does anyone actually read character x oc fics bc i have a kinda nice sapphic wonder woman idea i really wanted to write (i promise it’s not gonna be an annoying weird self insert of an oc though)
SUMMARY: Gwayne didn’t expect to visit his sister Alicent in a long time, his father had betrothed him to a Tyrell and the wedding plans were all that kept him busy in the Hightower of Oldtown. But when he came to King’s Landing to visit Alicent, he found that the Targaryen princess had grown into a beautiful woman. And he fell immediately.
TO ADD: Part one of ??? Rhaenyra’s little sister! Reader, slight age gap, tension, infidelity if you squint. Yearner! Gwayne.
The journey from Oldtown to King's Landing had been long and tedious, the summer heat turning the inside of Gwayne’s carriage into a sweltering prison. He had spent most of the journey with the windows drawn, watching the golden fields of the Reach give way to the more rugged terrain of the Crownlands, his mind churning with thoughts he would rather not entertain.
His father, Lord Otto Hightower, had arranged the match six moons past. Lady Elara Tyrell, a perfectly suitable bride from a perfectly suitable house. She was pretty enough, with honey-colored hair and gentle brown eyes, the kind of woman any lord would be grateful to call his wife. Gwayne had tried to feel grateful.
The wedding was set for the turn of the year. Three months. Three months until his life would be bound to a woman he barely knew, to duties he had never asked for, to a future he didn’t choose.
He had come to King's Landing to see his sister, Alicent. The Red Keep rose before him as his carriage passed through the gates, its red stone gleaming in the afternoon sun.
He was shown to his chambers by a young squire, a boy with sandy hair and a nervous stammer who seemed eager to please. Gwayne dismissed him with a wave, too weary for pleasantries. The room was comfortable enough, decorated in the red and black of House Targaryen, with a large window that overlooked the training yard.
He could hear the clash of steel from below, the shouts of men at practice. For a moment, he considered going down to join them, to lose himself in the rhythm of swordplay. But the trip had drained his energy.
He settled into a chair by the window, watching the activity below with half-lidded eyes. He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, the light had shifted to the golden haze of late afternoon, and a knock at his door roused him from his stupor.
"Enter”
The door opened to reveal his sister, Alicent, Gwayne rose to greet her, crossing the room in three quick strides to pull her into an embrace.
"Gwayne” she breathed against his shoulder. "I was so pleased when I heard you were coming. Father didn't mention it in his letters."
"I wanted to surprise you” he said, pulling back. "How are you, sister?"
"I am well enough” she said, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "The King has been... unwell of late. It keeps me busy."
Gwayne nodded, understanding what she didn't say. King Viserys was sick. Alicent's position was precarious, her influence tied to a man who was slowly slipping away.
"Come” she said, taking his arm. "I have arranged a small dinner in your honor. Just family. Princess Rhaenyra and her sister will be there, and the King if he feels well enough to join us."
The mention of you, Rhaenyra’s little sister, brought a slight tension to Gwayne's shoulders. He had met you, the princess, years ago, when you had been a girl of twelve with a fierce in your eyes. He had not seen you since, and he found himself curious about the woman you had become.
"Of course” he said. "I would be honored."
The dinner was held in a small private dining room, far from the grand halls where the court feasted. It was intimate, the table set for six, with candles casting dancing shadows across the walls. Gwayne arrived with Alicent, his hand resting on his sister's elbow as they entered.
The King was there, seated at the head of the table. He looked older than Gwayne remembered, his face lined with pain, but his eyes were kind as he welcomed them. Beside him sat Rhaenyra, chin up with a proud smile. And beside her, sat you, dressed in jewels and the dark red of house Targaryen, and Gwayne felt his breath catch in his throat.
You had grown into something extraordinary.
You had become a woman, your silver-gold hair cascading down your back in loose waves, your lips curved into a small smile as you watched him approach.
"Ser Gwayne” you said, "It has been too long."
"Princess" he replied, bowing. "You have grown."
"Most people do. Though I suppose some of us grow more than others."
Your playful tone that caught him off guard. He had expected cold formality, royal etiquette. But you wanted to play with him so badly.
He found himself smiling despite himself. "I would hope I have grown as well, Your Grace. Though perhaps not in the ways that matter."
Your eyes flickered with interest, and you gestured to the seat beside you. "Sit with me, Ser Gwayne. Tell me about Oldtown. I hear the Hightower is quite magnificent this time of year."
The dinner passed in a blur of conversation and wine. Gwayne found himself drawn to you, your wit and quick laugh, specially, in how beautiful you had become. He could not take his eyes off your lips, neck, and decency kept himself from wandering further.
"The Reach is beautiful” you said at one point, fingers tracing the rim of your goblet. "But it seems so... peaceful. So tame. Does it not bore you, Ser Gwayne? To live among fields and dirt, when here we have dragons?"
"Not all of us are fortunate enough to have dragons, Princess," he replied. "Some of us must make do with simpler pleasures."
"Simplicity is a choice, a choice you seem to have made quite willingly."
The way you said it, a hint of accusation, that made him pause. You were right, of course. He had made his choices, had accepted his father's plans without question. But hearing it from your lips, hearing the judgment in your voice it was different. Different in the way we all realize things we already knew if someone mentions them out loud.
"Perhaps I have been too willing” he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them. "Perhaps I have not considered all the choices available to me."
Your eyes widened slightly, and you leaned closer, voice dropping so only he could hear. "And what choices would those be, Ser Gwayne?"
"I have not yet decided, but perhaps I am beginning to see possibilities I had not noticed before."
Gwayne felt his heart pounding in his chest, felt the heat rising to his cheeks. So did you. He had never felt this way before, never been so consumed by a woman's presence.
"Gwayne” Alicent's voice cut through the moment, and he blinked, turning to see his sister watching him with a curious expression. "I was asking if you would like to tour the gardens tomorrow. The roses are in bloom."
"Of course” he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "I would be delighted."
But even as he spoke, his eyes drifted back to you, watching him with a knowing smile. You’d seen it, he realized. You had seen the effect you had on him, and you were savoring it.
The next few days passed in a haze of stolen glances and fleeting moments. Gwayne found himself seeking out your company at every opportunity, inventing excuses to be near you, to hear your voice, to feel your presence. He slowly found himself obsessed.
And you? You were more than delighted to welcome his attention, finding ways to be alone with him, to speak with him in quiet corners.
"You are betrothed" you said one afternoon, as you walked through the gardens. "To Lady Elara Tyrell. Is she beautiful?"
"Her mother thinks so” Gwayne replied, and you laughed.
"Her mother” you repeated. "And what do you think, Ser Gwayne? Do you find her beautiful?"
He stopped walking, turning to face you. The afternoon sun was behind you, casting your features in shadow, but he could see the smile on your lips.
"I find myself thinking of other things" he said. "Other women."
"Other women?" You asked, voice innocent, though your eyes told a different story. "How scandalous. Your betrothed would be heartbroken."
"I doubt she would notice" he said. "We barely know each other. The match was arranged by our families, as these things always are."
"A tragedy” you said, stepping closer to him. "To be bound to someone you do not love. To have your life decided for you before you have a chance to live it."
"Is that how you feel, Princess?" he asked, his voice soft. "You are the King’s daughter. Surely you have more freedom than most."
"Freedom” you said, "I am a woman in a world of men, Ser Gwayne. My freedom is an illusion, a pretty cage that I am expected to be grateful for. I am a princess, as long as I do as I am told."
