#I had some old scans of these pages but I don't find them to be as presentable anymore

[mattiesgf]

scribbles - m.r x reader

summary - dash&lily!au, mattheo and reader communicate through a book, and perhaps its comforting to rant to someone without knowing them?

word count - above 2k

a/n - okay omg, this is literally my first fic ever so don't judge? and I really wanted something like an anonymous romance because I think it fits mattheo. enjoyy

The Hogwarts library was insanely huge—everyone knew that. Its sections seemed to stretch endlessly, shelf after shelf, book after book. And it wasn’t just academic texts; there were novels too, tucked away in those maze-like aisles.

So here he was, Mattheo Riddle, probably the last person you’d expect in front of the literature shelves, fumbling through titles in a half-hearted attempt to find A Farewell to Arms for his Muggle Studies class.

Professor Charity Burbage wouldn’t shut up about the so-called "sappy Muggle romance." For the sake of his grades, he had to find it. After scanning what felt like every spine in the row, he finally spotted it.

“Finally!”

He grabbed the book without hesitation. Staying in the library wasn’t on his agenda—it never was. The place didn’t exactly hold the sweetest memories for him. The silence, so absolute, seemed to lure the worst thoughts to the surface. It was the perfect breeding ground for overthinking, and Mattheo had no patience for that. He much preferred the controlled chaos of the dorms or the common room. Maybe he’d been alone too long. People could be annoying, sure, but they kept the silence—and his thoughts—at bay.

Just as he was about to leave, something caught his eye: a bright red book on the same shelf. It wasn’t a novel, not with that unmarked spine and leather cover. Curiosity got the better of him, and he pulled it out. The journal smelled faintly of Chanel—a stark contrast to the old-book musk around it. Stickers covered the spine, obscuring what might’ve been the owner’s initials. Lana Del Rey. The Smiths. A tiny “A” tucked in the corner.

He opened it.

The first page was written in delicate cursive, the kind that practically screamed “perfected over years of writing essays on parchment.”

“Do you dare?”

His first instinct was to chuck the thing out the nearest window and let it flop onto the frozen lake below. This felt eerily close to one of his father’s tricks. But then again, when had Voldemort ever cared for indie aesthetics or Muggle music?

Curiosity won. He flipped the page.

“Ah, so you do dare. And no, I’m not trying to lure you into the Chamber to kill you. I just figured if you’re in this aisle, maybe we have something in common.”

“I’ve left some clues for you. If you want them, turn the page. If you don’t, put the book back on the shelf, please—this is kind of my one shot at finding a literary soulmate.”

The handwriting, undeniably feminine, had that neat, practiced vibe. Someone who probably spent way too much time perfecting it in their first year. Definitely not him.

“ALSO, if you’re not a teenage boy, I’d suggest putting it back. And if you’re Madam Pince, I’m definitely a Gryffindor. ;)”

Mattheo let out a low chuckle. She was funny. Slytherin vibes, or so he thought.

The next page revealed a string of numbers:

“1111111”

Some sort of code?

“Solve it, decipher it, and it might just lead…”

He sighed, already feeling the time he’d need to spend on this. But he was hooked. What better way to pass the time than chasing cryptic clues from a journal that promised not to kill him, right?

Tucking the book under his arm, he headed for the exit, but of course, Madam Pince’s sharp voice cut through the air like a spell.

“Mr. Riddle, you must check that out before stuffing it in your bag and leaving.”

“Uh, yeah, of course.” He handed over A Farewell to Arms.

“And the other?”

“That’s mine. Just a journal,” he lied smoothly.

“Right.”

He nodded quickly and slipped out before she could've said more.

As he walked away, a soft voice called out behind him. “You took the journal?”

He turned, spotting a fifth-year—a library volunteer, maybe.

“I did. Why?”

The kid shrugged, barely pausing. “Solve the riddles and put it where you get. She’ll answer.”

“Wait—”

But the kid was already gone.

“Wait—”

But the kid was already gone.

So, it was a girl. Cursive handwriting, fancy perfume, and riddles designed to intrigue. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a waste of time after all.

He made his way back to the dungeons, the familiar stone hallways feeling like they were meant for him, even if he wasn’t sure what “home” really meant anymore.

He reached the dorm, the one that was always a bit of a mess, the one he shared with Theodore and Lorenzo. The air had that funny, almost burnt toast scent to it that Mattheo had gotten used to. It wasn’t perfect, but it was his.

