#bookshop!au

[embersofnovember]

WATERCOLOUR EYES

modern!bookshop!au

summary : you work at a bookstore. anakin doesn't actually read.

warnings : idiots in love, tooth rotting fluff, probably grammar mistakes, (mentioned) padme amidala, cheesy romantic stuff

wc : 3162

the first time anakin sees you, you’re stocking up books in the educational studies section. 

   it’s been a relatively slow day. not many people enter this bookshop anyway, but when they do, the day seems to go just that bit faster, which is why when anakin sees you for the second time ever, you’re mindlessly flicking through a book in the window of the shop behind the counter, and that is when anakin knows. 

   but when you see— notice anakin for the first time, you see an older man with him. stubble, grey hair at his temples and a tired expression on his face. anakin’s leaning against a bookcase that coincidentally faces your direction as the other man peers at all of the books in the historical section, fingers tracing over the spines delicately, and every time you do what’s a weak attempt at stealing a small glance at the boy, you catches him looking back at you. every time. 

   the first time you ever spoke to each other was on a rainy wednesday. the sun peering through the window offered nothing but fogging condensation instead of the sun that baked your skin almost every day. the hours were long, but you got to read, and if you could do that, you were fine.

   the door swings open, gold letters glistening in the warm light of the lamp posts outside as the sky begins to grow darker. 

   you look up, exchange a smile with the same man from before, who you learnt last week that his name’s obi-wan. the boy trails in behind him and you almost freeze. 

   almost.

   his hair is damp due to the misty rain outside, his hands coming up to adjust his brown coat slightly with slight annoyance. you’ve seen him countless times, but the funny feeling in your chest never eased, and you still didn’t even know his name. 

   the two of them are in the bookshop for around fifteen minutes before obi-wan is at the counter with two books held in his hand: the conspiracies of geonosis and the swamps of dagobah. you put down her own copy of a random fiction book she found on the weekend and scans the two of them, trying her best to ignore the realisation dawning in your brain that the boy isn’t with him when he was mere minutes ago. you two exchange a quiet, light conversation. it’s easy. For obi-wan, at least. it seems so easy for obi-wan to talk and you envy it. his voice was clear and british, almost bostonian. by the end of his well-spoken voice, you’d almost forgotten about the boy and you’ve gone back to a book of your own after obi-wan’s left. 

   truth is, anakin’s been hiding in the thriller section trying to build up the guts to go and talk to you for ten, long and agonising minutes. maybe that’s why he didn’t leave with obi-wan. 

   without thinking, he grabs a book from a bookcase, not caring to glance at the title as he works up enough courage to finally talk to you, and he accidentally slams the book onto the counter. 

   a muscle in your arm twitches. you look up, as if you were a deer caught in headlights. his eyes are spilling like watercolours. 

   and anakin’s heart almost gives out. 

   he didn’t know what it was about you. just how you always seem so entranced in a book when you pick it up and flip the pages, or the way your hair sometimes glistens a sandy colour in the sun. 

   “sorry,” he murmurs, flashing you what he hopes to look like a polite smile. 

   “it’s okay,” you mutter back, and you smile. dimples. 

   anakin doesn’t know how much longer he can stay composed without looking like an idiot. 

   “did you find everything alright, sir?” you ask quietly, taking the book from anakin’s slightly shaking hands. anakin doesn’t know what he’ll reply with, so he takes the safe way out and nods instead. you scan the book, turn it around to read the title with a face twisted in interest.

   “tales of the force and where to find them?” you raise an eyebrow. not of confusion, but anakin thinks so, and he feels the blood rush to the skin of his face and he wishes he didn’t wake up this morning. he nods again with a smidge more confidence than before, tilting his head and acting like he didn’t just learn the title of the book with you.

   “i’m anakin,” he says, but it’s awkward and thrown off balance, as if he was thrown out of a rhythm. ultimately, you recognise that feeling, so you don’t comment on it and your small smile only thickens. you probably wouldn’t have said anything anyway. 

   you shrug, trying not to glance at his eyes as you tell him your name. the rain outside grows heavier, bouncing off the pavements. obi-wan’s stood under a canopy with his hood over his head to shield himself, eyes darting around. 

   “that’ll be twenty dollars. cash or card?” you ask, handing the book back to him. your eyes meet again and anakin looks down at the carpet floor that strangely reminds him of his grandmother’s house, rummaging through the pocket in his jacket. he pulls out a crumpled twenty on the counter and nods, avoiding eye contact, too. part of him, a very large part of him, just wants to crawl into the floor and never return. he decides that he will never walk in this place ever again, and he clutches the book between his bicep and his chest, turning around and stalking out, and tripping over his own feet just before he gets to the door. 

   “have a good day.” you blurt out to him. 

   “you too!” anakin says back, a little delayed, humiliation burning his skin as he keeps his eyes trained on the space in front of him. He’s thinking of nothing but how relieved he is to get out as soon as possible. the door opens and closes with the ding of the bell at the top. you grin as you watch obi-Wan outside when anakin walks up to him, pestering him as they both turn around and walk side by side down the pavement, until she can see neither of them. 

   you can’t stop thinking about him until you fall asleep later that night, later than you normally do, and neither of you knew it, but anakin couldn’t stop thinking about you either. 

the bell rings at the top of the bookshop. a shrill, honeyed sound in your ears. you find yourself glancing up with cartoonish eyes in hopes of seeing anakin again, heart stopping for a split second before you calm down again.

   it’s a monday. a warm one, but you feel strangely serene. it’s been five days on the dot since you’ve seen both anakin and obi-wan, and they somehow only seem to be the only customers that treat you like an actual person. intimidation, filthy looks, lack of respect. yeah, it was the bare minimum, but it made you happy, and you didn’t care. 