"But you don’t do as you’re told, my princess" he said. "Do you?"
You looked at him sharply, and for a moment, he thought he had overstepped. But then you smiled.
"I don’t" you said. "I should. If i don’t, how will i earn the people’s respect? The love?"
"Is that what you want?" he asked. "Love?"
"I want to be seen” you said, voice a whisper. "I want someone to look at me and see who I truly am, not what they expect me to be. I want to be known."
"Then let me see you” he said, reaching out to take your hand. "Let me know you."
You did not pull away. Your fingers were warm in his, your skin soft as silk.
"You are betrothed” you repeated. A kind of sadness, a resignation that broke his heart.
"I do not care” he said. "I have never cared less about anything in my life."
You laughed, but it was a hollow sound. "You say that now. But when the time comes, you will do what is expected of you. You will marry Lady Elara, and you will have children, and you will live a peaceful, contented life in Oldtown while I sit here in the Red Keep alone as if i was my sister’s shadow"
"I will not," he said fiercely. "I will not let that happen."
"What will you do?" You asked. "Run away with me? Steal a dragon and fly to the ends of the earth?"
"If I could, I would" he said. "I would take you anywhere, princess. Anywhere but here."
You looked at him for a long moment, your eyes searching his face. Then you leaned in, lips brushing against his ear.
"Prove it" you whispered.
And then you were gone, walking away through the roses, leaving him standing there with his heart pounding and his mind reeling.
The next few days were harsh, he could barely resist the urge to see you. Gwayne found himself sneaking through corridors and slipping into dark corners. He had never done anything like this, had never broken the rules so thoroughly. But with you, rules seemed irrelevant. All that mattered was you.
You met in the library one evening, the candles had burned low, casting long shadows across the room. You were perched on a reading table, legs swinging idly. Your eyes lit up immediately as you saw him approach.
"You came" you said, as if you had doubted he would.
"I always will” he said, crossing the room to stand before you. "I would follow you anywhere."
You smiled, "And what would your betrothed say if she heard you speak like that?"
"She would not hear it" he said. "Because I will not tell her. I will not tell anyone. This is ours, princess."
You reached out, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, feeling the warmth of your skin against his.
"I am not the kind of woman who shares" you said, voice low. "If we do this, if we allow ourselves this, I will not be content to be a secret forever."
"We will find a way" he said, opening his eyes to meet your gaze. "I will find a way."
You pulled him closer, hands tangling in his hair, your lips brushing against his. And then you kissed him, a small noise came out of his throat, a relieved noise.
He pulled you into his arms, his hands found your waist. He could not get enough.
"Gwayne," you said against his lips. "Gwayne, I—"
The sound of footsteps interrupted you, and you broke apart, breathing ragged. A servant passed by outside the door, oblivious to what had nearly happened within.
"We must be more careful" You said, voice shaking. “Everyone here knows about your commitment, If anyone found out—"
"I know," he said, his hand still resting on your waist. "I know."
But even as he said the words, he knew he could not stop. The taste of you was still on his lips, the feel of you still in his arms. He was lost, consumed by you, and he did not want to be found.
A/N: well well idk if i should make a part 2 but lmk if you wanna be tagged.
Also, if Otto sold off his daughter to viserys, my headcanon is that he totally would give Gwayne’s hand in marriage to the best suitor. He might be my failson, but he GOT THAT FACECARD — Otto
summary: Being Rhaenyra Targaryen's heir is a difficult thing, but what happens when you also become one of the Realm's most prized posessions?
pairings: cregan stark x velaryon!reader, reader x platonic targs/velaryon
click here to join the taglist!
i. the dear daughter (2.8k) — At one-and-twenty and eight-and-ten, barely a year after their marriage, Ser Laenor Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen welcomed their first child, a daughter, into the world. The girl immediately became dear to the whole court, coddled and spoiled by all, but mostly by her grandsire, King Viserys I. The man saw in his granddaughter her mother, and as the girl grew to look like his late wife, Aemma Arryn, it became even clearer that he doted on her more than he did to his own children or his other grandchildren.
ii. about children and trouble (8.2k) — It is reported that in the year 121 AC, when the Realm’s Jewel was only six summers old, her hatchling Merrax was eaten by the Cannibal in a strange turn of events that found him moving from Dragonstone to the Dragonpit in King’s Landing. Princess Rhaenyra demanded to have the dragon’s head cut, but as nobody ever tried nor dared to get close to the Cannibal, it was impossible to do it. Thus, her daughter took the matters into her own hands.
iii. little big lady (5.0k) — Court whispers tell us that during her third pregnancy, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen was particularly sensitive. She managed to cover it up pretty well, apparently, but she had one weak spot: her daughter, her firstborn and heir, who later on witnessed her little brother Prince Joffrey's birth by request of her mother. Despite openly disliking the experience, it is said that the Realm’s Jewel insisted on being present to future labours in case things went downhill — and she did, attending her mother in giving birth to all her future children.
iv. dragons' scars (6.4k) — And after the events that happened during Lady Laena’s funeral at Driftmark, two dragons were left scarred.
v. you'll change your name or change your mind (and leave this fucked up place behind) (5.3k) — When the King’s Justice — the royal executioner — died, the Realm’s Jewel proposed a perfect replacement: Nādrēsy, her dragon, the infamous Cannibal. Even if many eyebrows were raised at the Small Council, the King hastily agreed, happy to have an excuse for keeping his granddaughter close to him, even if it was for only a few days every moon. Or, as it always ended up, for a bit more than that.
vi. but I'll know, I'll know (8.4k) — At the ripe age of ten, the Realm’s Jewel was nominated by her grandsire the King, despite all the protests of the Small Council, the official Royal Ambassador; thus, her voyages throughout the Seven Kingdoms started, and yet another nickname was forged for her by the Smallfolk: the Wandering Princess.
↳ interlude (tbd) — Blood stained sheets. The first thing that comes up to your mind? Burning them and fleeing, obviously.
vii. legitimacy (4.5k) — “Vaemond Velaryon’s petition holds no sense,” it is said that the Wandering Princess reiterated once she heard of her uncle’s accusations. “My late father always recognised my brothers as his trueborn sons. Whether they look like him or the Baratheon and Arryn side of the family does not matter: they are legitimate.”
viii. the future queen (7.0k) — Sources say that the Wandering Princess was downright brutal to her uncle Vaemond Velaryon during the trial for his petition, despite having shown fondness of him in the years before. When he himself made her notice that, she laughed in his face, "Oh, dear uncle, did you hope to receive a kinder treatment than the others that come in this room and demand some fleeing claim over some land just because I hold your brother dear in my heart? Then you shall know at your own expense that everyone who tries to harm my brothers harms me and, by consequence, the Throne."
ix. primadonna (tbd) — The Realm’s Jewel eighteenth nameday is still speculated to be one of the grandest events ever arranged in the Seven Kingdoms — if not the grandest event ever. Invites were sent with enough notice for all the lords and ladies of the Realm to be able to show up — even if some lords, like Lord Cregan Stark, got some… personal invites, way earlier than the others were sent out.
