah, I’m definitely the other half an idiot.” You confirm, shaking your head with a laugh as you move away slightly, slipping your hand out of his and moving your hand from his cheek.

“Let me take you on a date. Let me show you I can be ten times the boyfriend Checkmate was.” Rooster says as you take your hand off his cheek, much to his disappointment. He relished the warm sensation your hand left on his cheek. You already knew Rooster would be a thousand times the boyfriend Mike was. Just being your friend he was the best person you had in your life so having him as a boyfriend would be even better.

“I guess I could give you a shot…” You muse jokingly as Rooster shoots to his feet, pulling you up with him and pulling you into his arms with a large grin. You laugh at his excitement as he buries his face in your shoulder. You remain in the embrace, almost melting at how tightly he held you. Being in Rooster’s arms felt like coming home after a long day. Rooster made you feel safe.

“I’ll treat you better than Checkmate ever could.” He says, his voice muffled by your shirt as he speaks.

You didn’t doubt his words for a second.

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

His favourite restaurant

Tasm!Peter Parker x bestfriend!reader

Summary: Peter lost a game of chess, now he had to cook dinner.

Warnings/tags: nothing but tooth rotting fluff, flatmate!bestfriend!reader, peter being stupidly in love, Star Wars.

Word count: 2k

A/n: this is a little self indulgent thing I started writing at 3 am. It’s currently 5 am. But I hope you enjoy!

“Spider-Man saves the day once again, today find out how…”

The endless chatter from the small tv drowned like background noise as they both sat on the carpeted floor. Peter had brought home an old chess board he had found at the thrift store down the street. It was old, the pieces were built of wood, thick and tall. It looked like an expensive board much to its being found at a thrift store. So, much to your complaints, he decided it would be a great idea for you both to play against each other.

“And..check” He glanced towards you before making his final move. A smirk crawling up his plump lips. Sure, he had a few tricks up his sleeve, but you were no stranger to the chess arena, either. “Nuh uh…look again, Skater boy.” Pointing towards the knight and rook that had surrounded his king, the move he was currently trying to make was only going to put his king in a difficult position…checkmate.

“Checkmate.” You stated, sitting back up with your legs crossed you extended your right hand towards him. He looked up, brown puppy eyes looking inspecting your hand like it was something alien.

“How did you do that?” He questioned, looking more in disbelief than you had initially thought.

You shrugged, smirking. “Call it beginner's luck.”

Moving your hand back towards, encouraging a shake.

“Win with dignity, lose with dignity.” You spoke up again. “We shake hands after games because it’s a sign of respect no matter the outcome.” You continued.

The light streaming from the window across the room was making it really difficult for you to keep your eyes focused. From here, the orange and pink streams glided their way in, bouncing beautifully off of Peter’s hair. It looked as though he had a halo right above him. Pale skin glowing underneath the dying sunlight as he sat up, matching your position and taking your hand in his. It caused an electric impulse to travel right up your spine. You shuddered under his warm touch as he softly shook your hands up and down. Dropping it after a few long seconds.

“Loser makes dinner, remember?” You reminded him teasingly. He groaned in response, throwing his head back on the couch as he covered his eyes with the heel of his palms. He wasn’t a bad cook, not at all. May had taught him well around the kitchen. He was just too lazy to do so sometimes. And today was only one of those days.

“Can I do it tomorrow, please?” He pleaded, soft brown orbs glowing in the light as he leaned against you, pouting. “I’ll clean the dishes instead.” He added quickly. Knowing that you were a sucker for not doing them when the sink had piled up on a busy morning or after late night dinners.

You juggled with his proposal. Consider it for a minute or two before an idea lights up in the dark of your mind.

“What if we both cook together?” You counter-proposed. As Peter nodded a little too aggressively in agreement, you laughed.

Carefully standing to stretch the numbing feeling out of your legs as Peter sat there with his head on the couch. Staring. You could have felt his gaze even from a mile away. Scarlet blood rushed up your neck and towards your cheeks as you tried to busy yourself with something.

Peter was staring. He knew he was. But just couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from your figure in the dim light of your shared apartment as the sun set from behind the windows. You looked like an angel, in your long Christmas Pajamas, a shirt that had ‘Merry Sithmas’ written in the middle of it in a big, Star Wars font. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Once you had managed to fully get your feet to wake. Turning the TV off, you gestured to Peter to come along towards the small area that was your kitchen. Soft feet padding down towards the small area as Peter was left to gather his thoughts in the next minute. He glanced back towards where you had once been, now shifting into the kitchen and taking out the bit pucks needed for dinner. He liked nights like these. Where it was you and him and some random tv noises. The whole world just melted away and it was only you and him.

“You coming or not, Parker?” You shouted from across the room. Breaking his chain of thoughts. He looked dazed. Wisps of soft hair in messed all directions. He shifted his head towards you, still on the floor, not moving.

“Be right there, bub.” He reassured you. Rubbing a hand down his face as he gets up, cleaning up the mess of chess pieces on the floor and arranging it again on the coffee table.

Peter joins you in the kitchen a good minute or two after you had called for him. You had turned on the small radio in the window sill, old 80s soft rock pouring around the kitchen. As you both fall in a smooth rhythm, working your way into the process before Peter stops abruptly in the middle of the kitchen, stopping you from moving towards the other side to your chicken.

“Wait, did we discuss what’s for dinner?” He questions. Which makes you halt your tracks as well, as you tried maneuvering your way from his side.

“I thought we could make our Chinese order.” You commented, matter of factly. Peter stood there, his emotions evident on his features as a smile appeared on his face.

“You got the recipe?” He asks in disbelief as you nod profusely, mirroring his smile.

“Yeah, Mrs. Kim said if I asked for it as a Christmas present she might consider giving it. Turns out she wasn’t kidding” You laughed. Moving past Peter, towards your (seasoned) chicken and putting it into a pot of boiling water.

Before you could move to cover the lid of it, a pair of arms wrapped themselves around your waist, lifting and twirling you as you let out a squeal. Scolding Peter to put you down so you don’t knock over the boiling pot of chicken. Peter laughed at your protests, only going faster as you both laughed your heads off.

Setting you down, his hands stayed out on the dip of your waist. Turning you around to face him, his face held an unreadable expression. Earthy orbs moving between your own and then your lips. Soft, filled with joy and something else you couldn’t quite place. Before you could fully decipher it, Peter leaned in. Hands shifting to the low of your back as he nuzzled his face into your neck, breathing you in.

It took you a second to come to your senses before you wrapped your arms around his neck. Reciprocating the hug back.

You felt his lips move against the base of your neck as your eyes closed in delight. But they opened right back as you realised he was probably trying to say something.

Removing the grip you had on him, you leaned back. Still in the intimate range you had once been in but more comfortable.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” You apologised. Gesturing him to repeat himself.

“I said: Thank you.” He repeated. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as he smiled down at you. Registering your lack of answer and the blown out look you had on your face, he continued:

“It was Ben’s favorite place. It was where he and May went for their first date actually.”

You were shook. Emotionally and mentally. You had known Uncle Ben for quite some time before he died. He was a great man. Always so kind and caring. You had spent a few nights at Peter’s to know he was a great cook (somehow managing to joke that it was better than May’s cooking).

After he passed, it was not easy seeing May and Peter cope with his death. It wasn’t easy for them, either . And for Peter to share that place with you, now. It somehow managed to sting your eyes before salty tears started pouring their way out.

“Aww, bub don’t cry. I was only saying thank you.” He cooed, feeling his own tears pooling at the edge of his eyes. He pulled you back into his arms as you sniffled. Slightly soaking a patch into his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I know you miss him, I didn’t know what that place meant to you. I’m sorry.” You cried a little more into him. His chest tighted, something pulled at his heart strings as he watched you cry for his Uncle. It wasn’t like you hadn’t heard of his death. You simply didn’t cope well with abrupt deaths.

“Sshh..it’s alright. Maybe he is happily looking over us right now.” He comforted, looking up towards the ceiling and imagining Ben, looking down on him with a smile on his face.

He hears the radio, a familiar tune dancing it’s way into his ears as he looks towards you. Taking a step back, and dropping his hands from you. You immediately miss his touch but before you could question his movements he offers you his hand. You look at him, confused before you recognise the familiar tune from the radio: Time after time by Cyndi Lauper.

“Dance with me, Y/n.” He says, with a smile so intoxicating that you couldn’t bring yourself to protest.

So you nod, taking his hand in yours as he twirls you around. A hand behind his back, the other above your head, spinning. Moving you out at an arms length and twirling you back in, flush against his chest and back again before he has you pressed against his chest, laughter filled with heavy breathing.

There is that look again, the soft smile, the puppy eyes with pupils blown out and…tenderness. He looked at you like you’d hung the moon and stars. He licked his lips. His eyes darted between your eyes and lips, slowly leaning in as if he were being cautious that a sudden movement would scare you away. You met him halfway, a hand at the back of his neck as dry lips met chapped ones.

It was gentle, and tender, like the ones writers describe in books. With butterflies in stomachs and fireworks and the smell of home mixed with him. You couldn’t think straight. Your lips danced against each other, perfectly fit before you were left gasping for air.

“Woah-”

“Wow-”

You both whispered, words overlapping against each other before Peter pulled you back in. It was more passionate this time. His arms enveloped you completely and you busied your hands into his hair, tugging and pulling before small groans were heard from Peter. He pressed against you as you started walking backwards till your back hit the kitchen counter. His hands were all over you, your neck, waist, hips.

He was all over you before you knew it, until a burning smell hit your nostrils and you gasped into his mouth. The chicken that you had forgotten to cover was now raging, the water overflowing out of the pot. Making a mess on the stove.

You broke away from Peter, gently pushing him away to grab the pot lid and slowing down the heat to stop the chicken from over cooking. As you looked back towards the brunette boy, who was still standing near the counter, touching his lips as if it weren’t there. You realised, you were in love with Peter Parker.

[m0ther-of-p3arl]

got a tendency for codependency

(robert aeor high p4)

masterpost

eyooo and welcome to part four of the robert aeor high au and it's a very special update today! i welcome you to...JIMMY POV!!!

