#a few months earlier my life was love and color and full of interesting things. atp my mind only had the capacity for blankness.

[dausy]

A few things have happened recently I guess since I updated here. I again, never feel like I do art stuff. I think I'm going to order a portable keyboard for my phone so I can photodump real life photos here as well but make it easier to upload from my phone. Its just easier to type on the desktop but too inconvenient to get photos off the phone.

so I did this colorful guy the other week and this past week I decorated a pumpkin for work that actually kinda came out cute. I was actually quite aggravated with work. We had a bunch of people quit and I honestly don't know how we're still open and why am I still there? I feel like I can't really complain about it because my former coworkers before I moved tried to get me to stay in Georgia knowing my husband was about to get deployed. It kinda makes you second guess whether that was a feasible option. But I'm also kind of limited on employment options here because I'm not bilingual. I'm honestly just chalk full of excuses and hate change (as much as I love change as well). My husband assures me I don't have to work but I don't want a resume gap and I like spending money obviously.

I've slowed down my art supply purchases compared to what I've done in the past for sure but now I want to buy some new winter clothes (it was actually too cold out for me to walk my dog today, in Georgia it didn't get cold til January) and because of the Disney100 celebration theres so much Simba merch out there and I just want it T_T

My birthday was on the 27th. I had rescheduled a minor dental surgery on my birthday and had already rescheduled it once because of work needs. My coworkers begged me to reschedule again but I couldn't. They said they had plans to take me out which was nice of them. I actually had a good birthday though. I worked until 1:15 and bolted out of there so fast to make it to my 2pm dental appointment. I stole the OR scrubs and ran. Before I left they hit me with confetti cannons (which are scarily loud, I've never seen those in real life), cake, chikfila, cash, gift cards, hand written notes..it was all very nice actually. I ate my chikfila that evening my cutting it into small piece I could eat with a fork. My husband had already sent me simba earrings but he also made sure I had some simba socks on my doorstep for my birthday which was really nice. Earlier in the month my MiL sent me a simba purse she made which was really cute and my mom sent me pajamas. Also really cute. So overall a good birthday month ignoring the interesting workplace drama.

I actually finished a few books this month. Hurricane Wars and Godkiller, bless both you authors.

I also didn't think I was going to do Halloween this year but my neighborhoods exploded with decorations which makes me wonder if there will actually be trickortreaters. So I got some candy..I think Ill just leave it on the doorstep though with a sign that says "please be nice and dont take all of it" instead of passing it.

My husband is doing ok but he called me today saying he's about had it with his one coworker too lol I live for workplace drama let me tell you.

But yeah, I may update again soon.

[mickey-henry]

𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐈 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝

pairing: bucky barnes (bookstore au) x reader

summary: eager to escape the heat, you find yourself in the presence of a mesmerizing bookstore and an irresistibly beautiful man.

word count: 2.3K

author’s note: hello! welcome to my third fic😊 I’m eager to share this with you all! I now have a taglist (the link is also in my bio) if you’re interested🥰 thank you to @certainaesthetic​ for helping me workshop this idea, @fuckandfluff​ for the grammar help, and @midnightf​ for hyping me up as I wrote it! likes, reblogs, messages, replies, and comments are cherished! the header images are from pinterest and the divider is from here. I hope you like it! 💖

You’re desperate to escape the smoldering heat. It’s too hot to rest in the car; it’s been baking all day beneath the sweltering summer sun, parked just outside your place of work. If you attempt to sit in it now, you’d only be greeted with a wave of torrid air, stung with the touch of your seatbelt, and burnt from the searing leather of your steering wheel.

You’re off from work earlier than usual—the blinding sun is usually long beneath the horizon before you head home for the day. The pathetically small sun visor does nothing to shade your eyes from the blazing sunlight. Rather than driving half-blind, you decide to wait out the setting sun.

As you ponder how to spend the rest of your afternoon, you realize that now is an opportune time to visit the new bookstore, The Book Haven, that opened last month. After changing out of your uniform and throwing your work stuff in the trunk, you walk across the plaza to the shop entrance.

The bookstore greets you with the chime of a bell and a rush of cool air as you step in, a blissful contrast to the scorching outdoors. The welcoming scent of coffee grounds and the tangy aroma of old books accompany the refreshing breeze. You take a deep breath, appreciating the convivial atmosphere. The bookstore is a sublime sight; words almost can’t describe its charm.

Shelves like skyscrapers—stuffed to the brim with books, magazines, and comics—graze the ceiling. An intimate reading nook lies next to the door; an inviting window seat dwells beside a floor-to-ceiling window. Clear mosaic window clings cover the glass, casting beautiful rainbows throughout the store. Stringed vintage light bulbs illuminate the shelves; candle-lit sconces adorn the top corners of each one. Oriental rugs lay between the shelves, covering a dark mocha floor. Tucked in the back of the store is a small coffee cranny, hidden at first glance. Frank Sinatra’s charming, rich vocals travel through the air, tickling your ears. The owner clearly put the utmost time, energy, and love into the creation of their shop. It is unequivocally perfect and already one of your favorite places.

You wander to the classics section, enthralled by the exquisite covers. Sensing someone nearby, your eyes glance at movement caught in the corner of your eye. Your stomach somersaults at the stunning stranger. The instant you lay your eyes on him, you forget to breathe for a moment—your breath engulfs your throat. You’re astounded by the Adonis of a man before you.

Bristles of scruff grace his defined jawline—his low man-bun neatly styles his dark chestnut hair. A grey short-sleeve button-up shirt hugs his toned arms; a white tank top clings to his lean, fit frame; cuffed slim-fit khaki pants, help up by a bronze braided belt, embrace his thick thighs; and weathered, chunky brown leather shoes don his feet.

Through the rose-colored glasses that surround your heart, your soul imagines a life with a perfect stranger. The hopeless romantic in you can’t help but steal glances, hoping to catch a better glimpse of him. The moment he turns to walk away, your heart sinks to your stomach. You hope this isn’t the last time you see this gorgeous man.

A few minutes later, you’re mulling over a collectible edition of The Catcher in the Rye, attempting to justify purchasing yet another copy of your favorite book. A melodic voice interrupts your pondering. “That’s a pretty edition of The Catcher in the Rye you’ve got there.”

You turn towards the charming voice. Lo-and-behold, it’s the love of your life: the handsome stranger you’ve mentally lived a lifetime with. His beauty is even more profound up close: now you can see that his eyes are a lovely shade of blue. His eyes, haunted by a subtle sadness, draw you in, unlike anything you’ve experienced before. You find yourself entranced in his sea-blue current; you could easily drown in his gaze. You attempt to hide your awestruck expression and converse with him like a normal human being. “I agree! I already own a copy though, do I really need a new one?”

“I think we both know the answer is always yes,” he assures.

“Okay, you’ve convinced me. I'll get it! Thank you for justifying my unnecessary purchase.”

Your words hang in the air, everything going quiet as you wait for the ravishing stranger to introduce himself. The two of you stare in silence at each other, the tension thickening as the seconds pass by. After a few moments, his face flashes in realization—you were waiting for his name.

“I’m Bucky,” he offers with an enchanting smile, extending his hand out to you. You share your name as the two of you shake hands. Your eyes stare down his veiny arm to his ring-studded fingers grasped around yours. You allow yourself to imagine for a few moments how amazing those fingers would feel tracing your arms, tangling your hair, and teasing your inner thigh. Your lustful reverie comes to an abrupt halt at the sight of the book nestled inside the crook of his elbow: The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, the bane of your existence. You scoff with furrowed brows; of course, Mr. Handsome Stranger would be interested in the one book you despise.

“Got something to say there, sweetheart?” he questions with an amused grin.

“Out of all the classic novels in this entire store, that’s the one you chose? The Metamorphosis?”

“What’s wrong with this one?” he jives.

You pause for a second, debating whether it’s worth it to argue with a stranger. The pondering lasts only a few seconds; the exhaustion from your day disintegrates your filter. Besides, you loathe The Metamorphosis.

“What isn’t wrong with it? The dude wakes up thinking he’s an insect? The reader has to sit there throughout the entire book, wondering whether he’s a man or a bug? What the actual fuck? I didn’t appreciate the existential crisis that book gave me at fifteen; if I can help someone else avoid the suffering caused by that monstrosity, I'm going to do my part,” you huff, unamused by the joy Bucky seems to gain from your zealous analysis.

“Wow, what a passionate review! Perez Hilton would be envious of your slander. Okay then, what classic would you recommend instead?”

You cross your arms, expecting him to challenge your response. “The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde.”

“That’s a play,” he counters.

“It’s published as a book; it counts! It’s witty, playful, and has a happy ending, which is the most important point of all. It also doesn’t make you want to pull a Fahrenheit 451 and burn every copy in existence,” you attest.

He steps closer to you, tucking loose strands of his hair behind his ear. “Life doesn’t always have a happy ending, sweetheart.”

Great, there he goes again with that freaking pet name; it’s going to be the death of you. He knows your name, you just gave it to him, yet here he is, infuriatingly insisting on calling you sweetheart instead. Stupid pretty boy with his ocean blue eyes and amorous smile.

“That’s exactly the point,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “So, why would I want to read something that doesn’t end well? If I’m going to escape this reality for a while, it better be for a happier one.”

“And if it's not?”

“Then I’ll throw the book across the room and make up my own happy ending!”

“Ooh, aggressive,” he tuts. “The owner of this place might not be too happy with you if you’re throwing books all over the place; it’ll scare away the customers.”

“Then it’s a good thing the owner isn’t here,” you interject confidently, knowing full well you have no idea who the owner is.

“Well, that just isn’t true, sweetheart. You’re looking right at him.”

He’s lying—he has to be. Why would a dreamboat like Bucky own a bookstore?

You scoff, “you’re not the owner of this place.”

“I’m not? What makes you say that?” he banters.

“People like you don’t own bookstores!” you exclaim.

“People like me?” he goads, cocking his head to the side. The action erupts butterflies in your stomach.

“Attractive people!” you groan.

“So you think I’m attractive?” he plays, stepping to close the gap between you.

“Psh, no, you wish,” you muster. The heat spreading across your cheeks betrays your bluff.

There are mere inches between the both of you now; you hope he can’t hear your racing heartbeat. You watch his eyes go down from yours to your mouth and back up again. He eyes you with a smirk, his teeth playfully tugging his bottom lip. It takes everything in your power not to give in to his spell.

“I’ve known you for what, five minutes? I don’t go around kissing strangers, Bucky,” you falter, taking a step back from his closeness.

“Then let’s not be strangers, sweetheart. Grab a coffee with me; I know a nice place, not far from here,” he flirts, gesturing to the counter at the back of the store.

“Let me learn more about what goes on in that pretty little head of yours,” he purrs, his breath tickling your cheek.

“Okay, fine. I’ll have a coffee with you,” you surrender.

A bright, honeyed smile dons his face.  

“It better be good, though. Not the stale crap you usually get in the middle of the afternoon.”

“I’d only give you the best, sweetheart,” he winks, extending his right hand. You take it; he gives you a soft squeeze before weaving you through the towering shelves.

Your discussion continues with another passionate book review as he prepares your drink. He’s a sucker for gritty dystopian novels while you gravitate towards sappy romances. He shares his passion for painting as he guides you to the reading nook. The artwork hung on the edges of the bookcases is crafted by him—a detail you hadn’t noticed at first glance. His stunning work features both landscapes and people. He loves to sit in a picturesque landscape and paint for endless hours. Occasionally, he takes his old polaroid as he explores the town, snapping moments between strangers, translating their intimacy to canvas when he gets home.

He gestures for you to take a seat in the reading nook before handing you our steaming cup of joe. You sit with your legs crossed, your hands hugging the mug in your lap. Bucky sits with his leg draped over the side of the bench, his left foot pressing into his right thigh. The conversation shifts topics; the two of you divulge your desires and unfulfilled ambitions. You aren’t sure if it’s the look in his eyes, the sweet cup of joe in your palms, or the aroma of coffee surrounding you, but in his presence, your senses feel wide awake.

Before you know it, the mesmeric moon replaces the sizzling sun, melting away the blistering heat, and the steaming cup of coffee in your hands has long chilled. Bucky’s employee interrupts the blissful rendezvous, informing him that all the closing duties are complete, and he’s headed home for the night.

You stare at your watch in shock—it's five past nine. Where did the time go? You apologize profusely to the poor kid who had to close up alone; he assures you it’s no problem.

A melancholic pit in your stomach forms as you turn back to Bucky. He’s nestled himself into your soul; you don’t want to say farewell to him so soon. He has a sad glint in his eyes; you hope it’s because he’s also dreading the end of this perfect night.

“Can I walk you to your car?” he asks timidly, his earlier suave demeanor gone from his voice. He stands up in front of you, offering his arm to escort you.

“I’d love that,” you reply with a shy grin, grabbing his arm and hugging it tightly.

In the blink of an eye, you’re in front of your car. You let go of his arm and lean against the trunk. You stare into his eyes, hoping that he can see without the use of words how much you don’t want this moment to end. There’s a few moments of painful silence before Bucky clears his throat.

“So, now that we’re not total strangers, how about that kiss?” he flirts with pleading eyes.

“Okay,” you reply with a bashful smile.

He slowly reaches his hand towards your cheek, softly stroking it with his thumb. He presses his forehead against yours. “Are you sure you want to do this? ‘Cause if we do, you might not be able to get rid of me, sweetheart.”

“Yes I do, Bucky,” you giggle.

He grins as he gently presses his pillowy pink lips on yours. The kiss steals all the air from your lungs—his touch sends tingles throughout your body, electrifying your veins. You’re breathless when your lips finally part.

“Let me get your number before I let you go,” Bucky insists. You nod and hand him your phone, unable to form a coherent thought.  The ghost of his lips and fingers trace your figure. You’re barely acquainted with his tender touch, yet you feel naked without it, yearning to once again be within his grasp.

You exchange phones—adding your number and name with a sparkling heart emoji and swiftly passing his phone back before you can change your mind. Bucky snaps a quick selfie for his contact, smirking for the camera. You grin when you see he also put emojis by his name: a beetle and a kissy-face.

He pecks your cheek before opening the car door for you. “Hope to see you around, lovebug.” The new pet name burns your cheeks and erupts butterflies in your stomach.

He doesn’t leave the parking lot until your car disappears completely from his view.

You drive home with thoughts of Bucky swirling in your mind. You send a silent thanks to the universe for bringing this beautiful man into your life. His voice, touch, and smile echo in your thoughts for the remainder of the evening—his presence paving its way through your dreams. You’re falling hard and fast; you only hope he’ll be there to catch you.

tagging a few mutuals who expressed interest in this story🥰please fill out the taglist form if you’d like to be tagged in the next story! 💖

@ritesofreverie @midnightf @certainaesthetic

[alj4890]

I have an ask? What if Liam got Riley pregnant when they first met in New York? Would he still have to go through the social season? Would she have to raise a baby on her own would Liam find a way to help?

Ooooohhhh. Interesting. That would be quite the conundrum for them, wouldn't it? Especially since the social season starts the very next day after he visited her bar. Hmmm. Let's see what I can do with that time frame. I'm going on the assumption that the social season lasts at least three months with all the parties and traveling they do. Which will help out with the pregnancy part 😉 I think she would still go and take part in the social season since she wouldn’t know she was pregnant yet, but it would definitely alter how things end in book 1.

Masterlist

@gkittylove99 @darley1101 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg @twinkleallnight @amandablink @neotericthemis  @mm2305

Aftereffects

Three months earlier...

"Well?" Riley tilted her head to study Liam's profile. "What do you think?"

He cleared his throat. Lips parted, yet no words were formed. Liam had so many emotions hitting him all at once that a mere stranger had made his one wish come true.

His eyes went from the Statue of Liberty to the woman responsible for him being able to see it.

"I'm speechless." He lowered his head, lips curving in a shy smile. "I've never been so moved in my life than I am in this moment with you."

She smiled and turned her attention toward the iconic monument. "She's really something, isn't she?"

He turned toward Riley. His eyes traveled down her beautiful face softly lit by the dull light coming from the ferry they were on and the sliver of moonlight from above.

"Yes," he moved closer to her. "She really is."

Riley looked up at him. Her heart raced at the tender longing she saw in his eyes. He seemed so lonely. So in need of encouragement. So in need of affection.

Before he could step away, she snagged his lips in a tender kiss.

He froze for two seconds before crushing her to him. He allowed all the feelings he kept to himself pour out as a fuel to draw moans from her. The desperation he had been feeling since his brother abdicated didn't seem to exist around this woman.

His kisses traveled down her neck.

"Liam." She sighed when he returned to her mouth.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as he pressed her back against the railing.

"I don't want this night to end." He murmured.

It took a physical effort to stop.

"Neither do I." She cupped his cheek. "I know you leave tomorrow."

He nodded, already feeling the heavy yoke that was about to be thrust upon his shoulders.

"It's not quite tomorrow though." She kissed along his jaw as she whispered. "We can still enjoy the rest of tonight."

"Riley, I--you know I must choose--I couldn't do that and simply leave you to search for a bride." He felt guilty just thinking about it.

He would be the worst sort of cad possible if he were to spend the night in her arms.

He shouldn't have pursued her. The moment she had turned around and greeted him in the bar, he had thought of nothing else except getting to know more about her.

"I want you." She whispered. "If tonight is all we have, then let's make the most of it."

"You have no idea how much I want you." He kissed her once more, completely unable to resist her.

******************

Two and a half months later...

Maxwell winced when he heard the noises coming from Riley's bathroom. Bracing himself, he timidly knocked upon the door.

"You okay in there, blossom?"

"What--" she heaved into the toilet, "do you think?"

"Maxwell!" Bertrand snapped. "What is the hold up. She should have been downstairs fifteen minutes ago."

His eyes widened at the sounds of vomiting.

"Is she ill?" He whispered.

Maxwell shrugged.

"She seemed fine last night." Bertrand thought over the past few days.

"She has been more tired than usual." Maxwell narrowed his eyes in concern. "And this isn't the first time I've heard her throwing up."

Bertrand's stern demeanor turned to worry. "You don't think she's..."

"Think she's what?" Maxwell asked.

"We have been pressuring her to wear the right clothes. I hope we haven't caused her to think she needs to lose weight." Bertrand explained.

Maxwell's eyes widened. He would never be able to forgive himself if he had made Riley think less of her natural beauty.

"Riley!" He anxiously knocked again when they heard nothing but silence. "Can we come in?"

"Sure." Her weak response was followed by her unlocking the door.

The brothers walked inside and saw her sitting in the floor.

Maxwell wet a rag and crouched beside her. He gently cleaned the sweat off her brow, his worry was now off the charts at the half hearted smile she gave him.

"Thanks." She lifted her eyes to Bertrand. "I'm sorry. I know I'm supposed to be outside for the--"

"Don't concern yourself with that." He tempered his usual gruff tone. "We must take care of you first."

Tears filled her eyes at how kind he was being. He wasn't berating her or telling her that House Beaumont needed her to win Liam. She wondered where this Bertrand had been hiding. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks as the brothers discussed ways to help her feel better.

He ordered Maxwell to pick her up and carry her to her bed.

As she settled back against her pillows, he called down to the kitchen and ordered a tray of soup, crackers, and tea to be brought up.

By the time he was finished, she was crying in full force.

"Riley!" Maxwell sat down on her bed and tried to hug her. "Please tell us what's wrong."

Bertrand reached for her hand. "You do know how lovely you are, right?"

Her eyes widened at that odd question.

"We think you shouldn't change at all." Maxwell added.

"Indeed. Many of the dresses in the boutique are," Bertrand's frown firmed as he tried to think of a way to keep her from thinking her body was at fault, "they aren't properly made. One can never go by sizes there."

"And you're size is perfect. Liam can't keep his eyes off you." Maxwell added. "In fact, you could probably add on some weight and be even more beautiful."

"Indeed." Bertrand latched on to that. "Size does not matter. It is what is on the inside that counts."

Riley lifted her head. "What are you talking about?"

"You're," Maxwell mimed vomiting.

"You must stop." Bertrand added. "You do not need to lose weight."

"I'm not doing it on purpose." She shook her head.

It touched her heart though that they wouldn't want her developing an eating disorder.

"I don't know what's caused this." She explained. "The weirdest smells and motions seem to set it off. Like yesterday, the smell of tomatoes had me running for a bathroom and I've always loved tomatoes."

"Could it possibly be your nerves?" Bertrand sat down at the foot of the bed. "The social season can take a toll on even the most seasoned noble."

"I don't think so." Riley mumbled. "It's like my energy has suddenly been depleted. Of course that could be because of the vomiting."

"So what caused it to start?" Maxwell asked.

"How long has it been going on?" Bertrand added.

"I don't know what set it off. It's been going on for a couple of weeks, but it is getting worse."

"Hmm." Bertrand and Maxwell shared a glance.

"Riley, I hope you don't think badly of me for asking," Bertrand struggled to inquire into something so personal. "But, have you, er...did you..."

She lifted her eyebrows in silent question.

"Before you joined us, were you involved with anyone?" He closed his eyes in embarrassment.

"Involved?"

"Any previous boyfriends or hookups before Liam?" Maxwell clarified.

"Oh!" Her cheeks heated with color. "No. I actually haven't been in a relationship for almost a year now." She lowered her eyes. "I had a bad relationship with a guy and decided to focus on myself once I got out of it."

Bertrand relaxed some. "A wise decision."

"So no one night stands?" Maxwell prodded.

"I've never been that type of..." Her eyes widened. She had been that type for one incredible night.

It was the driving force in making her decision to come to Cordonia in the first place.

"Oh no." She breathed. "The night I met you," her eyes held Maxwell's shocked gaze, "Liam and I sneaked away and..."

Bertrand shot up off the bed. "Wait here."

*****************

"We must be certain." Bertrand stressed. "The bloodwork must confirm what the test showed." His frown was fierce as he stood before the physician. "Discretion is a must in this situation."

"I'll have the results by this evening." The doctor replied. "And only I will run the lab work for Ms. Brooks."

"Here's my number." Riley scribbled it out quickly. "If I don't answer, please send a text and voicemail."

Once he was gone, she sagged back on the bed.

"What do we do now?" Maxwell asked.

"We have a ball to prepare for." Bertrand held up a silk dress. "We missed today's events, but we must make an appearance tonight. Everyone will begin to talk if we don't."

Riley nodded. Her mind though was whirling with the knowledge that she was pregnant.

How will Liam react? Will he be upset? Will he hate me for allowing it to happen? Will he think I'm trying to trap him?

How do I tell him?

Taking the dress, she forced herself to get ready.

***************

"Have you seen Riley any today?"

Drake shook his head. "No. Why?"

"That's strange." Liam folded his arms.

He wondered if something was wrong. He hated that he couldn't spend every single moment with her. What if she had reached the end of her patience with this suitor situation?

He shook his head when Drake offered him a drink.

"You've got it bad." Drake teased.

"Got what?"

"Love."

"I do?"

"Are you saying you aren't in love with Brooks?" Drake smirked. "I've seen you with her. Ever since she showed up at the masquerade ball, you haven't looked at any of the other ladies trying to win you."

Liam couldn't help but smile over that. It was true. His night with Riley in New York had been the most magical of his life. Each moment he had spent with her since then all but reaffirmed that she was the only one for him.

He was thrilled at how the people of Cordonia had fallen for her. The press had only positive things to say about The American that had come to win his hand.

He could picture her smile when she approached him at the masquerade ball.

"I think we both know we have something special. One night together will never be enough for me." Riley whispered as he kissed her hand.

"I agree." He held her hand a moment longer than was deemed appropriate. "It isn't enough." His bright blue eyes shined against the silver demi mask. "Are you certain I'm worth going through these next few months? What if--"

"We end up with our happily ever after?" She finished for him.

He knew he had completely lost his heart in that moment. Our happily ever after. Her optimism that they could have that helped him through every step of this social season. She was the prize he knew he could claim once he passed the final hurdle to be king.

He spent his time in dull conversations daydreaming about their future. How beautiful she would be as a bride. How comforting she would be as they dealt with his father's illness and troubles of their small nation.

Then he dreamed of the family they would have. He hoped they had many children, each with her infectious smile and kindness.

He hoped she would say yes when he asked her to marry him. Even if they never had all these other dreams of the future, he would at least have her and her love.

Then all of this would be well worth it.

He did worry about his father's reaction to the time he spent in her company. Whenever Liam attempted to discuss his feelings about Riley, Constantine would point out another lady of the court. He wouldn't allow his son to go ahead and make a decision.

"You better head downstairs." Drake finished off his drink. "Can't have a ball around here without the prince."

****************

"Any word yet?" Bertrand whispered.

Riley shook her head.

He softly cursed, causing her to burst into laughter.

"I'm sorry." She giggled when he shushed her. "But I would have bet a lot of money that you would never say that word."

He rolled his eyes. "Be that as it may, you should go mingle."

****************

"Lady Riley?" Liam gently tapped her shoulder. "May I have this dance?"

She turned around with a start. "I'd love to."

He took her hand and placed it within the bend of his arm. "You look beautiful tonight."

She gently squeezed his arm. "Thank you." Her eyes lifted to his. "And you're as handsome as always."

"I don't know about that." He winked at her. "But as long as you think so, then I'm content."

He took her in his arms as a waltz began.

"Let's not spin as much as we normally do." She pleaded when he twirled her.

His brow furrowed. "Is something wrong?"

"No!" She said quickly. "Just, um, a little motion sickness from time to time."

"I see." He kept his gaze upon her face. "I missed you today."

"You did?"

"I always do whenever you're not around." He admitted with a sheepish grin.

"That's so--" she felt the vibration of her phone.

She stopped dancing, causing Liam to nearly trip

"Riley, is something--"

"Excuse me, I have to--that is--this is from--" she ducked out a nearby door before all her revelations came tumbling out.

***************

She plopped down on the edge of a small couch and read the message from the doctor.

Hitting the link, she read the results of her bloodwork.

Her breaths came in and out in short gasps.

I'm really pregnant.

"Riley?"

All the color drained from her face as she looked up at Liam.

He shut the door to the ballroom and knelt before her.

"What is it?" He took her icy hand in his. "Is something wrong?"

She licked her dry lips and tried to tell him.

"Yes. No. I'm not sure."

He pressed a kiss to her hand. "Whatever it is, I will do all that I can to help you."

She blinked back tears. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything." He laced his fingers with hers.

"Do you," she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "do you love me?"

"I do." He admitted. "I had planned on telling you during the Coronation Ball."

"Really?" Her eyes narrowed. "I need you to be completely honest with me right now."

"I am." He lowered his gaze to their clasped hands. His thumb brushed against her skin. "I know I'm not supposed to say anything until then, but you are the one I will pick to marry," he looked up at her, "if you want to."

She bit down on her bottom lip. "Do you want children?"