x. bello sai, solo tu (coi tuoi occhi belli blu) (tbd) — In 133 AC, wildlings began to swarm into Winterfell after a breakthrough on the southern part of the Wall, and waged war against the rangers of the Night’s Watch. Lord Stark, who is said to have left the celebrations for the Realm's Jewel’s nameday earlier than expected to deal with the matter, was apparently saved by the latter and her uncle, who later spent a sennight in Winterfell to help the reconstruction of Queensgate. It is unknown what exactly happened between the Princess and Lord Cregan during that time, but by the time the famous Trials for the Hand took place, the Warden of Winterfell — who, it is speculated, once rejected the Princess — became the fiercest candidate, eventually securing his place in the Royal Family.
more to come!
extras:
pinterest board | spotify playlist | ao3
beautiful fanart | another beautiful fanart (another one by the same artist) | yet another amazing fanart | chibi version of the princess!! | ethereal princess 😭 | she takes from her mama 😞 | princess and baby joff | my design for princess | sketch of the princess!!! | the princess during chap 8 | she looks so soft here 🥹
Oh boy, a complex character who's a woman! I love messy characters who hurt everyone around them and continue the cycles that hurt them!! Can't wait to share this joy with fellow fans– why's everyone calling her a bitch
⭒ TV Shows Directory ⭒ Books Directory ⭒ A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms
⭒ House of the Dragon
⭒ Cregan Stark x Reader Insert Fics | @pinkykats-place
⭒ The Heir of Ice and Ash | @novaursa
A little less than a year into your marriage with Cregan, you give birth to your first child.
⭒ Valyrian Bride (Continuation) | @/novaursa
When your older brother, Jacaerys, promised you to Cregan to be his bride, the Lord Stark did not expect what he got - a trueborn dragon.
⭒ Valyrian Bride (nameday) | @/novaursa
Cregan notices his wife and children doing strange (well, stranger then usual) things for him throughout the day.
⭒ Dagger | @entitled-fangirl
Cregan teaches the reader how to use a dagger.
⭒ When it matters most. | @/entitled-fangirl
Aemond goes to Winterfell to recruit his sister and her dragon for the Greens. Cregan will not allow that.
Targaryen!wife!reader
⭒ Indeed, my girl. | @/entitled-fangirl
The reader is dealing with the grief of losing Luke. Cregan helps in the ways he can.
Velaryon!reader
⭒ Lord and Lady. | @/entitled-fangirl
the reader is feeling sick, and Cregan gets worried
⭒ Yes, my lady. | @/entitled-fangirl
the reader is nervous about consummating the marriage. Luckily, Cregan can be a gentle and patient man.
⭒ Our platinum-haired daughter | @streamofcolors
Cregan helps you overcome your fear of childbirth, resulting in the birth of a beautiful daughter.
targaryen!femreader
⭒ meeting her dragon for the first time | @jacaerysgf
⭒ Northern Attitude (I) | @spxllcxstxr
In the process of assuring Winterfell’s loyalty to your mother, you get close to Lord Stark
⭒ Southern Charm (II) | @/spxllcxstxr
The tension between you and Lord Stark grows thicker and finally snaps
⭒ the heir and the wolf | @pizzapottah
Being Rhaenyra Targaryen's heir is a difficult thing, but what happens when you also become one of the Realm's most prized posessions?
⭒ the dear daughter | @/pizzapottah
At one-and-twenty and eight-and-ten, barely a year after their marriage, Ser Laenor Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen welcomed their first child, a daughter, into the world. The girl immediately became dear to the whole court, coddled and spoiled by all, but mostly by her grandsire, King Viserys I. The man saw in his granddaughter her mother, and as the girl grew to look like his late wife, Aemma Arryn, it became even clearer that he doted on her more than he did to his own children or his other grandchildren.
⭒ about children and trouble | @/pizzapottah
It is reported that in the year 121 AC, when the Realm’s Jewel was only six summers old, her hatchling Merrax was eaten by the Cannibal in a strange turn of events that found him moving from Dragonstone to the Dragonpit in King’s Landing. Princess Rhaenyra demanded to have the dragon’s head cut, but as nobody ever tried nor dared to get close to the Cannibal, it was impossible to do it. Thus, her daughter took the matters into her own hands.
⭒ Marriage for duty | @loveslibrarywp
After delievering the message and proposal from your mother to the Lord of Winterfell, you’re now stuck with getting married to a Lord you barely know. Yet, he comforts you during your time at Winterfell and completely changes your mind.
Velaryon/Strong!reader
⭒ Cregan Stark x reader | @gtgbabie0
The birth of your son Brandon Stark was nothing but stressful, and it makes Cregan face some horrible realisations
⭒ Cregan Stark x Velaryon!Reader | @/gtgbabie0
Cregan takes care of you after a long day
⭒ Scraped knees and warm baths | @/gtgbabie0
⭒ A cold heart | @/gtgbabie0
⭒ Cregan Stark x Dreamer!Reader | @/gtgbabie0
The war has brought many casualties, those that you’ve already seen begin to unfold before you
⭒ cute moment with Cregan Stark | @/gtgbabie0
⭒ {Just a cute moment between you, Cregan and your son} | @/gtgbabie0
⭒ grumpy x sunshine trope | @fairysluna
⭒ soft morning with cregan | @/fairysluna
⭒ AMONG WOLVES AND DRAGONS | Masterlist. | @/fairysluna
Stories about the marriage life between a Targaryen princess and the Warden of the North.
⭒ AMONG DRAGONS AND WOLVES | @/fairysluna
Once the time has arrived for your child’s dragon egg to hatch, things don’t go as planned, and Cregan simply cannot stand the sight of his son’s saddened eyes.
⭒ Lord Husband Masterlist | @jamespotterismydaddy
⭒ The Wolf and The Rabbit | @multific
The meeting between the wolf and the rabbit never ended well. The wolf would devour the poor rabbit in seconds. And yet, this wolf would never harm the poor bunny.
⭒ Cregan Stark ❅ Masterlist | @sylasthegrim
⭒ The Silver Princess MASTERLIST | @/sylasthegrim
In the hope of maintaining a united realm, King Viserys arranged the marriage of Cregan Stark with the Princess Rowena, daughter of Prince Daemon and Lady Rhea Royce.
Cregan Stark x Rowena Targaryen (daughter of Daemon and Rhea Royce!OC)
⭒ Sons of the Wolf | @/sylasthegrim
On your way to Dragonstone to visit your sister Rhaenyra, you find yourself in labor during your stop in King’s Landing. Cregan protects you from Alicent’s intrusiveness.
Targaryen reader
⭒ The Embrace of Victory | @/sylasthegrim
The war comes to an end and your husband calls you to King's Landing to join him. After months of longing, your reunion unfortunately gets interrupted by his duties, but you are not one to contain your desires.
Lannister reader
⭒ The Dragon and the Wolf Masterlist | @myladysapphire
You had been betrothed to Cregan stark at the start of the war. He was the noble and honourable stark that he was he supported your mother claim without restraint. So much so your mother saw it fit to betroth the two of you. So when disaster strikes and you and your younger brother are the only two survivors, you a shipped of north in your grief, leaving only Cregan to heal your wounds.
Veleryon!reader
⭒ he gifts her a direwolf on their wedding night | @rhaenyra-storms
⭒ Fluff | @/rhaenyra-storms
⭒ he teaches reader how to use a sword | @/rhaenyra-storms
⭒ Meeting jacaerys | @/rhaenyra-storms
⭒ Being the daughter of Rhaenys and married to Cregan Stark | @sourcherryandsprinkles
⭒ Cregan smut | @/sourcherryandsprinkles
⭒ Duty Is Sacrifice | @lola-writes
Queen Rhaenyra sends you to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. In him you find not only an ally, but something deeper as well…
⭒ Snowflakes, Stolen Looks, and Beating Hearts | @fabled-fiction
When you are sent with your brother Jacaerys to meet up with the Lord in the North, Cregan Stark, some feeling being to make the both of you light headed and forget just exactly what duty calls from the both of you.