But his mind wasn’t on the dorm or the mess. It was on the journal. It had been... interesting. Why would Mattheo Riddle, of all people, take the time to talk to someone who had no idea who he was? Maybe that’s exactly why—someone who wouldn’t judge him for the name or the bloodline.

“Oi, Enzo, give me a hand with something?”

“God, Matt, do you ever think maybe I have my own stuff to do? Maybe Enzo has plans, y’know?”

“Shut up and help. I totally covered for you with Greengrass about your stupid book, remember?”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah, yeah, come on.”

Lorenzo flopped down next to him on the couch, eyeing the journal in Mattheo’s hand.

“So, let me get this straight. You’re talking to a girl—who could very well not be a girl—and you want me to solve the riddles and help you, because you’re actually interested? AND, you're intrigued by one line? the one line she wrote-?”

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but it’s a good line.”

Lorenzo gave him a skeptical look. “A good line? She could be some weird third-year with a collection of creepy journals. I’m just saying, don’t get too attached.”

“Relax, I’m not getting attached,” Mattheo said, but the words felt hollow even to him.

Lorenzo snatched the journal from his hand, flipping through the pages. “You’re telling me you’re not intrigued by this?” He raised an eyebrow. “I mean, ‘Do you dare?’ That’s some serious mysterious girl energy.”

Mattheo leaned back, watching as Lorenzo scanned the riddles, his lips curving into a smirk. “Just help me solve it, alright?”

Lorenzo paused, glancing over at Mattheo. “Fine. But don’t blame me when this turns into some weird obsession.”

“Alright, mystery guy, string the letters together and let’s see where we end up.”

Mattheo leaned back, watching as Lorenzo eyed the list of riddles. He was already beginning to look like he was about to fall asleep.

“Okay, Enzo, do them for me,” Mattheo said, tapping the page impatiently.

Lorenzo groaned but took the journal from him, reading the first riddle aloud.

“There’s a light that never fades,

Shining bright even through melancholy haze.

Name the song that calls out for comfort and trust,

It’s about heaven, but grounded in the just.”

Lorenzo paused, scratching his chin. “Okay, that’s definitely an old one, maybe like Lana? Considering the stickers?”

Something seemed to have clicked for mattheo, “No, no, no The smiths! SHE LIKES THE SMITHS, ENZO- oh my god, there’s a light that never goes out, thats it!”

Lorenzo kept going, flipping to the next one, sighing at Mattheo. "Once again, same music taste does not equal soulmate- god, do you ever learn?"

Mattheo rolled his eyes, "Alright, shut up, go on"

“If sweets are your craving, step through my door,

From Chocolate Frogs to Fizzing Whizbees galore.

In Hogsmeade’s heart, where sugar dreams thrive,

Name the shop where treats come alive.”

“Honestly, that’s a no-brainer. It’s Honeydukes,” Lorenzo said without hesitation.

“Right, right. You’re on fire,” Mattheo teased, as Lorenzo moved on to the next.

"I’m often served up cold or hot,

A liquid refreshment, I hit the spot.

I come in flavours, both sweet and bold,

What am I? Guess me, I’m quite old."

Lorenzo grinned. “Coffee? Like, uh, lets say expresso? ”

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “Of course you’d get that one first try.”

Lorenzo continued to read, now with a slight smirk.

“An ode to a woman with a celestial name,

Her vibe is electric, not one you can tame.

From the album that rocked the world wide,

Name the track.”

Lorenzo stared at the riddle for a moment, clearly deep in thought. His lips curled slightly, as if trying to put the pieces together.

Mattheo watched, his mind already racing through possibilities. "Come on, Enzo. It’s not that hard."

Lorenzo looked up, clearly struggling to connect the dots. "I dunno, man. Celestial name... electric vibe... It’s throwing me off."

Mattheo’s eyes widened. “Wait... Arabella,” he said suddenly, catching the reference. “It’s got to be ‘Arabella’ by Arctic Monkeys.”

Lorenzo blinked, then nodded slowly. “Oh, yeah. That makes sense. Good catch, Riddle.”

Mattheo grinned, feeling a little bit smug. “I know my stuff.”

Lorenzo looked at the riddle like Mattheo was crazy.

“I’m a serpent, sleek and sly,

With emerald scales and cunning eye.