"Yes, and not just for the continuation of the Rhys holding the crown." His smile gentled. "I want a family with you, selfishly for myself. I want all the holiday memories spent with them, watching them see the world with wonder, and seeing our traits passed on, especially yours." He chuckled. "Heaven help me if we have a daughter like you. I will be completely wrapped around her little finger."

Riley couldn't believe she was hearing all she needed to from him.

He really is Prince Charming. My Prince Charming.

"Do you remember the night we met?" She asked.

"How could I forget?"

She grimaced at the worry that still gnawed at her mind.

"My love," Liam sat down beside her. "Please tell me what troubles you."

"I had not been with anyone in a long time." She began. "I mean, no one for months when we spent the night together."

Liam merely listened, wondering where she was going with this.

"I didn't think in the heat of the moment. I should have. It was irresponsible, but I was so swept off my feet..." She took a deep breath. "And I found out today that I'm pregnant."

His fingers tightened around hers.

"I'm sorry. I know with the--"

"Pregnant?" Liam interrupted her. "You're certain?"

"The doctor just sent me the results of my blood work. That with the test I took and the physical exam confirms it." Her eyes widened when he suddenly stood up and took her into his arms.

The kiss he gave her weakened her knees. His arms held her as if she was the most delicate piece of porcelain.

"Marry me." He said between kisses.

"That kinda was the whole point of me coming here." She teased, once she saw how happy he was.

He smiled against her lips. "Is that a yes?"

"It is."

He stepped back and took hold of her hand. With quick strides he had them back in the ballroom.

Waving the conductor to stop the music, he held his hand up. "May I have your attention please!"

The court stilled as all eyes turned toward him.

Ignoring the hushed questions coming from his father, he settled his arm around Riley's waist.

"Lady Riley has made me the happiest man this evening. She has accepted my proposal of marriage and has told me that within a few months or so," he turned his adoring gaze upon her, "we will have an heir to the throne."

Constantine staggered back at this announcement. He had no idea the couple had become that close.

Regina called for champagne to be brought to all the guests as she embraced the young couple.

Liam held his glass up. He decided to force his parent to officially accept Riley in front of the entire court. He suspected that if he had not announced the fact they were expecting, that Constantine would find a way to break their engagement. He didn't know why he felt such unease with his father when it concerned Riley, but he wasn't going to leave anything to chance when it concerned her.

"Father? Would you like to give the toast?"

Constantine cleared his throat. Seeing no way around it, he stepped forward and lifted his glass. He hoped for Liam's sake that this woman would not be detrimental to his rule.

"To my son and the lady he has chosen. May they have all the happiness that I have found with my own queen and may their new family continue to serve Cordonia with grace and honor." He turned toward them. "To Liam and Riley!"

[beauvibaby]

figure it out – f.andersen

summary: Freddie andersen falls for his sons nanny or his sons nanny falls for him

warnings: brief smut towards the end, oh and I didn’t proofread this 😅

You stepped out of the car with a nervous smile, you could spot the tall guy with the red hair a mile away, his back was towards you as he pushed his son on the swing.

“He’s a great guy, you’ll get along great, his son is the sweetest.” Your friends words rang through your mind as you smoothed out your blouse, “Mr. Andersen?” You called softly as you approached the swing set, he glanced over his shoulder as he caught his sons swing, the three year old turned to look as well, a smile forming on his face. “Y/N?” Freddie spoke, helping his son hop down. “The one and only.” You laughed, squatting to the little boys height, “I’ve been told that your name is, oh let me think.” You teased, rubbing your chin in thought, the boy giggled at you, hugging the side of his fathers leg, “is your name, Joseph?” You concluded, watching him nod brightly. “Joey.” He mumbled, cheeks flushing pink as his dad ruffled his hair. You held your hand out for the young boy, “my name is Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you, Joey.” You watched as he hesitantly grabbed your hand, giving it a small shake.

“Call me Freddie.” His dad spoke as you stood to your full height, “go play while Miss Y/N and I talk, ok?” Freddie spoke to his son who bounded off to the playground where other kids were playing. You sat down across from him at one of the tables, and your friend was right, she was so right. You and Freddie got along very well, which is so important as a nanny, you need to feel comfortable and be able to talk to the parents you work with. He hired you on the spot, anxious to have you start, the season was just about to kick off, and so he wanted to have you on for a few weeks before he had to start traveling. This was what you did full time, so your schedule was fully open, and of course he told you if you ever felt like it was too much or you needed days off, to tell him, you assured him you would be fine.

It was a few days later when you went to his home,Joey was at preschool, needing to be picked up soon and you were going to go with Freddie so you could be added to the list of people allowed to pick up his son. First though, he showed you around the house, where everything was, what Joey normally liked to do, and eat, assuring you that you were welcome to anything you’d like as well, which everyone always said but you never indulged in. “The pool, he loves to go swimming, but he’s not good at it, but I’m fine with you taking him if you don’t mind going in with him.” Freddie explained as he stepped out onto the patio, his condo overlooking the complex pool. You nodded with a smile, “I think I could handle that.” You laughed breathily as Freddie glanced over at you. “I’ve got an extra car seat, I can put it in for you if you’d like.” He spoke on his way out, knowing you needed one for picking up and driving Joey. “Oh, that would be great, please.” You answered softly, he nodded, grabbing it out of the closet before following you down to your car.

He quickly installed it and you followed him to the school, “Joey is really excited to see you, he didn’t stop talking about you.” Freddie admitted as he opened the door for you, a small thank you fell from your lips, “that’s sweet, I’m excited to see him.” You grinned, it was quite simple to add you to the list, and then you were off to his classroom, following behind Freddie as he knew his way around the school, it was relatively small, so you knew it wouldn’t be too bad once you got used to it.

“Joey, your dads here.” You heard an older woman speak from inside, you stepped up beside Freddie watching Joey look over and see you both standing there. Joey grabbed his bag and ran over, squeezing his fathers legs as the teacher smiled at you, you took the moment to introduce yourself, telling her you’d be taking care of Joey when Freddie was working, so she’d be seeing more of you. You went your separate ways as Joey tugged on your hand, insisting he tell you about his day as you walked alongside him and his dad. You listened intently, throwing in commentary whenever it was required, getting giggles from the young boy who looked much like his father, except slightly lighter hair, strawberry blonde you could say.

“Alright, Joey. I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m going to pick you up while your dad works, alright?” You spoke to him, he nodded with bright eyes, climbing into his seat in his dads car. “Bye, Y/N.” Freddie smiled as you began walking to your car, “bye!” You called giddily, excited for your first real day with them, it had been hard when you had to move on from the last family you watched, but this made it exciting all over again.

***

“Alright, Joey, what should we do first?” You asked the four year old as you slipped off his and yours shoes by the front door, “can I have a snack?” He asked with a tilt of his head. “Of course!” You smiled down at him, giggling as he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the kitchen, as if you didn’t know where it was, you let him have the moment. “Goldfish?” He asked hopefully, you nodded and pulled them out for him, tearing the top open on the snack size bag. “Thank you.” He skipped his way to the living room with his bag, Freddie told you he was pretty relaxed about tv time, considering Joey wasn’t very interested in it, mostly watching an episode or two of one of his kid shows before being too antsy to sit still. “What’s your favorite color?” He asked, sitting directly beside you on the couch. “Purple, yours?” You responded, shifting to be facing him, “green!” He answered with a goldfish in his mouth. “I’m sure your dad has told you not to talk with your mouth full.” You teased him, he nodded with wide eyes, covering his mouth with his hand as he murmured an apology. “It’s ok, bud.” You pushed his floppy hair back.

He subconsciously leaned into your hand, and you often wondered if he’s ever had a stable woman figure in his life. Freddie very briefly mentioned his mother, only saying that they don’t speak of her, especially around Joey. “Don’t eat too much, your dad should be home in time for you to have dinner with him.” You reminded the young boy as he continued to munch on the cracker snacks. “Ok, I’m done.” He announced, climbing off the couch and going to put his bag in the trash, you held in a giggle at the way he was so confident in it, it was purely adorable. “Do you want to color?” You offered to him as he came over and stared blankly at you. “Yeah.” He jumped up and down. “Come on miss Y/N.” He cheered, rushing down the hall to his room. You came to the conclusion that he would keep you on your toes, in the best possible way. You spent the rest of the day doing small activities, coloring, playing with building blocks, all the way down to Joey falling asleep curled into your side when Freddie walked in from a late afternoon practice. You shushed him immediately, watching his eyebrows raise as he stepped in closer to see his son asleep under your arm.

“Was he good?” Freddie whispered, squatting in front of the couch, pushing a hand through his sons hair. “So good, he’s an easy kid.” You responded, watching Joey whine and lean away from his dads touch, not really aware of who it was. “Joey, you gotta get up otherwise you won’t sleep tonight.” Freddie explained, running his thumb over his sons chubby cheek. The boy huffed, fluttering his eyes open, reaching for his dad who only grinned, welcoming him with open arms. “Did you have fun with Miss Y/N?” He asked Joey, that seemed to wake the boy up, “yes! She’s so much fun.” He wiggled in his dad's arms, “I have to show you something.” Freddie laughed at Joey’s demand, setting him down and watching him run off. You stood, beginning to gather your things, “tomorrow I have to leave a little earlier than I thought, can you do dinner for him?” Freddie hated to begin placing you under his ever changing schedule, but you knew it was part of the job, you understood what he did, and you knew it required you to be understanding with his schedule. “Of course.” You assured him, looking over as you hear Joey running back over. He showed his dad the drawing you two had done together. “For you.” He spoke to Freddie, giving him the paper.

You made sure you had all your things as they had their little moment.

***

The next few months went on like this, the three of you growing closer, becoming very comfortable with each other, you and Freddie speaking easily, whether it directly related to Joey or not, never inappropriate, he would just tell you something that happened on his road trip, little things.

Freddie was on the road when Joey caught a stomach bug at school, you rushed to pick him up, after the school had called you when Freddie hadn’t answered, he called you frantically as you were carrying Joey through the front door. “It’s alright, I got him.” You assured the frantic father, he started to say he could come home and you instantly gasped. “No! You guys are playing great, I can handle a stomach bug, he’ll be one hundred percent better when you get home.” You assured him, letting him talk to Joey who was half asleep in your arms after throwing up as soon as he had gotten out of your car. The rest of that night was spent with a mini trash can at your feet as Joey was clingy and sticky from sweating, you kissed his warm forehead, shushing him as he sniffled, complaining of his throat burning. “I know bud, come on, let’s get you some water and then try to get some sleep.” You soothed him, carefully standing with him hugging you tightly. “I’m hungry.” He curled into himself as you set him on the counter so you could grab some water for his cup. “Did you want to have some toast? That’ll make your tummy feel better.” You offered to him, he gave you a weak nod as his clammy skin sat against the cool marble countertops.

Eventually he went to bed, feeling a little better, but you left him shirtless, and turned his fan up a speed as he was still running pretty warm, and left his door and yours open so you could hear him better if he woke in the middle of the night, which he did. Emptying his stomach before he could even process what happened, one cleanup later, he was laying beside you in the guest room, the poor boy too nervous to sleep on his own after that. You tossed and turned most of the night as he finally slept, feeling the nausea begin to hit you.

You were able to keep it at bay until the morning, when you woke up to sprint to the bathroom, cringing as you woke Joey in the process. He stayed in the bed, looking towards the bathroom in concern. “Miss Y/N.” He called softly, his feet hitting the floor as he slid off the bed, “I’m fine bub, I’ll be out in a minute.” You spoke as you finally caught your breath, he peeked his head in, frowning as he saw you hunched down over the toilet. He tiptoed in and placed his hand on his back, rubbing it like you had been doing to him the night before. “Oh,” you gasped softly, quickly flushing the toilet and standing up, “are you sick?” He asked with a pout, following you to the sink where you brushed your teeth as the tiredness sat in. “No, no, I’m fine.” You assured him, fake it until you make it right?

You were proved so wrong as the day went on and Joey got his energy back, of course it was a Saturday so he didn’t have school, so he was bouncing off the walls all day while you tried to keep up, telling yourself that Freddie would be back this evening and you’d be able to go home and rest in your own home, not having to worry about a child walking in on you puking. “Miss Y/N got sick from me daddy.” Joey cried to his father as he came in, you’d unknowingly fallen asleep on the couch, but shooting awake when you heard the strangled cry from Joey. “Joey! Joey.” You gasped eyes darting around the room, guilt immediately hitting you when you saw him crying into Freddie’s shoulder as the ginger haired man looked at you in concern. Your heart broke as Joey cried, apologizing for getting you sick. “Oh no, honey.” You cooed, walking over to him, swallowing down your upset stomach, though you were certain by now there was nothing left in it. “It’s alright, I took care of you knowing I could get sick, and I did that because I really really care about you.” You explained to him, placing a hand on his back so he would lift his head from Freddie’s shoulder. “Ok.” He sniffled, “I love you.” The small boy whispered with a sheepish smile, Freddie froze, glancing at his son in shock, “I love you too bud.” You smiled at him, easing Freddie’s worries that it would scare you off. It was common for kids to say that, especially when they spent so much time with someone.

“Are you sure you’re ok to drive home?” Freddie asked as you grabbed your things, you nodded weakly, shooting him a smile, he mirrored it wearily. “Be careful.” He bid you a goodbye, telling you to take the next couple of days to recoup, he only had one practice, and he said he would figure something out with Joey.

When you got home you crashed immediately, but you’d find yourself waking up the next morning to a text from Freddie questioning if you got home safely.

***

A few more weeks had passed, and tonight you were taking Joey to a Leafs game, per his request and Freddie’s agreement. You were both excited, and Freddie would be lying if he said he didn’t find the excitement adorable. He found himself gifting you with a leafs jersey, a plain jersey, despite how badly he was itching to see you in his number. He felt wrong to feel the way he did for you, you were his sons nanny, it was cliche and all the things he never wanted to happen. But he couldn’t help it, you were so incredibly beautiful in his eyes, and the fact that Joey loved you and loved being around you, only made him fall farther and faster. He could see a life with you, with the three of you all together, but he couldn’t say that, he couldn’t risk scaring you off and making his son upset– Joey came before everything, even if it meant he had to hide his feelings for you.

“Woo!” You cheered as the teams skated out for the final period, the leafs up by three, Joey was jumping excitedly beside you, clapping and shouting as his dad waved in the direction of your seats. It warmed your heart as you hoisted him up to your hip so he could see better. They went on to win the game, Freddie nearly getting a shutout, but a puck slipped passed him at the last second. You and Joey were cheering louder than everyone else, or so it seemed to you as you let the young boy bang his hand on the glass, Auston came by, smiling brightly at you, having never properly met you, but he knew oh so much about you.

You did as Freddie said and told the security guard your name and pulled Joey along to the hallway outside the locker rooms. The two of you sitting slumped against the wall as you waited what felt like an eternity for them to start emerging, Auston, one of the few you felt like you knew fairly well from Freddie’s stories, was first, coming over and introducing himself as Joey jumped into his “uncles” arms. You smiled at the sight, “oh, so he did chicken out, got you a plain jersey.” Auston spoke up, your cheeks burned with heat, “what?” You asked softly, Freddie saw the two of you talking and began to panic and started speed walking over, Auston went to speak but Joey shouted for his dad and it distracted him. “Hey buddy.” Freddie grinned, hugging his son tightly, smiling over at you. “It was nice to meet you, Y/N.” Auston mumbled, smiling slyly as he backed away, leaving the three of you alone. “Good game.” You smiled up at him, Joey kissing his dad's cheek with a grin, his jersey cuffed so his hands were free. “Thank you.” Freddie answered, something a little different in his smile, you took notice of that as you checked the time. “You should head out, don’t you have that thing with your mom tomorrow?” Freddie spoke up, sending your heart into a flutter. You did a double take, hardly even remembering how you’d mentioned that to him earlier in the week, making sure you’d have the day off. “I-uh, yeah, I do. You remembered?” You couldn’t help but let the words fall past your lips as Joey started drifting off with his head on Freddie’s shoulder.

“Of course I did.” He admitted, with a pink tint to his cheeks as he adjusted his arms around Joey. “Thank you, goodnight Freddie, goodnight, J.” You whispered to the half asleep boy, he smiled nuzzling his head closer to his dad, giving you a sleepy wave. “Goodnight, Y/N.” Freddie responded as you started walking off.

You told yourself it was nothing on the drive home, that he was just being polite, that his smile wasn't different even though it definitely was.

***

Auston stared at his older friend incredulously, “it’s family skate!” Freddie protested, Auston raised his eyebrows, “so? She’s family by now isn’t she? Even if you didn’t feel like this for her she’s basically another parent to Joey.” He pointed out, watching the ginger shake his head with a groan. “What if she thinks it’s weird?” Freddie questioned, once again Auston sighed, shaking his head. “Believe, I’m pretty sure she feels the same way for you. She definitely won’t make a move because if she does she’s the one who could lose her job.” Auston reminded him before changing the subject, no longer wanting to argue with the stubborn man.

***

“I don’t know how to skate.” You blurted at the last second, Freddie and Joey looking at you shocked, he’d asked you to go to the family skate with him and Joey, your heart skipped a beat and you said yes, thinking maybe you could teach yourself before then but you hadn’t had the chance. “You don’t know how to skate.” Freddie repeated, nodding his head slowly, “guess we’ll have to teach you.” He added, smiling at Joey who was nodding eagerly. You hesitantly agreed, worried you’d end up with a broken bone. Freddie brushed off your concerns as he told you how to properly tighten your skates as he adjusted Joey’s, letting Auston whisk him off with his sisters who were just as excited to see the little boy. That left you and Freddie alone. “Where’s my teacher?” You joked, looking for Joey, Freddie mocked offense, “he had other clients, I guess I’ll have to suffice.” He offered you a hand to get up from the bench, “thanks.” You whispered, carefully following him the few steps over to the ice. You grimaced as he easily moved around, waiting for you to set the bladed shoe down on it. You did so and immediately tensed up, feeling a little nervous at how slippery it felt beneath you. “Here.” Freddie gave you his hands once again.

You knew deep down it was more than being friendly, but again you kept telling yourself it was just him being nice. Setting a good example for his son, despite him being nowhere near the two of you. “Oh god.” You yelped, squeezing his hands a little tighter as he slowly tugged you along, directing you on how to move your feet. You tried following his instructions, but you were never the most coordinated, “Y/N.” He laughed heartily, a sound you didn’t know you loved until right now. “I’m not going to let you-��� he stopped as you nearly fell but he quickly shot his hands around your waist to grab you, “fall.” He mumbled, nose nearly touching yours. It felt like a moment out of a movie as you looked into his eyes, your heart beating so fast you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. “Freddie.” You whispered, neither of you daring to pull away, he stayed silent, you could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Freddie, people are staring.” You whispered again, he nodded, clearing his throat as he put more space between you. “You good?” He asked, skating towards the exit, he helped you over to the bench once you assured him you were fine. “I need a second, can you just keep an eye on Joey.” He didn’t give you a chance to answer before he was easily walking off in the skates, you took notice of Mitch and Auston quickly going to find him.

Your eyes went wide as you heard a familiar cry, you rushed to your feet having already taken the skates off, you looked around in a panic for Joey, trying to follow the noise, of course it was coming from the ice. Thankfully one of Auston’s sisters was skating over to you with Joey, “he fell and hit his head, I’m sure he’s fine, just a little shaken up.” She explained to you, as Joey was placed into your arms crying. You nodded as he squeezed you, silently telling her it was fine as you turned to tend to the boy, you kneeled in front of him, setting him on the bench. “Hey, you’re ok, bud, you’re tough.” You soothed him, seeing the red patch on his skin where he fell, nothing worse than he could’ve done on the hardwoods at home. “It hurts.” He sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I know, but you took it like a champ.” You assured him, wiping the last of his tears away as Freddie started speed walking over. “Ok.” He mumbled, looking down at his skates, “do you want to take a break?” Freddie asked softly, Joey nodding sheepishly. You loosened his laces and pulled the skates off, he mumbled a thank you before making grabby hands at his dad.

You tried to brush off the awkward silence between you and Freddie, Joey whispered something to Freddie who nodded, setting him down and letting him run off to the food court where Mitch and Steph were. “Y/N, can we talk?” Freddie asked, watching as you nodded slowly, hesitantly. “Did I do something wrong?” You asked instantly, he went wide eyed, “no, no of course not.” He rushed, “I just-on the ice I, ugh, I wanted to kiss you.” He mumbled, not looking over at you as his cheeks burned red. You held in a noise of shock, “why didn’t you?” You questioned, his head snapped up, his brown eyes searching your face for the disappointment that he so clearly heard in your voice. “Because, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” You took a leap of faith as you stepped towards him, tipping your head back to look up at him, “you won’t make me uncomfortable.” You assured him. He didn’t hesitate to cup your face and press his lips to yours, he kept it short and sweet, but just enough. He smiled as he pulled away, your eyes stayed shut for a moment as you took in the sensation. Neither of you said anything, it kind of went unspoken as he grabbed your hand, pulling you over to the ice. “Skate with me?” He asked, giving you a smile that warmed your heart. “Only if you don’t let me fall.” You giggled, stepping into the ice with more confidence this time around. “You know I won’t.” He stayed alongside you, squeezing your hand every once in a while as you skated in a few circles around the rink.

Joey was sleeping peacefully in his room, oblivious to the conversation you and Freddie were having in the living room. “Why does this mean for us?” You asked softly, hugging your knees to your chest, looking over at Freddie, unsure of what this new step would mean for you both. “I like you, quite a lot, and I think you feel the same.” He trailed off, stretching his legs out in front of him, slouching slightly against the couch. “I do.” You agreed with him, smiling as he laid his hand on the couch, palm up. You reached over and laced your fingers together, “so that means we figure it out.” He mumbled happily. “Figure it out.” You confirmed.

***

And that’s what you guys have been doing, a little over a month has passed, you were taking it slow, but yet at the same time as you were so intertwined in their life’s, it felt like you’d skipped straight to the good part, being active in Joey’s life, and being the woman that Freddie wanted to come straight home too. He’d offered to find someone else to watch Joey, not wanting you to feel odd about still technically being paid to take care of him, but you loved Joey too much, it didn’t bother you so it didn’t bother Freddie.

“When will daddy be home?” Joey asked sleepily as you closed the book, having just read to him for half an hour as he kept requesting another story. “He’ll be home really late, bub, but he’ll be here when you wake up in the morning, promise.” You assured him as he looked up at you with sleepy eyes, his arm clutched around the teddy bear he adored. “Goodnight, mommy.” He murmured, eyes already falling shut, you held in a sharp breath, unsure on what to say, or what to do. “Goodnight.” You whispered as you tiptoed out of the room, your heart slamming against your chest as you shut his door. Your hands shook as you ran a hand over your face, sighing deeply as you trudged to the kitchen to clean up the mess from dinner, making a plate for Freddie and putting it in the fridge, he’d be home in a couple of hours, and the plate in the fridge had became a tradition of yours long before he confessed his feelings. Your phone started vibrating in your pocket as you washed the dishes, you quickly dried off your hand and answered the phone, putting it on speaker as you continued. “Hey.” You spoke nervously, “hey, everything ok?” Freddie asked instantly, hearing the nervousness in your voice. “Yeah, yes.” You mumbled, “babe.” He cautioned, already tired from the difficult game he had just played and lost, his heart heavy in his chest, wanting to come home two his favorite people. Their playoff spot is now gone, “Joey called me mommy.” You blurted, the line falling silent on both ends as the only noise heard was the water running in the sink.

“Freddie?” You questioned, he cleared his throat, “I’m sorry, I’ll talk to him about that.” He muttered, “no, it’s fine, he was just tired, I’m sure it was nothing.” You rambled, sighing as he gave you a grunt in response. “I’m sorry about the game.” You whispered, he muttered a soft ok. Not speaking after that. You didn’t want to guilt him after all of this, but his reaction was worse than you had expected, and it only made you worry further that this wasn’t at all what he really wanted. “There’s dinner in the fridge, goodnight, Fred.” You muttered, “Y/N.” He started, but then fell silent again, you shook your head to yourself, “goodnight.” He whispered before hanging up.

You climbed into the bed that night with tears in your eyes. Worried about the entire situation, you knew it would be hard, adjusting, it wasn’t the typical relationship, it was more complicated.

Freddie checked on Joey before padding down the hall to see you, it wasn’t odd for him to find you in his room, it’s never been anything more than just sleeping beside each other, and he could tell he’d upset you on the phone, but when he walked into his room and didn’t see you, he panicked for a moment. He cursed to himself as he quickly changed into a pair of sweatpants, now walking to the other side of the house where the guest room was.

He stepped into the room, looking at the way you were asleep with a tissue clutched in your hand, your phone landing beside your head when you’d finally given into the sleep. He took the few steps over to you, carefully placing your phone on the nightstand, pulling the tissue from your grasp, you didn’t stir, surprisingly until he was climbing in behind you. “It’s just me.” He murmured when you inhaled sharply, you stayed silent, relaxing when he placed a hand on your side. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, kissing the back of your shoulder, “I’m sorry too.” You sighed, rolling to your back to look at him. “You didn’t do anything.” He furrowed his eyebrows at you, tucking some hair behind your ear. “For the game, for acting the way I did when you reacted like that.” You explained, leaning into the hand he had on your cheek, “it’s alright.” He lowered his head down to kiss you, it was lazy and sloppy, the both of you feeling a need to be close.

You ran your hand over his chest, lightly pushing him to his back as you followed him, straddling him gently, his hands dipped under your shirt, caressing your bare skin, relishing in the faint moan that fell from your lips as you pulled away to breathe. “We don’t-“ you cut him off, “I want too.” You looked down at him with hooded eyes, he nodded, slowly pushing the hem of your shirt up. He swallowed as he watched you pull it off, letting it fall on the floor beside the bed. “Baby.” His hands slid up your sides, over your chest, his calloused fingers touching every inch of exposed skin. “Freddie.” You hummed, tipping your head back, rolling your hips in response. It wasn’t rushed or urgent, it was slow as you both pushed and pulled on the remaining clothing. Freddie sat up to kiss you, keeping himself steady with one hand as he wrapped his other arm around your back as you sunk down on him. You dug your nails into the back of his shoulder as you had to adjust to him, his lips trailed across your neck, murmuring sweet praises. You began to rock your hips, loving the way Freddie moaned against your shoulder as he kept your bodies close together. “You feel so good.” He praised as you began moving with more speed, between the tiredness and the emotions you’d been feeling, it didn’t take long for that familiar feeling to tighten in your stomach.

Freddie took over, flipping you to your back, moving in and out of you with his own urgency as you clenched around him. Your gasps and moans only fueled him on as he found his own release, “Freddie.” You tilted your head back, cursing softly as he rested half on top of you, catching his breath, you ran a hand through his hair, his lips ghosting across your throat as he worked his way back up to your lips. “I love you.” He murmured, “I should’ve said that before.” He added quickly, releasing how bad it made him look to be saying that in this position. “I love you too.” You sighed, you guys would figure it out, just like you had done so far.