Strong!Reader
⭒ Temptations of the Wolf | @/fabled-fiction
Being a Targaryen meant sacrifice. Being a Stark meant sacrifice. Both these houses know the service of duty well. But when war is amiss, and two leaders of these respective houses meet to discuss allegiance, feelings for one another bubble to the surface and get in the way. Oh how the winds of war turn would be lover on would be lover.
⭒ The Jewel of the North | @koobratzy
⭒ princess of the north | @sl-ut
cregan has grown older and happier throughout his years as warden of the north with his beautiful new wife at his side. however, when he married into the royal family, he had not considered how frequently he would need to interact with his in-laws.
Targtower!pregnant!reader
⭒ Snow Fairy | @wackapedia
Rickon finds a snow fairy in the woods and asks his dad to kiss her so she can grant him a wish.
⭒ The Wolf Prince | @/wackapedia
Targaryen!reader
⭒ Like Stormy Seas, Like Rough Clouds | @dope-trope-105
cregan stark x rhaenyra’s daughter. she flies to winterfell to gather support for rhaneyra but she falls head over heels for cregan as well
Velaryon! (Strong) reader
⭒ he gets her a wolf | @andreawritesit
You had been living in the North for quite a while now but nothing felt quite as welcoming as receiving a warm bundle of joy as a present.
Cregan Stark x Targaryen Reader
⭒ she takes cregan for his first ever dragon ride | @/andreawritesit
Dragon riding is as easy as breathing for you but this time you have a special passenger with you.
Cregan Stark x Targaryen Reader
synopsis: time after time again, spencer unknowingly meets your desired dating standards, evolving from quiet acts to something more intimate.
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
warnings: 2.8k words, 18+ MDNI, porn WITH plot, eventual sex, protected p in v, soft smut, nerdy sweet gentle spencer, office setting to plane setting to bar setting, reader wants that cookie bad, based on olivia rodrigo's "expectations"
masterlist!
Location: The BAU headquarters. Time: 9:46am.
You had first day jitters. How could you not? You had just graduated with a major in phycology, you had done well in interviews, everything was fine. But you had close to zero field experience, while everybody else in the building had. How could you compete with that?
You held your keycard in shaky hands, swiping it once to get through the front door. When it didn't work, you swiped again, and again, until finally it worked. Must've just been a glitch, right? Or was it something else, and you weren't supposed to be there, or maybe this was all a dream and it was still exam season—
You blinked the thoughts away, stepping through the door and glancing around. Desks cluttered everywhere, you saw employees typing away or talking into microphones. Nervous to disturb any ongoing mission or case, you tiptoed around carefully, trying not to interrupt anything. This meant you weren't looking up and collided with a firm chest, stumbling back and managing to catch yourself on a nearby potted plant.
"Sorry. Sorry, I should've looked." You mumbled out, then cleared your throat, forcing yourself to speak again and not sound like a weak mouse. "My apologies."
"No worries. You're, uh, new here, right? First day?"
You looked up. The man in front of you was tall, almost lanky, with his tie and dress shirt peeking out his sweater collar. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, veiny arms on display, and he was looking at you with a tiny smile.
"It's normal." He continued without waiting for you to reply. "Reported that at least 50% of new hires in any workplace get mishaps on the first day. That can be fixed with a tour guide. I can help you around."
You blinked. You weren't used to a man offering to help you before you even said anything; especially not with your dating history of douchebags and idiots.
"That…would be great. Thanks." You attempted a smile, holding out a hand for a shake. The man just ignored it with a little wave instead, saying; "I'm Spencer."
Disregarding the lack of contact, you followed behind him as he showed you around the office. He showed you meeting rooms, facilities like printers or bathrooms, and finally, your own desk. It was conviently just a few rows down from his own. The space was empty, and he gestured to it with one hand.
"I'm sure you'll decorate it as pretty as you look."
You hardly had time to process the compliment before he smiled awkwardly and backed away, turning around to head down a hallway.
Well. This would be more interesting than you thought.
Location: The BAU printing room. Time: 2:12pm.
While you waited for papers to print, you got time to think.
It was simple, really. All the things others called bare minimum were legendary in your world; you were lucky for a boyfriend to even touch you at night, let alone get flowers or plan dates or notice little details without words. You had settled for guys doing drugs at parties, guys with fake jobs, guys that weren't smart or funny. None had ended well, and while you (and your closest friends) could have deducted that at your first meeting, you had stuck to him with a I-can-fix-him attitude.
Yeah. You could admit you were a bit too hopeful sometimes.
You needed standards. Expectations that your boyfriend will do the same things your friend's boyfriends did. Expectations that he won't be an asshole that'll just leave you in the dirt as soon as a prettier girl slided up next to him at a bar.
What you had started doing, though, after five months as part of the BAU team, was to keep a list. Not of cases or to-dos, but of every time Spencer did something like that. No, you weren't dating, nor would you let yourself think you had a crush on him. But he was doing more sweet things as a coworker-friend than some six month long relationships had.
As of now, you counted four things. The time you didn't want to interrupt at a group meeting, so he let you whisper your idea in his ear and he spoke it out, crediting you afterwards. The time he left a bouquet of flowers on your desk with a note that read as a new decoration. The time he read his science book to you when you couldn't sleep on a plane ride home, enunciating softly so you could hear each word in that nerdy voice of his. The time he brought coffee for you, exactly the way you liked it despite you having never told him explicitly what you liked.
In between the more memorable services, he found ways to slip more kindness in every day interactions. He never spoke much after he did these acts for you, just giving you the same smile you'd grown so fond of or a little finger brush that made you shiver each time.
The printer dinged. It had finished. As you collected your papers, you heard a voice behind you that you instantly recognized;
"What'cha working on?" Spencer asked, going past you to get to the coffee machine in the corner. He placed his mug down, going for a refill as he kept his gaze on you. You loved that about him; when he talked to you, he talked to you directly, like he wanted to hear your response.
"Some papers for Hotch." You replied easily. You found it easy to talk to him — and the rest of the team — now that you had been at the BAU for a few months now. Other than long cases, you were used to the hustle every day; and you woke up every morning excited to see Spencer again. He really had an effect on you.
Spencer nodded, taking a sip of his now finished coffee. "What are they about?"
Through his questions and curious gaze, you ended up talking to him for at least fifteen minutes, the two of you slowly inching closer and closer like magnets until you were standing side by side in the printing room. Spencer had read over your papers with his usual quick speed, and while you started talking about work, you ended up talking more about your own lives.
He had told you about a few of his published research papers, and you were excited to get home and read them. You had told him about all your extracurriculars in college, and he seemed interested about what you were interested in. You talked about what you thought your lives would look like in ten years, and you had to bite back the urge to say something about how you hoped Spencer was still in yours.
There was a loud knock on the door, and you could tell it was Hotch wanting the papers. You laughed quietly, just for Spencer, collecting all the sheets and heading out the door.
With your back turned, you didn't see how he kept looking at you while you left.
Location: The BAU business jet. Time: 11:54pm.
Everybody on the plane was asleep except for two people; you, and Spencer.