Jimmy can feel  Shelby watching him, feel her eyes boring into his back, telling him to stop talking. But he doesn’t, because Scott looks like he’s hurting and Jimmy wants to help. All Jimmy’s ever wanted to do since he got away is to help.

or, Jimmy's determined to make friends in his new school and just kind of a chill update

(3493 words)

TW: mentions of running away, insinuated past abuse, dissociation, insinuated ptsd, panic attacks

It’s only Jimmy’s first day, and already he’s made a friend. Her name is Shelby, or Shubble to eir friends, ey use she/ey pronouns, she’s a gnome, and ey wears a really, really big hat. Jimmy’s never really had a friend before, but even so, he feels like he’s lucked out with Shubble. She’s kind and funny, and ey really listens to him when he talks.

Jimmy doesn’t know if he’s friends with Scott, though. The gorgon was kind of intimidating, asking all those questions about if he can fly or not. Jimmy supposes it’s kind of hypocritical to be thinking this, because he himself was asking some questions of the more personal variety as well. But how was he to know that Scott would be so sensitive about that kind of thing? But how was Scott to know that Jimmy hated being asked about flying? He’s checkmated himself with that one. 

Scott and the tiefling, Jimmy thought he heard Shelby call him “Owen,” have just gone into the corner where they’re having some kind of intense conversation. Scott looks really uncomfortable, his arms hugging himself tightly, and Owen seems to be quite angry about something, throwing his hands in the air. 

Jimmy can’t quite make out what they’re saying, but he does know that a while ago, he heard his name. They had both glanced back quite conspiratorially after that, and then quieted their voices considerably. Jimmy’s half-listening to Shubble’s animated chatter, half-watching the two boys in the corner. 

He wonders what they’re talking about, what it has to do with him. Jimmy’s always been a curious little bird. 

Oh, goddamn it! It’s been a year, a year, and he still can’t shake it off, that voice, always at the back of his mind, whispering the same words every time, repeating and repeating and repeating, endless looping circles. For the first couple months after he left, he couldn’t sleep, the words the only things he could hear at night, when there were no distractions to keep them from coming. 

It’s less severe now, with Beks’ quiet snores from the bunk above him, rhythmic and soothing, and her parents always there to comfort him if he needs it. Really, the voice is more of a nuisance now, a shaking reminder that makes Jimmy’s feathers poof up every time he hears it.

Jimmy’s always been a curious little bird.  

Ugh. He shakes his wings slightly, the feathers making a soft rustling sound, and turns his attention to Shubble, who’s going on about inter-species peace or something of the sort- nothing Jimmy would know about.

“Shelby?” he asks, interrupting the gnome mid-sentence.

“Yeah?” Shubble answers. He finds it amazing how ey doesn’t even seem to care that she’s been interrupted, how ey just cuts herself off, no matter what ey’s been saying, to turn her attention to Jimmy.

“Do you know what those two are talking about over there in the corner?” While he’s saying this, still keeping half an eye on the conversation, Owen’s just enveloped Scott in a hug. The gorgon’s standing still as a stone in his embrace, and Jimmy wonders why he won’t hug Owen back. The few times Jimmy’s been hugged have been some of the nicest moments of his life. He doesn’t understand Scott.

“Oh… let’s not talk about that, Jimmy, it doesn’t matter much anyway.” Shubble’s expression has changed suddenly and drastically, going from a welcoming, warm smile to an anxious frown that she’s attempting to hide rather poorly. “Plus, they’re coming back now, see?”

“...I guess so,” Jimmy mutters. He doesn’t want Shelby to get mad at him, doesn’t want to jeopardize what’s maybe the only friendship he has, so he drops it for now. As Scott sits back down in the seat next to Jimmy, Owen gives the gorgon a quick pat on the back before he slides into his seat as well.

Stealing a glance at the gorgon, Jimmy realizes that the person he’d bumped into on the hallway while trying to find his class was probably Scott- he’s about the right height, and Jimmy distinctly remembers cyan. If so, that did make trying to be the gorgon’s friend a bit awkward, especially as he’s certain that even though he doesn’t know Scott that well, he’s a smart, cunning person. If Jimmy’s figured it out, there’s no doubt in his mind that the gorgon has as well.

God, Jimmy’s such a clumsy idiot. 

He can see Scott right now in his peripheral vision, hunched up into himself and seemingly very worried about something. Now, Jimmy’s no expert on life, and especially not having friends, but he does know that he’s generally good at cheering people up- or at least, that’s what Beks says, and she took him in. Jimmy trusts her, so that means he should trust himself.

“You good?” he asks, tapping Scott’s shoulder. “You seem… upset about something.”

Scott looks over, surprised, his mouth drawn into a straight line. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He’s obviously not, and Jimmy’s brow furrows, confused as to why someone would say something if it wasn’t what they meant. What are you supposed to do after this, again? Oh, right.

“...Are you sure?” he asks the older boy awkwardly, not quite looking in his eyes, preening his wing feathers; an anxious habit he’s picked up in the last year.

“Um. Yeah. Yep. I’m just peachy,” Scott mutters weakly, staring straight ahead at nothing. Jimmy can feel  Shelby watching him, feel her eyes boring into his back, telling him to stop talking. But he doesn’t, because Scott looks like he’s hurting and Jimmy wants to help.

All Jimmy’s ever wanted to do since he got away is to help.

“What did Owen say when you were talking in the corner? It clearly upset you, and I know we barely know each other, but if you need to talk about something, you can come to me.” The words come out in a rush, cascading from his lips before he can stop them. He realizes what he’s said is probably very embarrassing and he can feel the red creeping into his cheeks, his eyes glancing upon Shubble’s tense expression, which looks like she’s certain Scott’s going to fall apart like a fragile little flower. 

On the gorgon’s other side, Owen’s back has tensed, his ears pricked. He’s turned away from him, but Jimmy can tell the tiefling’s been eavesdropping- ready to jump in at any time to Scott’s defense.

But despite what Jimmy’s expected, harsh rejection and an angry glare, one more possibility of friendship lost forever, the opposite seems to happen.

“...Thank you, Jimmy.” Scott’s voice sounds genuinely grateful, and Jimmy’s unbelievably relieved that he’s not mad. He hadn’t even realized his feathers had fluffed up until they relaxed, smoothing back down into their normal shape. He can see Scott’s eyes out of the corners of his own, hidden under glasses, the cyan irises tracing his plumage as it relaxes back into his wings, smooth and flush with his back. Jimmy feels a little shiver knowing that Scott’s looking at him, looking at his wings with such… curiosity.

Jimmy’s always been a curious little bird. Goddamn it. Goddamn it! He can’t get away from the voice, her voice, pulling and pushing and repeating and looping over and over and over and over again- Jimmy shakes his head, trying to refresh his brain, but it doesn’t work and he’s scared scared scared, he doesn’t want them to see him like this, especially not Scott, especially not Scott but 

curiouslittlebirdjimmy’salwaysbeenacuriouslittlebird- 

He’s aware of how his wings must be wrapped tightly around himself, aware of the way Shelby’s looking at him with concern, shaking his shoulder and yelling, “JIMMY!” But he can’t hear her, the voice is drowning everything else out, and he knows he should be able to feel Scott’s hand pressing against the back of his neck, making sure he’s awake, but he doesn’t feel it, he doesn’t feel anything, nothing but the voice screaming screaming screaming loud in his skull, it won’t stop, why won’t it stop-

Then something brushes his wings and he snaps out of it, shaking his head and breathing heavily. The thing that had touched his feathers, right where they connected at his back, had been the teacher’s hand- Jimmy realizes they’ve been standing over him as well, and a fresh bout of shame loops over him. He hasn’t been that bad in almost four months.

“Though that would work,” they say confidently, rubbing Jimmy’s shoulder. “You good, kiddo?”

“I- yeah, I’m fine,” he lies, mirroring Scott’s words from just a few minutes ago. Now he understands. “Don’t worry about me.” Jimmy kind of wishes someone did worry about him, obviously he has Beks, but she’s different, she’s not really his friend, exactly. He’s super grateful for her and everything, and she’s been such a help in everything, but he knows that most of her motivation to help him comes from a place where she’s just trying to heal herself, her own past wounds.

Her little brother.

“If that ever happens again,” Mx Leiverman says authoritatively, breaking Jimmy out of his thoughts, “I want you to touch his back, that spot between his wings, right? That’s one of the most sensitive spots on an avian,” they explain, “and it tends to wake them up from dissociation, which I think is what was going on here. Of course, it also wakes them up from real sleep, but I sure hope our new student won’t be sleeping in class.” The teacher sends him a wink, smiling. “Now, do you all know what we’re doing today, or were you just chatting the whole time?”

Jimmy smiles guiltily, it’s not a real smile, it’s just met to make the teacher feel better. He doesn’t want her to think he’s a nuisance. Jimmy hates being told he’s a nuisance. “I suppose it might help to have a refresher.”

The next thirty minutes go by in a blur, small talk with Shelby while doing some sort of science experiment. Everyone else seems to know what will happen, but Jimmy’s extremely surprised at the end result, an amazed gasp exploding from his mouth at the colored mushroom cloud that poofs out of the beaker. His reaction makes everyone else laugh, and Jimmy has to admit that he probably sounds pretty silly.

Plus, it doesn’t feel like they were laughing at him, it feels like they were laughing with him. That’s sort of a new feeling to Jimmy, but he decides he likes it. School isn’t as bad as he’d thought it might be- he’s already made friends, Shelby especially, who makes him laugh in a very real way, and Scott, who’s quiet but nice and after a couple more minutes with the guy, has solidly landed in the friend category. He’s really interesting to look at too, and Jimmy finds himself having to drag his eyes away from the gorgon’s snakes or hands or eyes beneath shades on multiple occasions.

Owen, on the other hand… from the outside, he seems fine, treats Jimmy just the same as Shubble and Scott, but there’s something just slightly, marginally different- Jimmy doesn’t think he likes him very much. Maybe it’s the way the tiefling glances to the side as if he wants to run away, or how whenever he thinks Jimmy’s not looking, his face twists into a scowl, or the way that when he laughs, there’s an undertone that Jimmy can’t quite pin down, but certainly doesn’t like.