***

Joey tugged on Freddie’s jacket, pulling him away from where the two of you were swaying to the music, you watched Freddie bend down to let Joey speak in his ear, now six years old. Freddie nodded, winking at you as he made his way over to his family, “I want to dance with you, mommy.” He wrapped his arms around your waist, his head resting on your stomach, having just hit a growth spurt, already showing his fathers height, the sight of him hugging you in your white gown, and him in his little suit just warmed your heart. “Of course, baby.” You whispered, placing a hand on his back and one on his arm as he swayed with you.

You figured it out, just like you always did.

Taglist: @heybarzy @literarycharleton @kiedhara @mandypants95

[disasterfandoms]

This is Your Home Now ~ The Ryders x teen!reader imagine

@atjafshelby​ requested: “Okay so I was thinking maybe a teenage reader who was like Judd as a child, gets in trouble and needs help and stuff. But maybe she lives on her own so Grace and Judd take her in and try to help her? No rush though, thank you!!❤️”

A/N: I appreciate you sending me a complex ask. I’ll be honest, I had no idea how i was going to write this one when I first saw it. I tweaked it a tiny bit, and instead of being on their own the reader is in a group home. This may be part 1 if anyone is interested in part 2?

TW: foster care, mentions of violence, mentions of therapy.

Your POV:

Sitting in the principal’s office, you began to take in the various lame quotes around the room. “You miss 100% of the chances you don’t take” sure, whatever.

“You have to look through the rain to see the rainbow” this has to be the worst one of all. What rainbow? and why go through hell to be able to see a prism of light in the sky?

The door shuts loudly, pulling you from your thoughts. You roll your eyes when you see your social worker walking in with the principal.

“So, Y/N, you’ve been getting into more fights recently, including earlier today when you struck another student in the face for saying something about your family,” your principal read from the file, then looked up at you, “Anything you’d like to say for yourself?”

”yeah, they deserved it,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him again. Everyone here should know by now the topic of your parents is off limits, especially what he said about them. 

“Just because someone says something you don’t like doesn’t mean you can assault them.” Your social worker scolded, probably hating her life for having to deal with you. 

They went on lecturing you for another 20 minutes, but at that point you zoned out, focusing on the view out the window behind your principal. It was sunny outside, the trees on the outskirts of school grounds blowing slightly with the wind. You could see people walking out there, and instantly wanted to be anywhere but here, supposedly listening to how you’re a screw-up and if you “don’t get your act together” you’ll “never have a future.”

“Y/n, what do you think about the compromise?”

You snapped your head to the principal, trying to figure out what all you missed in the last few minutes so you could figure out to answer appropriately. You studied his face, before deciding agreeing would be the quickest road. How wrong you were, you wouldn’t have the faintest idea until an hour later.

“Sounds good to me, as long as I can go back to class. Ms. Neal is teaching about the wage gap and I want to see conservative boys lose their ever-loving mind.” you smiled, hoping they buy it for now. They both nod their heads, then you stand up to leave. 

“I’ll see you after school, Y/N,” your social worker spoke confidently, seemingly proud of herself for her part in the supposed compromise. With that, you left the two adults to work out the details amongst themselves.

Going to Ms. Neal’s class quickly, you started to wonder what you agreed to. It had to be something significant if you weren’t getting in trouble for giving the star of the baseball team a black eye, which he deserved, by the way. 

Class went by as a blur, your attention focusing in and out on class, except when it came time to debate your stance on the issue of the class. You loved to argue, especially with privileged, snotty teens who don’t know how well they had it. You were good at it too, you could be a lawyer if you had any shot of a successful life.

Sooner than you’d like, class was over, and you started to get up and leave. You were too occupied with making sure you had everything that you didn’t realize you were making a beeline into your social worker.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“Hey, watch it!” You both say simultaneously, backing up and looking at who ran into you.

“Oh, there you are Y/N! Come on, I’m driving you back to the home to pack up your things” She signaled with her hand to come with her, and you obliged, confused.

“Pack my things? Why?” You asked while walking to your car. You know you’ve been in trouble recently, but being kicked out of the group home seemed a little extreme.

“Did you listen to the compromise at all when were talking about it? Before you agreed to it?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

“Not really, just figured agreeing would get me in the least trouble,” you replied, and you could see her smile a little as she shook her head at you.

“This last fight isn’t going on your permanent record, as long as you get anger management classes, and move out of the group home and into a foster situation with two loving people who know how to handle situations like yours,” 

“Crap, I really should listen more.” You sighed and leaned your head on the window. You didn’t see how moving you out of the group home would help at all, it’s more change and more adjustment, and you were tired of both.

“Want to know about the couple?” You social worker asked you, but you barely heard her. You shook your head and put a headphone in, hoping this wasn’t a mistake.

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Judd’s POV:

“Are we sure about this, Gracie?” Judd asks, pacing between the living room and the kitchen, pausing every now and then to look at his wife. He stopped, turned to her, and rubbed his face before putting both hands behind his head, cradling it as he thinks about everything that could go wrong with this.

He knew they both wanted kids, and adoption seemed to be their only hope due to ther infertility troubles. But still, he argued to himself, a teenager? With this kid’s anger management issues, stubbornness, and troubled past, this isn’t what he necessarily had in mind.

“Yes, Judd, we’re sure. This kid needs our help, and a stable home to thrive. I understand you’re nervous, I am too, but we’ve been doing our research and interviewing with child protective services for months, and now they’re gracing us with a child that needs us.” Grace had walked over to him at this point, and taken his hands into hers. He looked into those beautiful, rust colored eyes of hers and took a deep breath. He knew she was right, she usually is, but he was still nervous.

He wrapped his arms around her, leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “I love you,” he whispered. She looked up at him, grabbed the nape of his neck, and kissed him lovingly. After a few seconds, she broke away, and whispered, “I love you too, handsome.”

Before anything could further along, the doorbell rang. The two looked at each other, took a deep breath, and walked to the door. Grace opened the door, and they both saw the social worker, Malia, with a teenager that looked less than happy to be on their doorstep.

Judd quickly scanned the teen, noticing the frown on their face and the bruised knuckles they were sporting on their right hand. They had a suitcase in the other hand, and looked short in stature. Everyone looks short to Judd, though. 

“Hi Malia, Y/N, please come in.” Grace states, welcoming their guest and their now-forster child into their home. Once the social worker guided Y/N in, the pair sat on the couch while Judd and Grace sat on the other, clasping their hands together and looking at the child who’ll be staying with them, being nurtured by them, for next couple years.

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Your POV:

The house is nice, you thought to yourself as you sit on the couch, waiting for someone to speak to you. You look at them, whose names you aren’t aware of yet, and study their features. The man was tall, and you can tell he’s been working for a while due to his build and the scratches and burns on his hands. The woman is much smaller, and seems softer, but you can tell they love each other just by the way they can’t keep their hands off each other.

“Judd, Grace, this is Y/N. Now, I know the department have given you their file, but do you have any questions about their history, or anything I can answer?” Malia asked, putting her hands in her lap. At least you know their names now, you thought to yourself.

“I don’t think so, ma’am. You’re welcome to stay for supper, though. Y?N, is there any allergies or diet restrictions we need to know about?” The woman, Grace, you remind yourself, asks. She smiles at you as she asks, and she has a pretty smile. You start to wonder why they wanted to take in someone like you.

“No ma’am, thank you for asking though. Can one of y’all show me to my room, though? I’d like to unpack and start on homework before supper.” You try to be polite, not knowing who they are once the social worker. Better to be safe than sorry, right?

“Of course, I’ll show you up there, and let you get settled.” Judd offers, standing up to guide you to where you’ll sleep.

You go up the stairs, and are impressed by what you see. This is better than the group home, at the very least. You head down the corridor he’s taking you through, and walk into a moderately sized room that had a full-sized bed, two nightstands, a dresser, closet, desk with a chair, and a door to what you assume is a bathroom.

“Take all the time you need to settle in. This weekend we’ll all go shopping and you can buy decorations for your room. Once supper is ready, we’ll call you downstairs to eat, get to know each other better. Alright?” He asked, looking as if he expected you to answer. You quickly nodded, and got to putting away your things and taking in the space. Maybe you actually belong here.

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

Once supper was ready, you were called down, you stumbled down the kitchen, washed your hands, and then took a seat at the table. Malia had left, hopefully to bother another kid and leave you alone, and you sat there quietly, eating the dinner they prepared.

“So, Y/N, is there any hobbies you enjoy? Anything we can look into getting you, like an easel or a video game?” Grace asks, making conversation.

“Why do you care? It’s not like I’m your kid,” You rolled your eyes, then looked down and played with your food. You wouldn’t let yourself get attached to the idea of having people truly care about you, especially not now.

“Hey, you-” Judd started to raise his voice, but Grace cut him off with holding her index finger up to him, then spoke.

“Y/N, I know this is all too new for you still. You don’t know us, you do not know our intentions, and you’re past makes it especially hard for you to believe anyone would love you and care for you. But, and I mean this, this is your home now, Y/N, and we will not abandon you, no matter the obstacles ahead,” she paused, and looked to her husband. Judd nodded, and took a deep breath.

“Y/N, I was just like you when I was your age. I was going through somethin’, and it left me violent and not knowing who to trust. We want you here so we can help you through the hurt you’ve been through, and make you into the young adult we can already see inside you. We have two rules, don’t disrespect us, and be honest with us. Got it?”

“Got it,” you spoke quietly. The rest of the dinner was quiet, and afterwards you went upstairs to your room, lying on the bed, thinking about how this is going to be good for you. Maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.

[mldrgrl]

His’n

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: A Hanella Twitter prompt, of sorts.  Hank introducing Stella as his wife. https://twitter.com/hole4gillian/status/1411255101990203392?s=21

The whole Zoom appearance thing was getting to be old hat, so when Hank was asked to appear live and in person at the reopening of an independent book store he frequented, he jumped at the opportunity.  He missed reading to people that actually existed and weren’t just little boxes on a screen.  He missed that instant feedback and energy that only a live audience could provide.  He missed being the center of attention.  

The appearance was on a Tuesday evening.  He asked Stella to go, but she had a late class that night.  He asked Becca to come, but Ziggy had a puppy training session.  He wasn’t terribly disappointed.  It was a rare occurrence to have any of his family at an event and he was fine with it.

Hank was greeted by the owner and manager of Read This, a man named Philip, who he considered to be a step above an acquaintance, but not quite a friend.  They had a relationship built upon reciprocity.  Hank was a regular customer, even name dropped the store a few times in interviews to give it a boost, and Philip always stocked his books and made sure signed copies were on display.

The event space in the store was just a small stage at the back, barely large enough to fit two chairs comfortably, and an assortment of mismatched folding chairs scattered in front of it.  The bookstacks were at angles, pointed towards the stage in a vee formation like an arrow down the aisle.  Hank had done a few signings there in the past and they always felt more like intimate gatherings than events.

Philip kicked off the appearance with a short speech thanking everyone for coming out and for supporting the store over the years.  He kept it short and simple and then gave Hank the floor to a round of applause.  Hank stepped up onto the stage and gave Philip a quick hug before he sat down.  All the seats out in the audience were full - all fifteen or twenty of them.  He took a passing glance at the crowd as he unfolded the pages he’d brought with him that had been tucked into his back pocket.

“Any of you motherfuckers blog about this later and call me an old man for what I’m about to do, fuck you in advance,” he said, taking out the reading glasses he had hooked to the collar of his shirt that had recently become a necessity.  

Everyone laughed.  Someone woo-hooed from the audience and Hank dropped his chin to look over the rim of his glasses.  

“Philip said I could read whatever the hell I wanted,” Hank said.  “So I’m going to read an excerpt from a new novel I’ve got coming out in a few months called Alone Together.  A couple things you should know going in, the novel follows the story of Miranda and Scott, a married couple who are on the verge of calling it quits after fifteen years when the pandemic hits and forces them hunker down together when they’d really rather be anywhere else.  This bit I’m about to read is about half-way in, when Scott is starting to reflect on what exactly went wrong and when.”

Hank paused to smooth his pages again.  When he looked up, he straightened his shoulders in surprise.  He saw Stella, leaning against one of the bookstacks with a mild smile on her face.  She was in her work clothes, a white silk blouse and fawn colored pencil skirt and tan heels.  She had a tan blazer over her arm and her briefcase in hand as well.  He took a subtle glance at his watch as he adjusted his pages.  Her night class should have only started a half an hour ago.

“Uh,” Hank started and then hid a grin behind his fist as he cleared his throat.  “Scott watched his wife at her computer from across the room.  She had her headset on and she was laughing.  He couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d heard her laugh.  It occurred to him that he’d forgotten what it sounded like.”

It took about fifteen minutes for Hank to read the full excerpt.  He was momentarily distracted when he saw Becca walking down the aisle.  She went straight to Stella, gave her a hug, and then turned towards the stage with Stella’s arm across her shoulders.  The surprise of having both his wife and daughter there for him almost made him cry.

When he finished, the audience clapped, and Philip came back onto the stage to moderate audience questions.  All the questions were the same variations of questions he had been asked his entire career.  He could answer them in his sleep.  While he was droning on about his routine and writing habits, he saw Becca tip her head back, whisper something in Stella’s ear, and then duck out from under her arm and walk away.  He hoped she wasn’t leaving without saying goodbye.

“Gentleman in the green shirt,” Philip said.

“You said earlier that you were inspired by the pandemic, so I have to ask, how much is fiction and how much is reality?”

“Are you asking me if I based it off my own life?” Hank asked.  “Well, first of all, I want to make a broad statement about writing in general.  That whole ‘write what you know’ garbage that people, mainly professors, let’s be honest, try to instill into you, is bullshit.  Do you think Bram Stoker was a vampire?  Do you think Thoms Harris was a cannibal?  And believe me, I’m not saying that writers don’t cull from their real life when they’re putting words to paper, but there always seems to be this assumption that if you’re writing a modern story, set in a modern world, that somehow that must be your life and your voice.

“Unlike Scott, I am happily married to the most beautiful, intelligent, way out of my league woman and I would never forget, not even for a hot second, that I am the luckiest bastard alive.  We started off the pandemic in very close quarters and when I was trying to think about what I might be interested in writing next, it occurred to me that I could very well be in a miserable position if my life was different.  But, it’s not my life that I was imagining when I finally sat down to write.  It was two people who were at odds with each other and how would they respond to this?

“I’ll say this, though, and then I’ll get off my high horse on the subject.  There is one thing in the story that I gave to Scott that belongs to me.  I even read from that passage tonight, and I’ll read it again.”

Hank put his glasses back on and flipped through his pages until he found the paragraph he wanted.  He glanced up and out to where Stella was before he re-read the lines.

“He could recall in stunning detail the moment he knew he was in love with her.  It wasn’t a romantic moment.  They weren’t out on a date.  It wasn’t during or after sex, when he was naturally euphoric.  It was on a hot summer morning in August when the air conditioner had gone out overnight and they’d both slept poorly and were pissed off at the world.  He watched her angrily brushing her teeth with her pink cheeks and dark circles under her eyes and in his exhaustion and anger he wished for a moment that she wasn’t there, but then he had a flash of his life without her and suddenly he felt a swelling in his chest that stole his breath.  He never wanted to envision a life without her again, not for a minute.”

Hank stared at the page for a few beats before he finally took off his glasses again and looked up.  He first looked for the man that had asked the question and then he turned his gaze to Stella.  

“The fictional situation was different,” he said.  “But, the feeling was the same.”

Stella gave him a subtle smile and her lips puckered very briefly.  His own lips twitched in response and he finally cut his eyes away.  He took a few more questions and then Philip thanked him for his time and invited anyone that wanted to stay to have a book signed to wait for a few minutes as they set up the table.

As people began to talk amongst themselves, Hank left the stage to go to Stella.  She was chatting with Becca, who had returned with two cups of coffee from the cafe next door.

“Hey,” Hank said, sliding his arm around Stella’s waist and squeezing her hip.

Stella put a hand on Hank’s face and her thumb briefly circled his mouth.  She didn’t say anything, but her eyes held his in a warm gaze.  She tilted her chin up at him and he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

“Daughter,” he said, turning to Becca while still holding onto Stella.  He put his hand on the top of her head and kissed the part in her hair.

“Father.”

“I’m glad you came.”

“We thought we would take you to dinner,” Stella said.  “When you’re finished.”

“I would love that.”

Philip came up from behind Hank and said his name.  “We’re ready for you,” Philip said.

“Philip, this is my wife, Stella Gibson.  And my daughter, Rebecca Moody.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Philip said to Stella and then nodded to Becca.  “We sold out of the hardcover of your last book.  Please, let me know if you’d ever like to do a signing.”

“Sure,” Becca said.

“You’d have to put twice as many chairs out,” Hank said.  He could tell Becca wanted to roll her eyes at him so bad.

“Go do your thing,” Stella said, putting her hand over Hank’s on her hip.  She rubbed her thumb over his and he captured it and pinned it down for a moment.  He nodded and then kissed her cheek again.

“Love you,” he whispered into her ear.

“I see what you mean,” Philip said, walking Hank back to the stage where a folding table was set up.  “She is out of your league.”

“Right?” Hank said with a laugh.  “And she married me.  Unfuckingbelievable.”

The End

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Nine

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: reading canon eris discourse literally makes me dizzy but in this fic he's pretty chill

***

“Any plans for Thanksgiving?” Emerie asks as they stroll between the shelves of the library.

Nesta runs her finger down the spine of a textbook on corporate law. “Not really,” she murmurs distantly.

She’s been doing her best not to think of the upcoming holidays, in fact. Cassian is going to Velaris for Thanksgiving, and of course Feyre invited Nesta as well, but…

She’s always ignored her sister’s holiday invites, but this year is different. Cassian, a recent constant in her life, will be gone, enjoying himself for the first time in months without her presence. And Nesta will be at the cabin alone, because of course she can’t celebrate Thanksgiving with Feyre’s found family. Being friends with Cassian hasn’t changed that.

“Well,” Emerie is saying, “a bunch of us can’t go home for the holidays for one reason or another, so we’re hosting a small Friendsgiving at my apartment. You’re invited.”

Nesta glances at her, surprised. “Who’s going to be there?”

“The same guys from drinks night: Eris, Justinian, Isaac. Maybe a plus one or two if we’re lucky.” She elbows Nesta. “Maybe a girl for me to take home.”

“I thought the party was at your home already?”

“You know what I mean. Anyway, are you coming?”

Nesta purses her lips. “But you said it was a Friendsgiving. Those guys aren’t my friends.”

Emerie looks at her like she's insane. “Uh, why not?”

“Because,” Nesta states, “we’ve only had one real interaction all semester.”

Emerie scoffs. “You talk to them all the time in class, Nesta.”

“Yes. Out of necessity.”

Emerie raises a high brow. “That’s how you view spending time with us? A ‘necessity’?”

She’s upset, and Nesta doesn’t know what she said wrong. “That’s not what I meant,” she tries to say.

“Then what did you mean?”

“I just…” Nesta shrugs. “I thought it took more to make friends than a single night out.” Those are the rules, right?

Emerie narrows her dark eyes at her. “I’m sorry we’re not up to standard, then. But for your information, those guys liked you. I’m sure they considered you a friend.” She turns to leave, but Nesta is so stunned she can’t even try to stop her. The click of Emerie’s heels resonate long after she’s gone.

“Hey,” Cassian comes up to her later that day. “About Thanksgiving—”

Nesta drops her dinner plate onto the island with a clatter. “What is it with everybody and Thanksgiving?” Her voice is unnecessarily loud.

Cassian blinks. “Well, it’s only a few days away—”

“I know,” she says. “I’m fine staying home alone. We never celebrated Thanksgiving growing up, you know? It’s really not a big deal.”

“Will you let me finish, Nesta?”

Nesta presses her lips together.

Cassian takes a breath. “I think you should— I would really love it if you came to Velaris with me this weekend.”

There’s a silence as he waits for her to answer.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says after a moment.

Before he can press the subject, she blurts, “I already have plans.”

“You do?” Nesta can’t tell if he sounds disappointed or surprised.

She straightens her back, lying through her teeth, “Yes. Some friends from school are getting together for a Friendsgiving, and I’m going.” She almost bites her tongue on the word friends. She doesn’t even know what that means anymore.

“That’s amazing,” Cassian says, though he still looks a little taken aback. “I’m glad.” He looks down at the marble counter then, trying to smile. “Sucks for me, though.”

Nesta huffs a laugh. “Please, like you won’t be having fun with your friends whether I’m there or not.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but why go for half the fun when I could go for double?”

“That’s not how math works,” she snipes.

Cassian grabs a fork so he can sit down across from Nesta. “Don’t you ever bring up correct math in this house again.” He points his silverware at her threateningly.

From there, they can devolve into their usual dinner habit of bantering that leads to more serious conversation. Cassian has recently been on a French movie binge, Nesta learns, and even though she despises the French, she listens closely to his analysis of each film and offers her own thoughts back. She even promises to rewatch one or two of his favorites at a later time. The giddiness he gives in return makes her almost wish she had accepted his invitation earlier, if only so she could keep making him happy.

God. What is he doing to her?

Later that night, Nesta pulls out her phone and opens up her messages with Emerie. She doesn’t want to have rejected Cassian just to end up staying home alone all weekend. She types out five different messages and erases them before settling on an apathetic, Is the invite for Thursday still on?

Emerie takes her time to reply, likely to punish Nesta. After some minutes, she finally texts, Yes.

It’s all she can expect from Emerie, and it’s all she needs to see.

Nesta: I’ll be there.

***

“Cassian!” Feyre swings open the door with an overjoyed smile, ready to greet him.

He laughs and steps in for a hug, going so far as to lift her feet off the floor. Because damn him, even with his conflicted feelings towards Feyre lately, he’s missed her. He’s missed all of his friends, even though he’s found something precious while he was away from them.

He’s ushered into the penthouse, which Feyre and Rhys insist on calling an “apartment”, as if that softens the blow of their extravagant wealth. Cassian and everybody else goes along with it, however, because the rich have committed worse crimes. At least that’s what Nesta says.

“Rhys is out getting last minute beer from the gas station,” Feyre says as she takes his overnight bag. “And you’re the first to arrive, which means I have you all to myself.” She whirls on him with a predatory gleam in her eye. “Tell me everything about the last two months with you and Nesta, ASAP.”

Cassian’s heart starts racing at the unexpected interrogation, but he laughs it off and shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just roommates.”

“Well, I know that.” Feyre rolls her eyes. “But what is it like? How is it going? Is she okay? Are you okay?”

Before he can answer a single question, Feyre goes on. “I haven’t heard from either of you in eons, it feels like. Is Nesta still picky about her foods touching? Does she get upset when you play music too loud? Does she—”

“Jesus, Feyre,” Cassian interrupts loudly. “Not everything in my life is about your sister. Give it a rest.” He takes his duffel bag back from her.

“I’m just curious!” she says indignantly, but Cassian is already heading up the winding stairs to his guest room, going as fast as he can without outright running.

“I need to get washed up!” he announces before Feyre can make him stop and come back for more questioning.

In the safety of his bedroom, he releases a breath.

If Cassian thought keeping Nesta’s health issues from Feyre was difficult, he couldn’t have predicted how painful it would be to hide his feelings for Nesta. Still, he doesn’t dare expose what he can’t yet define, especially not to his nosy-ass friends. Some things just aren’t matters for gossip.

***

Nesta hesitantly enters Emerie’s small studio apartment to a party in full swing; “full swing” being Justinian and Isaac playing video games on the couch while Emerie is in the kitchen area attempting to make drinks. Nesta stops near the kitchenette and crosses her arms, surveying the scene. “Something about this doesn’t look right,” she says aloud. Emerie doing the hard work while the men play? Antithetical to her very nature.

“I know,” is all Emerie says without looking up from whatever hellish concoction she’s whipping up. “But I’m the host, so this is my role.”

“Hey, Nesta,” the guys speak up together, not taking their eyes off the TV. Isaac is the first to break his concentration from the game, glancing at Nesta and doing a double take. “Woah, you look good today.” Is he blushing?

Emerie finally looks up at that, eyeing Nesta’s modest black dress. “A little funeral-chic, but still hot as ever, babe.” Right after, she makes a face at the term babe. “Nope, I tried it and I hate it.”

Nesta hates it just as much, but goes over to help Emerie with what she now realizes are oddly colored Jello shots. She picks up a little plastic cup with dark jelly in it and wiggles it around. “What color is this supposed to be?”

“Brown.” Emerie blows a piece of escaped hair out of her face. “They were supposed to be Thanksgiving themed.”

Nesta surveys the shots arranged in various fall colors. Definitely an interesting choice for a twenty-four year old law student, but what did Nesta know about parties?

“Where’s Eris?” she asks casually as she helps arrange more cups. Her argument with Emerie is far from forgotten, but the two women are too alike for their own good. They’ll ignore the lingering tension until it dissipates, and that will be the end of that.

Before Emerie can answer Nesta’s question, a loud bang comes from the entryway as the already open door hits the wall. Eris Vanserra sweeps inside in his designer coat and sophisticated boots, followed by a new, striking face. “It’s fucking freezing,” he announces, just as the new guy quietly shuts the door behind them.

“You’re late,” Emerie says in her usual flat tone.

“I had to pick up my twerp brother.” Eris tilts his head toward the redhead behind him.

“I didn’t ask to come,” the new guy, Eris’s brother, chimes in.

Nesta is perked up now, angling to get a better look at him. Same hair color, same eyes, different skin tone from Eris. He looks like the relaxed, unpretentious version of his brother. Someone pauses the video game.

“I’m Lucien,” he awkwardly raises a hand.

Justinian looks at everybody else. “I’m confused— does this mean we can finally replace Eris’s punk ass?”

The thought of an unexpected guest first makes Nesta clench up, especially when she’s seated right next to the damn guy at the dining table. New people means everything about the regular social routine will be changed up, and she isn’t at all prepared for it.

It takes maybe fifteen minutes for her to realize that Lucien is nothing to worry about— much quicker than she’s ever warmed up to a stranger before.

He has the affected quiet confidence of someone who would rather be anywhere else but here. No one knows that mask better than Nesta.

Against all odds, she’s the first to initiate a conversation.

“Why are you here?” she says bluntly.

No hello, no how are you. Fuck, this is why she doesn’t talk to people.

Lucien looks surprised at the sudden acknowledgment, but answers, “My plans got cancelled at the last minute.” His mouth tightens as he looks toward his brother. “So Eris dragged me here instead.”

“You don’t like your brother?”

Lucien narrows his eyes at her, defensive. “Is this an interrogation or something?”

Embarrassment heats Nesta’s face, but she hides it under her usual cold stare. “Never mind.”

She turns back to her food, refocusing on an anecdote Isaac is giving about a girl he met the other week. A moment later, Lucien says lowly, “I can’t stand my brother.”

She laughs a little too loudly at that, and everyone looks at her.