You were sitting side by side, as you now usually did. Penelope had noticed it first, how close you two had gotten over the year you had been at the BAU, and then everybody else caught on. You weren't a hundred percent sure if that was because of how you acted or because of Penelope's love for gossip, but now it wasn't a secret how close Spencer and you were.
Spencer was reading a book, flipping pages so quickly you could barely read a full paragraph before it was onto the next.
"Slow down." You murmured softly, your elbow propped up on the armrest between your seats, leaning over to look down at the book. You laughed quietly to not wake up the rest of the team asleep in their spots. "It's almost scary how fast you read."
"You think I'm scary?" Spencer whispered back, and you turned your head to look at him. Underestimating the closeness, your lips nearly brushed his as you met his eyes. Neither of you moved.
"I think you're lovely." You replied whole-heartedly, which got you a small smile.
You turned your head back to his book when you knew he wouldn't actually reply. He never really did after you tried to compliment him, and it wasn't annoying; no, it was just another trait you loved about him.
Liked. You liked about him. Where did that come from?
The problem was that it was late, almost midnight, and you still had a few hours until you landed back in Quantico. After a long day and a bumpy start to the ride, you were feeling tired. You dropped your head on Spencer's shoulder, barely noticing his freezing as your eyes drifted close.
You felt one of his hands come up to the side of your head, gentle fingers brushing through your hair, and you let out a sleepy hum of contentment.
You weren't sure if it was Spencer's lips or a slight breeze that grazed your forehead, but you knew what you were wishing it was.
Location: Brenna's Bar, downtown Virginia. Time: 10:32pm.
You hadn't meant to get drunk. You really hadn't. And if you thought about it hard enough, you weren't that wasted; enough to stumble a little as you moved on the dancefloor, but not enough to not register what Penelope or Derek were saying.
Despite it being a work celebration after a long case, you had dressed up cute, pinning your hair up and slipping into a short dress and heels, and you felt pretty. While applying your makeup before leaving, maybe you had thought once or twice about Spencer's reaction to seeing you.
To your disappointment, he just gave you the same smile and sat down a few seats away. No jaw drop, no heart eyes, and you knew it was childish to feel that way, but you couldn't stop it. Not after spending so long with kind and gentle touches and acts and feelings, not after everything Spencer had done for you under a friendship label. Friends didn't do what you two did.
At least, that's what you said to get yourself to sleep at night.
You were dancing now, the pink and purple lights reflecting off the disco ball and your shimmery dress. You were up with JJ and Penelope while the guys sipped their drinks on their stools or talked about whatever guy things they talked about. You were too tipsy to care, too tipsy to notice Spencer's subtle glances to you, too tipsy to see Morgan punch his shoulder with a teasing grin.
You wanted to show off. It was a Friday night, and you hadn't been with anybody in ages, not since before you joined the BAU. You were desperate to get Spencer off your mind, which was why you were moving so energetically next to JJ and Penelope's bodies, not really paying attention to anything other than the pounding of your heart.
You felt a pair of hands slip over your hips and waist, and craning your head over your shoulder, you saw the guy that stood behind you, swaying along. His body was tall and chiseled, his lips curved into a smirk with light stubble growing on his chin. He was hot enough, and his hands were warm and confident, nothing like Spencer's soft and tentative touches. He whispered something in your ear. You didn't hear it.
If you squinted enough, you saw Spencer in his features.
And then you actually did see Spencer, as he had gotten up from his stool and stormed over, pulling the man's hands off your waist. You hardly had time to gasp before he reached for your wrist, pulling you away to the back exit.
When you felt the cold night air hit your face, you exploded.
"What the fuck, Spencer?! I spent months trying to be confident and flirty and get you to want me, but you never do. I never stop thinking about you, as much as I fucking hate it. As soon as I think I can get some sort of distraction and be with somebody who wants me, even for just a night, you storm in and act like I'm a cheating whore!"
"I never said that." Spencer cut in, running a hand through his hair.
"I never said you did!" You pushed his chest, too drunk to filter the words coming out of your mouth. "But you sure are making me feel like one! Did any little thing you ever did mean shit to you, or am I just losing my fucking mind?"
"What do you want me to say? That I'm in love with you? Because I am, and that doesn't change anything!"
It took a minute to process his last words. Because I am. He was in love with you. You weren't crazy, you weren't making things up to satisfy your own desires.
You deflated. "You…you are?"
Spencer let out a long sigh, turning his head away, down the allyway to the street. "…yes. And seeing you with some random person just…I don't know."
Wow. Spencer never didn't know things. He was the smart one, the nerdy one, the one who never shut up about science or math or miscellaneous facts. You had never heard the words "I don't know" come out of his mouth, ever.
"Can you do something about it?" You asked quietly over the cool wind breezing through the alley.
"I think I should now, huh?"
Location: Spencer's apartment. Time: 11:06pm.
It didn't take too much time to get to his place.
You had gotten a taxi, and the two of you barely sat restrained in the back, the only connection being your hands laced together. You kept glancing over at Spencer, your head starting to clear ever so slightly from the lack of new drinks, though you knew you were still a bit tipsy.
The second the door closed behind you, he was kissing you.
It was all consuming now; the way he pressed you to the door, the way you could feel his body heat through layers of clothes, the way his lips moved so desperately against yours like he had wanted to act on his feelings for months, just like you had. Your hands came up to thread through his hair while his own hands laid hesitantly on your waist, careful not to touch skin.
You broke your lips apart just enough to murmur out a; "Touch me, Spencer."
You could feel him swallow harshly, gently prying you off the door and taking you further into the living room. He laid you down on the couch softly, as if all the desperate pent-up desire he had back in the allyway fizzled out now that he actually had you under him. You could still see the want in his eyes, the hunger, but you could also see the sweet man you had fallen in love with so many months ago.
Love. That was a big word, yet no word felt so right.
"We can't. We shouldn't." Spencer whispered. You were laying down on the couch, and he hovered over you, legs bracketing your hips and propping himself on his elbows beside your head so he didn't crush you under him.
"Why not?" You asked, tilting your head up, chasing his lips.
He sat up fully, delicately pushing your shoulders down to the soft cushions. "You're drunk. Or tipsy. I don't know how many drinks you had, and that's what makes me nervous. You aren't in your right mind as of now."
You huffed. You really thought this was going somewhere. "What does that mean? Are you kicking me out?"
"No, god no." Spencer reached one hand down to brush over your hair. "Just…wait until the morning. See if you still feel the same way, then we can do everything you want to."
Location: Spencer's apartment. Time: 8:48am.
Sunlight poured in from the windows.
The breeze of the air conditioning wafted through the house.
You were being pushed into the mattress.
Spencer never stopped being gentle with you; when you woke up, he had tucked your hair behind your ear. When you said you wanted to do the same thing you wanted last night, he had just nodded and kissed you deeply.
Now, the same hands that barely grazed yours months ago was holding your waist down to the mattress as he thrusted in and out of you with gentle purpose, eyes locked on your face to watch your expression for any twitch of discomfort or — god forbid — pain. He wanted to make you feel good, as good as you could feel with a hangover, and while you pulled at the nape of his neck and moaned out his name, all he did was smile and kiss you again.
"Love you." He whispered against your lips. You knew he did, you knew he fit all your expectations, from the day you met and he showed you around the headquarters to just last night at the bar.