   It’s tuesday when anakin comes in with obi-wan. in the morning as you drove to work, they announced on the radio that there would be a heatwave (much to your annoyance). working at a bookshop with little to no air conditioning was a nightmare, so there you were, sitting in a tank top with a thin flannel and shorts.  

   obi-wan walks in with a slightly irritated anakin behind him, who is wearing a white vest and cargo trousers, his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat that makes his skin glow. obi-wan seems unfazed by this weather. anakin learnt that he’s pretty much immune to the heat ever since they went on holiday to a place where the temperature was triple what it is here. 

   you immediately lose her composure, but you manage to recover quick enough for either of them to notice you sitting behind the counter, and when anakin does notice you, it seems that he relaxes. his gaze softens and he suddenly doesn’t look so tense. obi-wan almost seems perplexed with how suddenly his demeanour changes, but he quickly turns around and waves to you, which you return with a small smile.

   it happens again: obi-wan buys a book, obi-wan leaves, and anakin doesn’t, but this time, when he goes up to the counter with yet another random book (that he made sure to check before grabbing it), he has more confidence than before. 

   as you take the book from his hand, your fingers brush up against each other. you fight the urge to draw your hand back, and anakin almost loses his confidence then, but he remains physically tranquil, but on the inside, he’s rethinking his every move. 

   “so,” anakin starts, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his cargo trousers, “you work at a bookstore. you like reading?” 

   you glance up at him, brown hair glistening gold in the sun as you scan the book. you look back down at the book again, reading the title. a galactic empire of descending madness. that sounds more interesting than the one he had last week, at least. 

   “yeah, i guess,” you reply, even if a simple ‘yes’ was a severe understatement. every night, you went home and always had stacks of books still waiting to be read. “why do you ask?” 

   he throws down another crumpled up twenty on the counter again. this time, you give him change. 

   “well–” he pulls one arm over his chest, his other arm hooking over it as he stretches. you did your best not to gaze at his muscles, or his vest hiking up slightly and revealing the smallest slither of skin at his hip, but it’s hard—especially when he looks so attractive. “–i have a project to work on. for my University. need some help with it, ‘n’… i was just wondering if you'd help?”

   you stare at him in surprise. eyebrows raised, and gnawing the inside of your cheek until you taste metal, you ask, “what’s it about?”

   that’s the part of the plan he’s missing. before, he couldn’t figure it out, and now he does, and it’s right in front of him. he wets his bottom lip and grabs the book and the change. the pennies clink in his pocket and he feels like a nervous wreck all over again.

   why is he so nervous?

   “can i get back to you on that?” he asks, his voice still somehow smooth and even. 

   you breathe a small chuckle, “sure.”

   and he leaves again. 

this time, when anakin appears, it’s on a sunny friday, still amidst a heatwave, and obi-wan isn’t with him. you want to frown, but for some reason, you can’t. 

   it’s no different than the last time he was here, yet it feels so new. you smooth out the tank top your wearing nervously as he walks– rushes through the door.

   he walks forward, taking a small condescending look at the display of books, picking up the first book he sees and walking over to the counter.

   he isn’t pretending to buy something this time. 

   the loud thud echoes in your ears as he slams the book down on the counter. padmé, who’s stacking up books in the romantic-comedies section, jumps, stealing a startled look at the pair of you before turning back around. 

   “let me take you to dinner,” he blurts out. his voice sounds confident, but he’s albeit shaking with nerves and shuffling in one spot. 

   i’m a mess, he thinks to himself for a brief second.

   in the miniscule silence that follows, you want to let the silence go a little longer just to fuck with him, but you're too eager, he’s too nervous, and the sun is watching with curiosity. 

   “sure,” you mumble, grabbing the notebook and a pen under the counter. you flick it open and scribble down your address and your number in writing that’s almost too hard to read as you have never been too patient when it comes to writing, but as you rip the page off and hand it to him, he smiles faintly at it. an achievement. your hands brush against each other again, but neither of you acknowledge it again. just like last time.

   “pick you up at six,” he says, turns around, and he’s walking out the door before you can say anything else. 

anakin ends up picking you up at six o’clock on the dot. not a minute late and not a minute early. however, he is sitting there for a minute or two, observing your house from the driver window. 

   the grass outside grows at all lengths with small weeds peeking from a few of the wooden fences dotted around, which has probably been hacked away since not much of the wood remains anymore. the plant pots hold large ferns, and the trees behind the house are large oaks, thick branches branching out and leaving half of the house in a shadow. it’s small, but it looks like a home. anakin’s about to smile, but then he sees you rush out in a haste, hair glowing in the setting sun, and he freezes in his seat. all of the thoughts in his head have buried themselves, and it’s just him and his thumping heart.

   “sorry i’m late,” you mumble to him as you open the door and get in. the first thing you notice is the bruise on his cheek and his smile, which seems like the brightest in the world, but you don’t bother to comment on it and just smile back at him. “i was caught up in an assignment, lost track of time.”

   anakin breathes a chuckle, and he nods, turning on the engine with the twist of his key in the ignition. he’s surprised you haven’t noticed his hands trembling yet. “don’t worry about it.”

   you can’t help but smile again. the sun’s in his eyes and they flash a mix of blue and green. his hair is golden, and for a brief minute, you wonder what it’d be like to tangle your fingers in it. you have to force herself to look away and out the window. 

   you don’t go that far away from the city. off to the coast where there’s a van that sells drinks. it’s only around a twenty minute drive and you were both humming to the rock songs on the radio and talking about your week. the awkward atmosphere dissipates as the evening passes. anakin could listen to you talk for hours. 

   you both settled for a can of coke. of course, anakin was adamant in not letting you pay. with a firm shake of his head, he gave the man in the van a crumpled up five, and only laughed at your protests. after you finally gave in, and tried to hide your smile, you went off, walking aimlessly down a path in search of somewhere to sit.

   the sun cast a glowing effect on the beach they sat in front of. the tide was out, and you listened to the leaves in the trees crinkle above. 

   you didn’t feel so nervous anymore.

   you learn a lot about each other in the ten minutes they sit on the bench. you learn a lot of things. obi-wan’s anakin’s step-brother (who’s also a lot older than him), and he tutors at the university he goes to (which he takes the train for every other morning because it’s forty minutes away), and not only that, but he has a major in engineering. anakin learns that you're studying film in a university a couple blocks away and you have a ginger cat called oscar. he reads comics and you play piano and you develop nicknames for each other and you end up walking on the beach together not long after, the sea loud and erratic. anakin never liked the feeling of sand between his toes, but he doesn’t mind if he gets to be in the presence of you for a little longer. 

   it’s like you’ve known each other for years. 