But Owen doesn’t matter because now Jimmy has friends, real friends for the first time ever. Well, except for Beky, of course- but she’s a grade younger, it’s not like he’d be able to hang out with her in class. Plus, she has her own friends, El and Krow and that whole lot, and Jimmy never really got on with them. Especially Krow. It’s nice and all, but he’s just always found it a bit…intimidating, especially as it’s a siren and could be manipulating him without him ever knowing it was doing anything at all.

And El, though she’s very down-to-earth and funny, is straight-up terrifying. She’s just over eight feet tall, and while that’s short for a celestial, even the forest celestial that she is, it’s still pretty damn tall for anyone else. Of course, sky celestials get taller- they can grow to twelve feet- but Jimmy’s only five foot two. He’s really quite short. 

Jimmy just generally distrusts people who are super significantly taller than him. They remind him of Patty and he does not want to be reminded of Patty- just thinking of her sends a shiver down the center of his spine, and he has to concentrate from keeping the voice creeping back into his mind, her voice, repeating and repeating and repeating.

And then before Jimmy knows it, class is almost over, and he’s packing up his stuff with Shelby’s help, letting him know where everything should go and how to keep his binder organized. 

“These uniforms are really uncomfortable,” he mutters offhandedly, picking at the rough material of his skirt.

“YES!” Scott practically yells the word, almost causing Jimmy to jump out of his skin. “Oh, sorry. But they are, aren’t they? No one else thinks they are! Everyone’s like ‘Oh Scott, they’re fine, you just have sensitive skin,’ but they mess up my snakes too.”

“For me, it’s my feathers,” Jimmy explains. “The holes where my wings stick out from my uniform are really scratchy and they’re probably going to leave an irritation on my wingbuds, if they haven’t already.” He doesn’t quite understand what’s going on, why this dumb little conversation is making him so happy, his mouth quirking up in a slight smile.

Scott continues going on and on about the uniforms, and Jimmy just watches, nodding and chirping up with little add-ons whenever the gorgon says something he agrees with. It’s kind of nice, just sitting here and talking to this kid he’s met today. 

Plus, Jimmy just finds Scott’s snakes so interesting, the way they hiss slightly when he speaks, and how they’re always writhing across his head. The gorgon will sometimes run a hand backwards through them, taming them down for about thirty seconds before they’re back at it again.

Jimmy remembers reading somewhere that a gorgon’s snakes mimic their emotions, and from what he can recall, right now it looks like Scott’s feeling- maybe not happy, exactly- but energized nonetheless.

Jimmy doesn’t realize he’s been spaced out, staring at the gorgon once again, until Shelby waves a hand in front of his face. “Hellooo? Jimmy, you home?” 

“What? Oh, yeah, sorry, I just kinda spaced out for a bit.” He shakes his head, and turns away from Scott, feeling mildly embarrassed. He doesn’t know what’s come over him, but Scott’s just interesting to look at, with his snakes always twisting this way and that, his cyan eyes really quite hypnotizing, even through his dark sunshades. Jimmy supposes they must come from his siren mother.

Hopefully Scott doesn‘t have any of the manipulative powers that typical sirens, like Krow, possess. Jimmy would actually be pretty surprised if he did, because it seems like the only feature he’s inherited that’s not completely gorgon-ish is the color of his eyes and snakes. Oh, and the fact that he apparently can’t petrify anyone. 

Jimmy’s still curious about that, wonders why Scott wears the shades if there’s nothing within his eyes he has to protect others from. But that’s a question for later, when they’re better friends, because the gorgon’s seemed to really tense up when Jimmy’s asked similar questions.

“Well, it’s time to go,” Owen says brusquely as the bell rings, pulling Jimmy out of his thoughts. “Where to next, Jim?”

“Um, lemme check,” Jimmy mutters, opening his schedule as he feels a spike of anxiety. He really doesn’t think Owen likes him. That’s bad. Jimmy doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong that might make the tiefling hate him, but he wouldn’t know, would he? Jimmy’s new at having friends, he only just got out a year ago.

Jimmy’s always been a curious little bird. 

He shudders at the voice, still pressing into his mind, her words sharp as a knife in his mind. “Um, next class is math with a Mr Brunswick? In room 201,” he adds to clarify. 

Scott looks at him, surprised. “If you’ve read that right, you’ve got the next class with me and Joel, then.”

“...Who’s Joel?” Jimmy asks, wondering if he’s missed something.

Scott considers the question for a couple of seconds, as if he’s trying to figure out how to word the answer. “Joel is… Joel. He’s a hard one to explain- you’ll know what I mean when you meet him. Jimmy smiles uncertainly, slightly worried about who, or what, Joel is, but he gets his answer soon enough.

He follows Scott across the hall, tripping over feet and hitting people with his wings left and right, muttering “sorry”s that are met with annoyed glares from the other students, until finally, they’re inside the classroom. Jimmy heaves a sigh of relief and leans against the doorjamb, because thank god he’s out of that crowded mayhem- he’s decided he doesn’t like the hallways.

“Someone’s dramatic,” Scott smirks, turning back and beckoning for Jimmy to follow him. “So, I think your desk is next to mine ‘cause I saw it earlier, and Joel sits right behind me.”

“I don’t see a seat behind yours,” Jimmy starts, confused.

“Oh, yeah, Joel has to sit on the floor,” Scott explains, somehow just bringing up even more questions about this mysterious “Joel.”

He opens his mouth, more confused than ever, when suddenly someone walks through the door. Or more, stoops under the door frame. Jimmy’s eyes travel from their bright white shoes to their blue and mottled white legs all the way up to their head, where a scruff of brown hair with a single green streak slightly off to the side sits, a tattoo of a strand of laurel snaking down their arm.

Oh. Oh, no, he’s so tall. That’s not good.

So that’s Joel. Or at least, he assumes that’s who they are, because Scott’s waving them over, and they’re enthusiastically making their way through the rows of desks to sit on the floor behind the gorgon and Jimmy.

“Eyo, are you that new kid? The one on my bus?” Joel leaves no room for questions, his meaning blatantly clear. Jimmy supposes he has to admire that, even if he’s really not enjoying the fact that Joel towers over him even when he’s seated on the floor.

“Um, yeah, probably,” Jimmy laughs nervously, picking at his feathers and smoothing his skirt down to his knees. “I mean, I feel like I would’ve noticed you, with you being…,” his eyes take a second to trace from Joel’s shoes to his head, “That tall,” he finishes, feeling a familiar wave of nausea that always comes at times like this. “Are you a sky celestial? I’m not the best at species identification, but you guys are kind of unmistakable.”

“That I am,” Joel smirks, “and a handsome one at that, eh, Scott?”

The gorgon rolls his eyes, but Jimmy can see the hint of a smile beneath the snarky facade. “Keep telling yourself that, bestie.”

“So, Timmy, right?” the sky celestial asks, quite sure of himself as he leans towards Jimmy, who tries to hide a snicker.

“Timmy?!” He’s not sure if Joel’s joking, because even given the little he’s seen of him, he seems to tread the line between joking and being serious in every sentence. “No, sorry, the name’s Jim. So, Jimmy would be what you heard. With a ‘J.,” he adds to clarify.

“...Oh,” Joel mutters, slightly taken aback. “Well, that’s not a terrible mistake to make, is it?”

Scott smiles dryly, but doesn’t say anything.

“Um, it’s fine, I guess?” Jimmy mutters. “I really don’t care all that much.” 

“Well, good,” Joel puffs, “Because you shouldn’t. Because I’m the best. And not egotistical at all.”

“Sure,”  Scott mutters, a smirk still apparent on his face, bent down to finish his homework. Joel rolls his eyes, sticking his tongue out at Scott.

The rest of the day passes quickly. Either Scott, Shelby, Owen, or Joel are in all of his classes, and in some, all four of them are there. When Jimmy’s walking home with Beks, her owl wings contrasting directly with his bright yellow plumage, he can’t help but think that, all things considered, his life’s been so, so much better since he got out.Maybe it’s good that he is a curious little bird, because otherwise, he wouldn’t be here right now, now would he? But, even after having a day to get used to him, Jimmy just has to admit that Joel’s still too tall.

[yourfavoritebookclub]

WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction

CHAPTER 18

“Oren Seifert.” Captain Fitzgibbons voice booms around the courtyard. "We commend their souls to Malek.” 

Quiet chatter rises from the crowd as Fitzgibbons finishes memorializing the first-years I killed yesterday.

Just one more kill to execute. 

He rolls the scroll up tightly and slips it into the pocket of his midnight blue winter cloak.

From the back of the courtyard, I walk toward the front of the formation, the crowd parting as I pass, the mask of the Wingleader firmly in place.

“Don’t forget that extra training for War Games starts this week. Your squad leaders will have more information regarding scheduling.” Fitzgibbons announces over the bustle of restless students. 

I turn to face the Fourth Wing. Every section stands in perfect order, not a toe out of place. My eyes lock onto Violet’s, and there’s a fire in her gaze that leaves me momentarily enraptured. 

I turn to address Dain, breaking out eye contact.

“There’s been a change to your squad roll.” Behind me, Fitzgibbons has moved on to graduation announcements. 

“Wingleader?” Dain questions, straightening to his full height. He’s still a half a head shorter than I am.

“We just absorbed four from the dissolution of the third squad.” The squad leader argues.

“Yes,” I turn to look at one of the other squad leaders in Tail Section. “Belden, we’re making a roll change.”

“Yes, sir.” He nods. 

The correct response.

“Aetos, Vaughn Penley will be leaving your command, and you’ll be gaining Liam Mairi from Tail Section.

Dain opens his mouth as if to speak and, then thinking better of it, snaps it shut and nods.

Penly and Liam switch spots without a word.

My brother gives me a small nod of assurance as he steps up next to me.

“I do not need a bodyguard,” Violet fires at me. 

I ignore her, turning so she’s boxed out of the conversation. “Liam is statistically the strongest first-year in the quadrant. He has the fastest time up the Gauntlet, hasn’t lost a single challenge, and is bonded to an exceptionally strong Red Daggertail.” My eyes cut to Liam and my chest blooms with pride as I continue. “Any squad would be lucky to have him, and he’s all yours, Aetos. You can thank me when you win the Squad Battle in the spring.