It wasn't possible to say anything else. "I love you too."
a/n: got a bit carried away haha!!!! sorta lost the plot near the end but i really really love how it turned out though and i'm proud to call this my first spencer reid fic! hope you guys enjoyed ❤️❤️
synopsis. ryland grace is convinced he's hiding his new relationship perfectly. his students have a twenty-point evidence list that says otherwise (4.2k words)
note. part 3 of just confess but could also stand alone on its own :) idea was brought to life by @b3rry2pointo hihi lmk if any of u want a part 4 where you finally meet colt or anything else u want to be brought to life in this universe
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4
Kids are… difficult. The beginning of teenhood? Even worse.
Ryland Grace, of all people, would know this. He’s been teaching Science in Grover Cleveland Middle School for almost four years now. And he loves the kids, he really does. And he likes to believe they carry a moderate amount of respect for him too.
But kids are difficult. They like to gossip, and they’re at that weird stage where they’re learning intensely about human reproduction. On top of that, they’re getting into their first relationships which would put Romance and Who’s Dating Who? at the top of their list when they’re gathering in circles.
Ryland normally doesn’t mind. They’re in the age of exploring themselves, and exploring who they like and who they don’t. So, normally, he really wouldn’t mind.
Well, until his name starts being dropped in conversations and gossip.
He isn’t aware at first.
(Bless him and his oblivious heart.)
And he really thinks he’s been really sneaky about his newly formed relationship with you, the school’s English teacher. But what are kids if not a little more clever and sly than the adults that supervise them?
Their first sign really was the smiling.
This wouldn’t have caused alarm to his students in normal circumstances, because their teacher has always been a little cheerful. Even more when he’s talking about topics that interest him, topics in his field of specialty. But the way he was smiling recently? It was different.
They would know. They’ve observed numerous victims with the same stupid lovesick smile—their classmates, kids from the lower grade, even their parents. It has been the subject in conversation a few times, used as evidence against kids who swore they didn’t have a crush on that person.
And their dear Science teacher? He had that stupid lovesick smile on his face if they’ve ever seen one.
Whispers immediately erupt mid-activity.
"Holy crap."
"What?"
Kevin lowers his voice. "Look at Mr. Grace."
The few rows of students behind him immediately turned their attention to their teacher, who was innocently sitting at the desk in front of them, staring at his phone while waiting for them to turn in their activities.
Oh, and he was smiling, alright. Grinning. Like a total idiot.
"Is he texting someone?"
"He has to be. It’s a girlfriend. Trust me, I know these things."
This prompts a few more students to maneuver their attention from the worksheet on their table to Ryland, who still remains unaware, thumbs moving across the screen of his phone.
And, if it wasn’t already obvious, his smile stretches a little more. Until, he abruptly locks his phone and places it in his jean pocket. “Alright, let’s—”
His hands are in the air, mid-action of a clap, but he freezes in place when he catches almost the entire class staring at him.
“Why are we staring?” Ryland turns around to check if there’s something behind him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion before he looks back at his class. They all have the same knowing grins on their faces, but they choose to say nothing.
For now, at least.
Ryland really doesn’t know what’s in store for him.
“Alright, that’s time. Hand over your papers, and don’t forget about the quiz tomorrow about photosynthesis and the components of the plant cell.”
Ryland really doesn’t know what’s in store for him.
Since then, his students have taken to spying.
Their loser of a teacher couldn't possibly have met someone outside of school. Sure, Mr. Grace wasn't ugly. Some of the girls in class even had harmless little crushes on him. He was smart, too. Funny in a dorky sort of way. He had enough charm that, theoretically, dating shouldn't be impossible.
The problem was that he was still, in his entirety, Ryland Grace.
He wasn't exactly the type to walk up to a stranger and start a conversation. So if there was suddenly someone in his life? It had to be someone from school.
A breakthrough seems to happen in their research right before their eyes when lunch period rolls along a few days later, in the form of the teachers’ lounge that was a little visible from a certain part of the courtyard.
Fortunately for Olivia, she had been walking past when a certain Science teacher caught her eyes. She immediately summons her co-authors to sit at the table with a direct view of the window peering into the space their teachers lounge in during lunch break.
“Look, look! Don’t be obvious.”
Half the people at the table turn.
Olivia hisses. “I said don’t be obvious!”
But low and behold, there it was. Mr. Grace and you. Sitting together, and talking, and laughing, and sharing the same takeout food.
“Holy shit.”
“Dude!”
As if the evidence wasn’t incriminating enough, Ryland has the audacity to steal one of your potato wedges which earns him a smack in his hand by you. And the smile that follows. Oh, that stupid lovesick smile they had seen from a few days ago.
Everyone at the courtyard is losing their minds. “That was flirting!”
“That was absolutely flirting. Did you see the way he smiled at her?”
“Ms. (Name) is the one he was texting!”
“And the way she laughed at him, too?”
“We’ve cracked the case.”
Olivia shakes her head. “We need more evidence.”
You and Ryland having lunch together, like you always do even before he had confessed, had unknowingly catapulted their investigation.
Their next piece of evidence would go down in history as The Cardigan Incident.
Almost cemented in Grover Cleveland Middle School as a school legend.
It had been a quiet evening in your classroom.
Most of the students had already gone home, leaving the halls unusually peaceful. Outside the windows, the sky had faded from gold to navy blue, the last traces of sunlight disappearing behind distant buildings.
Inside, you and Ryland sat across from each other, grading papers.
It was almost routine by now.
Every few days, one of you would wander into the other's classroom after the final bell with an armful of assignments and a complaint about how middle schoolers somehow managed to invent entirely new ways to get questions wrong.
Tonight was no different.
Ryland was flipping through a stack of science quizzes while you worked through essays.
The silence between the two of you was comfortable. Always easy.
Unknown to the both of you, just a few doors down, a group of students had stayed late to prepare for an upcoming mathematics competition. They were just finishing up when they headed down the hallway to meet their waiting parents outside.
And they would've walked right past your classroom. Really would’ve, had someone not noticed movement through the window.
"Why is there somebody still in there?"
Everyone freezes at the question.
The classroom lights are on, but the hallway is dark enough that all they can see are vague silhouettes moving inside.
For one horrifying second, somebody whispers, "Is that the ghost everyone keeps talking about?"
They immediately start to back away from the door. “Oh, no no no no. I am not about to become school history.”
But of course, in a group, there is always one brave soul. One kid who volunteers to check again, rushing past his peers valiantly and squinting through the small glass panel to hopefully catch a glance of Grover’s Ghost.
He doesn’t expect what he sees. It’s the last thing he expects.
"...Wait, that's Mr. Grace. He’s with…"
Everybody crowds forward. "What?"
"Move."
"Let me see."
"Get your big head out of the way. Some of us want to see!"
Meanwhile, entirely unaware of the surveillance operation unfolding outside your classroom, you rub your hands over your arms.
The school's heating system had apparently given up hours ago, so it felt like winter had come early in the four corners of your classroom. With teeth clattering, you try to power through. Though, not without making an offhanded comment to your boyfriend. "It's freezing in here."
Ryland glances up from his papers, red pen mid-air as he immediately shifts his attention to you.
He always does that. Always invests all his attention when you say something.
"Huh? Did you say something, honey?"
You tug your sleeves down over your hands. "I think the school’s trying to save money again. It’s like, really cold. Freezing cold. Deadly cold."
Ryland laughs at your accusations.
“I mean, freezing the teachers is definitely cheaper than fixing the school’s heaters.”