Isaac grins. “See, Nesta thinks it’s a funny story.”

Nesta frowns. “No, I don’t. You told it last week and no one laughed.”

His face falls. Eris laughs out loud at him, and Emerie tosses wadded up napkins at both men. “You’re both deeply uninteresting. Let’s talk about me.”

She launches into a heated discussion about how she plans to defeat “that bitch Brian” for the internship at Velaris’s biggest law firm next summer, with Eris interjecting that she wouldn’t survive a day in the big city. Nesta turns back to Lucien. “I understand how you feel.”

“You hate Eris too?”

“No, but I have sisters.” Eris is nice, if a pretentious asshole at times, but she empathizes with Lucien either way.

He raises a brow. “And you’re here for Thanksgiving instead of with them?”

For the first time all night, Nesta remembers that Cassian is having fun in a spacious penthouse with Feyre and Elain and the others, likely eating much nicer food than store-bought turkey and Jello shots, and she almost deflates. Almost. Because as much as she enjoys this— spending time with people that belong to her, not Feyre or anybody else— there’s a hollow space in the room that Cassian usually fills. She doesn’t know how she can miss someone and be this thoroughly content at the same time, but she tries not to ponder on her feelings.

She shrugs at Lucien’s question. “We’re all here instead of with our families.”

What would have been a thirty-minute meal on Nesta’s own stretches into a long night of full bellies and fuller conversation. Justinian demands a toast in honor of Friendsgiving, and Emerie tells him not to pull that cringy shit, but everyone ends up raising their small Jello shots to clink against each other.

Thanksgiving might be Nesta’s favorite holiday.

***

Cassian doesn’t know what this feeling is: the itching, nervy sense of impatience that plagues him the longer dinner drags on. All he knows is that tonight Mor’s laughter is just a little too loud, and Amren’s quips are just a little too sharp, and Rhys’s stories aren’t very interesting for once.

Nothing about his friends have changed, but somehow, Cassian feels different. Empty. He can’t stop thinking about what Nesta is doing right now.

He checks his phone under the table for the sixth time in three minutes, for what, he doesn’t know. Maybe she’s in trouble and needs his help. Maybe she’s having a bad night and wants to talk to him. Maybe she’s just bored and thinking about him.

None of this is true, evidently, because his phone remains dead silent.

“Cassian.” It’s Elain’s gentle voice that draws him out of his head. “What’s it like having a roommate for once? I know you and Nesta love being alone.”

He nearly jumps out of his skin. “Alone? No we don’t. Why would we love being alone together?”

Elain looks at him like he’s grown a new head. “I didn’t mean alone together. It’s just that you’ve always spent your time boarded up in that mountain cabin on your own, and before Nesta moved in, she wouldn’t leave her apartment even to see me.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Feyre butts in. She whirls to Cassian with her hands under her chin. “All this time I was wondering what you and Nesta living together would be like, and I didn’t even consider you guys avoiding each other.”

Cassian scoffs a laugh but doesn’t know how to respond. He just wants Feyre and Elain to stop poking at this raw, fresh thing in his life before his nerves get worse, so he turns to Amren and brings up the thing he knows will shut everyone down: work. “How much longer is Rhys gonna have you playing double agent at Adriatic?” She’s been acting as brand ambassador to the West Coast-based conglomerate for the past five months, playing nice while gathering information on Night Court Inc.’s biggest competitor.

Groans resound around the table, but Amren’s eyes brighten frightfully. “If he keeps me there any longer, I might end up staying for good.”

Rhysand smiles thinly. “Amren has a crush on their new CFO. If she keeps going on about Varian’s pretty face I might pull her out of Adriatic by the end of the year.”

Just as Cassian is about to convince himself to care, his phone vibrates in his hand. Everything tunes out as he sees Nesta’s name on the screen, attached to a new text. He clicks into it.

A picture of Nesta and her friends around a dinner table pops up, smiling and laughing. His heart catches in his throat at the image.

“What did we say about phones during dinner, Cassian?” Rhysand interrupts just then.

Cassian stands up quickly, stammering, “Uh, I just need to answer this call— it’s important.” Azriel is staring up at him like he’s lost his mind, but Cassian doesn’t notice or care as he rushes out of the room with his phone in a death grip, overcome.

Alone in a hallway bathroom, he lets himself look at the picture again, hungrily absorbing every detail he couldn’t catch the first time around: her face is flushed and her hair is down, wilder than usual. Her smile is so rarely genuine that it kills him a little just to see it; he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or pained that she’s having such a good time, that she isn’t missing him like he’s missing her. A sharp-faced girl that Cassian assumes is Emerie is holding the camera, likely having stolen Nesta’s phone to demand a picture, and the two women are surrounded by guys he doesn’t recognize. Except—

The face beside Nesta’s catches Cassian’s attention, and he clicks to zoom in. “Is that Lucien Vanserra?” he mutters.

Elain’s ex gets to hang out with Nesta while he doesn’t? This is fucked.

He doesn’t have a reason for his actions as he shoves his phone into his pocket and exits the bathroom. He just knows he needs to get out of here, away from this place that’s so far from Nesta’s heart.

His keys and coat hang near the front door, and he can hear Feyre’s voice from the dining room. “Cassian? Where are you—”

The door slams behind him before she can finish.

***

Being the only one who refused to get drunk off Jello shots, Eris offers to drive Nesta home for the night.

While Lucien is passed out in the backseat without a care in the world, Nesta is so awake she can feel her nerves buzzing. She knows as soon as she leaves this car, the bittersweet loneliness that comes after a party will set in, but for now…

What a night. She sighs and lets her head fall back against the seat, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Damn,” Eris lets out a low whistle as he pulls up to the mountain cabin. “This is your place?”

She lifts her head, realizing she’s home. “Ah. It’s only a temporary living situation,” she explains. “It’s my— friend’s place.”

“Friend or sugar daddy?” Eris smirks.

Nesta scowls, grabbing her stuff and pushing open the door to leave. It’s not Eris’s fault she’s unable to take a joke about Cassian, but that doesn’t change the sensitivity of the topic.

“Hey, wait—” he calls after her.

She pauses to look back at him. He hesitates, then says, “Good night.”

“Take care of your brother,” she directs. Stepping out of his fancy car, she shuts the door and raises a hand in goodbye, watching him pull away from the cabin.

Alone in the driveway, Nesta stands under the moonlight for a long moment, letting the chill seep into her bones. She’s dawdling.

She pauses again at the front door, her hand on the doorknob. The dreaded loneliness is already coming over her, crawling over her skin and making a home in the cage of her ribs.

A whole weekend without Cassian.

Maybe she should have asked Emerie if she could stay over for the night, but a part of her knows it would have been futile. Emerie can’t replace Cassian’s constant presence, no matter how much Nesta likes her.

It’s only three days. She steels herself and unlocks the door, prepared to be greeted by darkness and hollow silence.

The first thing she notices when she steps inside is the sound of crackling, followed by a warm glow from the living area. The lights are all off, but the fireplace is ablaze.

Nesta’s brows furrow, confused, but then she sees on the couch— “Cassian?”

***

a/n: i know justinian and isaac are names for side characters that sjm has used before but in this case they're completely different ocs.

taglist: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja

[kanerallels]

My Heart Is In Your Hands

(For Kanera Week, based on the prompt "ultimate OTP moment/night out")

Read on AO3 here!

@kaneraweek

Word Count: 5,250

Tags/Warnings: rated G

Summary: The Jedi throw an engagement party that Kanan and Hera in particular find very... engaging

Hera couldn’t believe how fast the next two weeks slipped by. Maybe it was because of all the work that needed to be done in preparation-- many of the guests invited were Imperial, so they had to make sure there were no signs of Mace, Depa and Kanan’s work with the Rebellion. There was also a lot of cleaning, cooking and various preparations to be done in general. Hera and Kanan had their own way to get ready, going over their story repeatedly to make sure they didn’t forget it, memorizing key details and producing answers for any possible questions that could be asked.

Of course, there was also the fact that Hera had started working with the cell on Lothal, alongside Kanan. She was usually the getaway pilot, but she’d gone on a couple of actual ops as well. After the first mission, Kanan relaxed significantly about her being out in the field, although Hera still wasn’t sure why he’d gotten so jumpy. She didn’t have much time to think about it, though.

Most of the guests would be arriving the day of the party, but a few arrived a couple days before. Kanan and Hera went down to meet some of them at the front door, the first of which was a tall Kalleran. The moment the Kalleran spotted Kanan he all but crushed him in a hug. “Kid! Since when are you getting married?”

“Kriff, Kasmir-- can’t breathe-- Kanan gasped.

Releasing him, the Kalleran turned to Hera and gave her a gentlemanly bow. “Janus Kasmir at your service. A pleasure to meet the young woman who caught Kanan’s heart. I have to know everything. How’d you two meet?”

“Believe it or not, it was only a month or two ago,” Hera said, slipping her arm through Kanan’s. “I was having… a little trouble with a street gang, and Kanan stepped in to give me a hand. By which I mean he handled one of them, and I took out the rest.”

“Give me a little credit,” Kanan protested. “I handled at least two.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, dear,” Hera said, unable to prevent the smile crossing her face at Kanan’s fake chagrin.

Chuckling, Kasmir said, “She’s good for you, kid. I like her.”

“Don’t call me kid,” Kanan grumbled. “But I like her, too.”

“I should hope so, you are marrying her,” Kasmir said with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Excuse me, I’m gonna go say hi to your Jedi mom and your kid who’s cooler than you.”

As the Kalleran strode into the house, Hera turned to Kanan, trying not to laugh. “So, he’s… interesting. I like him, I will say.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Kanan said with some drama, and Hera smirked.

“Well, I kept you around, didn’t I?”

The next guest was an older man, mostly bald with a fringe of white hair, and a white beard. Directing a warm smile at them, he said, “Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise? Two of my favorite people are getting married.”

“What-- Okadiah?” Kanan said, and Hera’s gaze snapped to him.

“Wait, you know Okadiah?”

“YOU know Okadiah?” Kanan countered.

“Indeed,” Okadiah said with a chuckle. “I met Hera when she was just starting out on her own. Gave her a place to stay for a while and helped her on her way.”

“And how did you meet Kanan?” Hera asked curiously.

“It’s a long story,” Kanan cut in hastily. “That we don’t have time for right now. Suffice to say there was a moon that was about to be blown up, actually a few crazy cyborgs, and a couple barroom brawls involved.”

“I’ll regale you with the full tale another time,” Okadiah assured Hera. “In the meantime, let me just say I couldn’t have chosen better for you two if I had chosen myself. I congratulate you both deeply.

“Thanks, Oke,” Kanan said, shooting the older man a smile as he headed inside.

Next, they found themselves facing the third group, which was an eclectic group Hera had not expected-- a Mandalorian woman in green-blue armor, a Mirialan woman with purple skin, curly hair and exceptional fashion, and a human man holding hands with her. In their free hands, both of the latter two carried hefty suitcases, and the Mandalorian was lugging two more.

Grinning, Kanan stepped forward. “Cinya! How are you?”

“Still very willing to punch you out again,” the Mandalorian said tartly.

“But you won’t because he’s only got a week until his big party,” the Mirialan reminded her. Turning to Hera, she smiled warmly. “I’m Hadassah, and this is Lanter.” She nodded at the man next to her, who shot Hera a friendly smile.

“They’re dating,” Cinya said, and Kanan’s eyes lit up.

“About time-- congratulations, you two.”

“Thanks,” Lanter said, grinning. “Congratulations to you-- I can’t believe you’re getting married! Seems like only yesterday Cinya tried to kill you in Hadassah’s juice bar.”

“Good times,” Kanan said remiscently.

“I take it there’s something of a story here,” Hera remarked, and Hadassah laughed.

“You have no idea. Luckily, we'll have plenty of time to tell you. Lanter and I are your stylists for the party.”

“Really?” Kanan said, surprised. “I didn't know Mace and Depa asked you guys to do that.”

“You bet your life, you tall string bean,” Lanter said with a grin. “Lanter and Hadassah are here to save the day.”

Kanan looked at him for a moment, then turned to Cinya. “He watched “The Princess Diaries” on the way here, didn't he?”

Cinya nodded. “Both of them, and he cried twice during the second one.”

“I won't apologize for my love for Clarisse and Joe,” Lanter said dramatically. “They're the ultimate couple goals. Hadassah is my Clarisse.”

“You are so sweet,” Hadassah said, kissing him on the cheek.

Cinya let out a dramatic sigh. "You guys are so ridiculously sappy. Let's get moving.”

The five of them headed into the house and up to a suite that had clearly been prepared for this very reason-- a table was set up with a mirror on it, a swivel chair in front of it. At one end of the room Hera spotted a folding screen set up to change behind.

Lanter and Hadassah instantly started unpacking from their suitcases-- hairbrushes, makeup containers, ear cone pendants, perfumes, and a thousand other things that could be useful. “You… really came prepared,” Hera said, staring as Lanter pulled out a curling iron. “However, I doubt I’m going to need that.”

“Oh, that’s for Dassah,” Lanter assured her. “But if Kanan could just let me do his hair--”

“Absolutely not,” Kanan said immediately. “I already told Sabine she could.”

“But Kanan, I have the perfect--”

“Under no circumstances are you giving me the moose hairdo from “The Princess Diaries”, Lanter.”

Smirking, Lanter said, “But you would be a handsome moose. Make all the girl moose go WHUA!”

Kanan groaned, but Hera couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I’m going to like you,” she told Lanter, who beamed.

“Why thank you, Ms. Syndulla, I like you very much, too!”

Grinning, Hadassah said, “Alright, we have work to do, and I'm sure that you two do, as well. But before you go-- color preferences for your outfits? Keep in mind that they have to be somewhat coordinated.”

“Nah, I trust you not to put me in anything too reprehensible,” Kanan said jokingly.

Rolling her eyes, Hadassah said, “Immeasurably unhelpful. Fine-- I'm thinking of a blue and green color scheme for the two of you. Lanter, what do you think?”

“Perfect,” Lanter immediately agreed. “We'll get to work straight away.”

“And we'll leave you to it,” Hera said. Looping her arm through Kanan's, she tugged him forward, and they headed out.

As they made their way down the hall, Kanan murmured, “Nice job with Kasmir earlier. He can be a little too nosy for his own good.”

“No worries-- he seems nice,” Hera commented. “Very excited about us.”

A slight smile pulled at the corner of Kanan's mouth. “He's an old friend. I'm not surprised he's so excited, frankly. It's kind of who he is.”

Hera nodded without speaking, but felt an internal twinge. Part of her couldn't help but dislike the fact they were deceiving so many people, good people. They didn't deserve to be lied to like this.

And there was also another part of her. A part that found herself noticing Kanan's quiet determination and his kindness around Ezra and the grin he'd give her sometimes-- and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't noticed the fact that she was engaged to an extremely handsome man. There was a part of her that felt a flutter in her chest at his touch.

And that part of her wished that this whole thing wasn't based on a lie.

“Hera?” Kanan's concerned voice broke through her thoughts, and she glanced up to see him frowning at her. “You okay?”

Hera gave her head a quick shake, like the motion would send those thoughts flying. But they’d been there too long for that. “Fine, sorry-- were you saying something?”

A slight furrow in Kanan’s brow hinted that he wasn’t quite satisfied with her response, but all he said was, “I was wondering if you still think your father won’t accept his invitation.”

“Oh.” Hera shook her head. “No, he won’t come. Especially since you’re inviting Imperials to keep our cover. He doesn’t know that-- he’ll probably assume I’m all but colluding with them. So either he won’t come, or I’ll wish he hadn’t.” Releasing a sigh, she said, “I guess I always assumed he and my mother would be here for this.”

Kanan slipped his arm from around hers long enough to catch hold of her hand, and Hera felt her heartbeat stutter as his fingers laced through hers. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

“It’s okay,” Hera told him, returning the gesture. “I may not have my father and mother, but I have you, and everyone else here. And at this point, they feel like family almost more than my father does.”

The smile Kanan gave her was a soft one with that unusual warmth shining around the edges, the light that she saw in his eyes more and more these days. Hera couldn’t bring herself to look away, despite the flush she knew was growing on her cheeks. Time to get out of here, she decided. Before I do something truly stupid.

“I should probably--” she started.

“Do you ever--” Kanan began at the same time. They both stopped short, and Hera laughed, feeling a flash of self-consciousness.

“Sorry, you go ahead,” Kanan said, giving her the crooked grin, the one that was Hera’s favorite. For just a second, her gaze lingered on it, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to close the distance, to drop a kiss against the upturned corner of his mouth--

What are you THINKING, Hera? She scolded herself. You can’t just start thinking about kissing Kanan, not now. Clearing her throat, she said, “I was just going to say that I’d better get going-- plenty to do before our party.”

“Right, yeah,” Kanan said, and was Hera imagining it or was there something a little strained about his voice? “Same here. See you later?”

“Yes-- but didn’t you want to tell me something?” Hera asked.

Kanan opened his mouth to speak, and stopped for a moment. Closing it, he finally shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’d better get going.”

Releasing Hera’s hand, he headed off down the hall, leaving Hera staring after him. Well, that was… strange. But she really didn’t have time to spend thinking about why Kanan was acting so strangely.

So of course, over the next three days leading up to their engagement party, that was all she thought about. Especially since Kanan seemed to be avoiding her. He was always out on some sort of business of some kind or in a fitting with Lanter or working to help clean out the ballroom.

And Hera didn’t feel hurt by that. That would be ridiculous. They were both busy, she didn’t exactly have time to spend with him either.

Or maybe she was avoiding him, too. Either way, it didn’t matter. Much.

Alright, it definitely did matter, but some part of Hera didn’t want to bring it up. Maybe she was afraid of the answer, maybe she was afraid she’d lose what she had with Kanan, maybe she was afraid that she was falling in love with a man she wasn’t supposed to technically fall for.

So she kept pushing aside the thoughts, and threw herself into working for the engagement party. And before she knew it, it was the evening of the party, and she was heading up to Hadassah’s suite to get her dress.

The Mirialan was waiting with excitement stamped across her face, and a companion-- Depa Billaba. Throwing her a smile, Depa said, “Don’t mind me, I’m just here to see my future daughter in law get ready. It’s my prerogative.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hera said, giving Depa a smile and pretending like the “daughter in law” part didn’t throw her for a loop. “Okay-- where’s my dress?”

“Here,” Hadassah said, darting over to the changing screen and pulling a dress on a hanger from behind it. She held it up, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “What do you think?”

Hera’s eyes widened at the sight-- a sleeveless dress with a high neckline, made of fluttery fabric, the color shading from teal into a deep cobalt blue. It was stunning-- Hera knew just by looking at it that she’d never owned anything so expensive and beautiful in her life, other than the Ghost.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, brushing a hand across the smooth cloth. “I-- I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Well, Depa paid us,” Hadassah said with a shrug. “But you can repay us by going out and having a good time with your fiance tonight. Speaking of which, I’d better get going-- Lanter’s waiting for me downstairs.”

Giving them a quick wave, Hadassah slipped out of the room, leaving Hera with Depa. Glancing at the Jedi, Hera said, “Thank you. I don’t know how I can repay you--”

“No repayment necessary,” Depa said firmly. “I’m happy to do it.” As Hera admired the dress for a moment longer, she added, “However, I do have a question for you.”

Hera glanced at Depa curiously, and saw the Jedi wearing a patiently curious expression. “I’ve noticed you and Kanan have been avoiding each other lately. Did something happen?”

“No, I-- we’re not-- what makes you think--” Hera stammered, and Depa held up a hand.

“Hera. I’m not the blind one. You two used to spend every day together, but I haven’t seen you with my apprentice in days. What’s going on?”

Hera bit her lip, her eyes flicking from Depa to the floor and then back again. Part of her felt that saying how she felt out loud would make it far too real. But the sympathy and understanding in Depa’s eyes pulled the words out of her. “I don’t want to avoid him. But things are just… complicated right now.”

Narrowing her eyes, Depa said, “Did he make a move on you?”

“What? No, of course not.” Hera felt herself flush at her next words. “Do you think-- would he-- never mind.”

“Ahhh.” A knowing smile grew on Depa’s face. “I see.”

“See… what?” Frustration boiled through Hera at the almost desperate curiosity in her words. She felt so irritatingly petty about this whole thing.

“That you’re in love with my apprentice,” Depa said matter of factly.

Oh. Oh, dear. But she wasn’t wrong. “I… I didn’t expect this to happen,” Hera said softly. “I had no idea that Kanan would be…” Handsome? Charming? So incredibly caring and kind? The kind of man I could spend my life with?

“I know,” Depa said, her tone soft and sympathetic. “It can’t be easy to be in a relationship without actually being in a relationship. Hera-- if I may give you some advice?”

“Okay,” Hera said hesitantly.

“You don’t seem to be the kind of woman who would give her heart easily. But if Kanan’s the one who’s earned it, don’t give up on that. Both of you deserve better than that.”

“He does, you’re right,” Hera agreed, her voice low. “I just don’t want to ruin what Kanan and I have by--”

“Telling him that you love him?” Depa reached out and touched her hand, her eyes kind. “You don’t have to. But honesty is important in any relationship, whether it’s romantic or not. And will you regret it if you don’t? Just think about it, please.”

“I-- I will,” Hera promised, unsure whether it was fear or determination swelling in her chest. Depa smiled and gave her hand a quick squeeze.

“Good. Now, get dressed. You have a party to get to.”

Half an hour later, Hera was wearing the amazing dress Hadassah had given her, along with a set of silver ear cone pendants set with teal gems and a matching bracelet. She waited by the door of the ballroom for Kanan, who still hadn’t arrived. Is he even coming? She wondered with a flash of worry-- silly worry, really. Kanan wouldn’t just stand her up, and it was his party, too.

Seconds after she thought the words, she heard footsteps behind her, and Kanna’s voice. “Sorry I’m late,” he called. “Ezra needed something before I left.”

“Don’t worry about it--”

Hera’s words stuttered to a halt in her mouth as she stared at Kanan, who gaped right back at her. She usually saw him in his casual every-day wear, or occasionally Jedi robes. What he wore now was nothing like that.

He wore a crisp white shirt with long sleeves and dark trousers. Over the shirt, he had on a navy blue jerkin with teal embroidery that brought out the vibrant color in his eyes. At his hip hung his lightsaber, which Hera had only rarely seen him with.

“Wow,” he breathed as he stared at her. “You’re… wow.”

“You… you look incredible,” Hera managed. And it was the truth. A small smile lifted the corner of Kanan’s mouth.

“Thanks,” he said, closing the distance between them and capturing her hand in his. Hera felt her heart start pounding as he gazed at her, seeming to drink in the sight of her. “But trust me,” he murmured. “No one’s going to be looking at me when you’re standing next to me.”

“I will be.” Hera felt her face warm the minute the words slipped out of her mouth, because it sounded like flirting. It was flirting, she knew. But she really couldn’t help herself, especially with him standing inches away from her, looking at her the way he was.

A crooked grin danced across Kanan’s face. “Really, Captain Syndulla? Flirting at a time like this?”

“Well, it is our engagement party,” Hera pointed out, feeling a ridiculous sense of relief. Kanan was here with her, and even his presence made this whole thing a little easier to deal with. Well, except for the fact that she was incredibly caught off guard by how handsome he looked tonight.

Offering her his arm, Kanan said, “That’s true. And we should probably head in. Are you ready?”

Looping her arm around his, Hera replied, “Not remotely. Let’s do this.”

“That’s the spirit.”

They moved into the ballroom subtly, but somehow everyone noticed them the moment they set foot inside. Hera could feel the eyes on her, and she stiffened, trying not to panic. Kanan’s thumb brushed against her bare upper arm, sending a quick shiver down her spine. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice too low for anyone else to hear. “Take a deep breath. I’m here.”

Somehow, that was more comforting than anything else he could have said. Hera took a quick deep breath as Mace and Depa headed their way. Depa was clad in a lavender dress, while Mace looked majestically elegant in formal Jedi robes, the dark scar across his eyes totally unhidden.

Giving both of them a warm smile, Depa said, “You both look wonderful, although you are a little late.”

“Sorry-- Ezra was trying to convince me to smuggle him cake in my pockets,” Kanan apologized.

“I’m sure that’s what the guests will think happened,” Mace muttered with a small smirk that looked a little too much like his grand Padawan’s.

“Manners, Mace,” Depa said. “And I can’t believe I’m saying that to you instead of the other way around. Okay, here’s what you two need to do-- mingle a little bit, say hello to the guests. Make sure to greet Governor Pryce--”

“Absolutely not,” Kanan said flatly. “She’s the reason Ezra’s parents are--”

“I know that, but we have to be careful, Kanan,” Depa said, her voice firm.

“What-- Pryce isn’t some invincible succubus,” Kanan protested. “She’s a regular succubus, who can be defeated.”

Releasing a sigh, Depa turned to Hera. “When Pryce comes over-- she’s the one with the short black hair, Imperial uniform--”

“Don’t look straight into her eyes, though,” Kanan muttered.

“Why, because she’ll turn you to stone?” Mace asked.

“No, because her eyes are ugly.”

Letting out a sigh, Depa said, “Perhaps it’s better if Hera does the talking.”

“Perhaps,” Hera agreed.

“Fine,” Kanan said, not looking upset. “Anything else?”

Nodding, Depa said, “Yes. Actually try to have a good time. And don’t forget to have at least one dance.”

“Finally, something I can get behind,” Kanan said with a grin, and Hera was suddenly very aware of how close they were standing, of his arm brushing against hers.

She saw a slight smile flicker across Depa's face, but all the Jedi said was, “Have fun, you two.”

Turning, she led Mace away as the music began and a few couples started to move out onto the dance floor. One in particular caught Hera’s eye--- a man with dark hair and a scar across one eye, dressed in all black, including a long black coat embroidered in gold. At his side was a slight woman, her long curly hair hanging loose and free. She was dressed in a floor length golden silk gown, with a decorative aqua panel along the bodice and a matching sash. Slim straps hung the gown from her shoulders, which were bare except for a gauzy aqua veil that was clasped to her wrists with cuffs made of the same golden silk.

“Is that Senator Amidala?” she asked Kanan quietly.

“Yeah-- as it turns out, giant engagement parties are a really good way to get your Rebellion contacts in close proximity so you can exchange information. There’ll probably be a meeting tonight with some of the leaders-- including them.”

Hera followed Kanan’s discreet nod to a dark haired woman wearing dark blue, dancing with a man in a matching cape who Hera suddenly recognized. “Wait-- Senator Organa’s here, too?”

Nodding, Kann said, “As is Senator Mothma, the Duchess of Mandalore, and about a dozen others. The Jedi aren’t submitting. We’re just waiting for the right moment to strike.” Flashing her a teasing grin, he added, “And to think, you thought we were just sitting around letting the Empire walk all over us.”

“Well, you were acting that way very convincingly,” Hera pointed out.

“Glad to hear it.”