   “you know,” you start, taking a sip of anakin’s half-empty coke can. you finished yours a while ago, but anakin insisted you had some of his if you really wanted. it ’s like exchanging a secret and a kiss all at the same time . “i knew from the second you walked in the bookstore, you weren’t actually a reader.” 

   anakin almost winces at the memory, but a boyish grin appears on his face. “was it that obvious?” 

   you nod, grinning. you were always good at reading people anyway, but after you got a job at the bookstore, you somehow became even better at it. most people were dragged into the bookstore by their eager friends, bored expressions plastered on their faces, yet coincidentally, when anakin and obi-wan first walked in, neither of them seemed like that. 

   observant in the worst ways possible. 

   “i only went because obi-wan dragged me in there all the time,” he replies, trying to seem unfazed by the sudden redness to the tip of his ears.

   and you both chuckle, but anakin knew that deep down, it was really anakin dragging obi-wan there instead, and you maybe knew it too. 

   “i could get used to this,” anakin murmurs. neither of you notice how close you are until suddenly, your hands brush up against each other. 

your hands always seem to be cold, anakin thinks, but your fingers interlace and the words die on his tongue. you—not confident enough to say anything without your voice shaking–don’t respond, and you instead squeeze his hand lightly instead, resisting the urge to ghost your fingers over the bruise on his cheek. 

   and Anakin knows. you both know. anakin might as well write it in the sand, but further away from the shore so that it doesn’t wash away. 

when anakin comes back just after the sky has gone dark after dropping you off, he walks into the kitchen to see obi-wan leaning against the counter with a mug of hot tea in his hand and a smirk on his face. 

   “so?” he says expectantly. anakin stops in the doorway, trying to ignore how tense his shoulders have become. crimson stains his face and he keeps his gaze trained on the floor. 

   “so what?”

   obi-wan looks at him with knowing eyes, “how was it?” 

   anakin only shrugs him off, attempting (and failing miserably) to conceal his genuine grin. “shut up.”

   obi-wan only chuckles, walking past him and ruffling his hair, to which anakin sends him a glare, but obi-wan remains unfazed as he walks out the kitchen. 

   “you’ve fallen!��� obi-wan yells as he walks through the hallway. anakin instantly grows flustered and rolls his eyes. 

   “have not!”

   but obi-wan is many things, and a liar is not one of them.

masterlist!!

[cute-ellyna]

Cliji 30 days drawing challenge 14. Modern AU

Inspired by one of my absolute favorite writer, @kotaface, and her wonderful bookshop!au fic "what's hidden between the pages". GO READ IT NOW! :3

You can see the rest of the art challenge here

[stars-of-kyber]

Faithfully - Chapter 4: Oh Girl, you stand by me

“Not gonna tell me you missed me, babe?” Anthony’s shit-eating grin was received with a punch to the arm and a roll of Kate’s lovely honey eyes.

“Well, not anymore, I’m not.”

“Ah, sweet, don’t be mean.” He pouted dramatically, with quick blinks of his eyelashes and he saw his girlfriend press her mouth into a very thin line to keep laughter from bubbling out of her. “I’ve brought you your magnets and all the cheap toiletry stuff you’ve asked me to. Well, all but the one from the hotel in Leeds. Ben stole it from my bag in the airport, so you’ll have to take it out on him.” Kate couldn’t hold herself back, breaking out in delicious giggles that set his entire chest on fire.

“Well, considering this, then I suppose I might tell you that I missed you·” She smiled into his mouth, her arms wrapping around his neck as her legs went around his hips to pull him even closer. “Just a bit.”

_________________________________________

Three times Anthony surprises his girlfriend after he returns from Aubrey Hall's first Tour.

This chapter is pure fluffy fluff.

I always thank my girlies (@kateandanthonyaremyparents, @alihightowers, @searching4paradiso and @harnitbee + Frennie who's not here) who I love so much and who help me so much with inspiration but I have two VERY SPECIAL thanks for this chapter.

First for @waterlilyrose who was the first to suggest Kate and Anthony have tattoos to each other.

Second to @mimix007 who actually DREW THEM AND GUYS YOU HAVE NO IDEA THEY ARE SO PRETTY, THE TALENT I SWEAR TO GOD!

Next chapter is heavy on the angst, just thought I'd let you know. I cried.

See you on Monday with the Update! (SCHEDULE!)

[protect-daniel-james]

librarian!Unai would also have his own home library organized by The Rules™ of cataloguing

[two-birds-alone-together]

coming soon * a hopeful stranger

companion piece to a safe place to land

coming eventually to a screen near you

Sneak Preview Below The Cut

Stepping outside, the last rays of sunlight catch her directly in the eye, making her blink and smile reflexively at the warmth on her skin.  As she makes her way down the stone steps, Ellie pulls the cookie out of its paper home.  She takes a big bite, leaving a half-moon shape in her hand.  Holy fuck, this is good.  Maybe she should try getting on Bill’s good side so that when his brainless cookie-zombie mafia takes over Boston, Ellie can be first in line for some amazing fucking food.

Ellie walks back to the house at a leisurely pace, savoring the last few bites of the cookie.  The other kids are probably getting back as well and she hopes she can slip into her room unnoticed.  It’s quiet when she enters; everyone must be in their rooms.  Ellie treads softly up the stairs to her room, gently closing the door behind her.  She flops down onto the mattress, setting her backpack on the floor.  

As godawful as this place is, it’s better than sleeping on the street regularly.  Not for the first time, she’s grateful to have a room to herself.  It’s not that the girls who live here are particularly mean or terrible — she just doesn’t need friends right now, so she’s not getting to know anyone.  It’s not worth it to get close to someone new when they’re going to be relocated in a week or two.

She may be only fourteen, but Ellie knows enough about the system to understand that it’s not about forming bonds and making connections.

It’s about survival.

And the best way for her to survive is by keeping her distance from everyone else.  Plus she doesn’t want anyone getting too curious about her past.  For some reason, she doesn’t want to know how other kids feel about living with a convicted attempted murderer.

Anyway, that part of her life is over now.  She’s got this fresh fucking start in this ridiculous old townhouse and it sucks big-ass hairy donkey balls but it’s a fuck ton better than juvie ever was.  She’s reminding herself of all the reasons why this group home is better than juvie when a wave of loneliness crashes over her.  It’s Wednesday, August 2nd.  Riley died two hundred and seventy-five days ago.  A Tuesday. Who the fuck dies on a Tuesday?