"Of course we’re the sacrifice."
Another laugh bubbles up from his throat, shaking his head as he pushes his glasses further up his nose with one finger. He only turns his attention away when you return to grading your essays.
Or, at least he tries to turn his attention away, but he can see you rubbing your arms again through his peripheral vision and it just won’t do.
Without looking up for more than a second, he reaches for the cardigan hanging over the back of his chair.
Outside the room, several students stop breathing.
Inside the room, however, Ryland simply stands. And before you can understand what he’s doing, he drapes the cardigan over your shoulders, helping your arms catch the sleeves.
The gesture is so casual it almost seems like it’s been done so many times before. A hundred times even.
"Ryland."
"What?"
"You're gonna be cold."
He shrugs, smiling at you so softly that you feel something squeeze your heart, sit on your sternum, constrict your diaphragm. "I'll survive."
You pull the cardigan tighter around yourself.
It's warm, and it smells like him. Coffee and dry-erase markers and the soap you bought him for his birthday last year.
"Thanks."
Ryland offers a distracted smile as he returns to grading. "Don't mention it."
Outside the classroom, absolute chaos erupts.
"He did the movie thing."
"What movie thing?"
"The jacket thing! The thing where the guy gives his jacket to the girl he likes!"
A collective gasp sweeps through the group.
"Oh my God."
"Someone take a picture."
"I'm trying."
"Hurry up!"
"Zoom it in!"
“My camera won’t focus!”
Inside the classroom, Ryland circles a wrong answer in red pen.
Outside the classroom, an entire investigation gains enough evidence to sustain itself for a decade.
Ryland Grace starts to notice his students acting odd on an unassuming Tuesday.
He's halfway through collecting the day's activity sheets when he spots a cluster of students gathered around Rekha in the back of the classroom, whispering with the kind of intensity usually reserved for scientific breakthroughs.
Now, Ryland isn't one to stick his nose into other people's business. Still, the final bell rang five minutes ago, and if they don't start heading home soon, their parents are going to start wondering where they are.
"Okay," he says, making his way toward the group, "what's got you guys so busy back here?"
A chorus of startled yelps erupts.
Someone immediately tries to snatch the paper away.
Unfortunately for them, Ryland catches it in his hand, and takes quite a long glimpse before it disappears from him.
He was, however, able to read:
Evidence:
(1) Smiling like an idiot.
(2) Shared an umbrella once.
(3) Eating lunch together.
(4) He carries her bag.
(5) The cardigan incident.
(6) Kevin swears he saw her fixing his tie last week.
(7) Said "good morning" to Ms. (Name) three times.
The students scatter, and someone throws the piece of paper in the trash. And within seconds, they're grabbing backpacks, muttering excuses, and practically sprinting out of the classroom.
Ryland blinks after them.
"What was that about?” He mutters more to himself than to anyone.
He assumes it's harmless gossip. Some kid probably has a crush, and the rest of them are playing detective.
Then a single word catches in his mind.
Tie.
No one wears a tie to school.
Ryland is already dismissing the whole thing when he passes the narrow glass panel in the classroom door and catches his reflection.
His hand instinctively rises to the tie around his neck.
The tie.
The one you'd absentmindedly straightened for him last week before a faculty meeting.
Ryland freezes.
"...Oh."
A beat passes.
"...Oh, no."
Ryland Grace is afraid.
Well, he’s afraid of a lot of things—heights, conflicts, public speaking, anything that could cause a physical injury. And above all, thirteen-year-olds. Specifically, his thirteen-year-olds.
Because they definitely know something, and it’s definitely (ninety-nine percent sure) your relationship.
He’s started to notice it. The staring, the whispering, the suspiciously innocent smiles, and that damn piece of paper with their own list of evidence against him.
Unfortunately, today's schedule is doing him absolutely no favors. You and Ryland had been paired up to accompany your students to the planetary exhibition in your school’s hall. Which means that’s several hours of supervision, and several hours of being under their observation, their lingering stares, their whispers.
Kids are menacing, even more teens. And it seems he had been the chosen victim to their gossip.
“(Name), honey?” He asks. He’s still trying to find ease in calling you a petname, because he honestly still can’t believe you’ve reciprocated his feelings. That you’re actually his girlfriend. It’s so new on his tongue, but it’s a welcomed change.
“Yeah?”
The pressing matter returns to him, and he has to stay on topic. It’s only been a few weeks since you’d answered his confession. How does his students already know?
Ryland lowers his voice. "I think the kids know about us."
You blink, looking up from the stack of papers with attendance sheets you’d printed out.
"Really? How’d you come to that conclusion?”
“They stare.”
You laugh.
"No, seriously. They stare like they know something. Trust me, I know that look.”
Your smile widens, and Ryland immediately loses his train of thought.
(Which happens a lot these days. A lot more than he'd ever admit. It’s definitely because of you.)
"You know.” You say, leaning forward slightly. “If they do know, it's probably because you're terrible at hiding how much you like me."
His eyebrows shoot upward. "I am not. I think I’ve been pretty slick, actually."
"You carried my coffee, my papers, my bag, and my projector all on the same day."
"Those were all separate situations."
“All on the same day though.” You repeat.
"That's still not enough evidence." A stubborn look settles onto his face as he shakes his head in denial. “For a research to be substantial, you have to—”
You lean forward and press a quick kiss to his lips.
His argument dies instantly. His words are forgotten, and he doesn’t know what point he’s trying to prove anymore.
"...Okay."
Your smile turns fond. "Okay?"
"I don't remember what we were talking about."
A laugh escapes you. “Want another one?”
Ryland’s face brightens up at the suggestion, but before you can kiss him again, another teacher pokes their head into the room.
"Grace? We need help finishing the setup downstairs."
Ryland sighs dramatically, and then he whispers—not very quietly—"I'm... cashing my kiss in later."
You snort. "You make it sound like a coupon."
"It is a coupon. I worked hard to get it.”
Thirty minutes later, after he’d gotten the kiss you’d promised him, you and Ryland are leading your class downstairs toward the exhibition hall, and the whispers begin almost immediately.
You understand Ryland’s sudden hypothesis now, and when you turn to your boyfriend, he looks like he’s really trying to ignore them. Mostly because you know he wouldn’t know what he'd do if he acknowledged them.
And before you can offer him any form of support, the same teacher calls you for a favor. You quietly excuse yourself as Ryland stops the group just outside the entrance.
“Okay, rules.”
Collective groans erupt the hallway.
"First rule, no running. Second, no talking loudly. Third rule, no eating inside the exhibit area.”
A hand shoots up.
"What if I'm hungry?"
"You should've eaten lunch by now. It’s…3pm."
"What if I'm hungry now?"
“You can eat after the exhibition.”
The student mutters something about oppression. Ryland ignores that too.
"Alright. Fourth rule—"
His voice cuts off as his gaze trails off in the distance. Across the hall, you've just emerged from a storage room carrying a large box filled with 3D glasses for the exhibition.
The box isn't enormous. But it looks heavy.
Ryland watches you adjust your grip.
"Fourth rule..." He repeats absentmindedly, still watching the way you struggle with the box, still seeing the way you refuse to bother anyone else to ask for help.
The students watch him expectantly.
Finally, he closes his mouth. “Just, wait one moment.”
He turns around, walking away after telling them to stay in place. And the entire class watches as their teacher crosses the room and reaches you.
"You should've asked for help."
"I can carry it."
"I know you can."