Spotting a tall woman in Imperial greys making her way through the crowd towards them. Hera muttered, “I think I spotted your friend, Governor Pryce.”

“What? Kriff.” Kanan grimaced. “Time to pretend to be polite.”

“Unless you didn’t see her, and you had something else very pressing to address,” Hera pointed out. “After all, you do owe me at least one dance. Probably more.”

A grin slowly crossed Kanan’s face. “I do, don’t I?” Giving her a bow, he offered her a hand. “Will you dance, Captain Hera?”

Placing her hand in his, Hera said, “With you, I will.”

The two of them moved out onto the dance floor together. The music in the background was sweet and elegant, and she had an excellent partner. True to form, Kanan’s movements were smooth and graceful. “You dance better than I expected,” Hera observed.

“I’ve been practicing,” Kanan admitted with that crooked grin of his. “Didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of my fiancee, after all. Spin.”

Hera obligingly twirled away from Kanan, her hand still locked securely in his. With a gentle tug, Kanan brought her back to him, his arm slipping back around her waist. Hera felt her breath catch as she met his eyes, and was suddenly very aware of the space between them. She was close enough she could sense the warmth of Kanan’s skin, and the look in his eyes as he gazed at her sent a flutter through her stomach.

“You’re staring, dear,” she told him in a soft undertone.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked, his voice equally low.

Lifting an eyebrow, Hera said, “I mean. A little.”

A small wince crossed Kanan’s face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable isn’t the word I’d use,” Hera replied, and something flickered in Kanan’s eyes.

“Then… what would you call it?” he asked, his low baritone holding a soft question beyond his words.

“Cherished.”

The word slipped out before Hera could help it. But it was true. No one had ever looked at her the way Kanan had, the way he was looking at her now. Not like she was an object or a price on the slave market. Like she was something truly priceless.

Kanan’s eyes widened, and he started to speak. But before he could, a voice caught their attention. “Kanan! Mind if I have a word?”

Hera glanced towards the sound, catching sight of Anakin Skywalker heading towards them, a bearded man at his side who Hera realized must be Obi-Wan Kenobi. He shot Hera a look that could only be translated as “I am so sorry for this” as Anakin paused next to them.

“It’s important,” he told Kanan as he and Hera came to a halt.

“Of course,” Kanan said, releasing Hera and stepping away from her. Hera thought she saw a flash of reluctance in his eyes, but if it was there, he masked it well. Glancing at her, he said, “I’m sorry--”

“It’s fine, love,” Hera told him, forcing a smile. “I’ll leave you to it.”

She slipped away from the three of them and headed into the crowd, feeling Kanan’s eyes follow her as she walked. But it wasn’t long before she was out of their sight.

At the far end of the ballroom, there was a door that led out onto a balcony overlooking the Lothal prairie beyond the house. Hera made her way there, and slipped outside.

The cool night breeze was a relief after the nearly stifling warmth of the ballroom-- although not all of it was from the amount of people in there, Hera knew. She felt heat sweep over her again as her mind wandered back to dancing with Kanan, the warmth of his skin seeping through her dress.

Taking a quick breath, Hera pressed her hands against the cold stone of the balcony railing and stared out at Lothal’s moons shimmering amongst the stars above them. Two out of the three were full, just like the night when she’d first met Kanan. She never would have thought that evening that all of this would come about, that she would end up engaged to a man she’d just met.

That she would end up falling in love with him.

Hera pressed her eyes shut, taking a shaky breath. Force. She wasn’t even sure if he felt the same way. But that didn’t exactly stop her from thinking about Kanan, from wanting to be near him, from wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

“Hera?”

Kanan’s voice came from directly behind her, low and warm. Hera took in a quick breath, then turned to face him. The light from the doorway illuminated him from behind, the shadows obscuring his expression.

“Depa said she saw you heading this way,” he said, moving up next to her. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” Hera said, and Kanan settled beside her, resting his forearms on the balcony railing.

“Sorry we got interrupted earlier,” he said, flicking a quick glance her way. “Apparently, Skywalker’s daughter had collected some important intel he wanted to share as soon as possible.”

“It’s fine, love,” Hera said. “I understand.”

She sensed Kanan stiffen next to her, and frowned. What did I-- oh.

“You called me love,” he said, his voice soft.

“I-- yeah, I did,” Hera said, feeling herself flushing. Of course this would be how it came out. She was trying to think of what to say next when Kanan spoke.

“Do you ever wish this was real?”

Hera froze, her brain going blank. All she could manage to say was, “What?”

“This whole thing, this engagement. Do you ever wish it was real? Because I-- I can’t lie to you, Hera.” Kanan turned towards her, and Hera felt her heart stutter against her breastbone as he met her gaze. “I do,” he said. “I’m sorry--”

“Don’t be.” The words slipped out of Hera’s mouth, but she didn’t even try to take them back. She couldn’t, not with the way Kanan was looking at her now, his eyes wide but full of something that made Hera flush.

“Hera,” he whispered. “I would never, ever do anything to push past your boundaries.”

“I know,” Hera said, her gaze locked on Kanan’s face and her heartbeat steadily rising as she watched him.

“But I really, really want to kiss you right now.” Kanan paused, his eyes lingering on her, then stepped a little closer. “Can I…?”

Hera closed the distance between them without hesitation. Her lips met his, and Hera was nearly swept off her feet by the dizzy array of emotions washing over her. A strong arm slipping around her waist steadied her as Kanan kissed her back, gently drawing her close.

They broke apart a few moments later, and Hera took a quick breath in. “Force, Kanan.”

“Can you tell I’ve been waiting a while to do that?” Kanan asked, his voice amused.

“Maybe a little,” Hera said, letting her forehead rest against his. “I-- how does this even happen? Who could have seen this coming?”

Kanan paused, then let out a soft chuckle that Hera more felt that heard. “Uh. Possibly Mace.”

“What??” Hera pulled back enough to see his face. “What are you talking about?”

“The first day you were here, he told me the Force led him to you, and it wanted you here,” Kanan said. “I didn’t know why at the time, but he seemed pretty confident.”

“And you think the Force wanted us together?” Hera said, lifting an eyebrow. “The mystical Force that binds the whole galaxy together could not possibly be invested in our relationship.”

“Well, you never know,” Kanan said, giving her a cocky smirk. “We are pretty amazing.”

“You are a pain, dear,” Hera said with a roll of her eyes.

“Lucky for you I’m your pain,” Kanan said. Pausing, he asked, “Will you call me love again?”

“Kiss me, love,” Hera said, and Kanan happily obliged.

[erin-bo-berin]

Cupid

MASTERLIST

This was requested by @sundippedprincess​ I’m pretty sure! Oh man, don’t we all love some daddy Spencer? I couldn’t resist writing this cute little fluff piece. Hope it’s a good start to all of you guys’ Mondays. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (fluff)

Word Count: 4,773

For as long as you could remember, you wanted to be a teacher.

Apparently, after coming home from your first day in kindergarten, you had announced to your parents that you wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. Twenty years later, you were living your dream.

Your kindergarten kids were your whole life. You always loved seeing them, watching them grow and learn. You typically dreaded summer vacation because you missed your kids and teaching so much, despite the few months of break.

This was only your second year of teaching, but you were enjoying it just as much as your first. It was tough saying goodbye to the first group of students, but it made it worth it when you saw them in the school halls and some still ran up to greet you.

School had just let out for another day and you already missed the bright young minds of your students. You were cleaning up your classroom before working on some grading when you heard a small voice coming from your doorway.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

You turned and saw a little girl with light brown curls and a turquoise blue backpack standing in your doorway, looking hesitant. She was one of your best behaved students, Ayla Reid.

“Ayla! Did you forget something?”

She shook her head, her ponytail bouncing with the movement.

“My daddy is late and they told me at the office to come stay with you instead of waiting outside by myself. Is that okay?”

She was the sweetest little girl. She was a bright little girl as well, having no trouble with soaking up new knowledge like her brain was a tiny sponge. She was always kind and helpful when it came to other classmates, but she never hesitated to speak her mind. All in all, she was an outgoing, bubbly little girl with a heart of gold.

“Of course, sweetie. Come on in.”

You took the chair to her desk off the top of it, setting it back on the floor so she could sit in her usual place.

You peeked over your shoulder as you headed to your arts and crafts station to see her settling in to her normal desk. You grabbed some paper and crayons and walked back to her with them in hand.

“Would you like to color while you wait?”

She nodded, smiling big.

“I love to color!”

You laughed, knowing that all too well. It was one of her favorite activities when doing schoolwork. 

“Is your daddy always late when picking you up?” you asked, sitting back down behind your desk.

“Yeah. Sometimes it’s just a few minutes, but he’s never been this late,” she answered.

She’d already opened the box of crayons and was starting to draw before you’d even asked your question.

You glanced at the clock in your room to see it was nearing 3:15. School let out at 2:30–Ayla’s father was nearly an hour late.

“This doesn’t happen all the time,” she said, “‘Cause sometimes my mommy picks me up.”

You understood that. Plenty of your students had parents who worked full time and was occasionally late to pick them up.

She said nothing else as she was busy with her picture, so you started sorting through the turned in work for the week so far. You would have to log in grades and update the grades later on so it was just easier to get through this first step now.

“My daddy works a lot,” Ayla said out of the blue.

You looked up, smiling, seeing her still hard at work with her crayons.

“What does he do?” you asked, interested.

“He’s a pwofiler. I’m not quite sure what that means but he works in the FBI. That’s like the police but more important.”

You chuckled. She wasn’t one to miss much. When you’d said she was incredibly smart, you hadn’t been exaggerating.

“That sounds like a very interesting job. I’m sure you’re incredibly proud of him, Ayla,” you said.

“Mhm,” she nodded big, looking up from her picture, “He’s very smart too. He’s got a robotic memory!”

You raised a brow, not quite sure what she meant, but laughed anyway.

“Is that so? That’s impressive.”

“He a docta. But not like the ones you go to when you’re sick.”

She went back to the picture and you watched her for a moment, amused. There was so much energy and spunk in this little girl. You wouldn’t doubt for one minute that her parents had their hands full with her.

“Can I show you my picture?” she asked.

“Of course, let me see.”

You stood up, walking over to her desk, crouching to her level.

On it, there were several stick figures.

“Oh that’s beautiful,” you grinned, “Are these your friends?”

“No, these my aunties and uncles at the BAU. That’s where my daddy works.”

“I see,” you said, listening intently.

“This my daddy,” she pointed to the tallest of the group.

“This is auntie Emily, auntie JJ, auntie Penelope and auntie Tara.”

She smiled proudly as pointed at the obvious female stick figures.

“And what about these three?” you asked, motioning to a group of men.

“That is uncle Luke, uncle Dave and uncle Matt. The two on that side are uncle Hotch and uncle Derek. They don’t work with my daddy anymore but they still my uncles.”

“Wow, you’ve got a lot of extended family, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she beamed.

“Ayla, honey, I’m so sorry.”

You stood up from where you were crouching next to Ayla to see a quite tall man walking into your classroom, a tan, leather satchel slung over his body.

“Daddy!” Ayla squealed, jumping out of her seat, running towards him.

She collided into his legs, hugging him and he picked her up with a big smile on his face, kissing her cheek.

You took the moment to get a better look at him, now that he was closer.

He was undeniably attractive, but didn’t seem to be the type that flaunted his looks either. His light brown hair was as curly as his daughter’s and looked to be in a bit of disarray, part of it falling over his forehead while other curls fell in numerous directions.

He was outfitted in a work suit, a tie and sweater underneath his suit jacket. He pulled it off very well.

His eyes gleamed as he looked at his daughter and she kissed his stubbled cheek. You didn’t fail to notice his sharp jawline or his easy, bright smile either.

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” he apologized, whether to Ayla or you, you weren’t entirely sure.

“It’s okay daddy. I like Miss Y/L/N. She’s pretty like a princess.”

You sucked in a breath in surprise, touched by her words. You couldn’t help when your eyes immediately teared up. It was such a sweet and sincere thing for Ayla to say and knowing kids were brutally honest, you knew she meant every word of it.

You cleared your throat, composing yourself when you noticed Ayla’s father watching you, eyes squinting in concentration.

He probably thinks you’re a blubbering fool, you thought.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Reid,” you extended your hand.

“It’s docta Reid,” Ayla corrected you, emphatically.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry. Dr. Reid.”

He chuckled, setting Ayla back down and telling her to get her things together.

“It’s no big deal,” he said, shaking your hand.

You tried not to focus on the fact his hand was so large in yours as you quickly pulled back, silencing any further thoughts.

“I told Miss Y/L/N how you’re a pwofiler and have a robotic memory!” Ayla exclaimed, as she cleaned up her desk, putting her picture in her backpack.

“Uh, it’s actually eidetic,” he said, flushing a bit.

“I couldn’t remember what it was called so I just went with robotic,” Ayla shrugged.

You both chuckled at her response, before turning back to each other.

“I was wondering how smart you must be to have a robotic memory,” you smiled.

“Well she was kinda close,” he grinned, running a hand through his hair, “Eidetic is just another term for photographic memory.”

“Oh wow,” you said, surprised, “That’s impressive. No wonder you have such a brilliant daughter.”

He smiled appreciatively and said his thanks before speaking again.

“I don’t remember seeing you at the Kindergarten registration a few months ago.”

“Oh, unfortunately I wasn’t able to attend as I was sick. My teacher’s assistant Mrs. Lamb stepped in for me. Apparently she was a big hit though because she got all the kids to believe she was from Old MacDonald's Farm!”

You cringed inwardly at your spiel. You were used to talking to five year olds and other teachers, definitely not attractive dads, let alone men in general.

You chided yourself again. He was probably married anyway and you had little business drooling over a student’s father.

His smile was on full display though as he laughed at your statement.

“Come on Ayla, we need to get going. I have to head back to work for a little while but you can hang out with auntie Penelope okay?”

“Okay!” she grinned, putting on her backpack and taking his hand.

They were just leaving when something made you stop them.

“Um, Dr. Reid?”

He paused, turning back to you.

“Yes?”

“If you ever find yourself running late to pick Ayla up, I’d be happy to let her stay in my classroom until you get here.”

You’re not sure why you offered. Well for one, you really did like Ayla, she was such a sweet girl. But you tried to convince yourself that it was just a nice gesture to hopefully make things a bit easier on him. You knew sometimes your parents struggled with finding someone to pick up their child from school on time.

It wasn’t because you hoped to see him again. Definitely not.

“Oh you don’t have to. I can try to get away earlier when possible,” he protested.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassured, “I’d love the company. Besides, she’s such a joy to have.”

He seemed to take a moment to think it over before nodding.

“I just may take you up on that.”

•

“Daddy, what does pwofiling mean?”

Spencer had just lifted Ayla into the car and placed her into her booster seat, where she was currently buckling the seatbelt to it.

“Well,” he paused, intrigued at what could have brought on her sudden question, “It’s just studying a person’s behavior. For example, I can recognize how you behave guiltily when you eat the last cookie in the cookie jar.”

Ayla grinned big, not in the least bit ashamed.

“But you do that with bad guys right?”

“That’s correct, baby,” he smiled, kissing her forehead.

He closed the back door and walked around to the driver’s side door, sliding in. He had just gotten his own seatbelt clicked into place when she spoke again.

“Daddy, I pwofiled you.”

“Did you now?” he chuckled, amused at his little girl’s comment.

“Yes,” she nodded, “You like Miss Y/L/N.”

“Well of course I do, she’s your teacher and she’s very nice.”

“No, I mean you like like her,” she emphasized.

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

“Because you’re smiling all goofy,” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “You only smile like that when you talk about things you know about.”

He felt himself flush a little bit. It was true, he hadn’t stopped smiling since they’d left Ayla’s classroom. There was something refreshing about her teacher and he would have to be blind to not admit she was indeed as Ayla had said, very pretty.

“Are you going to ask her to be your girlfriend?” Ayla asked as he drove out of the school parking lot.

He chuckled at her brazenness.

“Honey, I don’t even know her. Besides, I’m too busy to date.”

“I’m busy too but I have a boyfriend.”

“You do?” Spencer asked, trying his best to hide his surprise.

“Of course, daddy,” she rolled her eyes, exasperated, like she was a teenager already, “I’m busy and don’t always get to see Michael but he my boyfriend.”

Spencer smiled to himself. Michael LaMontagne was his best friend JJ’s and her husband Will’s youngest son. He was a little over two years older than Ayla, but she always proclaimed that Michael was her boyfriend. The two got along extremely well and it was incredibly adorable.

He decided not to comment any further on it though because he knew she wouldn’t give up on it easily.

“Baby, you know what days daddy picks you up, right?”

“Yup. Mondays and Fridays.”

“Good. Since I never know when I might be running late, will you ask Miss Y/L/N if you could stay with her until I get there?

“Okay daddy.”

She turned to the window, watching the passing landscape, her previous conversation apparently finished.

He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t looking forward to seeing Ayla’s teacher again.

•

Ayla rushed out of the elevator when the doors opened on the floor the BAU was located on.

“There’s my favorite girl!”

Penelope has been waiting for them, excited to spend time with her goddaughter. As she was her only goddaughter, Ayla definitely got a bit spoiled.

“Auntie Penelope!” Ayla squealed, running into Garcia’s arms.

“How was your day at school, pumpkin?” she asked.

“Good,” Ayla beamed.

“Must’ve been, your daddy is 15 minutes late getting back,” Garcia said, eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Uh, traffic,” Spencer said.

“No,” Ayla shook her head, looking up at Spencer, “You were busy smiling at Miss Y/L/N.”

“Miss Y/L/N?” Garcia questioned, her interest piqued.

“She’s my teacher,” Ayla explained, “And she’s really pretty, auntie Penelope. Like a princess!”

“Like a princess, huh?”

Garcia was now eyeing Spencer hardcore with a knowing grin. Spencer knew she would be all over this with a million questions before long.

“Sweetie, why don’t you go hang out with auntie Penelope now while daddy finishes up his work?”

“Alright. Come on auntie Penelope! I wanna show you the picture I drew!”

Ayla grabbed her hand, practically dragging Garcia towards her lair.

Garcia looked over her shoulder pointing a finger at him.

“Don’t think you’ve escaped my questions! We’re talking about this later!”

Spencer knew good and well they would be.

“So, a pretty kindergarten teacher, huh?”

Spencer startled, seeing Luke standing in the doorway of the BAU, his back against the glass door, holding it open. In his hand was a plastic cup of coffee that he was drinking. He’d obviously been here longer than Spencer had realized and had heard everything. 

“Don’t you start too,” he grumbled.

“Hey, I’m just curious!” Luke protested, following Spencer in as he walked into the unit, “How pretty is she?”

“Very,” Spencer mumbled to himself.

Getting her out of his head would be the best thing to do, although maybe not the easiest.

•

It was the third time that you were keeping Ayla in your classroom after school until Dr. Reid could pick her up.

You found yourself counting down the hours every Monday and Friday, waiting to see his bright and smiling face. 

You couldn’t believe you were looking forward to a maybe five minute encounter out of your entire day, but here you were.

“Miss Y/L/N?” you heard Ayla call from her desk.

“Yes?” 

You looked up from the learning packets you were stapling together for the new week.

“Is it okay if I feed Freddy?”

Freddy was the class pet, a neon tetra fish. He was a simple fish, one that was easy for new fish owners, from what you’d researched before getting him.

He was small, but feisty. His coloring really took you by surprise when you first got him. With colors of bright red and green, red towards the end of his body and a lime green towards his front with a turquoise blue duochrome look to him, he always looked festive and bright.

He had an automatic fish feeder, but every once in a while you let one of your students throw a small amount in for him as an extra treat.

“Of course,” you smiled, getting up to help her.

You walked over to the fish tank and grabbed the fish food, opening it for her.

“Now, just get a tiny little pinch, okay?”

She nodded and did what she was told, her face serious as she concentrated on what she was doing.

Stepping up on the stool you left in front of the tank—for the small kids purposes—she sprinkled the food into the water. Freddy immediately devoured it.

“I think he liked it,” she smiled, watching him through the glass.

“I think he did too,” you agreed.

“Well, what do we have here?”

You turned, seeing Dr. Reid walk in, a smile on his face.

Your stomach fluttered, seeing him again for the first time in days. 

“I fed Freddy, daddy!” Ayla grinned big, running to give him a hug.

“Did you now? That’s a very big girl task! I’m proud of you! High five!”

He was crouched in front of her, hugging her but then he pulled out of her embrace and held up his hand, which she high fived.

“It’s time to get your things kiddo, we’re having your favorite for dinner tonight,” he said.

“Chicken nuggets with sweet potato fries?”

“You guessed it! Now go,” he shooed her towards her desk.

You smiled, watching them. He stood back up, facing you with a small smile.

“I hope she wasn’t any trouble.”

“Not at all. She’s an angel. She’s probably one of my best behaved students,” you said.

“Now that’s surprising,” he chuckled.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Ayla called, coming back over with her backpack on her back, “You should come to dinner tomorrow night.”

“I-” you began, in attempt to politely turn her down, when Dr. Reid spoke before you.

“Bunny, you’re going to be at your mom’s tomorrow night,” he said.

Ayla’s reply was simple and to the point.

“I know.”

You felt your eyes widen and your face heat when you realized her insinuation. Dr. Reid looked just as flustered and thrown as you felt.

“Ayla, honey, you know daddy has to work tomorrow. Remember I told you I had to work late?” Spencer stammered, trying to say the entirety of the few sentences.

At that point, you just wished for a hole to open up in your classroom floor and swallow you. If it wasn’t awkward enough that one of your students had basically just asked you out for her own father, then it was definitely the fact that he was trying to backpedal on the “invite” and most likely because he had no interest in you, not that you could blame him.

“Daddy, you told me it’s wrong to tell a lie,” Ayla gave him a look.

You were sure at this point Dr. Reid had turned scarlet from his face all the way down his neck. You felt bad for him, but still felt the awkwardness of the situation.

“You said that when I was at mommy’s house last week. You said this week you wouldn’t have to work late.”

Somehow, this behavior from Ayla didn’t surprise you in the slightest. When she was set on something, she was determined to accomplish it.

He looked up at you, clearly uncomfortable but you spoke before he could, trying to salvage the situation.

“Don’t worry,” you chuckled, “Kids will be kids. Believe me, I know. I have 28 of them for 8 hours, 5 days a week.”

His smile eased a bit and you felt yourself relax a tiny amount.

“I hope you have a good weekend Ayla and I’ll see you Monday,” you said.

You couldn’t help but notice her pouty expression as Dr. Reid took her hand and left your classroom.

You almost had to breathe a sigh of relief after living through that awkward moment.

You had just sat down behind your desk and resumed stapling papers together when you heard your name being called.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

You glanced up, seeing Dr. Reid in the doorway sans Ayla.

“Yes? Did Ayla forget something?” 

You stood, ready to head towards her desk to check for a missing folder or a favorite toy.

“Actually, no, I did.”

You gave him a confused look before he began to explain.

“I was- uh I was actually wondering if maybe you’d like to get coffee sometime? With me? Or maybe ice cream or something considering it’s still pretty hot? Hot outside I mean.”

Your stomach quite literally did a flip flop at his cute, nervous, rambling. 

Here was a grown man, who worked in the FBI, had a child and could probably rival a Bachelor contestant, yet he managed to adorably stumble over his words as he asked you out.

“Well, I practically live off coffee because of my job,” you said.

“So do I,” he grinned, a small, new found connection between the two of you, discovered.

“But ice cream sounds nice,” you smiled, “Whenever you’re free that is.”

“Tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow sounds fine,” you concluded, “Hold on.”

You turned to grab a sticky note from your desk, jotting something down quickly.

“My number,” you smiled, handing it to him, “Just let me know what time.”

“It’s a date.”

“It’s a date,” you confirmed.

“Oh and for future reference, I’m Spencer.”

“Y/N,” you grinned.

With a smile on his own face, he walked back out of your classroom, presumably to an awaiting Ayla.

You had to hold back your laughter when you heard her next statement all the way from the hallway, clear as day.

“I think I know now why uncle Morgan used to say you got no game.”

•

It was roughly 2 pm the next afternoon as you stood outside the ice cream parlor that was near the elementary school. 

You fidgeted in place nervously, wondering if he was going to show.

His actual asking you on a date was so sudden and abrupt, you’d hardly had time to wrap your head around it. 

With one glance down at your outfit, you tried hard not to criticize yourself. You’d changed about six times before finally deciding on a simple, cute, sleeveless sundress in an aqua turquoise color. It would be cool, cute, casual and not trying too hard.

“You look nice and cool.”

You turned to see Spencer approaching you and you smiled, relieved that he actually showed up and it wasn’t just a dream.

“Hot enough for you?” you chuckled.

“Too hot,” he agreed, “Shall we?”

He motioned after him and you walked into the wonderful chilly air of the ice cream parlor. He even held the door open for you; this man was already amazing.

There was only polite small talk while you both ordered; mint chocolate chip in a cone for him, vanilla in a cup with numerous toppings for you.

“Vanilla?” he raised an eyebrow at your choice.

“Only if I’m in the mood for a lot of toppings,” you elaborated.

You’d ordered your ice cream with Oreo pieces, rainbow sprinkles and chopped nuts.

When you both retrieved your orders from the counter, he peeked over at yours.

“There any ice cream under there?” he teased.

“Hush,” you chuckled.

You found a shaded table outside to sit at. Despite the heat, a small breeze occasionally cooled the temperature, making it a bit more bearable.

“So, Y/N.”

“That’s my name,” you smiled.

It was amazing how up until this point, you’d been so nervous for this date, but sitting in front of him, you were much more comfortable.

He took another lick from his cone, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Why teaching?”

You raised a brow, figuring you’d get in a question of your own too.

“Why the FBI?” you inquired.

He chuckled, appreciating your challenge.

“I’ll answer your question if you answer mine,” he said.

“Well—as the story goes, my parents claim—I came home from my first day of Kindergarten claiming I was going to be a teacher, specifically a kindergarten teacher. I don’t remember this at all,” you laughed, “But apparently it was kismet.”

He watched you intently as you talked, eating his ice cream silently as he hung on to your every word. It was surprising at how nice it made you feel to know he was interested in knowing about you.

“I joined the FBI when I was 22.”

“Wow, that’s really young and impressive,” you said, eyes wide.

“Well to preface this, I was somewhat of a childhood prodigy. I graduated high school at 12 and managed to earn three PhDs by 20, plus two BAs.”

You stared at him open mouthed, your spoon halfway to your mouth, the ice cream on it melting and dripping back into the cup.

He looked embarrassed and a bit uncomfortable. Something told you that while he was proud of his achievements, he wasn’t one that really enjoyed bragging about them.

“That explains the title of Doctor and the robotic memory.”

That seemed to break the spell and his face broke into a grin as he laughed easily at his daughter’s antics.

“That child, I swear. She’s something else.”

“She really is,” you agreed.