Liam gives a silent nod to Dain and slides into formation behind Violet.

“I. Do. Not. Need. A. Bodyguard,” Violet repeats in a loud, clipped voice.

Someone in First Squad audibly gasps at the clear disrespect in Violet’s tone.

Over to the left, Imogen snorts out a laugh. “Good luck with that approach.” I move toward Violet, every step echoing with an undeniable authority. 

At this moment, she is my inferior. A subordinate whose life is so closely intertwined with mine that there is no room for declarations, compromises, or rebuttal.

I stand in front of her, leaning in so our faces are close enough for me to see the flecks of blue and green in her hazel eyes. “You do, though, as we both learned last night. And I can’t be everywhere you are. But Liam here,” I point behind her to where Liam stands, ever the loyal sentinel. “He’s a first-year, so he can be in every class, at every challenge, and I even had him assigned to library duty, so I hope you get used to him, Sorrengail.”

“You’re overstepping,” she says through her teeth, looking up at me with so much contempt; it’s no wonder why Tairn bonded with her.

“You haven’t begun to see overstepping,” I warn. My voice drops into a low growl. “Any threat to you is a threat against me and, as we’ve already established, I have more important things to do than sleep on your floor.”

Color blooms at Violet’s neck, trailing up her ears and painting her cheeks a rosy pink. “He is not sleeping in my room.”

I grin at her obvious discomfort.

Checkmate. 

“Of course not. I had him moved into the one next to yours.” My smile widens. “Wouldn't want to overstep.”

Turning my back on the Second Squad, I head back to leadership's designated spot at the front of Fourth Wing.

Panchek shimmies past Fitzgibbons, the codex clutched in his hand, and takes the podium. 

I let myself barrel into the depths of my mind, sinking into a meditative state. A lethal calm that cocoons every one of my senses, a protective layer for the roiling anger and exhaustion underneath.

Panchek sets the heavy codex on the podium and begins flipping through it, muttering noisily to himself.

He flips through the pages skimming with his finger for several minutes until he halts tapping his index finger on the page, marking the correct Addendum, he looks up to face the entire Formation. “Thank you, Fitzgibbons, for the morning announcements. Now before you go, there’s another matter to handle this morning. One of deepest concern.”

He laces his fingers together and places them atop the codex, leaning into the crowd, a looming presence. “It has been brought to my attention as your commandant that a breach of the Codex has occurred.” His voice floods the courtyard, amplified by small magic.

“As you know, breaches of our most sacred laws are not to be tolerated. This matter will be addressed here and now. Will the accuser please step forward.”

I begin a long, languid walk to the dias, every head turning toward me as I march up that dias. 

Placing myself in front of the podium I look out into the crowd, a long silence sitting like a wall between me and the audience of riders

It’s a tactic I saw my father use time and time again. 

“A crowd can be one of two things son,” my father says over a table laden with steaming eggs, cream and porridge, thick strips of bacon, crisp and curling at the ends. I pick at my breakfast, too focused on his carefully measured words.

“It can be your damnation,” he pops a red, plump strawberry into his mouth and chews. “Or your salvation. Make people believe in you but, more importantly, fear you just enough, and I don’t infer you should be a tyrant, son, but the smallest amount of fear can breed authority.”

I hesitate, letting his words sink in, giving myself a moment to understand the meaning until I can see it with perfect clarity. “How? How do you create fear? How do you…” I trail off, trying to gather my words. “I want to make every single person in a room look at me when I speak.”

It’s ingrained in me now, the subtle art of capturing everyone’s attention without trying. 

“Early this morning,” I begin, my voice carrying over the formations, “a rider in my wing was brutally, illegally attacked in her sleep with the intent of murder by a group primarily composed of unbondeds.”

There’s a collective intake of breath, worried murmurs as heads swivel in  every direction. 

“As we all know, this is a violation of Article Three, Section Two of the Dragon Rider’s Codex and, in addition to being dishonorable, is a capital offense.” 

I gaze at Violet, a symbol and reminder of everything I almost lost last night. 

She gazes back, her eyes steely.

My hands clench the sides of the podium as I calm my rising anger. “Having been alerted by my dragon, I interrupted the attack along with two other Fourth Wing riders. I dip my chin toward Garrick and Bodhi. 

The two riders make their way up the dais and stand, flanking me on both sides. “As it was a matter of life and death, I personally executed six of the would-be murderers, as witnessed by Flame Section Leader Garrick Tavis and Tail Section Executive Officer Bodhi Durran. But the attack was orchestrated by a rider who fled before I arrived.” With every syllable, my voice rises, nearing a full shout, quiet fury blazing a trail of heat at the base of my skull. “A rider who had access to the map of where all first-years are assigned to sleep, and that rider must be brought to swift justice.”

I look out into the crowd. “I call you to answer for your crime against Cadet Sorrengail.” My eyes lock on Amber in the center of the formation. “Wingleader Amber Mavis.”

The crowd immediately breaks into a frenzied uproar. I stand above it all, hands still clenching the sides of the podium.

Amber steps forward, breaking the carefully orchestrated formation. “I have committed no such crime!” she yells.

I keep my attention fixed on Amber’s face, growing red with anger and panic, but I’m acutely aware of Violet as she stumbles backwards, bumping into Liam’s back.

Dain stands close enough to her that she has to crane her neck up to see him, hands cupping the air as he moves toward her.

The entire courtyard is now watching Violet and Dain. “Give me the memory,” he orders, and that heat in my head becomes a living thing, roaring louder as Dain closes in our her.

Violence, however, has rallied to her namesake. She lifts her chin and stares down her nose at a man who sits almost a foot taller than her. “Touch me without permission, and you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it.” 

There she is. Just like that, my frustration with her has vanished. 

A thought that just irritates me further.

“Wingleaders.” My voice permeates through the rumbling crowd. “We need a quorum.” 

Nyra and Speton climb the stairs to the dias, gazes passing over Amber as they stride by. A nonexistent entity already stripped of her authority.

The beat of wings seems to shake the air around us as six dragons fly into the courtyard, landing like giant birds perched on the battlements. 

“You’re using this to get your revenge on my family!” Amber shouts from her lone position at the center of the courtyard. Isolated in a sea of bodies. “For not supporting your father’s rebellion!” She plans to go down swinging,

And I intend to meet her blow for blow.

Turning away from her, Nyra, Septon and I huddle close. 

“Xaden, this is a huge accusation–” Nyra starts, her brow furrowing. “Though I can’t say it doesn’t make sense.” She sighs.

“It’s the truth” I counter.

“Trial by fire?” Septon asks, mouth forms a thin line, his expression grave. His decision clearly already made.

“I don't doubt you, Xaden. Her sentence?” Nyra asks 

“Fire.” Septon speaks before I can answer, “You know Tairn will accept no less.”

“He would be correct.” Sgaeyl adds.

Without warning, a memory protrudes from Tairn’s mind, his inexhaustible power forming a link between everyone in the courtyard. I slam my eyes shut at the sudden breach.

The scene from last night, the unbonded attacking her while she slept, Violet jerking awake, Amber’s face peering out of her hood as she fled the room.

“That spineless wretch,” Rhiannon seethes loudly as the memory ends and my mind clears.

“The wingleaders have formed a quorum and are in unanimous agreement. We find you guilty, Amber Mavis.”

“No!” she shouts, her voice is nearing total hysteria. “It is no crime to rid the quadrant of the weakest rider! I did it to protect the integrity of the wings!” Amber paces in panic, her eyes searching for any salvation in this den of dragons.

As if the formation was controlled by one mind, they step backward, exiling Amber in one small movement.

Nyra’s voice rises, “And as is our law, your sentence will be carried out by fire.”

“No!” Amber’s panic is palpable,“Claidh!”

At her rider's words, Claidh snarls at the other dragons, all rationality gone in the face of the breaking bond.

Quick as a viper, Tairn swivels his massive head toward Claidh and roars, shaking the ground beneath my feet. He snaps his jaws at the smaller dragon and realizing her defeat, she retreats.

“Please don't,” Violet is looking at Tairn, heartbreak lining her face.

“Her penchant toward second chances is what will end us both. '' I push the thought toward Sgaeyl, needing somewhere to put my utter disbelief at the level of idiotic mercy Violet is willing to bestow on anything and anyone.

She sends a low hum through my mind, “Perhaps it is something you need. To balance your lack of it.” 

Violet turns her attention to me, “Please give her a chance.” I hold her gaze in mine, my face cold and unfeeling. 

Justice is justice.

“Claidh,” Amber whimpers in the silence. Disgust courses through me at her sniveling. 

The formation parts, leaving a gap that ends where Amber stands.

Tairn leans in, his large head almost brushing the stone ground. his larged, fanged teeth crack open and a stream of fire pulses out of his mouth, incinerating Amber within a second millisecond.

A piercing cry rips through the air. A lament so painful and undiluted that it shatters the glass panes of a window, and I have to clutch my head, hands clamping down over my ears to lessen the impact.

Claidh launches into the sky, the sounds of her shrieked weeping following her into the distance.

[godsfavdarling]

that makes two of us

pairing: Spencer Reid x Elle Greenaway

summary: There's always been more between Elle and Spencer. Will they be able to be honest with each other?

list of chapters, also available on wattpad and Ao3, my masterlist

warnings: none

words: 2,5k

Spencer sat at his desk, his gaze fixed intently on the chessboard before him. The pieces were arranged in a familiar pattern, the black and white squares forming a grid of possibilities. He studied the board, his mind racing through the potential moves and countermoves, lost in the intricate dance of strategy and tactics.

Suddenly, a voice broke through his concentration, causing him to startle slightly. "Check. Checkmate in three moves," said a familiar voice behind him.

Spencer turned to see Gideon standing next to him moving the pieces on the board, a knowing smile on his face. 

"What?" Spencer asked, blinking in confusion.

Derek with a grin chimed in, "You know, you'll beat him when you start learning."