In the house where ambition reigns,

What’s my symbol? Speak my name.”

“Matt, come on. The locket, duh.”

“Oh, right,” Mattheo muttered, tapping his fingers on the journal.

Lorenzo barely hesitated before moving on to the next riddle.

“I’m the one who guards the goalposts tight,

Stopping the quaffle with all my might.

I block and deflect, keeping the score low—

What’s my position? Now, let me know!”

“Keeper,” Lorenzo answered with a smirk, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Should’ve known,” Mattheo grumbled, half to himself.

Lorenzo moved on, flipping to the final riddle.

“I’m a potion that makes truth come clear,

In Hogsmeade, I’m sold with no fear.

A drop or two, and secrets unfold,

What’s my name? It’s liquid gold.”

Lorenzo grinned. “Veritaserum. Honestly, these riddles are too easy.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “You really think you’ve got this figured out, huh?”

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. “Well, if I’m solving all the riddles, maybe I should be the one old-timey flirting with her through a book. What do you think?”

Mattheo’s eyes widened in mock horror. “What? Absolutely not. I found the book. Plus, you think she could be a possible psychopath—what about that, huh?”

Lorenzo shrugged, unfazed. “Eh, it’s a possibility. But if she’s that crazy, at least it’ll be entertaining.”

Mattheo shook his head, but couldn't help the smirk tugging at his lips. "Not happening."

“Anyway, let me put it together. It says ‘string the first together,’” Lorenzo said, already scribbling down the letters.

Mattheo watched, tapping his foot in rhythm. “Uh, T, H, E, A, L, K, V…”

Lorenzo stared at the letters for a moment before glancing up. “Alright, so… ‘THE ALCOVE.’” He shrugged. “Sounds like the one by the lake.”

Mattheo raised an eyebrow. “Oh, like our Alcove, Alcove?”

Lorenzo gave another shrug. “Could be. Or maybe something else. Who knows? It’s just a game, Matt.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mattheo said, leaning back with a grin. “I’ll go check it out.”

Lorenzo chuckled, tossing the journal back at Mattheo. “Right, because you’re definitely not getting invested. Go ahead, find the weirdo.”

Mattheo smirked, flipping through the journal and eyeing the letters. “I’ll figure it out. But, uh, if she’s leaving clues like this, she’s got a decent sense of humor.”

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure. Just don’t get too carried away with it, alright? Since it’s just a game.”

Mattheo sighed and plopped down onto the stone steps, resting the journal beside him. He leaned back, his gaze wandering aimlessly around the alcove, still trying to make sense of the place. The stillness of the moment almost felt like an invitation to relax, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this. There had to be.

He scanned the surrounding area, eyes tracing the worn edges of the stone, the lake shimmering faintly through the trees. And then—there it was.

That familiar "a".

On one of the tiles, nearly hidden beneath the edge of the stone step, was a small sticker of the letter “a”—it wasn’t much, but Mattheo immediately recognized it. The same letter from the journal. The same one that had popped up in the corner of the pages, taunting him with its mystery.

Mattheo’s heart picked up pace, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Now we're getting somewhere. He bent down, carefully peeling the sticker off the tile, wondering what kind of clue this could lead to.

Whatever it was, he was definitely invested now.

Mattheo stared at the sticker for a second, waiting for something to happen, but when nothing did, he was about to brush it off. Then, in a blink, the sticker seemed to melt away, its glossy edges rippling like the surface of the lake on a windy day. Before he could process it, the sticker was gone, replaced by a folded note.

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. Hogwarts magic, never a dull moment.

He unfolded the note, the handwriting neat and familiar:

"Leave the journal, I'll answer."

The next day, Mattheo found himself walking past the alcove again. The events from the night before still lingered in his mind, but he'd almost convinced himself it had all been some weird fluke, or maybe just a one-off game.

He hadn't returned to the alcove since he’d left the journal there, figuring he’d check back in a day or so. But as he passed by, he couldn’t resist stopping. The place seemed quieter now, the magic of the night before no longer lingering in the air.

But when he got to the spot, he was surprised to see that the journal was still there. Nothing else had changed. Mattheo stared at it for a moment, debating whether to just walk away, but something—curiosity, maybe—kept him rooted to the spot.

He bent down, picking up the journal and flipping through it. 