Still, despite his response, the box is already in his hands.
You roll your eyes affectionately, and Ryland can only smile at you. That stupid lovesick smile.
"The kids are staring." You whisper, and his shoulder bumps yours. A small gesture, playful and instinctive. The kind of habit that’s between two people who have gotten used to being near each other.
"They are not."
The students are collectively staring, mouths agape as they slowly start to turn towards one another.
Several silent nods are exchanged.
A few fingers point.
Someone mouths “I told you” to someone.
Olivia can’t believe their hypothesis is correct.
Meanwhile, Ryland continues carrying the box as if he hasn't just abandoned an entire class.
Tomorrow, they decide, will be the day. Tomorrow they'll get answers. And they know exactly how to extract that information from their beloved Science teacher.
“Lava, lava, lava, lava.”
Fists are bumping their tables in a coordinated rhythm as Ryland takes out the small, round Earth plush from the corner of his classroom. And then it’s tossed in the air, and immediately it lands on Olivia’s hands.
“Which two organelles are found in plant cells but not in animal cells?”
“Uh, uh.” She juggles the knitted ball in her hands.
“It’s melting your hands, Olivia!”
She suddenly sits a little straighter, voice significantly louder as she says, “The rigid cell wall and chloroplasts for photosynthesis.”
“Oh! Give her a round of applause. That’s awesome.” He smiles, catching the ball in his hand as Olivia throws it back at him.
And as he does, he fails to see the knowing smirk on her face.
“Mr. Grace?” She clears her throat, and Ryland gives her his attention, thinking it’s a follow-up question of what he’d just asked.
"Are you and Ms. (Name) really together?"
Absolute silence greets the room, lingering in the air and expanding as all his students lean forward from their desks.
Their brilliant plan was commencing, and Ryland can only stare with dawning horror. And then he’s scratching the back of his head. “That’s… not a lava question.”
“You said you have to answer all the questions!”
“Well, then I pass.”
“You can’t pass!”
“I just did.”
“Lava, lava, lava, lava.” Everyone starts chanting again, and Ryland is already running a palm down his face exasperatedly. This cannot be happening to him. There is no way that this is currently happening in real time.
He drops his head back dramatically, stares at the ceiling for a moment the way all students do when confronted with a difficult question. And like he had told them several times, there really were no answers there, nothing of help.
“Why do you guys care so much?”
"Because you're our favorite teacher. And she's our favorite teacher too. And if you guys are together then it's like one of those crazy crossover episodes."
A girl near the front chimes in. “Soooo, are you guys together?”
They really have him cornered this time, and they know it. They had perfectly thought this plan through, because lava rules existed, and Ryland could never break one of his own rules. It’d set a bad example to the kids.
"Alright, fine."
The room becomes so quiet that you could almost hear swallowing.
Ryland sighs, thinking his life decisions through, thinks of a way out, and when no opportunity presents itself, he finally nods. Once.
"Yes."
The reaction is immediate, and the entire classroom detonates in comments, one over the other and some people have gotten out of their seats, one kid nearly topples over a desk, and Ryland can’t hear everything at once, but he can hear:
“I knew it!”
“Let’s goooooooo.”
“That’s what I said!”
“Dude, I told you.”
“Five dollars! Pay up!”
Oh, what would their parents say about betting on their teacher’s love life?
Ryland points at them. “Alright, calm down. Everyone back to your seats.”
And then his hand is up. “My hand is up.”
Kevin immediately sits, and the others slowly follow suit. But not without a few more whispers cleared out.
"We're happy for you!" Olivia suddenly says, and everyone is smiling and nodding their heads.
“Jesus Christ.” Ryland mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Another hand rises.
It’s Rekha.
Absolutely not.
"No."
"You didn't even hear the question yet."
"I don't need to."
"But—"
"No."
"Have you kissed?"
The room erupts in screams, and Ryland is starting to get dizzy, and just when he thinks his whole life is about to crumble in front of him… the bell rings. And Ryland can see salvation. Beautiful, wonderful salvation, and he swears he has never loved a sound more in his life.
His students groan. For the first time in their lives, they groan at the sound of the bell.
“Class dismissed!”
"We were just getting somewhere." Rekha whines, but still, backpacks are gathered and chairs are scraped back to their spot, and his thirteen-year-olds start filing out of the room. And finally, the door closes and Ryland can finally breathe. He has been saved.
He really needs to modify the rules of the lava game.
A knock immediately sounds from the classroom door, breaking him out of his trance.
Ryland already knows who it is. And he needs you now more than ever, especially after the most stressful moment of his life.
You slip inside, balancing your bag and a stack of papers against your hip. “Hey.”
His arms are immediately peeling away everything you’re holding, and in record time, he has his arms wrapped around you. Ryland’s head is buried in your hair, glasses askew and all over the places, and his hands are linked around your waist.
“You okay there, Ry?”
“You have no idea what I just went through.”
A laugh slips out of you. “Aw. Were they bad today?”
“They contrived against me.”
Your expression immediately shifts into sympathy. “Oh, no. What happened?”
Your hands are running down his back, following a trail up his hair before settling back on his hunched over back. Rubbing evolves into light pats as you wait for him to tell you about his day, and you can feel the tension in his shoulders start to undo.
The late afternoon sun filters through the classroom windows. The building is quieter now that most of the students have gone home, distant voices and slamming lockers echoing faintly through the halls.
And then he finally pulls away, and you reach over and smooth down the collar of his shirt absentmindedly. And Ryland can only remember that damn piece of paper and the evidence against him.
He should’ve seen this coming.
“Can’t tell you yet. It’s a long story.”
"It's that bad, huh?"
"I got through it."
You grin. "Good. Because I was wondering if you'd want to grab dinner later. We could still go home and freshen up a bit, rest if you need. I’m sure Colt would like to know what the kids did to you today.”
The answer is immediate. "Yes. Let’s get dinner."
Everything else is ignored.
You laugh again, and Ryland thinks he would gladly survive ten more student interrogations if it meant ending his day like this.
A sudden blur appears outside the classroom door.
Neither of you notices. Then another. And another. And now a cluster of students who definitely should have already gone home crouches beneath the little window in the door.
Inside the classroom, you continue talking.
Outside, Olivia is standing on tiptoe.
"I can't see anything."
"Move over."
"You move over."
"Shhh!"
Inside, you turn your head curiously after hearing what seems to be whispers. "Did you hear something?"
Ryland freezes. A horrible realization slowly dawns on him. It’s never over. And as Ryland looks over at the door, it suddenly starts to empty as his students dive for cover.
A loud thunk follows and a few muffled "ow”s.
Ryland closes his eyes. "Let's get dinner."
"Okay? I thought we already established that.”
"Right now."
"Right now?"
"Immediately."
You laugh as he takes your hand and starts steering you toward the door.
The second it opens, six students scatter down the hallway like they weren’t just eavesdropping. And this time, they’re not slick at all. There’s tripping, and pushing over, and running as they try to escape.
And as Ryland buries his face in his hands, you stand there completely bewildered.
"...What was that about?"
Ryland looks at the ceiling. Wow! Still no answers up there.
"I have absolutely no idea, honey. I seriously have no idea."
And Ryland eventually tells you everything over dinner, and you can’t help but laugh.
The case of Mr. Grace's mysterious girlfriend had finally been solved, and unfortunately for him, his students were very proud of their work. And he just knows, deep in his heart, that this wasn’t the end of their little conundrum.
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