Spencer furrowed his brow, puzzled by Derek's cryptic remark. "Learning what?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

“To think outside the box.”

Spencer frowned. Lost in thought, he returned his gaze to the chessboard, the pieces blurred and indistinct before him. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he was missing, some key piece of the puzzle that eluded him.

Just as he was about to delve deeper into his thoughts, Elle's voice cut through the silence. "Question for you," she said, her tone serious.

"Shoot," Derek replied, turning his attention to her.

"The Footpath Killer," Elle began, her eyes narrowing in concentration. "Why did he stutter?"

As Spencer heard her voice and saw her approaching, a subtle flutter of nerves coursed through him.

She mesmerized him, her presence casting a spell that left him captivated. He watched as she leaned against her desk, her movements graceful and fluid, while Derek spoke beside her. Her proximity to him, right beside his desk, only heightened his awareness of her.

Try as he might, Spencer found it increasingly difficult to focus on the chessboard before him. His attention kept drifting back to Elle, her every gesture, every word captivating him in a way he couldn't explain. It was as if she held some inexplicable power over him, a magnetic pull that he couldn't resist.

Just as Spencer's thoughts began to spiral, a blonde figure appeared beside Elle, interrupting his reverie. 

It was JJ, their new media liaison, her vibrant energy filling the room as she launched into conversation. Spencer forced himself to listen, nodding along absently as JJ chatted animatedly with Elle and Derek.

But trying as he might to follow the conversation, Spencer's mind remained fixated on Elle, her presence a constant distraction that left him feeling off balance. He couldn't shake the feeling of excitement that danced in his chest whenever he looked at her.

As Hotch's voice broke through the chatter, commanding everyone's attention to gather in the conference room, Spencer felt a sense of relief wash over him. The sudden shift in focus provided a welcome distraction from his tumultuous thoughts. 

As he rose from his desk and followed the others into the room, he couldn't help but notice Elle's lingering gaze on him.

He turned to meet her stare, his heart skipping a beat at the intensity he found there. For a moment, they locked eyes, a silent exchange passing between them, before Elle finally broke the spell.

"Hey, Reid," she said softly, falling into step beside him as they made their way to the conference room. "You seemed a bit distracted back there. Everything okay?"

Spencer blinked, caught off guard by her sudden attention. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he struggled to find the right words. "Um, yeah, I'm fine," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just...lost in thought, I guess."

Elle's brow furrowed with concern, her eyes searching his face for any sign of discomfort. "You sure?" she pressed, her tone gentle.

Spencer nodded, offering her a small smile in return. "Yeah, I'm sure," he replied, willing himself to appear more composed than he felt.

They entered the conference room and took their seats around the table and Spencer stll couldn't shake the feeling of Elle's gaze on him, a constant presence at his side.

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

As Spencer and Elle delved deeper into their analysis of the case, their conversation flowed seamlessly, each idea building upon the last as they pieced together the puzzle before them.

"The timer sets the road flare, which then lights the chemical mixture inside the canister. Simple," Elle mused, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Yet sophisticated in its simplicity," Spencer added, nodding in agreement. "There's a meticulous construction to it."

"Chemical accelerant could mean a chemistry student," Elle stated, her gaze fixed on the evidence board.

"But it could also mean a chemistry professor," Spencer countered, his mind racing with possibilities.

Elle considered his words for a moment before offering her own insight. "I say student," she decided, her voice confident. "You need self-confidence to lecture in front of a classroom full of 30 college kids."

"Arsonists are socially incompetent," she continued, her tone thoughtful. "This guy doesn't go on dates. He doesn't go to parties. He doesn't feel comfortable in front of groups."

Spencer's brow furrowed as he realized she was describing him. His mind raced, but before he could respond, Elle continued.

"And, of course, he's a total psychopath," she added, her eyes flicking to Spencer as she saw him piecing it together.

"'Course," Spencer replied awkwardly, a hint of discomfort in his tone.

"I mean, not that you're anything like them, Reid. I didn't mean—"

Spencer held up a hand, cutting her off before she could finish. "It's okay, Elle," he reassured her, offering her a small smile. "I know what you meant.”

"Still... I'm sorry... if I made you feel uncomfortable. That... wasn't my intention."

Spencer shook his head, dismissing her apology with a wave of his hand. "No harm done," he replied, his voice steady. "We're all just trying to understand the unsub, one puzzle piece at a time."

As they lingered in the aftermath of their discussion, a subtle tension hung in the air, laden with unspoken words and unexplored feelings.

"I appreciate your insight," Spencer said softly, breaking the silence that had settled between them. "You always think of the details,"

Elle met his gaze, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thanks, Reid," she replied, her voice warm with gratitude. "You're not too bad yourself."

Spencer felt a rush of warmth spread through him at her words, a small spark of hope flickering to life within him. "I'm just doing my job," he murmured, his gaze dropping to his hands as he fiddled with the edge of his notebook.

Elle reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "You do more than just your job, Spencer," she said softly, her touch sending a shiver down his spine. "You care. And that makes all the difference."

Her hand on his arm sent a subtle tremor through him, a sensation he couldn't quite ignore. It was as if her touch carried an electric charge, stirring something deep within him. A tender shiver ran down his spine, a response to the gentle yet steadfast pressure of her fingertips against his skin.

"You care too," Spencer murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, that makes two of us," she said with a smile, her eyes sparkling with warmth and sincerity.

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

On a quiet Sunday evening, Elle picked up her phone and dialed Spencer's number, curious about his recent date with JJ. As the call connected, she could sense a hint of apprehension in Spencer's voice.

"Hey, Reid, how was your date with JJ?" Elle inquired, her tone gentle.

Spencer let out a sigh on the other end of the line. "Well, it wasn't exactly a date," he admitted reluctantly.

“What happened?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Spencer hesitated before confessing, "She brought Garcia along, so it wasn't exactly just the two of us."

Elle frowned, puzzled. "What? How did that happen?" she asked, her mind racing to fill in the blanks.

"I don’t know, it just happened," Spencer said, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his voice.

"Well, that's... unexpected," she remarked, shaking her head in amusement.

Spencer let out a rueful laugh. "Tell me about it," he said, his tone resigned. "But it's fine. JJ just doesn't think of me in that way, whatever."

Elle's heart went out to him. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

"It's okay," Spencer said, his voice carrying a hint of resignation.

Elle paused, considering his words before a spark of determination lit up in her eyes. "Well, it's not that late, and you don't go to sleep early either way, so... how about we go for a drink?" she suggested, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "You don't turn 24 every day."

Spencer blinked in surprise at Elle's proposition, caught off guard by her spontaneity. But he couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement stir within him. "Sure, why not?" he replied, a smile spreading across his face. "A drink sounds nice."

The dimly lit ambiance of the bar provided a comforting backdrop as Spencer and Elle settled into their seats, the clink of glasses and murmur of conversation filling the air around them. Spencer tried to put on a brave face, but the weight of disappointment still lingered in his eyes.

Elle studied him for a moment, her heart aching at the sight of his pain. "Are you okay, Reid?" she asked softly, reaching out to gently touch his hand.

Spencer forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, his voice tinged with sadness.

Elle shook her head, her expression full of empathy. "You don't have to pretend with me," she said gently. "I can see that you're hurting."

Spencer sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "It's just... JJ," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought maybe... but I guess I was wrong."

Elle reached out, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "Sometimes, things just aren't meant to be," she said softly. "And that's okay."

Her touch sent a jolt through him, his stomach twisting with nerves. 

He usually avoided physical contact, but with her, it felt different—her hand on his sparked a flutter of warmth and longing he couldn't ignore. Despite his usual aversion, he found himself drawn to her touch, grateful for the comfort it offered in a way he had never experienced before.

Spencer nodded, though his heart still felt heavy with disappointment. "I know," he murmured. "It's just hard to accept sometimes."

Elle leaned in closer, her gaze locking with his in a silent display of solidarity. "You'll find someone, Spencer," she said earnestly. "I promise."

Spencer's lips curved into a small smile, touched by Elle's words of encouragement. "Thanks, Elle," he said gratefully. "I appreciate that."

She smiled back, her eyes shining with warmth. "Anytime..." she replied, her voice filled with sincerity. 

"And remember, if you know, you know. JJ clearly wasn't meant for you, but I promise there will be many more pretty blonde girls who'll fall head over heels for you Doctor Reid."

Spencer chuckled softly, the heaviness in his heart beginning to lift. "I'll hold you to that," he said, his smile growing wider.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his words stumbling over one another as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. "And, uh, I don't... I mean, blonde hair... It's nice, right? JJ's hair is... beautiful. And I think she looks very... good in that color. But that doesn't... I mean, I don't... It's not like I have a preference or anything. Brown hair, dark brown, that's great too. I mean, your hair, Elle, it's... it's great. Really great. I like it. A lot. It suits you, and... and it's just... really nice."

Elle couldn't help but smile at his nervous rambling, her heart swelling with affection for the endearingly awkward man sitting across from her. "Thank you, Spencer," she said softly, reaching out to gently pat his hand. "That's very sweet of you to say."

Spencer blushed furiously at her words, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I, uh, I mean... it's just... you know," he stammered, struggling to find the right words.

Elle chuckled softly, her laughter ringing out like a soothing melody in the crowded bar. "I know," she reassured him, her gaze warm and understanding. "And I appreciate it. Really... I do."

"You know, there's actually an interesting correlation between hair color and attraction," he began, his voice gaining confidence with each passing word. "Studies have shown that blonde hair is often associated with youth and vitality, which can be perceived as attractive traits. But then again, darker hair colors like brown and black are often seen as more sophisticated and mysterious, which can also be appealing to certain individuals."

Elle listened intently, her eyes never leaving Spencer's face as he spoke. She found herself captivated by the way his mind worked.

"And then there's the cultural aspect to consider," Spencer continued, his words flowing effortlessly now. "In some societies, blonde hair is highly coveted and seen as a symbol of beauty and desirability. But in others, darker hair colors are preferred, and blonde hair might not be as valued."

Elle nodded, absorbing Spencer's words with keen interest.