Ellie lays back on the lumpy mattress, staring up at the cracked and stained ceiling as she fights back the tears threatening to spill over her cheeks.  She misses Riley so goddamn much that it feels like someone reached into her chest and ripped her heart out.  Riley had been her best friend — her only friend — and the only person who really knew her.  Riley is two years older than Ellie, and they planned to run away together, find some place for just the two of them once Riley turned eighteen.  That dream died in Roxbury two hundred and seventy-five days ago

Then, unbidden, Ellie realizes that in a couple of years, she’ll be the older one.  Ellie is going to turn sixteen and she’ll be the same age as Riley.  Then she’ll turn seventeen and she’ll be older than Riley ever was. Isn’t that fucking stupid?  

Nope, can’t go down that rabbit hole.  Riley’s gone.  The past is the past and she can’t go back to change it.  She can’t afford to be weak, not now.  Not ever.

Checking her watch, Ellie sees that there are only twenty minutes left before she’s locked in her room for the night.  She groans and forces herself to get up, to shower as quickly as possible, and to get back in bed.  It’s uncomfortably warm in her room, but at least the fucking fan works.

Look, maybe she shed a few tears in the shower, but that doesn’t matter because it was just the way the water burned her eyes when she stared up at the spray.  There’s still something ugly and raw living in Ellie’s chest, so when she gets back to her room, she turns out the light and lays stiffly in bed, facing the door (always facing the door, never turning her back to it, can’t leave herself exposed) and waiting for the sound of the key in the lock.

When it comes, she stays still for another few minutes just to be safe.  Then she gingerly reaches for her backpack and swiftly shifts her belongings around inside until she locates the secret pocket.  Ellie carefully unzips it, her fingers reaching past the money to touch slick photo paper.  Squeezing her eyes together tightly, Ellie caresses the paper for a moment before easing it out into the dimly lit room.  She brings the blanket up over her head and fishes the flashlight out from under her pillow.  With a deep breath, Ellie clicks it on.

The strip of photos is creased and worn, a testament to just how much her bag was thrown around while she was in juvie.  Her fingers start to shake slightly as she turns it over and sets her eyes on Riley for the first time in two hundred and seventy-five days.

There she is.  She can still hear the way Riley laughed when Ellie boldly held her face in place and planted a big wet kiss on her cheek. Ellie runs her finger over Riley’s smiling visage, tracing the lines of her features as if she could somehow reach out and touch her again.

It’s not fair.

None of this is fair.

But life isn’t fair, something Ellie knows all too well.  

This time when her sinuses start to burn uncomfortably and tears rise in her eyes, Ellie gives in to the undercurrent of emotion that always threatens to bring her down.  When she was in juvie, she could pretend that Riley still lived at the Kwong’s.  Here in this house, there’s no more pretending.  Riley is gone and Ellie is alone. That’s just how Ellie’s world works.

Everyone leaves after an hour or a day or a lifetime.  It doesn’t matter how much they cared about Ellie or how much Ellie cared about them. They leave, she stays.

They leave, and Ellie is once again alone.

[jobean12-blog]

Claimed

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Mob/Mafia AU)-Bookshop setting

Word Count: 3,513

Summary: Bucky has had his eyes on you for a long time and when he finally makes a move to claim you he's delighted at how easily you fall into his waiting arms.

Author's Note: Seb's new looks have just been so yummy, especially him in a bow tie. I LOVE! The look in the pic below is the end result of the story🫠It isn't really focused too much on his mob status but it's there and I couldn't resist a little bookshop AU in there too! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: flirting, tension, Bucky is pretty forward/dom and doesn't mince words- he goes for what he wants-light d-irty talk, fing-er-ing, o-ral (f rec), but he's sweet too :)

Your steps are slow and easy as you stroll through the aisle, perusing the titles and letting your fingers delicately slide across the bindings.

When you find one of interest you pull it from the shelf and before you read even one word you press the aged pages to your nose and inhale deeply.

The sound of a light chuckle pulls you from your aromatic reverie and you look up with a start, catching a man watching you with a lopsided smirk.

He nods a hello before disappearing down the next aisle. You stare at the space he just vacated and feel your skin heat.

Was he really that handsome or are you still recovering from the exquisite smell of the pages of the book? Only one way to find out.

With quiet movements you slip past the end of the fiction section and turn the corner, peeking around the next bookshelf. All you see is a young woman searching through the books.

Denying your disappointment you continue down the aisle but slow when you feel the weight of eyes at your back. Instead of turning around and looking too obvious you quickly glance over your shoulder and see the mystery man once again watching you.

He looks even more handsome than he did two minutes ago.

You almost walk into the woman who’s browsing and give her a startled apology before rushing off to hide in the rare book section.

Letting out a rush of breath you clutch a book to your chest and refocus on your surroundings.

“This is my favorite section.”

You spin on a gasp and blink.

“Excuse me?” you say quietly.

“This section,” he says again, “it’s my favorite. I love old books.”

“Oh,” you answer, backing away as he steps closer.

He stops advancing and looks at the shelf, studying the bindings until he finds one that interests him.

“Mine too,” you concede softly. “And they smell amazing.”

“As good as the books in the fiction section?” he asks, eyes dancing with amusement.

You let out a light huff of laughter, feeling warm embarrassment creep over your skin.

“Better,” you finally answer.

“I’d have to agree with you there,” he says before lifting the book he holds to his face and inhaling.

You can’t stop your small intake of air as you watch him savor the smell of the pages.

“So, do you come here often?” he asks, casting his gaze down to the words.

You let his question hang in the air as you take a moment to really look him over. His soft sweater does nothing to hide his broad shoulders and powerful build and his dark hair and beard frame a beautifully sculpted jaw.

Then he lifts his eyes, directing his steady gaze on you, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Um…I do. It’s my favorite book store. I can’t afford any of these books,” you say as you motion to the titles nearby, “but no one seems to mind that I come and spend the afternoon reading them.”

“I don’t see why anyone would,” he replies.

He places the book back on the shelf and slides his hands into his pants pockets, attempting another step closer.

This time you don’t move away and he smiles.

“I have quite the collection myself,” he informs you. “You should come see it.”

“Are you a collector?” you ask.

“Something like that doll.”

You school your features at the sound of the endearment falling from his perfect lips and smile.

He extends his hand.

“James Barnes. But you can call me Bucky.”