There was a lull in conversation and you decided to ask him about what you were wondering from the previous afternoon.

“So...you and your wife are separated or divorced I assume?”

“Oh me and Ayla’s mom have never been together actually.”

“Oh,” you said, surprised.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to deal with divorced, separated or even single parents of your students, but to actually know the circumstances like this was unusual for you.

He nodded.

“I wasn’t in a place for a relationship and neither was her mother, so all we ever had was a physical relationship and Ayla was the result of that. We remained friends and co-parent now. She’s got a lovely fiancé now though that’s great with Ayla. But as messed up and impractical as that relationship was, I wouldn’t change it for anything though because it gave me Ayla and I’ve never regretted her for a moment,” Spencer said.

“She clearly adores you,” you smiled, “You’re a great father too.”

“Thank you,” he smiled shyly, “I try my best. But what about you, anyone special?”

He winced the moment the question left his mouth.

“Well if there was, I wouldn’t be here now would I?” 

You could help but tease him, flashing him a joking expression.

“Point taken,” he laughed inwardly, “It didn’t dawn on me how obvious the question was until I said it. I’m sorry, I’m not really good at this dating thing. It’s been a long time since I’ve done it, actually.”

He looked pained, like a teenager on his first date, but you found it extremely endearing.

“Well I think you’re doing just fine,” you reassured him, “Also, no.”

His brow crinkled in confusion.

“No, what?”

“No, there’s no one special in my life. Unless you count 28 five year olds,” you snickered.

Sometime during the conversation, you’d both finished your ice cream. You tossed your trash and returned to the table.

“I’ve got a few hours before I have to pick up Ayla. Would you like to take a walk?” Spencer asked.

“Sure,” you agreed.

The two of you walked side by side, chatting it up about a variety of different things until his tinkering chuckle made you glance up at him, curious to what he found so funny.

“What is it?”

“It just struck me funny,” he said, pausing to look down at you.

You stopped with him, waiting for him to continue.

“Who would’ve thought my five year old daughter could be such an adorable yet successful pint sized Cupid?”

You had to agree as your face broke into your hundredth smile of that afternoon. She had been persistent and it seemed like her persistency had paid off.

He was right though, you’d never in a million years imagined one of your pupils playing matchmaker for you.

But you were glad Ayla had.

How thankful you were to have her in your class.

“She was right, you know,” Spencer said, more serious now.

“About what?”

“You are as pretty as a princess.”

As you two resumed your walking, the smile now permanently plastered on your face, you could’ve sworn you felt his hand brush yours ever so slightly.

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[lalainajanes]

For “neighborhood block party” on my bingo card! This one takes place in the same universe as Sweet As (quirky supernatural small town fic in which Caroline’s a dryad who owns a bakery and Klaus is the leader of the local werewolf pack and mates are a thing ;) ) though it’s more of a prequel.

The Fall Festival

Before he’d met Caroline, Klaus’ mornings had fallen into a predictable pattern.

He would wake up at the same time, wander into his kitchen to find a full pot of coffee and a pack member or two. Occasionally, there was an emergency. Sometimes there was an issue where his opinion was wanted. Most often, his visitors would come with a problem that could have been solved without Klaus’ input, though he’d never complained.

Klaus had been an outsider once, had become pack leader when the father he’d never known had died, and Marcel had shown up at his door in Chicago. At the time, Klaus had resented the disruption to his life.

Now, he doesn’t understand how he’d survived so long, locking himself in a cage every month.

His mother had explained his parentage when he’d turned twelve, and it had been revelatory, explained why he’d always struggled to wield even a hint of the power that came naturally to his siblings. Esther had told him what to expect, that he’d be dangerous, but she’d refused to tell Klaus anything about the man who’d passed him the werewolf genes, hadn’t even supplied a name.

The rift in their relationship had begun there, had only widened since. When Klaus had chosen to accept his birthright, he’d ensured he’d never be welcome in the home he’d grown up in. He’d never regretted it.

Most of his siblings happily defy their parents to visit, and the pack had become another sort of family.

Three months after Caroline had opened her shop, Klaus had trekked out into the forest to deal with one of the rare emergencies. A scent had been picked up on a security run two days prior, of a young, unfamiliar wolf.

A wolf who proved to have a gift for hiding.

Klaus and his inner circle had been trying to track the interloper, had to find them before the next full moon. His pack had long-standing agreements with the humans and the various local supernatural sects. A young wolf could have jeopardized the easy peace the town enjoyed without meaning to. Klaus and his pack would have had to pay the price.

Young wolves could not always assert human will over animal instincts, which could be deadly if any prey crossed their paths.

And to a werewolf, just about anyone can be prey.

That morning Klaus had decided to head west to an area of that woods that was dense with trees and wildlife. His pack usually leaves it be, understanding that there would be objections if they were to start messing with the local ecosystems. Besides, it offers little opportunity to run, something a werewolf is always eager to do when given a chance.

He’d been moving slowly and silently, examining the ground for prints that looked similar to the ones they believe belong to the young wolf. He’d frequently paused to see if he could pick up a scent, but he’d grown distracted.

Klaus had come across a grove of trees emanating a strange warmth. Curious, he’d rested his hand on the trunk of one.

Only to have the rough bark shiver under his touch and melt away, growing soft and smooth and scented of cherries and spice rather than earth.

He’d snatched his hand back and turned away as soon as he’d realized what was happening, had awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, and wondered if it would be cowardly to flee. He’d heard rustling, soft footsteps, the glide of fabric over skin. Then a woman’s voice, dripping with amusement, “You can turn around now. I’m dressed.”

Klaus had turned slowly. “My apologies. I was unaware I was trespassing.” He’d averted his eyes, realizing that “dressed” wasn’t entirely accurate. The woman had only slipped on a robe, a pale green confection of a garment made from silk and lace, loosely belted and short. He’d looked closely enough to realize she was gorgeous, with a riotous mess of blonde curls framing a flushed face and friendly, curious blue eyes.

His body had reacted, and Klaus had forced himself to begin breathing through his mouth. Her scent had clouded his thoughts, tempted him to step closer.

He hadn’t understood what was happening, why he was reacting so strongly to a stranger.

Klaus might have grown particular about who he invited into his bed, but he was hardly inexperienced or prone to awkwardness in the presence of beautiful women.

He’d gone a little wild when he’d become pack leader five years ago, had freely partaken in pleasure just about any time it was offered. Offers were still coming, but Klaus had largely lost interest, leery of complications that could occur with attachments. At the time, he’d only occasionally indulged when an alluring visitor caught his eyes.

Which hadn’t happened in months.

Why was this woman, not even a wolf, so very compelling?

When he’d clasped his hands behind his back and carefully fixed his attention to just above her forehead, she’d made a noise, an aborted laugh. “Wow, never met a shy werewolf before. You guys are usually super quick to get naked.”

Klaus’ eyes had swung to hers, shocked and a touch suspicious, “How do you know I’m a werewolf?”

Her head had tilted towards the trees, “It’s hard to explain. When I’m in that form, connected to the ground, there’s a heightened amount of intuition. Most supernatural beings pull power from some variety of natural elements, and I can usually tell which one, feel the energy.”

“You’re a dryad,” he’d said slowly. He’d remembered reading about them as a child, in one of his mother’s books. An old, thick tome, with tiny print, that detailed the origin stories of all the known species that walked the earth. He hadn’t recalled much more than the basics, had made a mental note to check if the library in his home had a similar volume.

“Guilty,” she’d chirped. She’d held out her hand, “Caroline Forbes. I bought the bakery in town a couple of months ago. You should stop by sometime.”

He’d shaken her hand, that contact enough to ensure Caroline would never stray from Klaus’ thoughts for long.

That brief brush of her skin on his had spurred a change in Klaus’ morning pattern.

He’d visited Caroline’s bakery the next day. Had rolled out of bed, earlier than he had since he’d been obligated to attend morning meetings, and driven to town. Caroline’s business had been easy to spot, featuring a cheerful striped awning in the same shade of green of the robe Klaus had spent far too many minutes contemplating.

He’d slid into a booth shortly after Caroline had opened up. She’d noticed him, appeared pleased to see him and wiggled her fingers in greeting.

And thus began a new routine.

* * * * *

Caroline smiles at Klaus as soon as he arrives. His face immediately grows suspicious.

Oops. She might have overdone it. Klaus is weirdly adept at spotting ulterior motives, and Caroline needs a teeny, tiny favor.

Which is not to say that she doesn’t look forward to his morning visits. More often than not, they’re the highlight of her day. She happens to have gotten a delivery late yesterday afternoon, one that’s essential to pulling off something she’s been working on for ages, so she’s particularly excited about it. She needs to borrow Klaus’ artistic skills to realize her vision.

That she’ll get to spend a little extra time with him is just a bonus.

He walks up to the counter and leans against it. “You look like you’re plotting something.”

She tilts her head to the side, uses her sweetest tone, “Don’t you think it’s a little early to be accusing me of such a thing?”

She spots the twitch at the corner of his mouth though he maintains an impressively deadpan expression. “Honestly, I suspect you’re usually plotting something.”

Caroline had to give him that one, “Okay, true. I might need a hand from someone who’s more artistically inclined than I am. AKA you.”

“What can I do for you?”

She smiles again, kind of glad that there’s a counter between them because Klaus’ lack of hesitation has her feeling all sorts of fuzzy things, and she very well might have thrown herself at him.

Which is not a thing that they do, though she’s hoping that changes at some point.

“I bought some lights and paint for the window. I splurged on it because it’s supposed to be really pretty, kind of sheer, and shimmery. I was hoping to paint some leaves and vines around the borders of the window, but my test runs were… subpar.”

“Still a bit upset about the Summer Solstice party then?”

Caroline glares without any real ire, “Shh. You know that’s a sore subject!”

She’d been woefully unprepared for just how serious the town took its celebrations. The Summer Solstice had been her first one. She’d nailed the food, had baked up tiny, fluffy meringues, served them with a vanilla peach compote, topped with fresh whipped cream and toasted almonds. Everyone had raved about them. But a few people – mostly the members of the town council who are generally unpleasant and excessively gossipy, in Caroline’s not at all biased opinion – had made snide remarks about her lack of decorations.

She’d been mortified even though it totally hadn’t been her fault. She’d miscalculated, not yet grasping just freaking slow the mail was. She’d had a ton of fresh flowers, but the paper lanterns and candy-colored trays and linens she’d ordered had arrived two days too late.

Caroline’s determined to do better this time and prove that party planning is her super-power, damn it.

Klaus is shrugging out of his jacket, “Show me to the supplies, love.”

“You’re the best!” she exclaims, reaching over to flip up the top of the counter. “Come on, it’s all in my office. Along with my very bad diagrams but feel free only to use them as a guideline. Far be it for little ‘ol me to tell a professional artiste what to paint.”

“Willing to cede control?” he teases. “Shocking.”

Caroline shrugs, “Guess I must trust you.”

Whoops. Caroline means it, but it’s a weighty thing to say.

Klaus has stepped passed the counter, bent to stash his jacket underneath. He freezes, head bowing before he up back at her. “I’m pleased to hear that,” he replies.

Caroline’s teeth sink into her lower lip, and she glances around. A few people are watching her curiously and, though she hates it, she knows now is not the time to dig into anything serious.

Though she’s not sure how much longer she’ll be able to resist.

Caroline clears her throat, heading to her office. She unlocks the door, stepping back to gesture Klaus go in first. She turns around to check that April’s come out from the kitchen, motions that she’ll be back out in ten, and then she joins Klaus.

He’s eyeing the sofa, “How often do you sleep here, sweetheart?”

“How do you… oh, right. Werewolf.”

Caroline’s pretty careful not to think about Klaus’ senses. Intellectually she knows he can probably sniff out all sorts of secrets, that the way she reacts to him is entirely unsubtle. She lives in purposeful denial to avoid melting into a puddle of mortification.

“Rarely. I did it a lot when I was scrambling to get this place opened. Now it’s pretty much just the night of the full moon, or the odd day when there’s a big complicated order.”

“Why the full moon?”

Caroline snorts, “Has it escaped your notice that you guys pack away a ton of food after the full moon? It’s my most profitable day of the month.”

She leans down and hefts the box of paint. Klaus steps forward, “Here, let me.”

Caroline lets him take it off her hands, “You know I’m probably at least as strong as you are, right?”

“I had read that, yes.” His eyes flit over her speculatively, and not for the first time in his presence, she thinks about how nice it would be if telepathy were in her bag of tricks. She knows what she hopes he’s thinking. Caroline’s been spinning fantasies that run the gamut from sweet and sensual to hot and frantic since Klaus first wandered into her grove. She’s pretty confident her interest is reciprocated, but he gives her mixed signals.

Caroline’s naturally tactile. She tends to crank that up when she’s in flirt mode. Klaus is careful to stay at a polite distance. He doesn’t cringe when she touches him, but he doesn’t touch her back either.

It’s confusing.

Caroline had gotten tipsy and whiny about the situation last weekend at the bar. Bonnie had been sympathetic and knowing, refused to spill what she clearly knew. Bonnie had only said, in that infuriatingly cryptic way witches have, that Caroline would figure it out when the time was right.

She and Bonnie haven’t known each other long, but Caroline had sensed she wouldn’t budge. She’d pouted until Enzo had arrived with shots.

Things had gotten a little hazy after that.

“Ah, so you’re just gentlemanly?” Caroline teases, watching as Klaus sets the box on her desk. He’s focused on it, so she takes the opportunity to ogle a little. His grey t-shirt is thin and snug. She’s going to be thinking about the way his muscles shift underneath it when she’s alone.

“Something like that.”

“Well, never let it be said that Caroline Forbes doesn’t pay her debts. I’ll save you a bunch of the desserts I’m making for the festival. I’ve perfected them over the last few days – pumpkin with pecan crumble, a delicious marriage of the best fall pies.”

He shakes his head, a laugh rumbling from low in his throat. “Sounds delicious. Perhaps you’ll save me a dance? There’s always a bonfire once the shops close down.”

Huh. That seems like an unmistakable signal. One Caroline hadn’t expected.

She swallows her initial instinct, the urge to joke about how Klaus must have decided she doesn’t have cooties after all. Caroline licks her lips, wonders if he can hear that her heartbeat has quickened. “I’ll make sure my dance card has a spot for you.”

* * * * *

Klaus finds Marcel in the living room when he comes downstairs on the night of the fall festival. He stops short, dread growing in his stomach. He’d spoken to Marcel earlier, and he hadn’t mentioned stopping by. “What happened?”

Marcel’s eyes narrow, “Is that a new sweater?”

Klaus doesn’t understand how that’s relevant to Marcel’s presence in his home.

He lifts his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for an answer to his question. Marcel grins, “Alright, not in a talkative mood. Heard. No disaster, don’t worry. I added an extra few cases of wine to the regular order last month, remember? Just here to grab them for the festival.”

Right. The pack operates several businesses but nothing with a storefront in town. On festival nights, the shops on Main Street decorate and offer free food or small gifts to anyone who wanders in. The town council covers the food available in the square, and Klaus’ pack supplies a significant portion of the booze (only fair since Klaus is quite sure they partake more than most). For this one, if he remembers correctly, they’re providing mulled wine and spiked hot chocolate while Enzo’s bar will set up kegs.

Klaus nods, relaxing. He glances at the clock on the wall. “I trust you can handle the delivery yourself?”

“Why, got a hot date? I don’t remember you ever doing much more than making an appearance at one of these things. This eagerness to arrive early is interesting.”

Marcel sounds far too knowing. To an extent, as the pack’s second in command, it’s his job to know Klaus’ business. He suspects what Caroline means to Klaus, that his wolf has chosen her, but Klaus has never confirmed it.

He’s been resisting the pull, exerting iron control over his instincts, maintaining a careful amount of distance even when he ached to return her affectionate overtures. And it’s not because he doesn’t want her, but because the bond is permanent. Unbreakable, once it’s solidified.

Klaus’ path is set. Caroline’s not bound by the same magic, not unless she wants to be.

“Obviously, you have this under control,” Klaus says, spinning on his heel. “Lock the door when you leave.”

Marcel’s laughter follows him out of the house.

* * * * *

Caroline’s nervous. More nervous than she’s ever been before a date, and it’s not even a date. She’d selected her outfit carefully. Her cream sweater dress has a wide neckline that’s prone to slipping off her shoulders. She’d selected dark tights for underneath and thigh-high boots, which are saved from being too risqué for a family-friendly event by their minimal heel.

She’s been getting compliments all evening, had smiled politely. She’d picked the outfit with one person in mind.

At nine, Caroline locks up, rushing into her office to let her hair down and touch up her makeup. A tap on the window comes at 9:06. She tucks a curl behind her ear, takes a deep breath, “You are not fifteen. Get it together,” she mutters to herself before she flicks off the lights.

She waves at Klaus through the window, grabs the small box where she’d packed up the portion of tartlets she’d saved for him and her keys.

Main Street is brighter than usual, street lamps lit and wrapped with strands of tiny white lights. Caroline steps outside, her eyes running over Klaus. He’s changed since this morning into darker jeans and a navy sweater. Is it a date outfit? She kinda thinks so.

“Hi,” Caroline says, impressed it’s not a squeak. She doesn’t trust herself to open with a compliment about how he looks – her brain-to-mouth filter is unreliable even when she’s calm, cool, and collected. Instead, she gestures to the windows, “Your paintings were a hit.”

Klaus doesn’t seem to hear her. He swallows heavily. “You look…” he trails off, but Caroline’s not an idiot. She knows exactly what the tiny ring of gold around his irises means.

Caroline’s grateful for the confirmation that her attraction isn’t at all one-sided. Her cheeks heat, “What, this old thing?”

He reaches for her, and Caroline’s heart stutters, mouth going dry. It’s the first time Klaus has made any sort of move, and it feels like the start of something she’ll want to remember.

Though she’s not capable of explaining that certainty at the moment. Caroline can’t claim to have a quiet mind, she’s capable of laser focus, but there’s usually a whole list of thoughts and questions in the background, each clamoring for attention.

Right now, there’s only Klaus and the shrinking distance between their bodies.

His palm lands on her upper arm, warm even through her sweater. His fingers tighten, skimming down, lingering when they meet the bare skin of her wrist before his palm meets hers.

She exhales shakily, returning the pressure. Caroline sways forward until her knees brush Klaus’, and his free hand clasps hers. He leans forward, and the hint of stubble on his face rasps against her cheek. “You are overwhelmingly lovely,” he murmurs, mouth brushing her temple.

Caroline’s lips part, and she’s seconds away from turning her head and rising to her toes when Klaus takes a half step away. He pivots until they stand shoulder to shoulder. He keeps one of her hands, and Caroline follows his lead when he begins to walk towards the town’s center.

She barely registers her surroundings, couldn’t name any of the people they pass or describe the decorations. She only feels Klaus’ hand, the solid strength of him next to her, is only aware of the addictive mix of comfort and anticipation fizzing through her veins.

He pulls her into his arms when they reach the makeshift dancefloor next to the bonfire.

It doesn’t feel like a first dance.

There’s no awkward shuffling or hesitant hand placement. Klaus’ grip on her changes, fingers threading between hers, and he wraps his arm around her waist. Caroline’s body melts into Klaus’, her hand rising to rest against his chest. She shivers when his head dips, his breath skimming across her bare shoulder.

There’s music, but it’s not important. She and Klaus move together seamlessly, closer than they probably should be in public, lost in their own world.

No one dares to disturb them.

[cellophanejpeg]

crimson red paint

Pairing: Max Phillips x female!reader

a/n: i know we’re all on board of the Din Djarin train but this is..... something lol. also happy halloween everybody, i managed to finish this earlier than i thought i would, and i’m so happy!!!! i hope you like it!!!

warnings: tw blood, smut +18, this has almost zero plot, soft ooc Max, but also dark and rough Max 😈 mentions of sexual harassment. maybe some unrealistic smut, but hey, I know you don't care! also I wasn't planning on that ending, but…. you’re welcome

word count: 3.5k

masterlist

“Does it hurt?” You ask him one night when you’re nestled against him on the couch. A corny horror movie is playing on TV, but you can’t bring yourself to pay attention to it.

“Just the first puncture.” Max’s voice makes his chest vibrate against you. “Like when I first fed from you, remember?”

It’s been almost two weeks since you told Max you wanted him to turn you. You’ve thought about it for a long time, months even, and you decided you wanted to be with him forever. At first, you weren’t sure if he was going to go with the idea, given that you’d never shown interest in becoming a vampire. But you’ve been with him for years and you have no plans of leaving him that soon and asking him to turn you into a vampire was a huge step, not only in your relationship but also in your life.

So he asked, about a million times, if that was what you really wanted. That would mean abandoning your old life, leaving friends and family behind, to live eternally by his side. Honestly, you’re not against it. You and Max might as well be married by now, knowing and living with each other for so long. It just made sense.

Max told you he wanted to make it special, surprise you with it. You know he wanted to give you some time to appreciate your last days as a human being. He was thoughtful that way.

When you first met him, though, you were sure you hated him with all your guts. He was very charming, you’d give him that, but the way his ego was the size of a hot air balloon turned you off completely. Max had tried to go out with you for the longest time, making your life at the office very difficult, always flirting and calling you pet names, but never going beyond that. It wasn’t until he fired a particular guy who had been harassing you for the longest time, that you took an interest in him. Max defended you, staying by your side and believing your allegations against that particular man. Then, you started to think Max Phillips wasn’t that bad after all.

You decided to give him a chance after that and, despite your expectations being very low, he actually exceeded them over the top. He even paid for dinner and didn't harass you the entire night. Who knew he could be such a gentleman?

Well, almost seven years later, here you are, your legs on his lap as you both chill on the couch of your shared apartment.

“Are you gonna miss me as a human?” Your voice is shy and quiet, full of uncertainty and doubt.

Max tears his gaze away from the television and looks at you, his brows furrowing for a moment before he softens his look.

“Well, yeah,” he replies, honestly.

Not expecting that answer, your jaw drops and you kick him in the ribs, knowing he won’t feel a thing. Max laughs and grabs your calf before you can kick him again, turning his body to face you.

“I mean…” He starts, pulling your legs towards him. You easily slide down on the couch, your back now flat in the cushions. “Will I miss feeling your warm, soft body under mine when I fuck you?” He cages you slowly, setting himself between your legs and pressing his body against yours. “Yes. Will I miss your scent when you get wet?” He grabs your outer thigh abruptly and you gasp in surprise. “Absolutely. Will I miss the taste of your blood?” Max gently presses his lips on the column of your neck and you close your eyes, groaning with the sensation. “You bet your cute little ass I will.”

“Max…” You whisper his name when he lets out a low growl, intertwining your fingers on his hair.

You can feel his fangs scraping against the skin of your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. He knows your heart is beating like crazy inside your chest as he buries his face on your neck. With the touch of his sharp fangs on the skin of your neck, you embrace yourself for the familiar light pain, wondering if it’ll hurt more when he turns you into a vampire. Usually, Max bites you when things are hot and heavy in bed, and most times you don’t feel a thing, just a puncture followed by the pleasant feeling of him licking the wound. But now… Now you’re kinda scared it’ll hurt. And you like it.

Max hums and smiles against your skin, kissing his way up to your lips. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Shut u–” You gasp when he slips his hand between your legs, caressing you over your pajama pants. He approaches his lips to your ear and you shudder in pleasure, tightening your grip in his hair.

“But will I absolutely love to see you as a vampire?” He continues as you mewl under his touch. “To see your eyes turn red when you’re hungry for blood? To feel your body on mine, and to not have to hold back? To be with you forever?”

“I–” You try to speak, but your words are cut short when Max tugs the waistband of your pajama down and dips his fingers between your folds.

“Babe, I’ve been waiting years for you to ask me to turn you.”

With that, he slips two fingers inside you, watching as your breath hitches. His thumb meets the bundle of nerves and starts circling it, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You bring his lips to yours in a passionate kiss and you moan on his mouth when he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that spot you love so much.

"Oh, baby," you whimper, already close to your climax. "Max, fuck–

"Use your words, babygirl." He demands, a dominant one in his voice.

"I-I–" You try to speak.

"You want to cum, right?" He smiles when you nod, biting your lip.

Max presses his lips against yours again and then starts a trail of wet kisses until he reaches your pulse point. You shudder in anticipation, your breath heavy as the sensations overwhelm you. Once more, his fangs tease your skin and you feel the minimal prickle of them followed by his warm tongue massaging the spot. And then your legs shake and you're moaning his name over and over as you let it all out, coating his fingers with your fluids. 

He doesn't stop until you're pushing his hand away from you, squirming with overstimulation. Then, he waits for your breath to be even, his body still caging yours, your fingers still tangled on his hair. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out of you and you whimper at the sensation of his thumb brushing against your sensitive clit.

“So, you’re not gonna leave me for a warm soft human, once I’m a vampire then?” You say once you’ve calmed down. Max snaps his eyes up to look at you. You’re smiling but he knows you mean it deep down.

“Knowing you could kick my ass? Never.” He teases. “And I don’t want to.”

“Aren’t you gonna get tired of me?” All of sudden, your tone sadder this time. “I mean I’m gonna be immortal, right? Just like you…”

Max smirks at you and rests his chin on the valley of your breasts. “Aren’t you gonna get tired of me? It’s the whole eternity, baby.”

“No,” you answer without a beat, frowning. “I mean, you are a dick most of the time, but I love you. I’d never–”

You interrupt yourself when the penny drops and Max just raises his brows. Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and look away, pressing your lips together.

“Babe." He adjusts himself so he can approach his face to yours. "I don't care if you're a human, a vampire, or a fucking elf…"

"Do elves exist?" You ask, widening your eyes.

"It doesn't matter." Max shrugs your question away. "The point is. Whatever you are, however you wish to live, I'll never get tired of you." He gives you a peck on the lips. "Wanna know why?"

The smile that comes to you is impossible to suppress as you kiss him once more, mumbling on his lips. "Why?"

"’Cause you have a nice ass." He whispers slowly.

"I am going to beat the fuck out of you." You don't flinch as you speak on his lips; Max chuckles and reaches to cup your jaw, deepening the kiss.

"Oh, and also I love you," he says when he pulls away from you.

The laugh that comes out of your lips is soft as you shake your head, biting your lower lip.

"Who knew that, to keep Max Phillips on a leash, all you had to do is have a nice ass."

Max laughs and gets off of you, grabbing your hand and pulling out of the couch.

"Come on." He starts pulling you to the bedroom. "I have to finish what I started."

…

Max is up to something.

You know it because he'd never paid for a hotel room for the two of you to spend the night after a date night. And he just texted you, telling you to wear that red dress he loves so much because he was going to take you to dinner and then to a hotel room.

Deep down, you know what's going to happen, but you decide to shove this thought away.

He'll pick you up at seven, just after work, which is in an hour and a half, but you can't help but start getting ready already. You feel your stomach twist with the sudden change in Max's behavior, but try to take a couple of breaths to calm yourself. You're sure it's nothing. Maybe he got promoted and wants to celebrate.