"And of course, personal preference plays a role as well," Spencer added, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. "Some people might have a strong preference for one hair color over another, while others might not have a preference at all. It's all subjective, really."

Elle's curiosity piqued, she leaned in slightly, her eyes fixed on Spencer with genuine interest. "So, Reid, if you had to choose, which hair color would you prefer?" she asked, her tone soft.

Spencer paused for a moment, his gaze thoughtful as he considered her question. "Honestly, I don't really have a preference when it comes to hair color," he confessed, his voice gentle. "I mean, sure, I can appreciate the beauty of different colors, but ultimately, looks are just superficial. What I look for in a person goes beyond mere physical appearance."

"And what is it that you look for, then?" she inquired, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Spencer smiled, a hint of warmth in his eyes. "I look for something more," he explained, his voice earnest. "I look for kindness, intelligence, compassion. Someone who... sees the world with the same sense of wonder and curiosity that I do. Someone who... challenges me, inspires me, makes me... want to be a better person."

Elle felt a swell of emotion stir within her as she listened to Spencer's words, her heart touched by the sincerity of his sentiment.

"Maybe one day," Spencer added softly, his gaze meeting hers. "Maybe one day, I'll find someone who fits that description. And when I do, I'll know... it's worth the wait."

Elle smiled, a warmth spreading through her chest at the thought of Spencer finding the love and happiness he deserved. "I have no doubt you will, Reid," she said, her voice filled with conviction. "And when you do, she'll be one lucky girl."

Spencer's gaze softened, touched by the sincerity in her voice. He could feel the warmth of her encouragement seeping into his soul, kindling a spark of hope within him.

A faint smile played on Spencer's lips as he glanced down, realizing that Elle's hand still rested on his.

[monocaelia]

[ what a rush ] and ajax? 🤍

i love didi!!!! (づ ◕‿◕ )づ

[ what a rush ]  –  for the long long overdue kiss to end, only for the sender to rest their head on the receiver’s, and comment “do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

warnings : none!! just pure, unadulterated fluff <:

note : ya well, i love jade so checkmate <3

send me a prompt and i'll write you something short !!

the bustling city of liyue harbor thrives underneath the lone harbinger as he leans against a railing that looks over the crowd. children weave in and out as they chased one another, vendors shouting over the loud chatter trying their best to lure in customers and sell their wares and services, and couples linking arms as they slowly stroll through the busy streets.

ocean blue eyes linger on a particular couple and his heart lurches in longing: a young, azure haired teen eagerly dragging along his significant other to view the various booths lining the busy road, the lighter blue haired teen willingly being tugged along. both of their hands are intertwined and their joyous expressions are only ever directed at one another, as if they were the only two enjoying their date in the harbor.

it is then that an image of you materializes inside childe's subconscious. he wonders how it would be to hold your hand in his, how nice it would feel to pull you into his arms. would you let him take you out to dinner and shower you in so many intricate gifts to show you how much he loves you?

probably not; if anything you would put him in a chokehold for wasting his money on expensive gifts instead of anything useful, like bandages and medicinal ointments for the many times he has shown up at your door covered in bruises and dripping blood outside your home.

but he could only dream of you loving him back.

"penny for your thoughts?" your voice alerts childe, causing him to stiffen slightly before he turns to you.

despite wearing your usual attire and not particularly dressing up, childe finds you absolutely stunning underneath the moonlight. your arm brushes up against his as you sidle up beside him, leaning over the railing and glancing at the crowd below as he did earlier, and his heart begins to hammer against his chest.

a featherlight touch was enough to send the freckled harbinger into cardiac arrest, how funny.

"and why would you want to know?" childe answers, lips quirking up into a cheeky grin. "don't know if you plan to use that private information against me."

you scoff and lightly shove the harbinger. "as if i have enough power to win mental battles against the tartaglia, eleventh of the fatui harbingers."

childe shrugs. "i don't know, you alone already have enough power to take my breath away."

"oh please," you sigh, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you lean against the railing, "keep saying things like that and i'll assume you're flirting with me."

"i have been for the past couple of weeks, but thank you for finally noticing."

the silence that follows his comment is thick and childe's heartbeat quickens but in the worst way possible. it did not help that you were staring at him with your eyes widened in shock and mouth slightly agape.

but before he could take back what he just said, you have already beaten him to the chase.

"you've been... flirting with me?"

"well," childe begins, turning away from you and reaching to scratch the back of his neck, "yes? i thought i was making it obvious with complimenting your fighting ability and asking you to spar, but clearly i wasn't."

the harbinger could feel the heat rising from within his body and he prays to the tsaritsa that his ears aren't giving away his embarrassment at this very moment when you begin to double down in laughter.

oh, his ears were definitely pink now.

"archons, you are such an idiot,” you say in between bursts of giggles. “how could i tell you were flirting when those are the most generic conversation starters to say, especially to your sparring partner?"

"well they were flirts to me!"

"oh, childe," you coo, stifling a chuckle that was bubbling between your lips, "you are the dumbest boy i have ever laid my eyes on. turn around."

and he does. you're staring at him with the biggest, sweetest smile on your face and childe feels his heart lurching. if he thought you were stunning before, you are ethereal now and his chest swells knowing that your eyes are on him and him alone.

your lips find his in a soft, gentle kiss and it's everything that childe has ever dreamed of. you're warm and delicate and it takes everything within him to stop himself from pushing the kiss into something more dominating and heavy.

instead, he savors how you taste on his lips and memorizes how you move against him, like the gentle push and pull of the tides as they come up to the shore. the way you kiss is intoxicating to him, and he wishes you would never stop so he could relive this moment forever and ever.

as the two of you pull away from one another, breaths intermingling as you steady your breathing, childe can't help the grin that grows on his face as the events begin to process inside his thick skull. chuckles escape from his lips as he gently touches his forehead against yours, chest blooming with pure delight and adoration for you and his newfound relationship with you.

"do you know how long i've been wanting to do that?"

[akinachiri]

NIKI TAKEOVER NIKI TAKEOVER !!

[sshbpodcast]

Character Spotlight: Spock

By Ames

Last week we highlighted (and lowlighted) James T. Kirk here in our new blog collection, going character by character where no one has gone before. It’s going to be a bit of a trek in and of itself, so join us here on A Star the Steer Her By to learn what we think of all your Starfleet favorites: when are they at their most naughty and most nice. This week, we’re moving on to the best first officer in the fleet and one of our favorite Vulcans, the ever logical Mister Spock!

For the franchise’s first major alien character, he succeeded in teaching humanity to audiences throughout his far-reaching tenure, and that wasn’t always his human half! Credit to Leonard Nimoy for giving us such a well-rounded character even though he couldn’t display emotions in the same fashion as the others (but boy did he find a way!). Follow along below for our thoughts on Spock’s best and worst scenes, and listen to some bonus chatter over on this week’s podcast episode (discussion at 1:05:00). Fascinating.

[Images © CBS/Paramount

Best Moments

Checkmate, Finney It’s been a minute since I released my blogpost about how bad I am at 3D chess (and all chess for that matter), but Spock’s so great at it that he uses his logic and big Vulcan brain to figure out the chess program is busted in “Court Martial” and save the day, which might be the Spockiest thing I’ve ever heard.

Pain! Pain! Spock mind melds a lot of critters throughout the shows and movies, but one of our favorites is when he connects with the Horta in “The Devil in the Dark.” Like in our Kirk spotlight when the captain defended the old girl, we’ve gotta credit Spock with communicating with her and treating her like a sentient being. And Nimoy’s acting in this scene! Mwah!

A man of integrity in both universes The Spock in “Mirror, Mirror” isn’t exactly our normal Spock, as his circumstances in the mirror universe have made him a different person in a lot of ways (mostly in the facial hair region). But in even more ways, he’s just like our Spock: someone who sees the illogical nature of the Terran Empire and who will take steps to make it better.

I love you but I hate you I don’t know why, but I’m just thoroughly tickled when Spock outwits the androids in “I, Mudd” with a logical paradox that breaks their computer brains. Sure, he tries a neck pinch first (he is Spock, after all!), but it’s telling the Alice robots, identical in every way, that he loves one but hates the other that causes them to malfunction all over the place.

Trademark Vulcan sass If Vulcans are allowed to express one emotion throughout all of Star Trek, it’s sass, and Leonard Nimoy can deadpan with the best of straightmen. In “The Trouble with Tribbles,” McCoy remarks that tribbles are “nice, they're soft, they're furry, and they make a pleasant sound,” to which Spock quips, “So would an ermine violin, Doctor, yet I see no advantage to having one.” Grade-A Vulcan sass right there.

Gladiatorial mind games “Bread and Circuses” may not be a good episode, but it gets the Spock-McCoy dynamic right. Not only does Spock save McCoy in battle, but that scene in the prison cell… I could write essays about that scene as they’re both so vulnerable and desperate to connect, but Spock, ever the Vulcan, represses that emotion… just barely. And when Spock tells McCoy that they share concern over Kirk’s safety without actually telling him, it’s perfect.

Vulcans are incapable of lying, he lied While we found Kirk’s behavior in “The Enterprise Incident” utterly baffling, Spock’s is thoroughly intriguing. He spends most of the episode seamlessly deceiving the Romulan Commander who’s thirsting after him so hard, and she plays right into his Vulcan-saluting hands because she didn’t anticipate so many loopholes allowing Vulcans to be duplicitous!

The wonders of the universe Am I mostly bringing up Spock mind melding a giant cloud in “One of Our Planets Is Missing” so that I can bring up my TOS fanfiction “Sentient Life”? A little bit.

I have been and always shall be your friend This list would not be complete without the beautiful sacrifice scene in The Wrath of Khan. The needs of the many do indeed outweigh the needs of the few in this perfectly poignant and amazingly acted character death. I can’t think of a better main character death in all of Star Trek and Nimoy crushed it.

Rock out with your Spock out We’ve also got to give credit to Leonard Nimoy for the Vulcan neck pinch, a nonviolent, nonfatal deescalation tactic that is perfectly in character. It is a great inclusion for such a logical people to manage violent conflict in a mostly harmless way, and one of our favorites is neck pinching the punk on the bus since it’s also one of many great comedic moments in The Voyage Home.