“Hi Bucky.”

You give him your name and he takes your hand in his, bringing it to his mouth and lightly brushing his lips across your knuckles before kissing them.

As you stare at him through your lashes his lips linger and he seems unwilling to let go of your hand.

“I mean it you know. You’re welcome to come see my collection…anytime.”

He slowly releases your hand with a wink then turns on his heel toward the doorway.

“But…,” you start, not even sure why you’re calling after him to ask your next question, “how will I find you?”

He turns to face you, his eyes set with determination, and says, “don’t worry doll face. We’ll be seeing each other again very soon.”

With those parting words he vanishes into the maze of books, leaving you caught between feeling frazzled and turned on.

After several days of warm sunshine it finally ends in a wash of chilly rain and wind. But you’re warm and cozy in the back of the bookshop, curled up on one of the old leather chairs by the window, reading by the soft light of an antique tiffany lamp.

You’re so engrossed in your book that it takes you several minutes to recognize the familiar feeling of his stare and when you look up you find Bucky leaning against a nearby bookshelf, his arms crossed, watching you.

He looks just as good as he did the last time you saw him and you realize you’re staring back.

“Hey,” you whisper, clearing your throat.

“You must really be enjoying that book,” he says, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“I am. Have you read it?”

“Not this one,” he says as he steps closer and reads the title.

His nearness draws all of your attention from the book and for the first time you take notice of the small patches of gray hair that line his beard.

“It’s worth a read,” you tell him when your eyes meet his again.

“I’ll definitely check it out doll. I’m currently reading the first edition of ‘The Canterbury Tales’ by Geo…”

“Geoffery Chaucer,” you finish in a rushed breath. “Oh my god. You have a first edition!?”

Your eyes go wide with shock as you silently contemplate how much money that must have cost him.

“But…but…”

“I told you doll face, the old and rare books are my favorite.”

“I haven’t read that one yet but it’s on my list.”

“Well you’re welcome to my copy when I’m done,” he says, smiling widely when your mouth opens in shock. “But I have to warn you that when it comes to such treasures I’m a slow reader. There are some things I like to take my time with.”

As the last sentence leaves his mouth he unabashedly lets his eyes sweep over you. When your head dips to your book under his obvious perusal he presses his fingers under your chin to lift your gaze.

“Can I get you a coffee?”

“A coffee?” you repeat, all rational thought leaving your brain at the feel of his touch.

“They just put a fresh pot on up front.”

“Oh, right. That would be great thank you, let me just get my wallet.”

“No doll. I’ll pay.”

“Well, I don’t mind at all…”

“And I do,” he says definitively. “I offered and I’ll pay.”

“Thanks,” you whisper.

When he returns with two steaming cups of coffee you sigh in contentment.

“Are you always this much of a gentleman to the women you meet in bookshops?”

You ask the question with a playful smile but when his expression doesn’t match yours you instantly regret opening your mouth, your smile wavering.

“Despite my offering, I’m having a very difficult time remembering to be a gentleman around you doll.”

“Well maybe I shouldn’t be accepting this coffee then.”

Even though your voice is little more than a whisper you make no move to give him back the drink and instead you lean in closer.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” he murmurs.

Your breathing accelerates before you take a slow sip of the coffee.

“And maybe I like the coffee too much to give it back.”

“I just warned you that I’m having a difficult time being a gentleman. Are you provoking me doll?”

Your tongue darts out to trace the outline of your lips, the taste of coffee still lingering. “Is that what I’m doing?”

His eyes track the movement and he rubs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, looking pleased when you inhale sharply but don’t pull away.

“Let me be clear here doll, since it seems like you enjoy playing this little game with me. I want you underneath me in my bed. I want to be buried so deep inside you that you’ll feel me for days. And I want to mark you so every other man who walks this Earth knows you’re mine.”

Your eyes widen with every word he utters and you feel goosebumps crawl over your skin when he tilts his head and moves closer until his warm breath fans your cheek.

“I just want to be up-front with you. Enjoy the coffee.”

He forces himself away, removing his hand and stepping back. And once again leaves with nothing more that the sound of his retreating footsteps.

Life keeps you busy for the next two days but Bucky’s words are ever present, practically burned into your skin. So when you step back into the bookshop on Saturday evening you take solace in the familiar smells and sounds.

You wave hello to the barista and cashier, noticing their slight mischievous smiles as you pass by. You’re about to ask them what’s going on but then you see him and you know. Even among the shelves of beautiful books and warm lighting he stands out, his eyes boring into you.

The way he stands exudes a quiet confidence and a slow roll of heat eases it’s way through you when his unwavering stare moves over every inch of you.

Lifting your chin you hold his gaze and take your time getting your own eyeful. His button-down shirt is fitted just right with the top buttons open to reveal a gold chain and his long legs are clad in dark jeans.

He looks dangerous and sexy. And pissed.

You move toward him undeterred until you’re close enough to feel the heat radiating off him.

“Are you here to give me more warnings?” you ask.

He keeps his gaze locked on you and licks his lips.

“No. I think I was perfectly clear the first-time doll.”

“Is something bothering you, Bucky?”

“Where have you been?”

You would laugh at his nonresponse if your irritation weren’t growing hotter by the second.

“I’ve been busy. You know…work, errands…life.”

“I’ve missed you.”

You’re taken aback by his blunt and unexpected answer and can’t find the words to respond.

“I was afraid you didn’t want to see me again after what I said.”

You think back on his words for only the millionth time since he said them. An involuntary shiver runs down your spine at the memory.

“Did you get me a coffee today?”

His eyes light up in victory before he reaches behind him and hands you a cup, the drink prepared just how you like it.

For the next couple of hours the two of you browse the bookshop, spending the majority of your time in the rare section pouring over the titles in excitement and awe. You ask about his work and how he gathered his collection of rare books. He’s vague but polite with his answers, focusing most of his attention on you.

While you do most of the talking Bucky listens contentedly and intently, his constant regard slowly building and burning a hole through your enthused focus.

After a bit, it’s difficult to concentrate on anything else but him and you start to become more aware of how your body shifts closer to his, shoulders pressed together, heads close and your hand reaching out to graze his bicep.

Finally, the bookshop employees begin to let customers know they are going to close. You reluctantly put your current read back on the shelf and turn to Bucky.

“Guess it’s time to go,” you say quietly.