Yeah, that's what it is. A promotion.

The dress is one of the many he bought you, but it's his favorite. Low cut, silk material, hugs your curves and it's tight in all perfect places. Red. His favorite color, naturally. You put on some makeup and try to do your hair, but your hands shake slightly in anticipation.

Eventually, you're done with a few minutes to spare. You try to get distracted, putting a video on your phone to pass the time, but the jitters in your stomach are always there. When Max texts you, saying he's waiting for you, you take the apartment's key, turn off the lights and take a deep breath before leaving.

"You look gorgeous, babe." He greets you with a kiss on the cheek when you enter the car.

"You like it?" You smile, smoothing the dress when it raises, exposing your thigh. You know he likes it when that happens, but you feel nervous and you have to do something with your hands or he'll know.

"I love it. You know it."

You give him a smirk as he starts to drive to the restaurant with a hand on your thigh. His thumb traces circles on your bare skin and, occasionally, his fingers slip to your inner thigh as he scratches lightly on your sensitive skin. He knows what he's doing, he can smell your pheromones when you get aroused, which is why he's trying to turn you on right now.

Max is a little shit and he knows it.

"You okay?" He asks nonchalantly, glancing at you briefly before returning his eyes to the traffic.

"Y-yeah." You stutter, swallowing hard. He doesn't say anything else, but you see the smug smirk on his face.

After you arrive at the restaurant and take your seats, you finally ask him what's in your mind.

"What's the occasion?" Your eyes are on the menu, but your heart is in your throat.

"We're celebrating," he replies, setting the menu down and looking into your eyes.

So, it is a promotion. See, nothing to worry about…

"You got promoted, then?" You look at him surprised, ready to congratulate him. But he frowns his lips downwards and shakes his head.

"Nope." Max shrugs and looks at the menu again.

A quiet pause hangs between you two and you feel your heart speed up, the twist in your stomach coming back stronger than before. You see a half smile on his face and you fucking know he listening to your body's reaction.

"W-well." Your voice trembles. "Then, what are we celebrating?"

"You'll see."

Just like that, you’re all nervous again. Not even the food calms you down once it arrives, having lost your appetite despite Max telling you to eat. Regardless, dinner lasts forever and Max even orders a dessert, making it last even longer. But he still doesn’t tell you the reason for all this until dinner is over and you’re both at the hotel room’s door. You feel like your heart is going to burst in your chest as he takes the card and inserts it in the keyhole.

“Baby, just breathe.” He pauses and looks at you for a moment. You look into his eyes, those inviting, warm eyes that always made you feel calm and safe, and take a deep breath, nodding.

When Max opens the door and lets you in, you see the biggest suite you’ve ever laid eyes on. The door leads to a room with dark wallpaper and black carpet. The bed is huge, with a golden duvet, the nightstands and desks covered in small candles, lighting the room dimly. You take some time to observe the room as you hear Max close the door and walk behind you.

"Max…" Your voice trembles. "What's the reason for all this?"

"I think you know, honey."

His voice suddenly gets dark and low, and you audibly swallow, your heart speeding up as you feel his lips on your neck. He gently nibbles on your skin, sending a wave of pleasure and adrenaline through your entire body; you shiver, letting out a shaky breath and closing your eyes.

“It looks like a ritual.” You joke, then pause. "I'm scared." You confess before you can stop yourself from telling the truth.

One rule of your relationship with Max is always to be honest with each other. Especially because he can sense things better than you. Whenever you got mad, or upset at him he'd always know and ask you to tell him the truth. You liked that about him. Even though it irritated you sometimes.

"I know," he mumbles into your skin and then gently takes your chin, making you look at him. His eyes are already glowing red when you look at them, but his gaze is soft at you. "Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes," you answer with no hesitation.

Max then crashes his lips against yours in a rough, yet firm kiss. His hand cups the back of your neck, bringing you closer to him and you open your mouth, letting him deepen the kiss. Pulling you towards the bed, Max hooks an arm on your lower back and sits on the mattress as you straddle him, lacing your hands behind his neck.

You grind your hips against him and he groans, squeezing the flesh of your hips and guiding you on top of him. Max tugs at the thin straps of your dress, pulling it down to let it fall on your waist, revealing your breasts to him. He doesn't waste time and cups them roughly, kneading, and pulling at your nipples roughly. You breathe heavily on his mouth, gasping and whimpering, while you fumble with the buttons of his shirt, loosening his tie and pulling it off of him.

He runs his nails on your back, making you moan and throw your head back; his lips connect with your neck as you grind hard on him, your climax building up more each second. Your skin already glistens in the glow of the candles with sweat, your moan getting louder as Max teases your skin with his fangs.

“Max!” You whimper, your begging tone like music to his ears.

“Not yet.” He growls and easily switches positions, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you on your back.

He kneels on the bed, eyeing you like he’s the hunter and you’re his prey. Max takes his time as he shrugs off his shirt and reaches for his belt. Your hands tremble as you pull your dress over your head, and hook your thumbs on the elastic of your underwear.

“Don’t move.” Max orders as he undresses. A feeling bubbles in your stomach, anticipation making your shiver as you look at him fisting his cock in his hand. “Stay like this.”

The smell of sex and sweat reaches your nose and you wonder if it’s stronger for a vampire. You guess after tonight, you’ll know.

“You wore this for me?” He asks as he leans down, hooking a thumb on the elastic band of your lingerie. You give him an innocent look and nod, your lips curving into a sweet smile. For a moment, he smiles too, before he pulls your underwear to the side and dips his fingers into your folds, moaning when he finds you soaking yet. “Oh, baby…”

“Max…” You close your eyes, whining his name.

“I love it when you say my name like that.”

Max then adjusts himself on top of you and enters you, giving you no time to get used to the length of him. Through the seven years of your relationship, you had sex with Max countless times, in any way you could possibly imagine. But not like this.

Not like tonight.

Tonight he's rough. Feral. And it's not like he's never been rough with you. Tonight it’s different for some reason. He’s different. Or maybe you’re different. You don’t know. It’s hard to think when he’s pounding hard into you, his hips slapping against yours, hitting that sweet spot over and over.

It’s like he was holding back all these years and is finally letting go. You feel his cock stretching you and hitting hard against your cervix that you worry for a second if you’re going to bleed. But you bet he’d like that.

“Fuck– Baby–” Max groans in your ear. “I– Shit, you feel so good–”

You moan loudly when he cups one of your breasts hard, pinching your nipple. The climax is almost there, you can feel it as you tangle your fingers on his hair and pull hard. Max groans and moans and you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Sorry, baby, but I– fuck, I lied.”

His words seem to pull you out of your pleasure haze and you pull your brows together, looking at him with confused eyes.

“What–” You try to speak, but when you feel the sharp of his fangs on your neck, you gasp.

“This is going to hurt.”

You barely register his words before you feel him closing his mouth on your neck and biting into your skin. The pain doesn’t come right away, instead, you feel a pressure, and then, moments later, it feels like fire. It spreads from your neck through your entire body and you feel it everywhere. Max groans as he drinks your blood and you feel the vibrations from his voice as tears blurry your vision. At some point, you don’t know if you’re going to cum or pass out. Maybe both, because you finally feel yourself clamp around him, the waves of pleasure hitting you stronger than usual. You shake and whimper his name, nails digging on his back as you moan and gasp.

And then everything goes black.

…

Max pulls out of you at the moment you blackout. His lips are smeared with your blood, his eyes still glowing red. He drank enough of your blood to taste it like he never did before and he wondered why he didn’t turn you sooner.

Well, he knows why. The idea had to come from you, he couldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to. Losing your humanity isn’t like choosing which place you were going to order dinner from.

He remembers what it felt like. Being an immortal creature, freshly turned, thirsty for blood, and craving violence. So, he promised himself he’d take care of you. He’d help you, teach you how to be a vampire. You’re his partner after all.

Max sighs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Leaning over, he presses his lips on your forehead and tucks you in, knowing that when you wake up, you’ll be a different creature. He climbs off the bed, reaching for his trousers on the floor; with another sigh, he shoves his hand on the pocket of them, pulling a black velvet little box from it. The diamond ring glistens in the candle lights and he smiles to himself, knowing for a fact you’ll love it.

Finally.

__

tags: @huliabitch @mistermiraclee @murdermewithbooks @gooddaykate @kingpascals @theocatkov @aerynwrites @haildoodles-writing @hiscyarika @bestintheparsec @opheliaelysia @buckysalefty @din-damn-djarin @the-wishmonger @forever-rogue

please, fill this form if you want to be tagged in any of my stuff!!

[ggyuwwoo]

heaven's cloud : Paradise

- in the afterlife where we get to choose our own paradise, two souls unexpectedly meet.

genre: soulmates!au, but also involves idolverse, kinda fantasy whimsical, afterlife-paradise world; fem!reader x lee chan warnings: mentions of death, magical creatures, not really sure what else i guess word count: 2.4k + i generally am not good at making these infos, bear with me sorry! also not really fond of the fic picture, but i also suck and still is learning,,,,

next | masterlist

-

Lee Chan, for your exemplary journey in life, you are hereby bestowed a place in Paradise.

"I'll take the clouds if I may,"

Then to the clouds you shall ascend, Heaven's Cloud.

-

Eleven months of (not) living in paradise, Chan had adapted well into his afterlife. The Guides had placed him in his own haven of his choosing, the Clouds. Fluffy white and softer than cashmere, the touch is cooling and healing, peace and quiet were also a given. To Chan, it's his very definition of heaven.

Despite being the only soul - apparently, no one has chosen the Clouds for centuries - Chan has been never alone. He had the little fairies and spirits to keep him company while wandering around the forests. Stars often appear in his nights to cast a light show for the boy. Cancer loves to see Chan's awe-stricken face as the constellation shows him a few tricks.

The Clouds inhabitants and surrounding astronomical beings grew fond of the boy. Hence, Lee Chan never felt alone.

Though it was a blissful experience and a beautiful memory, there was only one month left. One month until the end of his livelihood above the world.

You will be given twelve months of afterlife until your next life begins.

Chan still doesn't understand why they must be sent back to Earth, living another full life that may or may not be 'great'. Though the thought of living on Earth, whatever their life might be, is already a disappointing thought. After having to exist in a paradise of your own, nothing else would come close.

But apparently, the universe believes differently.

The fairies and spirits told him once, 'Universe sought in a cycle, to them it's the perfect way as it does not end, leading to the continuation of life and its purposes.'

"But what exactly do those purposes serve if there is no end to it?"

'There is none silly, if there was to be an end to it, then life itself would cease to exist. It serves to preserve life as we know it, and well - the Universe.'

Chan pondered the thought for a while, "What if, just really hypothetically, someone happens to break the cycle, what happens then?"

The fairies' expression saddened, 'Hopefully it never happens.' Some of them flew to sit on Chan's shoulder, a calming place for them. 'But if it were to happen somehow, life wouldn't perish instantly, but the Universe and everything in it will meet its end, including the afterlife.'

The boy nodded before noticing the frowns on the beautiful faces of the winged creatures, the atmosphere had taken a drop turn. Choosing to lighten the somber mood, Chan raised another question. "Well then, um, what about aliens? Do they exist?”

-

Throughout the time he was there, Chan spent it listening to the stories of the creatures, exploring the cloud haven that seemingly doesn't end, and conversing every now and then with the astronomical beings -- when they so happened to be passing by.

It didn't get boring for the boy as the stories that the fairies had been plenty and new, never losing the interest of Chan, and the beings were more than happy to talk with him about almost anything.

Of course, all this was okay and fine, revealing the Universe's secrets and whatnot, Chan wouldn't remember this anyway when he enters his next life.

On the first day of his twelfth month, Chan woke up from his sleeping quarters in the usual well-rested sleep. Walking out to do his routine of visiting the forest and later on relaxing by the Serenity Sky Lake. But before he could reach the outlines of White Forest, he saw a figure walking through the field, he couldn't see clearly who it was, but what he registered in his mind was enough to make him gasp.

It was another soul. A human.

As quickly as his feet could take him, Chan sped through the flurry landscape of clouds, wanting to figure out this stranger.

"Hey you! Hey!"

The figure turned to the general direction of where Chan was coming from, revealing its appearance. Upon view, Chan stumbled over nothing, causing him to fall forward into a roll and tumbling on the ground until he laid flat on his back. Luckily, there were clouds under him.

"Oh my God! Are you okay?" He heard the figure shout before rustling and someone appeared by his side. Chan scrunched his eyes trying to block the light coming from above while identifying the person looming over him. The first thing he noticed was long brown hair, the strands were flowing almost magically. As if hypnotized by it, Chan could only stare. Until finally, he saw the stranger's face.

She’s ethereal.

~

You were quite confused as to why you were where you were. All you could see for miles were… white? Your body was standing on nothing, or at least that was how it looked. A sudden voice interrupted your wonders.

Welcome _____, you are in Paradise.

You turned back to find the source of the voice but all you found was a blinding light that caused you to squint your eyes.

“Wh-what? Where?”

Paradise dear, the afterlife.

Your mind went blank, the afterlife? No way. Your brain tried remembering the last thing before waking up in this weird place.

There’s no use child, your memories are long gone. But I can tell you this, you went in peace. You weren’t in pain.

Were the voices capable of reading minds? And who were they? You were a bit frightened.

To answer your question, yes we can read minds. We are the Guides, here to assist the souls in the afterlife. There’s no need to be afraid.

“Uh, okay, ...thank you?” You voiced out, still a little overwhelmed with whatever was going on.

Well then, perhaps we should take you to your choice. Please, follow the green path.

Just as the voices finished speaking, a sudden green line appeared in front of you. You couldn’t see what was ahead, just the green line until the end. You decided to follow through, whatever this was.

As you walked on the path, you were gradually transported to a different place. When you were finally able to understand your surroundings, there were screens that had different landscapes and writings in different colors under them. The scenes displayed were (what you could only describe as) heavenly. Each of them has its own set of vibe and warmth to it. Unconsciously your hand moved itself to touch one of the screens, but then the voices returned prompting you to pull it back.

What you see in front of you are the places in Paradise, according to how one lives their life on Earth, you have a series of options that you may choose from. I shall provide you a look-through.

The screens suddenly disappeared and now you were standing in what looked like those busy city streets, only not so busy.

First is the Silver City. Its appearance resembles the metropolitan areas down on Earth but without all the pollution, noises, and busy traffic. Many people who had used to live in these areas usually choose them, sensing a familiarity to it, they say.

As the Guides explained its landscapes, you were admiring the tall buildings and skyscrapers around you. The architectural designs were marvelous and even if you didn’t remember if you had studied such things, you can’t help but stare in admiration.

Aside from the buildings, the streets looked beautiful as well. The sidewalks were arranged perfectly as if it was placed with the most proper city planning. But one building stuck out to you most, it was majestic. A silver mansion, with tall gates and filled with all kinds of trees and plants. Before you could step towards it, the Guides were already finished explaining the Silver City and had transported you instead to another location.

Second, the Golden Countryside. As the name states, this place is best likely your ultimate countryside farm paradise. A quaint farmhouse with animal livestock to nurture and many forests to explore and spend time in. Families often choose this place for their resting, it’s quite homey.

True to their words, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. It was a vast field of grass with a simple two-story house that looked like it could fit six bedrooms. Beside it was a giant farmhouse and animals roaming around it. The view itself was doubled in beauty as the sun (or whatever source of light that existed here) sets from behind, casting a soft orange glow over it. Somehow the silver mansion from earlier was placed way aside in your head. Yet again, before you could ask any questions, you were immediately transported once more.

The third is Cosmic Space. Ever wondered how it is to live in Space child?

You heard the voice give out a sound that was similar to a laugh, but somehow not quite.

More people than you’d expect actually dream of this. It may not be as simple as the City or the Countryside, but it’s nonetheless paradise. To them.

Now you were most definitely floating, though despite floating in the middle of random space, you could breathe easily and see easily as well. You thought that space may be too wild for you but as you were looking around, you saw one of the most magical things you have ever seen.

“A comet shower…”

The Guides seemed to have heard you as they projected the shower closer, now holographic space comets were right above you, shining as they continued the rain of them. Mesmerized was all you could feel, the meteors were almost hypnotizing you.

“Whoa…”

Beautiful isn’t it?

Was the last thing you heard before you felt the sudden pull of transport again, at this point you were no longer fazed with the continuous changing of locations, though you did wish to have been able to watch the shower longer.

Number four, the Pearl Waters. For those who favor the deep sea and vast oceans. Of course, many souls who felt close to the waves chose this. The afterlife here is often intriguing, staying with the many creatures and traveling wherever paradise takes you.

You found yourself standing on a deck of a ship, it was modernized though some parts resemble that of an older version. Heading to the flanks you watched the blue ocean as the waves sloshed around the sides. As if welcoming you, dolphins suddenly jumped above the sea, whalebacks spurting water, and schools of fish could be seen from the clear water. You were most surely amazed. As the sea creatures displayed a water show, you felt something touching your arm on the railing. You looked to find a woman with green-blue hair, her cheeks had features similar to scales, and as you peered further you realized it wasn’t a woman at all.

“A...mermaid?”

Ah yes, indeed. Each paradise also has guardians that help care and maintain the afterlife. Mermaids are the Pearl Waters guardians. As for the Silver City, we have the Elves. Golden Countryside has the Shapeshifters while Cosmic Space has Angels.

“Wait what?” You were pretty much confused all together, mythical creatures? Well, then again, it is the afterlife, who knows what actually exists here. But still, you found yourself in confusion and quite the shock.

Not to worry dear, you’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted. Now for our last destination.

The mermaid who was staring at your side gave you a small smile before disappearing back into the ocean. You continued to stare at her general direction before your view changed into that of...clouds?

Last but not the least, Heaven’s Cloud. It’s truly magical here. Not many people find it appealing though, but of course it always depends on who’s choosing. Essentially, it's the skies. The guardians here are the fairies and spirits. Quite the peculiar and very friendly creatures.

As your eyes set on the landscape, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp. It was breathtaking. It was as if you were standing right in front of the Sun but at the same time, you weren’t. You knew for one you’ve never been in a place like this yet all you could feel from the surroundings was home. You leaned down to touch the fluffy ground and it was the softest thing you’ve ever felt. As quickly as the previous location visits, the surroundings changed again back to their original place with screens.

Now _____, because of the well-lived life that you have gone through. You, _____, are given the choice of one of the five Paradises that you have just seen. Speak now for your choice.

You didn’t know if it was your own voice and mind that spoke, or your conscience, because the sound that erupted from your body sounded firm and almost unbreakable. You didn’t even realize that you had spoken your choice after it was said.

“Heaven’s Cloud if I may,”

The Guides paused for a moment as if they were thinking about something, before continuing.

Very well then, your heart has spoken. To Heaven’s Cloud, you shall go.

One last time, you were again transported to a field with white clouds, similar to the earlier landscape you visited. This time without the voices. Somehow you suddenly felt alone, scared, and unsure of what to do. Wandering aimlessly, you tried looking for the guardians - the fairies and spirits. Then you suddenly heard someone shout.

“Hey you! Hey!”

You turned back to see a man, brown fluffy hair swaying atop his head, running towards you. Well, was running, until he stumbled down and started rolling across the field.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” you shouted before heading towards the boy. As you reached his side, you saw he was unhurt and fine, just squinting his eyes. You sighed in relief, although it should make sense, after all, it was clouds underneath them. Before you could say anything to the stranger, you caught him staring right at you, and somehow you stared back as well.

The boy looked mesmerizing.

[yikestripes]

Across the Bar

a/n: this is lowkey ass but here’s another request filled !!! if i don’t fill your request i am so sorry my inbox is VERY full and some of them get lost in the sauce!! 

word count: 2k

warnings: hints at smut but none actually, fluff as always

“Are you sure we can’t cancel?” Spencer whined, letting his hands come to rest on your hips. You had gone to the break room for a last minute pick-me-up before heading out to the bar with the team, not knowing that Spencer had followed you. It had been a long day with the completion of a case early in the afternoon, and the jet ride was only an hour and a half back to Quantico. You knew Spencer wasn’t fond of the bar scene on a good day, let alone after a long winded case.

“Spence, it’s okay, you don’t have to go if you really don’t want to.” You said leaning into him as you made your coffee. Spencer frowned and shook his head.

“No, I’ll go.” You handed Spencer the extra coffee you had made for him and he gulped it down gratefully, pausing to rub his eyes. You grinned and placed a kiss on his cheek before returning to your desk to grab a pair of new clothes. You went to the bathroom to change, and found Emily and JJ already in there, getting ready.

“Hey there!” Emily said, applying a fresh coat of lipstick.

“Did you convince Spence to join us?” JJ asked.

“Somehow yes. It took a lot of coaxing and a few promises of different things for when we get home tonight.” You giggled. Emily’s jaw dropped and JJ raised her eyebrows, sharing a look with Emily.

“Ooooh, dirty things?”

“I don’t kiss and tell!” You replied, fixing your makeup in the mirror. Emily and JJ shared your laughter and you went into the stall to get changed. You emerged in a red, off the shoulder top and a pair of red black skinny jeans with some calf-high heeled boots. You looked in the mirror and grinned at yourself. You looked like a badass. JJ and Emily had already finished and returned to the bullpen by the time you got changed, with Morgan and Spencer. Morgan whistled as you approached and Spencer stopped mid-conversation with JJ to drop his jaw. You knew that red was Spencer’s favorite color, so wearing it in this capacity was a huge thing for him. You grinned as he approached, resting his hands on your waist.

“You look absolutely gorgeous, my love.” He said quietly, placing a quick peck on your lips. Morgan whistled again, and you gave him the finger. He held his hands up in surrender and walked towards the doors, the rest of your team and you following him into the elevator, where Spencer grabbed your hand. Generally Spencer wasn’t a huge fan of PDA, however, he knew that it was your “love language” of sorts, so he would often compromise with small but sweet gestures; such as allowing his hands to rest on your hips or waist, holding your hand, or the occasional peck on the cheek or lips. It was small enough that Spencer was still comfortable, but it made you ridiculously happy.

You split up among yourselves in the parking lot, meeting up at the bar. Hotch promised Emily that he would take his own car there, to which Emily made a face. He gave a look with her that conveyed he had to do something he didn’t want to, such as having a conversation with the witch herself, Erin Strauss. Prentiss broke into a sympathetic smile as she climbed into the car and rocketed out of the parking lot. You plugged your phone into Spencer’s aux to try and get him a bit more perked up, so you put on one of your playlists that he hated the least; and actually had come to enjoy. He hummed along quietly, absentmindedly stroking his thumb across the top of your hand. You stared out the window and just appreciated the quiet time you got with your love. You arrived shortly later, and the drinking had commenced as soon as you and Spence walked in. Garcia shoved a Bay Breeze into your hand and forced you to chug it for being late.

You complied, shotgunned the drink, and slammed it back down on the bar with a cheer. Garcia seemed satisfied and you felt a hand on the small of your back; it was Spencer. He had a weird look on his face, following his gaze you quickly realized why- some guy at the bar was staring at your ass. His look quickly changed to a scowl as he pulled you in and placed a passionate kiss on your lips, to show the entire place you were entirely his. He pulled away and you quickly pecked his lips and smiled.

“I love you.” You said.

“I love you too.” Spence grinned and took a sip of his beer, grimacing at the taste. It was one of the alcoholic drinks he despised the least, but that was not to say that he was particularly fond of it. He couldn’t understand how Morgan was such a fan of the drink, but learned quickly not to ask questions. To each his own.

Spencer lost track of you rather quickly as you were a little ways away, at the other end of the bar, doing shots. Suddenly Spencer felt a presence behind him, and looked back to see Morgan.

“What’s up, Boy Wonder? You look a little lost.” Spencer frowned and shrugged.

“I just don’t like the party bar sort of scene, but I wanted to make (Y/N) happy.” Morgan chuckled and took a sip of his beer.

“Pretty boy, you are both very very sweet, and frankly quite whipped.” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and looked at his friend, who was being beckoned by Garcia. Spencer followed behind and when you saw him, you lit up.

“Hey you,” You said, reaching out your hand. Spencer took it gratefully, and pulled you into a hug. You melted into him.

“You guys wanna grab a seat at the bar, get some apps and a few more drinks?” Morgan offered, taking Garica’s hand. You all agreed and Prentiss walked away to call Hotch, to see if he was on his way and if he wanted anything for when he got there.

Your time at the bar was relatively short lived before moving to a table to accommodate the group better. Morgan sat back with his arm slung around Garcia’s shoulders, who was getting closer to tipsy with every sip of her margarita. You were talking about first kisses, to which you felt Spencer tense up slightly beside you, like he so often did during these sorts of conversations.

“I mean, I kissed my childhood best friend on the playground, but I doubt that really counts.” You paused.

“Not really. It counts for something, but it’s not your real like, first kiss. Spill it, girl.” Morgan said, smirking.

“Alright, alright. I was a sophomore in high school; my best friend had this family friend who had a son a year younger than us, who went to high school with us. He was really sweet, but also very VERY quiet. We were sort of friends, in a sense. Like, we knew each other and would text back and forth sometimes, mostly about a bio class we had together, but regardless. I really liked him and he never expressed any real interest in me, other than just like smiling at me and getting close to me, which didn’t mean much. Anyway, my best friend and I went to a New Year’s Eve party at his house and we were mostly hanging out in the basement or floating around with the various kids we went to high school with, just hanging out and other teenager stuff. Lo and behold, it’s the countdown to midnight and he appeared at my side. It became midnight and he grabbed my hand so I would look at him, he took my head in his hands and just kissed me.” You smiled at the memory of the sweet boy who only lasted in your life for about a month.

Derek laughed, Garcia and Prentiss awed, and Spencer didn’t really express anything. He just took a quiet sip of his beer.

“Alright, I said. It’s your turn, Prentiss!” Her eyes widened as she shook her head.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” She smirked, echoing your words from earlier today. You rolled your eyes as Hotch approached the table.

“Saved by the bell.” You muttered as Emily stood, giving Hotch a quick peck on the lips. He smiled and sat beside her.

“Another round?” You offered, standing up with your now empty glass. You crossed the room and took a seat at the bar, waiting for the bartender to notice you. You saw someone sit beside you out of your peripheral and realized it was Garcia, who was grinning wickedly.

“Hi, Sweets.” She said, sounding entirely too innocent. You narrowed your eyes.

“What did you do?” You asked.

“Nothing!”

“Pen.”

“I didn’t do anything. I have an idea,” She smirked.

“Oh God, what?”

“I saw this hilarious thing on Twitter last night where you text your significant other something SUUUPER nasty when you’re in a public setting together to see how they react.” You considered it for a minute, when the bartender approached. You listed off the group’s order and he disappeared.

“You’ve caught my attention, Pen. Have you tried it with Derek?” She raised her eyebrow.