They are not the hell your whales Speaking of The Voyage Home, we’ve got more good Spock moments to choose from in that movie! It is such a smorgasbord of quippy, fun moments for our resident Vulcan because so much of the movie is that fish-out-of-water kind of humor, but everything Spock has to do with the whales, George and Gracie, is especially excellent.

Cowboy diplomacy We even get to see a little Spock action in The Next Generation when his plan to reunite Vulcan and Romulus gets revealed in “Unification.” It is such a noble goal from our logical friend (perhaps spurred by his encounter with the Romulan Commander in “The Enterprise Incident”? Nudge nudge!) and we loved seeing his resolve and commitment to helping his square-shouldered cousins.

—

Worst Moments

Beep twice for “NO!” I get that the studio wanted to save time and money by using the footage from “The Cage” in “The Menagerie,” but they had Spock acting fully out of character to make it happen. He kidnaps his disabled old captain against his will, he conspires to steal the ship, he puts the lives of everyone on the Enterprise in danger, he nearly gets Kirk killed in a shuttle, he creates an illusion of a flag officer! It’s a full-on mutiny that sees no consequences!

Life-or-death decisions, but mostly death “Strange. Step by step, I've made the correct and logical decisions – and yet two men have died,” says Spock in “The Galileo Seven.” Somehow, every time we see Spock in charge, everyone has a really bad day. The show would make you believe it’s because Vulcans only act on logic with no emotion or intuition, but they really need to stop leaving the ship in his hands!

Not even a grandfather paradox – just a father paradox Temporal shenanigans abound in “Tomorrow is Yesterday” when the Enterprise is forced to beam up Captain Christopher. Spock assures everyone that the displaced pilot will have no bearing on history, until he is forced to eat those words because this science officer neglected to check if Christopher’s son would be influential. Since when is Spock so careless?

A need-to-know basis We joked throughout The Original Series that Vulcans seemed to attain a new superpower each week. And since Spock just doesn’t seem to tell people things they need to know until they really need to know it, we don’t learn about his inner eyelids until “Operation: Annihilate!”, his parents being onboard until “Journey to Babel,” or his having a half brother until Star Trek V!

This has pon farr enough I’m frankly sick of everything about pon farr, and am dreading revisiting it in Enterprise. It’s yet another one of those Vulcan aspects they won’t tell you about until too late, and in “Amok Time,” it’s way too late. The whole biological circumstance is weird enough, but if Vulcans has told us any of their rituals ahead of time, Spock wouldn’t have had to kill his best friend in the kal-if-fee like a chump.

Heil Spock While it’s mostly a gag on the podcast that Spock loves Nazis, there’s definitely a reason why we think that. In “Patterns of Force,” Spock agrees with Gill when he calls Nazi Germany the most efficient state Earth ever knew, saying: “Quite true, Captain. That tiny country, beaten, bankrupt, defeated, rose in a few years to stand only one step away from global domination.” Does that make Spock a Nazi? Not entirely, but it would explain some things, like how quick to wanting to kill Mitchell he was in “Where No Man Has Gone Before.”

What a tangled web he weaves Like in “The Galileo Seven,” Spock ends up in command again when Kirk is presumed dead in “The Tholian Web,” and he borks it. The whole episode is about him and McCoy snipping at each other because of the effects of the area of space, but they’re both extremely out of character even without it, with Spock ignoring Doc’s warning about getting stuck in the web, making awful decisions, and generally being terrible at leading a crew.

If only I could forget We found it weirdly nonconsensual when Spock decides to make Kirk forget about his romance with Rayna (and who knows what else?) in “Requiem for Methuselah.” McCoy jabs at Spock that he’ll never understand, and then Spock seems to act just naively when he takes Kirk’s memory in his sleep, as if Spock were taking him literally when Kirk said he’d rather forget.

Behind every good woman… is Spock taking credit We’ll surely bring up “The Lorelei Signal” when we talk about Uhura’s best moments because it’s a rare moment for the women to get the spotlight, but there’s a moment in this episode in which, despite the lady crewmembers having already figured out the ploy themselves, they’ve hatched their plan “in accordance with Mister Spock’s request” and I vomit in my mouth a little.

You have not achieved kolinahr It’s pretty clear that the production team didn’t know they’d have Leonard Nimoy back for The Motion Picture until late in the writing process because his motivation is spotty at best. Since he has not achieved kolinahr, he rather makes his presence in the movie about himself, and to make matters worse, he yeets off to mind meld with V’ger without telling anyone!

I hear he's nutty as a fruitcake As beautiful as the death scene in The Wrath of Khan is, it’s also pretty messed up for Spock to cram his katra into McCoy with no warning and with dire effects. Think about it: none of the humans knew before The Search for Spock that katras were even a thing, and Bones could have gone insane just for the sake of bringing the character back to life, negating that great sacrifice!

They flung their wooden shoes called sabots into the machines We love a good mind meld on Star Trek, but Spock just plain crosses a line in The Undiscovered Country when he mind rapes Valeris to expose her as the saboteur. Considering the mind meld was first created in order to give Spock an alternative to violent action to combat assailants, using it in a way that’s so violating is the most uncomfortable moment we could think of.

—

Keep your medical tricorders scanning here as we continue along through all the main characters from The Original Series! Next week, we’re scanning for Dr. Bones McCoy here on the blog, as well as continuing our watchthrough of Enterprise over on the podcast. You can also send a message over subspace on Facebook and Twitter, and keep your damn katra to yourself. Live long and prosper!

[swift-creates]

category: Gen

fandom: Star Wars

characters and relationships: Cassian Andor and Strike (OC) - platonic, Cassian Andor x Jyn Erso - romantic, Kix, Alex is mentioned multiple times but never shown (as is Kerri)

warnings: Extreme cold, hypothermia, medbay setting (after the divider break), awkward love confessions, teasing about said confession, Strike is a little shit

Summary:

@ailesswhumptober Day 17: Hypothermia / Heat Stroke / “You look a little pale” Day 18: Fever / Vomiting / Warm Soup

Stranded on an ice planet after a Rebel mission gone wrong, Cassian and Strike try to send out one last transmission to the people they love.

notes: divider by @djarrex (see more here). used the warm soup prompt quite literally and. for the comfort part of the hurt/comfort. but it's still p angsty with context. this is set in my Rebel AU (aka continuity i created solely to make my TCW blorbos friends with my Empire-era blorbos) and comes chronologically after Jai'galaar (unposted fic where she meets Alex) Yes this fic is an excuse to write Rebelcaptain.

context is basically Cassian and Strike were sent on a mission in the Rebel AU, and were stranded on an ice planet, unable to get offplanet or send any transmissions to anyone. Strike had a big fight with Jesse before they left and said some pretty extreme things and regrets it. also, Cassian is friends with the Ghost Crew bc i said so.

more things about Strike on AO3

“A cave,” he told her through chattering teeth. They stumbled into its gaping mouth, brushing the snow from their shoulders with shaking hands, and huddled at its back, trying to preserve whatever warmth hadn’t been stolen from them by the storm.

Strike curled into herself as much as she could, snuggled up tight to Cassian’s side. He stared at a frosted rock across from them, as if he could summon warmth and help if he looked at it hard enough, only breaking his vacant gaze when she nudged him. 

“Whatcha thinking?” she whispered.

He sighed, the silence settling back down after that for a moment, like ripples smoothing on the surface of a pond, before replying. “About what I never got to tell Jyn. About how much I… love her.” Strike put a hand over his, and he attempted a smile. “I guess now I’ll never get to.”

She looked away, closing her eyes briefly. “I should never have asked you along on this mission.”

“Hey, I’m the idiot who said yes. This isn’t your fault.”

“I think it is.” 

He put his arms around her, leaning his head onto her shoulder. “Well, I think it isn’t. Checkmate.” She let out a short huff of a laugh at that, her breath misting white in the shadows wrapped around them as they both contemplated their circumstances, weighing the options and both reaching the same conclusion. 

“Well, we’re probably gonna die here, so. Any last confessions? Rants you need an ear lent to?”

Strike went quiet for a moment, then spoke in a hushed voice. “I don’t want my fight with Jesse to be the last words we ever said to each other. And I would’ve liked to see Alex again, before.” The unsaid finality of their situation hung in the air, a vulture circling both their minds before she added, “And tell him to feed Badu.” 

Cassian snorted. “I don’t think anyone could forget. He wouldn’t let them.”

“Yeah.” She twisted to look at him. “You?”

He smiled wistfully, turning the holoprojector over in his hand. “I know I can’t. That any transmissions we send won’t make it through the storm. But I would’ve liked to tell her. I still do.” Strike thought of Jyn, waiting for a call that would never come, and buried her face in his jacket. 

“I’m sorry.” She said it again, even though she knew he’d say she didn’t have to. She just needed him to know she was. 

“Y’know,” he said after a pause, “kriff it.” He flicked on the holoprojector, and the small red light indicated that it was recording. 

“I know this might never get transmitted, and if it does, it’ll get to you until after we’re both frozen, but I don’t think we have the luxury of caring anymore. This message is the last from Rebel agents Cassian Andor and Strike Kamino.” She stared at him as he spoke, his expression now holding a resigned determination, then turned to face the projector when he looked at her. 

“First of all, someone make sure Light takes his meds. And feed Badu in the afternoon, or he’ll scream at you to do it in the middle of the night.” Cassian chuckled then, probably remembering the few disturbed nights when that had happened. “Alex. I love you so much it feels like I need you to breathe. I’m sorry I couldn’t come back this time.” She took a breath to compose herself, the memory of the stinging words she’d thrown at her brother flashing to the forefront of her mind.

“Jesse, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of what I said, and if I could take it back, I would. You didn’t deserve that.” She sniffled, wiped at her face with one hand. “Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, vod. Take care of yourself, and don’t let Kix get vasovagal syncope-d again, whatever that is.” She leaned back out of the camera’s range, let the blue light cascade across Cassian’s face uninterrupted.

“Kerri, you be good and do whatever Hera says. No staying up past bedtimes, no drugs and murder, and no boys unless I would have liked them. But I do have high standards when it comes to boys,” he admitted. “Help Zeb around the base, would you? Poor man’s stressed enough as it is.” He went quiet then, gaze falling from the holoprojector to the gray rock floor. 