“I’ll drive you home doll.”

“No, no. That’s ok. I can take the train.”

“I insist,” he answers, stepping into your space and crowding you against the shelf.

“Ok,” you breathe out. “Thanks.”

His eyes drop to your lips and his hands hover at your waist, his fingertips just brushing the fabric of your shirt when the barista comes by and ushers you out.

With a release of breath you skirt past Bucky and grab your bag, heading for the exit.

Wordlessly, he holds the door of his car open for you, allowing you minimal space to edge by him into the passenger seat.

He breaks the silence with the same question floating around in your own head.

“Am I taking to you home or are you coming to my place to see my collection of books.”

“It’s late but…”

“But?”

“I would love to see them.”

“But you’re still thinking about what I said the other day, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

When you don’t say anything more or give him your address he drives in the opposite direction of your apartment. You contemplate your sanity the whole ride there but you’re too far gone to even want to tell him to turn around and bring you home.

His brownstone is gorgeous. Everything from the ornate edifice of the building to the classic tile in foyer exudes luxury and when you step inside the actual space you have to cover your mouth to stop any sound from escaping.

“I’m glad you like it doll,” he says from behind you, his chest brushing your back.

His lips meet the shell of your ear in a whisper. “I can give you a tour if you like or I can give you what you really want first.”

You turn to face him, his gravelly tone bringing several other things into focus. His cheeks are lightly flushed and his breathing has roughened. You sway closer and he runs his finger along your arm.

“The books…?” you question weakly.

“They’re not going anywhere,” he assures you as his fingertips trace your jaw.

“You don’t even have my phone number,” you continue. “We haven’t even been on a date yet!”

He starts to walk, pushing you slowly backward until you enter another room. Without taking his eyes off you he flicks a switch on the wall and the space is bathed in a soft glow, illuminating the ceiling high shelves of dark wood that line every wall. Every space is filled with books.

Your eyes wander for mere seconds before he grabs your chin and directs your gaze back to his.

“I think our bookshop encounters can be considered dates, don’t you?” he says softly.

Just before your back hits one of the shelves his large hand cradles your body, gently pressing you into the books. He leans closer, moving his hands to rest on either side of your head.

“Maybe…”

“Do you ever have an answer other than ��maybe’?” he asks.

Your lips part to speak but he stops you with the brush of his mouth. “Don’t. Say. Maybe.”

Even though your last two meetings were charged with tension, this is the first time he’s really touching you and it sends shock waves through your entire body.

You breathe out a strangled ‘yes’ and arch into him, inviting more of his touch.

His mouth comes down on yours hard and hungry and the initial contact steals your breath. When you slide your hands over his chest and up to his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin, he groans and pushes you against the shelf.

You break contact with his mouth, gasping at the hardness pressing against your stomach.

“I’ve been like this since the moment I saw you,” he growls. “Do you know what that’s been like?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer as his mouth moves to your neck and sucks the sensitive spot underneath your ear, causing you to whimper his name.

Your head rolls to the side, begging for more and you let out a sound of frustration when he rocks his hips and keeps his mouth hovering along your skin.

“Is this what you want?” he murmurs with another grind of his hips.

Your fingers slide into his hair, raking through the soft strands as your breath catches on a gasp.

“Answer me, doll,” he demands.

“Yes. Yes Bucky. I want it.”

His hands leave your body and grip the edge of the shelf behind you. He dips his head, trailing kisses upward along your neck until he meets your earlobe, growling low.

“You’re going to spread these pretty legs for me doll and I’m going to bury my face between them.”

His tone warns you not to protest and with a strangled breath you do as you’re told, your head thumping back against the books when he slides his hand down your stomach.

“Eyes on me doll.”

You look down as he slips his hand inside your leggings, slowly peeling them, along with your panties down to your ankles.

He finds your swollen clit and circles it with teasing strokes, giving you one last hard look before his tongue flattens and he tastes you from top to bottom.

You’re already so close and when he pushes a finger inside you your eyes start to glaze over, your hips rocking rhythmically onto his hand and face.

When he pushes a second finger inside you it sends you over the edge, his tongue working you until your legs are shaking and you’re chanting his name.

“Fuck doll. You coming apart for me is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You start to slump forward, your breathing still ragged and he runs a soft hand along your hip, holding you steady and biting gently into your skin with his fingers.

“I’m going to make you come over and over again,” he whispers as he stands and takes you in his arms, his lips caressing the shell of your ear. “With my fingers, my mouth, my cock.”

“Yes. Please,” you whimper.

He presses closer, his lips teasing along your jaw until your eyes meet. “But first we’re going to have a proper date.”

Your lips part with your objection and you’re ready to beg him for more but he presses a finger to your lips, smiling when you instantly quiet.

“If I get inside you now I’ll never be able to leave and I don’t have enough time tonight to worship you. I have business to deal with.”

 Your eyes drop to his mouth and your fingers climb up his chest.

“Ok,” you say, still breathless.

“You’re going to be my date for an auction event I have to attend tomorrow night…and then afterwards we’ll have the rest of the night. And the next morning…all day. You’ll be all mine.”

You nod, unable to find your voice again but squirm against him in desperation, your body still craving more.

“Sweet fucking hell, doll,” he hisses. “Don’t make me rush this.”

He grabs your waist so you stop moving, his eyes wandering over your face before he captures your lips in a kiss.

When he releases your mouth the set of his jaw is rigid and his fingers dig deeper into your skin.

“Tomorrow,” he murmurs. “Be ready by five.”

You stare at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your hands over your dress for the tenth time. Before leaving Bucky’s apartment you had exchanged numbers and several more kisses then he walked you to your door, wasting no time reminding you of his promises for tonight.

Your pulse quickens as his words threaten to consume you and you wonder how you’ll ever make it through the next few hours without throwing yourself at him. His touch was like nothing else you’d experienced. Not one of his movements were wasted and his objective was clear. He was going to absolutely ruin you. And you were ready.

The light knock on your door startles you but you check the clock and see he’s right on time.

“You’re punctual,” you say as you open the door.

He looks amazing and have to bite your lip to stop your satisfied moan.

“And you’re fucking stunning,” he says as his eyes rake over every inch of you.

He continues staring and steps inside.

“Do you plan on looking at me like that all night?” you ask.

“Like what?” he replies as he reaches out for you.