“Have I tried it. Please, honey. I’ve done it 4 times tonight alone, have you noticed him even FLINCH?” You glanced back at Morgan, who was clapping Hotch on the back. Your eyes wandered to Spencer, who was finally smiling, and looked like he was actually having a good time. Perfect opportunity.

“You’re on, Garcia. $20 says Spencer blushes, shifts in his seat, and looks down at the table.”

“Alright, I say he smirks, rests his head on his hand, and gives you that look he does right before you leave the BAU.” A flush filled your face as you realized that your allegedly “discreet” look was apparently not so discreet.

The bartender returned with the drinks seconds later, and you only had about a minute to come up with something GOOD. With the help of Garcia, you got to work crafting the dirtiest text you could think of that would earn you the response you were looking for from your boyfriend.

Spencer felt his phone vibrating in his pocket which immediately alarmed him, considering the few people that would actually text him were all sitting with him. Besides you, who had gone to the bar, but you wouldn’t have just disappeared and only sent a text. He furrowed his eyebrows as he read the text he received from you, immediately reacting the way you thought he would.

He quickly locked his phone and put it face down on the table, running a hand through his hair in discomfort. He felt the blood rushing to his cheeks, among other places, as he began shifting in his seat to try and discreetly make himself a bit more comfortable. He stared at the table, hard, as if he was going to burn a hole through it with his eyes. Meanwhile, you were collecting $20 from Garcia across the room, in tears from laughing so hard. With Penelope’s help you escorted the drinks back to the table, earning a few cheers from your friends. You sat beside Spencer and placed a casual hand on his thigh, making him squirm even more.

“Why did you do that?!” He whispered in your ear.

You simply smirked in response and took a sip of your drink.

“Let’s just say i’m now $20 richer.” Spencer narrowed his eyes at you before looking around the table, his eyes landing very quickly on Garcia. She was being uncharacteristically quiet and still leaning on Derek, but avoiding eye contact with Spencer. He scowled and she ignored it, trying to suppress her laughter.

You placed a chaste kiss on Spencer’s cheek and he shifted again, but grabbed your hand anyway. For what it was worth, Spencer was definitely very good at putting up with your mischievous ways.

You unlocked your phone to send someone a text, when you saw your own to Spencer. You grinned in spite of yourself.

I can’t think about anything besides you throwing me on the bar and ravaging me in every way you please. You know, kinda like last night…. I’ve never heard you say my name so loud.

[disastermages]

this is for @alliecatstrophe bc she’s one of my best friends and bc she loves it when lxc plays matchmaker

--

"Wangji, that wasn't what it looked like." His brother tells him, but Lan Wangji barely hears his brother over the blood rushing in his ears. His exam prep class had ended early, and Lan Wangji had walked in on Lan Xichen and Wei Ying standing together with barely an inch between them while Lan Xichen adjusted Wei Ying’s posture. 

He'd stood there and looked at the both of them dumbstruck, but Wei Ying had noticed him before his brother had, and he'd turned the full force of his smile on to Lan Wangji. He would have crumbled underneath it if Lan Xichen hadn't turned to look at him right after, smiling as though he hadn't brought the source of his younger brother's distraction into their home.

"I'm only doing it as a favor, Wangji, please," Lan Xichen pleads, following Lan Wangji up the stairs when he still doesn't turn to look at him. "Jiang Yanli told me they couldn't find anyone else to tutor him on the dizi. He really is getting much better compared to how he was when we first started."

The explanation sounds too simple to be true, but Lan Wangji knew that his brother had been tutoring someone, but he hadn't asked who, and his brother had always gone elsewhere for the lessons, often refusing dinner when he returned.

Lan Wangji had just never truly imagined that his brother had been tutoring Wei Ying of all people.

"Why did you bring him here?" Lan Wangji asks, finally turning to face his brother, though he fails to keep the petulance out of his voice. If Lan Xichen hadn't brought Wei Ying here, Lan Wangji could have remained blissfully ignorant of the fact.

Lan Xichen looks truly apologetic then, looking down at the hardwood floors, "Wei Wuxian and I usually practice at his house, but his aunt was hosting her monthly book club and asked that we practice elsewhere. If I had known that the two of you were at odds, I wouldn't have brought him here." 

A flash of guilt and something else starts in Lan Wangji's stomach and moves up to his throat as he looks away from Lan Xichen, his nails digging into the banister. "We are not at odds." He says simply, heat beginning to color the tips of his ears and Lan Wangji only hopes that his brother doesn't notice.

"You aren't?" Lan Xichen asks, and he sounds confused as he looks up at Lan Wangji again, his eyebrows knit together. Lan Wangji can feel himself backing away from his brother then, forcing himself not to reach up and try to hide the blush brightening his ears.

He could still run away, he could duck into his bedroom and lock the door behind him and refuse to answer Lan Xichen when he came knocking. 

For one, wonderful moment, his plan seems plausible, but then Lan Xichen is coming closer and Lan Zhan feels himself back away instinctively. "Is Wei Wuxian the person you were telling me about?" His brother's words are gentle, but Lan Wangji only wishes that the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

He'd managed to avoid telling Lan Xichen Wei Ying’s name when he'd finally broken down and told his brother about his crush the week before, though he'd carried it with him for months now. He'd been so careful, he'd dodged certain questions perfectly, but just by standing in his living room, Wei Ying had undone all of that in less than five whole minutes.

Daring to glance up at him, Lan Wangji can watch the information come together on Lan Xichen's face, and he takes another half step towards his room. "Wei Ying is still waiting for you downstairs," Lan Wangji says, swallowing thickly and backing away when a smile spreads across Lan Xichen's face. "It would be impolite to leave him alone for much longer."

Lan Wangji doubted that Wei Ying would think either of them rude, but it was the only excuse he could grasp at that Lan Xichen might buckle under. 

Though, when he meets his brother's eyes again, Lan Wangji can see that he isn't going to take the bait. "I'm certain Wei Wuxian would appreciate someone else's feedback for a change of pace, if you'd like to sit with us, Wangji." His brother says, all of the sympathy and guilt from earlier leaving his voice as he glances backwards, as if he expected Wei Ying to appear behind him and agree with him.

Lan Wangji looks too, before he can stop himself.

"I have homework." Lan Wangji declines. It wasn't a lie, he had a paper that was due in three weeks, starting it now would be the best thing to do. 

Whether he believes him or not, Lan Xichen doesn't argue, he only smiles before he turns and walks downstairs again.

Lan Wangji knows better than to trust the smile on his brother's face.

His weekend should have been a peaceful one, but instead it had passed with Lan Xichen offering advice that he swears is helpful one moment and teasing him the next, telling him how Wei Ying had gone off on tangents about Lan Wangji and his own musical capabilities. Lan Wangji hadn’t asked to hear a word of it, but he’d only been met with a knowing smile whenever he dared to glare up at his brother. 

It isn't fair, Lan Xichen has been in his own relationship for years now, there's nothing Lan Wangji can do to retaliate. 

Not that he would, thinking about it is different than actually doing it.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying’s voice cuts through Lan Zhan's thoughts almost as soon as he walks into the classroom, the other boy almost bouncing out of his seat by the time Lan Zhan settles in at his own desk. "You left so fast when I was at your house last week, I didn't even get to say hi!" Wei Ying scolds, but the words are lined with a teasing tone and the pout on his face is quickly replaced with a grin. 

"I did not want to intrude." Lan Wangji hears himself say, knowing that it was as close to the truth as he'd let himself get while Wei Ying was looking at him like that.

"You still could have stuck around! Your brother says I need to get used to playing in front of people anyways, you could have been my first audience." There's that smile again, Lan Wangji was sure it was supposed to show him that Wei Ying wasn't really upset with him for leaving, but all it does is make the tangled, knotted mess of words in Lan Wangji's throat worse than it already was. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn't get the chance to before their teacher is starting class and Lan Wangji feels himself swallow down the tangle of words as he turns and faces forward in his seat. 

He's grateful for the distraction, really. Wei Ying knows that he won't answer him again until class is over, though it rarely stops him from trying.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying whispers, and Lan Wangji's eyes flick upwards to the clock on the wall, there’s still another 40 minutes before he would have to answer Wei Ying. "Lan Zhan," Wei Ying tries again, and Lan Wangji glances over at him this time, "tell me what your favorite song on the flute is and I'll ask your brother to teach me how to play it on my dizi.”

Normally, that kind of offer would be something Lan Wangji would only think about when he couldn't sleep and his mind inevitably drifted to thoughts of Wei Ying, but hearing it offered to him in real life makes his mouth feel dry. "There is no need." Lan Wangji answers, breaking his own rule, but he would feel guilty enough about it later, when Wei Ying was no longer looking at him.

Wei Ying groans loudly then, almost leaning over into Lan Wangji's space before their teacher calls on him to answer a question. He doesn’t try to hear whether or not Wei Ying answers the question correctly, instead, Lan Wangji forces himself to stare straight ahead, his hand taking notes almost mechanically.

He doesn’t doubt that Lan Xichen would teach Wei Ying any song he showed an interest in learning, it’s the thought of Wei Ying learning something for him that makes the knot of words even bigger in Lan Wangji’s throat, his grip on his pen entirely too tight as he ignores the way Wei Ying keeps trying to get his attention again, refusing to look over until he gives up entirely.

His throat feels tight when he dares to look over at Wei Ying out of the corner of his eye. Long hair drapes over Wei Ying’s shoulder like a shadow, stretching out and covering his forearm as Wei Ying reaches up and pushes some of it back. If it kept getting in the way, Lan Wangji knew that he would tie it up even higher eventually, sweeping it up into a messy bun that left his neck exposed and left Lan Wangji’s mouth even drier than it already had been. 

Unless Wei Ying’s own hair tie broke again, and if it did, he would wordlessly wave his hand at Lan Wangji until he handed him one out of his bag.

He wouldn’t have an answer if Wei Ying ever asked him why he carried hair ties, his own hair was kept short, and he’d only started carrying them after he’d watched Wei Ying whine and wince at using rubber bands in his hair.

Wei Ying’s hair tie does not break during the last few moments of their class and Wei Ying does not ask Lan Wangji why he carries hair ties in his bag.

He almost thinks that he’s escaped Wei Ying’s question, but then he’s caught in the middle of the hallway, Wei Ying’s hand tight around his wrist keeping him from going any further.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying whines, pulling at his hand and pouting when Lan Wangji finally turns around to face him. “Tell me your favorite song! I wanna learn it for you!”

Lan Wangji should tell him no, he should stay firm in his decision to turn him down, but a sigh is leaving him before he can stop himself. “I will tell my brother so the correct sheet music can be found when Wei Ying is ready to learn it.” His own resolve crumbles in Lan Wangji’s hands in the face of Wei Ying’s pout, just like it has every time since simple friendship had given way to a hopeless crush. 

“Really?” Wei Ying’s face brightens and his grip on Lan Wangji’s wrist only tightens as Lan Wangji nods minutely. No one else beyond his brother should have been able to catch it, but Wei Ying does. The pout is gone within seconds, like clouds breaking up after a storm to reveal a sun shining too brightly and too warmly over Lan Wangji’s skin. 

It should have been the end of the discussion, but Wei Ying insists on walking him to his next class, and Lan Wangji is incapable of telling him not to. 

Over the next few weeks, Lan Xichen’s excuses for bringing Wei Ying into their home become flimsier and flimsier.

One week, Lan Xichen had claimed that Jiang Cheng’s lacrosse team was having a meeting at the Jiang household. “It was so loud, Wangji, Wei Ying and I couldn’t even have a conversation, let alone even think about music.” The explanation had made sense, and coming from anyone else, Lan Wangji might have believed it, but it was the smirk on his face that had given Lan Xichen away.

The week after that, his brother had only shrugged and claimed that the acoustics in their living room were better than those in the Jiang’s living room.

Lan Wangji still hasn’t forgiven him for the week he’d asked Wei Ying to stay over for dinner, though Lan Xichen had claimed that he only wanted to make up for all the times Wei Ying’s family had invited him to their table.

His brother is a traitor, but Lan Wangji is getting more and more used to that particular realization. Lan Xichen only smiled kindly in the face of every look Lan Wangji could have possibly given him. 

He doesn’t believe it when his brother calls him and tells him that he’s going to be late to Wei Ying’s lesson because his car had gotten a flat, stranding him a whole town away. Lan Xichen had sworn he would be back in time.

“There’s no point in canceling the lesson,” Lan Xichen had told him that right before he asked Lan Wangji to keep Wei Ying company while he waited. 

Now, Lan Wangji is left to sit in the living room while he waits for Wei Ying, his spine perfectly straight even though he feels like sneaking up to his room and pretending that he isn’t home when the doorbell finally rings.

Lan Wangji thinks about doing just that until he’s twisting the doorknob and opening the door, but he’s rooted to the spot by the time Wei Ying’s face lights up, his own mouth falling open just a little bit.

Wei Ying doesn’t wait to be invited in, he just slides past Lan Wangji, careful not to knock his dizi case into him before he bends down to take off his shoes. His hair is mussed from the walk over and Lan Wangji feels his hand twitch with the want to step forward and smooth it down once Wei Ying rights himself.

Lan Wangji swallows it down as he closes the door. 

“My brother will be late today.” Lan Wangji says, following Wei Ying with his eyes as he walks into the living room and then turns around to look at Lan Wangji when he finds no Lan Xichen. There was more he could say, he could give Wei Ying a better explanation, but before his mouth can speak, his body is turning towards the stairs. 

The polite thing to do would be to sit with Wei Ying until his brother arrived, and Lan Wangji desperately wants to do that as much as he desperately doesn’t want to.

Wei Ying’s hand is wrapped around his wrist again by the time he’s climbed to the third step, almost dragging Lan Wangji back down to the first floor with him. “You’re gonna leave me down here by myself, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks as he pulls on Lan Wangji’s sleeve, and for a moment, he looks genuinely worried enough that Lan Wangji climbs back down a single step. He wants to tell Wei Ying that his brother won’t be long, that he’d promised Lan Wangji that much, but the worry on Wei Ying’s face quickly shifts into something much more mischievous. “Who’s gonna keep me from finding all your embarrassing baby pictures?”

In that same breath, all of the sympathy Lan Wangji might’ve had is gone, “Uncle keeps both mine and Xichen’s photos in a locked cabinet.” Lan Wangji wouldn’t say where, that would only give Wei Ying ideas, but he doesn’t back down.

“I can pick locks, you know.” Wei Ying takes his hand away and takes his warmth with it as he rocks back on his heels.

“You cannot.” Lan Wangji hadn’t ever seen Wei Ying pick a lock, but he couldn’t outright say that Wei Ying couldn’t, he could only say that he wasn’t allowed to do it here. 

“If you leave me by myself, how are you going to make sure I don’t do anything? I bet you were a cute baby, Lan Zhan.” He knew when Wei Ying was trying to rile him up, Wei Ying didn’t even bother to hide it anymore and Lan Wangji no longer bothered with trying to act as though he were unaffected. 

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji starts, stepping down once more. He’s only standing on the bottom step now, and Wei Ying’s head is level with his chest with barely an inch between them. 

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying’s hands are behind his back now, but Lan Wangji knows just how quickly those hands can get into trouble.

Their staring contest lasts only a few seconds, deadlocked silence weighing between them before Lan Wangji feels himself break, sidestepping Wei Ying as he climbs off the last step, but catches his wrist at the last second and drags him back into the living room behind him. 

Wei Ying’s too loud laughter bounces between the hallway and the living room and Lan Wangji’s grip on his wrist tightens before he can stop himself, his shoulders straightening out the next moment. He would not give Wei Ying the satisfaction of knowing that he’d ruffled him with what might have been empty threats. Those threats might have been completely unfounded, and Lan Wangji wouldn’t let himself find out either way, not today.

“Wei Ying should start before brother arrives, lessons will not take so long if you warm up before.” Lan Wangji would only stand in the living room with him to make sure he did it, he would not run Wei Ying through his exercises or guide his hands the way he’d watched his brother do, Wei Ying was far past the point of that being necessary.

It didn’t matter how much he wanted to.

To his credit, Wei Ying seems to consider it, setting his dizi case down on the coffee table and coming to stand just a few inches away from Lan Wangji, a look Lan Wangji couldn’t name spreading across his face before Lan Wangji even has the chance to think he might be up to something.

“When you say it like that, Lan Zhan, it sounds like you don’t want me around.” If Wei Ying notices Lan Wangji’s eyes widening by just a fraction, he has the kindness not to call him out for it, even as he takes another step closer and Lan Wangji wishes he had more room to back away.

“Is that it? Lan Zhan? Do you not want me here?” Wei Ying sounds quieter than he’d ever bothered to be in Lan Wangji’s presence, an honest frown pulling at his lips and Lan Wangji’s heart leaps up into his throat, dislodging the knot of words.

“No,” Lan Wangji answers, he knows his voice sounds rough, but he’s helpless to stop it as the truth comes spilling out, “I do not mind Wei Ying being here.” It doesn’t sound right, it doesn’t sound like enough, and when he dares to glance up at Wei Ying, he sees that he doesn’t altogether believe him.

“It’s okay if you don’t like me being here, Lan Zhan, Xichen-ge and I can always go back to practicing at my house-”

“No.”

Having Wei Ying in his house had driven Lan Wangji to distraction, but the thought of him leaving and never coming back is far, far worse.

“I like it when Wei Ying comes over.” Too much, Lan Wangji liked it too much when Wei Ying came over, he realizes, color starting at his ears and spreading down his neck and over his cheeks quickly. His fingers twitch and ache at his side to grab onto Wei Ying’s wrist again, to try and make him understand, but Lan Wangji thinks better of it, tucking both hands just behind his back.

Silence fills the air around them like flooding water and Lan Wangji is the first to look away, his chest already aching as if he were drowning. He should have gone up to his room and let Wei Ying do whatever he liked, he should have just asked his brother to cancel the lesson, he shouldn’t have-

Wei Ying steps forward and calls his name before Lan Wangji’s mind can spiral any further, his hand is warm, too warm, as he wraps his fingers around Lan Wangji’s wrist and pulls it from behind his back.

He expects Wei Ying to tease him and laugh, but he doesn’t, instead, he asks, too softly, “Lan Zhan, are you sure?”

Lan Wangji nods with a click in his throat, still unable to look up and meet Wei Ying’s eyes, even as the hold Wei Ying has on his wrist squeezes for just a second. “Do you want me to come over more?” The question is genuine enough that it makes Lan Wangji’s heart feel like it’s being squeezed. 

“Wei Ying could if he wanted.” It wasn’t like Lan Wangji hadn’t ever thought of inviting Wei Ying over before, but the words had always died on the tip of his tongue whenever he tried to give them voice.

Suddenly there’s barely a breath left between them as Wei Ying comes closer, their noses just brushing as Lan Wangji’s head snaps up. “Wei Ying would like to.” Wei Ying says slowly, the words coming out of his mouth as clunkily as Lan Wangji always feels his do, though the smile on Wei Ying’s face is different now, it’s softer, sweeter. “If that’s what Lan Zhan wants too.”

Lan Wangji’s mouth falls open just slightly and his eyes drop down to the hand that’s still holding onto his wrist, his other hand coming up to hold onto Wei Ying’s wrist gently as he nods silently. His words are sticking in his throat again, but the way Wei Ying’s smile brightens tells him that he understands.

“You’re brother’s gonna be so jealous when he realizes that I’m not coming over just for lessons anymore.” Wei Ying laughs, and Lan Wangji feels a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Brother will live.”

[theonethatwatchesalotofshows]

Ranking every teen drama I've watched

I have gotten really into teen dramas lately, because it's quarantine I can't go out and have fun, but I can still watch other people my age going out and having fun and doing things I don't get to do. Anyway I haven't seen all teen dramas, I was never interested in supernatural ones, so you won't find Vampire Diaries and similar shows on this list.

From worst to best:

The Secret Life of the American Teenager

I will never understand how this show ran for five seasons. It will forever remain a mystery to me. This show is so bad it's good. The writing resembles a wattpad story, Amy's pregnancy is inconsistent (like how was she five months pregnant for like five or six episodes, aren't the episodes supposed to be set a week apart?), the acting is bad (that is not to say that Molly Ringwald or Shailene Woodley are bad actresses, obviously they're not, I'm talking about Amy's sister that has the same facial expression no matter what her mood is supposed to be), some of the views this show expresses are very old-fashioned and damaging (the madonna-whore binary, the fact that they can't even utter the word abortion) and every single male character on this show is a creep and a cheater. I can't believe I watched like thirteen episodes of this. I will never get that time back.

Weirdest moment: "I'm a whore!" "Well, you're my whore." (Was this supposed to be romantic??)

Best moment: none

Glee

This is going to be unpopular and don't get me wrong, I like Glee, but I feel like the writers put much more thought into the musical numbers than the storylines. Again, Quinn's pregnancy is inconsistent (but I'm starting to think TV shows are always inconsistent about pregnancies), the characters don't look like they're in high school at all, the cheerleaders wear their uniforms 24/7 for no reason (Quinn even wore it to her sonogram, like seriously?) the whole celibacy club thing is weird and Mr Schue is a terrible teacher. However, the visuals and the musical numbers are great, Sue Sylvester is iconic (albeit also a terrible teacher) and some of the scenes are really emotional (Kurt singing I Wanna Hold Your Hand made my sister cry) so overall, it's pretty good.

Weirdest moment: Finn praying to grilled cheese (what??)

Best moment: Quinn giving birth to Bohemian Rhapsody, Kurt singing I Wanna Hold Your Hand

Dawson's Creek

I LOVE their 90s' outfits and Joey and Pacey are really otp material, but I just can't stand Dawson! He got mad that Joey didn't tell him about his mother's affair, as if it was her place to get involved. She was 15! It's understandible she didn't want to get tangled into that mess. He also slut-shamed Jen in a really gross way. He literally stopped talking to her for a day when he found out she isn't a virgin. Why are both Joey and Jen into this guy?? This would've been a much better show if it was called Joey's Creek or Pacey's Creek.

Weirdest moment: the way Dawson's mom confessed her affair to her husband. I don't think any irl human would use this choice of words. Also that scene where Dawson's father was teaching him how to kiss while Joey was watching. Cringe.

Best moment: any time Joey and Pacey are bickering. My shipper heart!

Pretty Little Liars

I loved the book version of this, but the TV version seems way too dramatic. First of all, they romanticized Aria and Ezra's relationship (ewww) and made the whole thing seem much more overdramatic. I don't know how to explain it, I mean the books are also dramatic but the TV show somehow took it to a whole new level. None of the girls look like they're in high school, but I love the way they dress and do their makeup. It's almost as though the writers put more thought into their outfits than storylines. I still loved watching it until Netflix took it off, though.

Weirdest moment: Spencer somehow trying to block A's number from her laptop in the middle of a park and then being confused that it didn't work. Weren't you supposed to be the smart one, Spencer?

Best moment: Haleb in the shower, hiding from Hanna's mom.

Skins

This is a classic. Effy is iconic (I somehow heard about her even before watching Skins) and the musical number at the end of season 1 was out of nowhere but still somehow fit perfectly into the story. I also give this show point for being one of the few TV shows where teen characters are actually played by real life teens. They look their age, talk their age (no "I reject reality" or other cringy lines like that) and aren't unrealistically perfect like characters from American teen dramas tend to be. They look like people you might actually meet in high school. However the show loses points for all the continuity errors (are 8 episodes supposed to be the whole school year??) and the number of unneccessary death/tragic accidents. It seemed kind of over-the-top and unneccessarily dark and brutal at times.

Weirdest moment: Chris's graphic death

Best moment: Wild World

Euphoria

The Gen Z American version of Skins, but with better visuals. Much better. I loved the aesthetic, the colors, the lighting and glitter. Zendaya's a great actress and I give this show points for casting an actual trans actress in the role of Jules. However I find it weird that all guys on this show are complete irredeemable assholes (except of Jules's dad and Ethan that is). Are we supposed to just root for the girls and not the guys? Also I find it hard to believe that any of these characters are actually 16/17. They have sex all the time (yeah teenagers have sex sometimes but on this show they treated Kat as some kind of a chaste nun for being a virgin at 16) and have seemingly no rules and no curfew. It would've been much more believable if they were in college.

Weirdest moment: Nate breaking into Tyler's house, beating him up and then taking a shower. The audacity this guy has!

Best moment: "You did this to me!" and Rue having an anxiety attack on the stage in theater class

Gossip Girl

I know this is also an unpopular opinion, because many claim Gossip Girl is the best teen drama ever, but for me it just got way too soapy as the seasons went on. The first two seasons were believable, even though they didn't really look like they were in high school, but after that it was just more and more weird plot points. I will give this show points for the fashion (I mean Blair's headbands and school uniform inspired a fashion line), the acting ("I killed someone"- iconic) and the choice of background music (Nate and Serena kissing to Paparazzi, Thanksgiving with Watcha Say). Despite the wild twists and turns of events, I just had to keep watching because this show had me hooked.

Weirdest moment: Bart Bass somehow flying off the building for no reason (seriously, what he did there had no logical explanation and defied laws of physics), Dan being Gossip Girl, Bart faking his death and returning more evil than before, Serena becoming Gossip Girl, the affidavit, everyone randomly stopping going to college... there are so many but Bart takes the cake I guess

Best moment: the Thanksgiving flashbacks from season 1, Dan placing a plastic crown on Blair's head

Freaks and Geeks

This is one of the few shows where high school is depicted realistically. It's not all glitter and parties and not everyone has sex and does drugs. Okay, I admit, the bullying was over the top and it was weird how no adults cared but other than that, it was pretty spot-on. It was emotional without being too dramatic and far-fetched and also had funny moments. Yes some of the characters may have been stereotypes but at least the show seemed self-aware of that. It's truly a shame we only got 18 episodes of this show, while The Secret Life of the American Teenager somehow got five seasons??? I don't get it.

Weirdest moment: when Cindy suddenly got super mean once she started dating Sam

Best moment: Daniel showing up at Kim's doorstep, Sam breaking down in tears in the end of 'Garage Door'

Gilmore Girls

I'm not sure this one counts as a teen drama, maybe it's more of a dramedy but I'm still including it here. It's funny, the dialogue is witty and full of obscure pop-culture references and the relationships between generations complex. Same as with Freaks and Geeks, the portrayal of high school is pretty realistic. Characters are shown studying and taking tests and not just partying all the time. However the show loses points for getting weirdly soapy in the 7th season. The dialogue wasn't as good and the camera angles were soap opera like and the storylines weren't very good either. You could really tell the show changed show-runners. The earlier seasons are the best. It's hard to explain but something about them feels cozy like a warm blanket and a cup of hot chocolate on a rainy day.

Weirdest moment: Lorelai marrying Chris and then making the whole "you're the man I want to want" speech, Lorelai defending and loving Dean for no reason

Best moment: Rory's graduation speech, Rory yelling at Chris and calling him out for not having been there for her, Then She Appeared, "Yes Emily, you may go first"... there are so many!