“Jyn… I’m in love with you. I think I have been ever since Jedha. I just… didn’t know it. And when I did realise it, I- I didn’t know how to tell you.” He let out a soft laugh. “And this probably won’t even reach you, but I love you. 

“I just wish you could have told me if you felt the same.”

He stopped the recording, tucked the projector away into his pocket and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Wiped away the tear he hadn’t known was trickling down his cheek.

“That was just Jyn’s style,” Strike said after a short pause. “She would’ve loved it.”

He gave her a small smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” They huddled up again, pulling their jackets tighter around themselves and waiting for the inevitable. 

Neither of them were sure who gave in to unconsciousness first, but the storm raged on outside as they both fell still.

Cassian knew he was awake, but he was warm for the first time in days, and he kept his eyes closed, content to just stay still and comfortable right there. But a while later, muffled voices intruded on his cosy darkness, and he squeezed his eyes shut harder, to no avail. A feeling like hands prodding at him poked into his shoulder, and he wondered wearily if this was what it felt like to become one with the Force. It was more irritating than the Jedi made it sound. 

“Cassian.” The call of his name broke through the blur, and wasn’t that strange, it sounded almost like Kix. That was worth investigating, and he blinked his eyes open to a haze of bright white. 

“Cassian.” His vision focused on the face hovering in front of him.

“Kix?” That was weird. “What happened?” 

“We found the two of you in a cave half frozen to death, is what happened. And we got your holo message, too. None of us were too happy about that. Jesse almost had an aneurysm, and Jyn wasn’t much better.” Two. Two of us, in a cave…

“Strike. Where is she? Is she…” He let his voice trail off, almost afraid to finish his sentence.

“She’s fine.” Kix’s expression softened. “We got to you two in time to stave off the worst of the damage.” Cassian slumped in relief. Okay. That’s good.

“I think you both are going to need to talk to your message recipients when you’re well enough for it,” the medic went on. “They were almost inconsolable, watching that and waiting for you to come home.” 

The message. Cassian recalled the holoprojector, the recording, what he’d said in it. I talked to Kerri, told her to be good. He vaguely remembered saying something about Zeb. And after that… 

Oh, sithspit.

He’d told everyone exactly how he’d felt about Jyn. 

“Morning, sunshine.” He looked over to see a sleepy-looking Strike under a thick bundle of blankets he imagined Hardcase hauling to the medbay to throw on top of her. “Disappointed we’re not dead?”

“I might have just doomed myself to a fate worse than death,” he replied, burying his face in his hands. 

Strike seemed to search her memory a little before remembering, and raised her eyebrows at him when she did. “Oh, kriff. Yeah, I agree. I’m so glad I’m not you right now.”

Cassian groaned loudly in frustration. “Thank you, you’re being so helpful,” he deadpanned.

“You’re welcome.” Strike leaned back in her bed for a moment before shooting up again. “I have to go find Alex!”

“Kix will skin you alive if he finds out you’ve escaped.”

“This ain’t a prison, it’s a medbay. He’ll probably throw me to a nexu, but. Worth it.” She climbed out from under the blankets and swayed on her feet for a moment before regaining her balance, pulling on her boots and darting out of the room. “See ya later, Cass. Have fun!” He stuck his tongue out at her, but she didn’t turn around to see it.

He sat there for another few minutes, contemplating how to get out of this situation he’d put himself in, before the doors whooshed open a few minutes later. He expected one of the medics, or Kix hauling Strike back in by the scruff of her neck.

It was Jyn. 

She stepped over the threshold of the door, and walked up to his bed wordlessly. Sat down in the empty chair beside him. And looked at him, fathoms of emotion hidden behind her hazel eyes. They were beautiful, green with a center of golden brown, and held so much he couldn’t read, wouldn’t read even if he could. He wanted her to choose to tell him, sit down and let him know what went on behind those eyes and why. He wanted to do the same for her. 

“I watched your message. We all did,” she said, and he cringed internally at the memory. 

“Wasn’t one of my finest moments,” he admitted. 

She looked down at her hands, fiddled with a round object that he realised was the holoprojector they’d used to send the recording. “You said you didn’t know how to tell me how you felt. And then you said you wished I could tell you if I felt the same way.” She took in a deep breath, and with a sinking feeling, he braced himself for her rejection.

“Well, I’m telling you now. I love you, you idiot who thought it would be a good idea to confess to me in a holomessage that might have never reached this base.” He looked sharply up to see her shrug with a small smile. “I just never had the guts or the chance to say it out loud.” Cassian stared at her, speechless, as a warm feeling of surprised hope started to glow in his chest, and smiled back. 

Jyn looked down, flipped the projector once, twice, looked back up to him with something almost shy in her eyes. He’d known Jyn Erso for a while now, and seldom saw her look shy. “Do you wanna…”

He took in a breath, feeling his stomach buzz in anticipation of the kiss she was asking for. “Kriff yes.” He sat up straighter in his bed, tentatively put a hand over hers. Holding her breath, she let him, then started to lean in-

“And if I find you sneaking out again, Rex is not going to be able to stop me from tying you up with your own whipcord,” Kix grumbled, dragging a smug-looking Strike back into the medbay. Cassian and Jyn both jumped at his sudden entrance, settling back into their seats and rapidly trying to calm down. 

“I told Cassian that this was a medbay, not a prison, but I guess I was wrong.” Despite her complaints, Strike gave her brother a satisfied grin, and Cassian groaned internally. I know that smile.

“Manita, what did you do?”

“I walked in on some lovey-dovey heart eyes nonsense between this di’kut and her cyare, declaring their undying devotion to one another or whatever.” Kix made a face at the memory, bundling Strike back into her bed. 

“You wouldn’t have had to see it if you hadn’t come looking for me,” Strike pointed out, crossing her arms as he rearranged the blankets. “Oh, hey, Jyn.” 

“H-Hi.” Cassian winced at the way her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “I was just… checking in on Cassian.”

Kix looked at Jyn. Jyn looked at Strike. Strike looked at Kix. Kix turned to look back at Strike and raised one eyebrow ever so slightly Cassian might have missed it if he wasn’t so mortified at the whole exchange. 

Strike shrugged. “Well, he isn’t going anywhere.”

“Vod.” Kix nudged her.

“What? It’s true.” “Only because he’s a better patient than you are,” Kix groused, moving from her bedside to retrieve a tray of steaming bowls. “Here. Cookbook thought you two would need this.” He handed Cassian and Strike each a bowl, then hovered by a mug with the third. “Jyn? Soup?” 

“Oh, I don’t need- I was going to go soon-” Jyn started, but Strike cut her off.

“I think Cass here would really like it if you stayed for soup.” She made eye contact with Cassian, who withered a little bit at the barely restrained glee in her eyes.

Jyn looked at him, as if checking if he actually agreed, and he wanted to bury into his blanket and hide. Instead, he nodded — he did want her to stay, even if he would never say that out loud, and definitely not in front of Strike and Kix. “The soup’s good.” 

“Well, I’ve never turned down good soup.” She seemed to have regained her usual composure, and gave Kix a smile as he poured some into the mug. Cassian watched as she accepted it from the medic, the steam swirling up to frame her face as she took a careful sip. It rose in graceful curls and designs he wanted to trace into her skin, to hold her hand and gently smooth over with his thumb. 

He realised he was staring, blinked and shook the notion away. That was weird. Don’t do that. Even as he had the thought, he noticed her smiling over the rim of her mug and felt his face heat. 

“So, what is in this soup?” Strike asked loudly, and Kix shook his head knowingly. Cassian wanted to throw pillows at both of them. But then Jyn laughed, her brown hair cascading behind her with the force of her happiness, and he felt the violent urge recede. 

(But that didn’t mean pillows wouldn’t be flying once she left the medbay.)

[prodigalren]

@fcalty // starter call

CHECKMATE ! the first order has the resistance scum and their entire fleet cornered . try as they may to escape the first order's INEVITABILITY , logistics were never in their favor . they could run , jump into hyperspace and deplete their remaining reserves of fuel , but they can't hide . . . the first order will hunt the rebels down like the dogs they are . this day will certainly go down in history.

and kylo ren has front row tickets to the show.

the bridge around him is a wild cacophony of sound ― alarms from resistance counterstrike measures blare among orders shouted from superiors, with excited chatter of potentially winning the war filling the undertones. yet there is an imperceptible ringing in the back of the apprentice's mind that is troubling and ceaseless. he hones in on it , tracing the thread to its source. though its weaving path leads back to himself & his own WANING loyalties, there's another nearby who shares his concerns . . . thus, the seed of an idea is planted.

ren announces without making it clear to whom he speaks: ❛ i sense disquiet in you. ❜

the bridge, despite its ovations, immediately quiets. if anything, he embraces it, basks in the power of his AUTHORITY. he allows the words to hang in the air and marinate fear for a moment longer . . .

only when he closes the distance between himself & lieutenant mitaka is his intent made clear; the apprentice is singling him out. even through the mask , kylo's gaze is an icy grip , CONSTRICTING & freezing. ren probes further: he wields the force as a pick axe , digging deeper until the very core of dopheld's mind is exhumed. once he finds it, kylo's grip loosens but his resolve of exposing the traitor continues to stand firm: ❛ you question the supreme leader's plan. ❜

[the-furies]

Yo for the question thing, 1, 27, 99, and one fo your choice!

this got long under the cut they go JFKFKFKF

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most? - According to Spotify, in order they're currently:

I for one think this is silly because we've only listened to Mr. Redundant during One Period Of Time thusfar. But to be fair i guess that period of time lasted uhhh...... 4ish hours. HFJDJDJD

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love? - we hate the sound of . Chewing . And we lov the sound of our paternal grandma's voice <3

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say? - ahem.

Bababooey.

BONUS: why the fick is slim shady playing in the living room . uh. BONUS: 78: Can insanity bring on more creativity? - the way this is worded is so... ableist I think lol. But also as a psychotic persons, yes. I think we've created some of our best art while Going The Fuck Through It!