“Like you need to devour me.”

“It’s all I want,” he growls, sliding his hand along the curve of your back to bring you closer.

“Do we really need to go to this auction?” you purr against his lips.

His fingers splay against your back and he brushes his nose to yours. “I do doll face, but if you need my hand between your legs first, all you have to do is ask me.”

Before you can form the words for a weak protest, his hand dips between your bodies and starts to lift the hem of your dress.

“Say it doll. I want to hear you say the words."

“Please Bucky,” you gasp. “Give me your fingers. I need your fingers.”

 @randomfandompenguin @hiddles-rose @lizette50 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @littleseasiren @goldylions @kmc1989

[steddieas-shegoes]

fairy porn crisis

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'bookstore au' wc: 964 rated m cw: dirty talk, implied sexual content tags: bookshop owner eddie, steve is having a sexuality crisis but subtly, flirting, getting together, modern au

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖

"Thanks for covering for me, Wayne," Eddie said as he set his bag down behind the front desk, slightly out of breath from running from the bus. "Won't happen again."

"'S alright, son. Everything go okay with the counselor?" Wayne sipped from his mug, probably his fourth or fifth cup of coffee since he opened the shop that morning.

"Yep. Still on track to graduate in May."

Wayne's stipulation when he "sold" the bookshop to Eddie was that he still get his degree as backup. "Bookselling is a dangerous game and I won't have ya strugglin' if somethin' fails."

"Thatta boy," Wayne clapped him on the shoulder. "Been a slow morning. But your favorite customer is in the back."

Eddie felt his face heat up.

"He's not my favorite."

"Sure he isn't." Wayne rolled his eyes. "I'm off to get a beer with Dave. Call if you need me."

Eddie gave him a thumbs up as he checked over his emails, the one thing Wayne was terrible about doing when he was covering the store. There weren't many, never really were on Tuesdays.

He waited for Wayne to leave, the door chiming with his exit.

He jumped up and made his way around the counter, walking towards the back room hastily.

He found Steve sitting on the beanbag placed in the corner, book in his lap, face bright red.

Eddie squinted until he could see what book he was reading and nearly passed out.

His Ring was the first book in a series focused entirely on a group of queer mythical creatures. It was the only book of the series Eddie had read, and he'd only admit it under risk of death.

It wasn't that it wasn't good. It's just that it was basically porn.

And this one in particular focused on two male fairies, one who was gay and one who spent the entire first half of the book having a bisexuality crisis.

Steve was reading it with the prettiest blush on his face.

Steve, who up until this moment, passed as the straightest human being Eddie had ever met.

"Have you gotten to the part where Ereldi has to sit on Brelend's lap for an entire dinner?" Eddie asked.

Steve jumped and slammed the book closed, pushing it under his legs as if Eddie hadn't already called him out. "What are you talking about?"

"Stevie, I'm the last person to judge your reading habits. But I do have to ask why the sudden interest in queer fairy porn? You're usually reading sports memoirs and doing word searches."

In other words, 'are you interested in testing out your sexuality with me? I can pretend to be a mythical being if needed.'

"Just needed a change of scenery?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

Steve's blush deepened, and fuck, Eddie was about to be so unprofessional. Hopefully he wouldn't lose a customer over it, but it was a risk he had to take.

It's just that sometimes Eddie could swear Steve was watching him while he shelved books or swept the front room floors. And sometimes he caught him staring at him during his weekly storytime for kids where he gave out free books and cookies.

And Eddie always wanted to have Steve in his lap.

So.

"I." Steve refused to make eye contact, a sure sign that something was going on. "I just got curious. Heard someone talking about it and wanted to see if they were telling the truth."

"And were they?"

Steve didn't answer, so Eddie decided it was now or never.

"You know," he took a few steps closer to Steve. "I'm not usually one for those books. But there's something about the way they paint a very clear picture of how Ereldi rides Brelend in the forest that just draws me in." Another few steps. "Actually, Ereldi reminds me a bit of you."

Steve visibly gulped.

"But you wouldn't be interested in riding someone would you, Stevie? Prefer women to hop onto your lap and go for a ride?" Eddie's heart was racing.

And then it stopped completely when Steve gave the most unexpected answer he could have possibly given.

"I'd be interested in riding you."

Steve's wide eyes stared back at Eddie, daring him to make a joke, daring him to laugh.

Eddie wouldn't joke or laugh about this. He wasn't wasting this chance.

"Is the forest a requirement or could I go lock the front door and take you upstairs?"

Okay, so he couldn't not make a little joke.

"Forest sounds messy. Upstairs."

"Oh, I plan to make a mess of you regardless of location, sweetheart," Eddie leaned over Steve, foreheads touching, smirk growing as Steve's eyes closed. "Won't even have to get you hard, huh? The book did all the work for me."

Steve tilted his head back, lips puckering, searching for contact from Eddie's.

Eddie pulled away. "I close up in ten. You know the way upstairs?"

Steve's eyes blinked open as he nodded.

God, he was gonna be fun.

"You wanna be a good boy and wait for me up there?" Steve nodded and stood from the chair, wobbling slightly as he tried to gain his balance. "I want you naked in bed when I get up there, got it?"

"Um, I've never-" Steve started.

"Oh, sweetheart. I know. It's written all over you. I'm gonna take real good care of you, though. Better than anything you would read in that book."

"Eddie?"

"Yeah, sugar?"

"I really like you."

Eddie heard what he wasn't saying, knew without a doubt that he had to do this right or risk scaring him away from more than just the store.

"I really like you, too, Stevie." Eddie kissed his cheek. "You're in good hands."

"I know."

[firephoenix2020]

This took me three hours wtf-

[lauronk]

Amidst The Chaos

Chapter 1 is now available on Ao3!

[northlt03]

Au where Remus and Regulus own a bookstore/library together and across the street James and Sirius own a record store

Peter is a regular customer in both places

[evlia]

How about clegan modern au with bookshop owner gale and john who enters the shop by accident to buy a present for someone and he has no idea what he’s looking for, just browsing through the shelves and gale approaches him to ask if he needs some help and when john looks at him he realizes what love at first sight means. When gale offers him help and starts describing some of his favorite books, john doesn’t understand a single word, because he’s just staring at gale’s face, his blue eyes and full lips. He does buy something at the end but has no idea what it is.

John keeps coming back. Too often actually, he simply cannot read so many books in such short time but he just needs to see the pretty bookseller and asks for gale’s recommendations every time.

John obviously has no idea that gale is anxiously waiting for his appearance every time and that he became his favorite customer. One time he asks john what did he think about a certain book and when john smiles sheepishly and says that those books are a present for someone else, he assumes he has a partner, because no one buys so many books for just a friend.

I’m thinking john is losing his mind at some point because no matter how much he flirts with gale he just doesn’t seem to get it or he doesn’t care, he barely shows any emotions, maybe a shy smile or a little blush but nothing else.

At some point john straight up asks gale “is there any book about you know.. uh… like longing for someone or like having a crush on someone…?”

Gale, idiot that he is, just starts browsing through the shelves with a concentrated look on his face and john wants to scream.

He keeps dropping hints tho, every time he visits the shop he keeps asking for the books about crushes, longing, one sided love, unrequited love and all that and every god damn time Gale actually finds him books that fit the description. John leaves angry and grumbling about stupid boys every time and gale’s heart sinks every time because john must really love whoever he’s buying the books for.

At some point john just can’t take it anymore, can’t look at gale’s pretty blue eyes and lips anymore. He all but marches inside the shop one day and before gale manages to say hello he goes “is there a book about dense, cruel and stunningly beautiful bookshop boy and a fool who’s absolutely in love with him and not being able to get his point across?” Gale looks at him with wide eyes and john thinks that he finally gets what he’s saying but then

“I think there’s one with…” and john is going to kill him

“For fuck’s sale, Gale, I don’t actually need a book, haven’t read a single book I bought from you, there’s almost a wall full of books I bought just to have an excuse to see you”

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, Gale, I wanted more than to just see you !”

Gale smiles all shy and endearing and looks at john with a teasing glint in his eyes

“you could’ve just asked me out and not buy a whole damn library you know, but I guess you need to be a little educated to realize that”

John looks at him like he wants to slap him at first but there’s a smile on his face when he tugs gale towards him and catches his lips with his own.

[bright-omens]

Crowley: My angel is better Beelzebub: Fuck you, mine is *Aziraphale and Gabriel in the background* Aziraphale: That's really not how you're supposed to organize the books Gabriel, organizing the books by the first letter of the first sentence again: You let me do it when I was Jim Aziraphale: *Internally screaming*

[arthrobug]

Kobylu Week Day 2: Modern

I finished it early/on time today lmao asdfghjkl, so I was able to add a few extra details 👍

Image without title and with borders teehee

Anyways lore time-

In this AU, the city they live in is basically an epicenter of extreme crime and danger. Koby is an ex-firefighter who decided to retire early to recline and work at a little bookshop, but during his active years, he met a currently unknown crook named Luffy.

When they met, Luffy unintentionally saved Koby's life from another criminal, Alvida (I'll also mention there's an additional two years to their ages. So Koby was already 18 when he Luffy, who was also already 19). In a surprising turn of events, the two became quick friends, although Luffy was a criminal and Koby's entire livelihood was centered around arresting people like Luffy.

After Koby retired, Luffy would frequently visit Koby's new workplace. Eventually, one of Koby's friends from his ex-work found out about Luffy -Helmeppo- but he didn't mind since he soon realized Luffy isn't a truly bad person.

Koby purposefully works closing shift at the bookshop as much as he can in order for Luffy to visit him easier, and Luffy honestly doesn't quite realize yet how fond Koby is of him. In this image, Luffy -now a notorious criminal- had gone to the only place he knew he could be cared for -the bookshop- after being badly burned close to death (you likely know who did that lol), earning his x-shaped chest scar. Koby had to hide in his own work after Luffy was of course tailed by police, doing everything in his power to protect and care for the man he loves most.

[stars-of-kyber]

Faithfully - Chapter 2: Wonderin' where I am, lost without you

“Anthony…” She started, chewing on her lips, not sure which words to use. “You know your father’s death is not your fault, right?” He sighed deeply, letting his head fall down to her shoulder. “Yes.” “Good, because it’s not.” She linked their hands together, letting them rest on their lap. “It’s just, in the song, you sound so guilty and I worried…” “It’s not about that.” “What is it about, then?” _________________________________

Anthony starts learning how to deal with his grief and Kate makes Anthony a Christmas present.

Hello, hello!

I'm trying something out here so instead of the 17k-long chapter I was planning on having done by the end of the week, I'm dividing it into smaller bits that will come out in the course of the next weeks.

Let me know what you think!

I have to say thank you, thank you, thank you to Frennie, @waterlilyrose, @kateandanthonyaremyparents, @mimix007, @alihightowers and @searching4paradiso. You're brilliant and amazing and talented and I love writing and spreeing with you. I love having u in my life!

I'm gonna run out of lyrics for Faithfully soon.

[laiqualaurelote]

So they have arrived in October still short a barista, and today Niko and Crystal come barrelling into the bookshop arm in arm, eyes alight, breaths showing warm in the apple-crisp air. “Edwin,” says Niko, “will you go get us some coffee? Pumpkin spice latte from the Starbucks round the corner, pretty please. You’ve been in all afternoon, you could use the walk.”

And so Edwin finds himself put out of his own shop, sent on a coffee run by his own employee. Yet he cannot deny that it is the loveliest sort of autumn day, where the light clings to every surface like honey. This season always makes something unspeakable snag in him, skimming as he does across the volta of the year, turning over the words of poets long dead. 

Then he looks up at the man behind the Starbucks counter and all the poetry falls out of his mind like the leaves of a wind-struck tree.

After all the going to Hell and necromancy and body horror in my last fic, I decided for the Love of My Afterlife Payneland's First Halloween! mini-bang to write the cosiest fic possible, to wit: a bookshop AND coffeeshop AU. I was paired with @dont-offend-the-bees​, who has gone above and beyond with their gorgeous art (and also designed the architectural layout of Edwin’s bookshop and came up with its name, The Attic). Also because I have no chill, this fic comes with a bibliography and a playlist.

Thank you to @manicpixiedreamedwins​ for organising this lovely event, and do check out the rest of the collection too!

[two-birds-alone-together]

Announcement: Amidst The Chaos

Unfortunately, Amidst the Chaos is on temporary hiatus. The finale will return in February.