"Aha, u so could be kinda smart huh? I can’t believe someone’s actually answered, that journal was probably there for a year? And good job with the riddles, I guess? I’m surprised you got the Smiths and Arctic Monkeys one, maybe u have a similar taste Mystery Boy. Your chance now, you give me the dare and I’ll follow through."

- A,

xx

Mattheo leaned back against the wall, grinning to himself. So, she was serious about this. A dare, huh? This could get interesting.

He quickly scribbled in his response, his hand steady as he wrote. "Alright, mystery girl, you asked for it."

omggg, I actually wrote this? I'm very happy about it, and i'd love if people interact w it, also ty @sunkissedscribbles for helping since my first draft looked like a seven year old wrote it 😭 also yes, this will be a series and I'm very open to suggestions and any improvements. (I should probably make a taglist?) - rey

[moonchild9350]

Prey

Summary: In a world where vampires and humans coexist albiet not peacefully, you come to realize everything is not as it seems after meeting Hyunjin.

Pairing: Vampire Hyunjin x fab reader

Genre: thriller, fluff, smut 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: stalking, coercion (briefly), breaking and entering?, description of blood (obviously), blood tasting, nipple play, fingering, monster fucking, unprotected sex (don't), creampie, squirting.

Notes: This is my first fic for my spooktober event! Yes this is a vampire fic. I had fun with this and added my own twists to what we know as vampires hehe so don't come after me lol. I hope you like it and it gets you into the spooky mood hehe.

If you enjoyed this, likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated as they keep me motivated ♡

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

“Night is purer than day; it is better for thinking and loving and dreaming. At night everything is more intense, more true.” -Ellie Wiesel

You’ve never been afraid of the dark. You could sit in a dark space for hours, listening to the sounds around you, feeling the air move through your fingertips. No, the dark never bothered you. What you did fear was what is lurking in the shadows, creatures of your deepest nightmares watching your every move, waiting to pounce on you.

You felt like prey at night, always feeling like you were being hunted. You lived in a world that included vampires, creatures of the night mostly.

Growing up, you were told to avoid them at all costs, that they were dangerous, cunning, beings that shouldn’t walk the earth. Your mother instilled these thoughts into your head, making you promise to never associate with one of these beings.

Not wanting to upset your mother, you promised, the fear taking root deep in your core. Now as an adult, you still kept that promise. You never interacted with them, avoiding them at all costs if you could. You also made sure to be home before nightfall, afraid for what was lurking in the dark or who.

You were mindful of this fact as you prepped for the day. You needed to go to the library to work on a project for work, which would take up the majority of your day. Packing your bag, you grabbed a sweater and left, making your way to the town’s local library.

It was a cool day, autumn in full swing. The leaves were changing colors to vibrant shades of red, orange, and yellow. Some leaves already have fallen from the trees, landing on the sidewalk, the crunch echoing as you stepped on each one.

You hoped your friend had made it to the library first, making sure to get the good seats. You knew she would have a warm London fog with her, as she knew what your favorite drink was.

It didn’t take long for you to arrive, the old building looming in the center of town. You marched up the steps and opened the door, a burst of warm air enveloping you like a cozy blanket. You scanned the area, looking for your friend Aria, finding her at a desk next to one of the many windows.

She was engrossed in a book, her nose almost touching the pages. You chuckled and walked over before blowing on her face, startling her. She narrowed her eyes at you while clutching her chest, “that wasn’t very nice.”

You grinned, pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Is that for me?” You asked, hope in your eyes as you eyed the cup next to her.

“It is, although you don’t deserve it after the stunt you just pulled.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for the drink. “So dramatic. Thank you.”

Aria stuck her tongue out at you and then went back to her book, her nose once more barely touching the page.

You started to unpack and set up for the day, gazing through your list of things to do. Opening up one of the books you brought with you, you started to skim through it looking for information for your project.

You became lost in your work, the silence settling around you, the only sounds heard were the occasional rustle of paper. You were making progress, however, you needed more books as references. You signaled to Aria that you were going to go look for more books. She nodded her head and went back to reading as you got up and stretched your legs.

You walked over to the non-fiction section and started browsing the titles, looking for anything that may be useful for your project. You were so engrossed in searching that you didn’t see the man standing in the aisle, book in hand. You bumped into him causing him to drop his book, startling you.

“Oh, I’m so sor…” your words died off as you looked at the man before you.

Your breath caught as you eyed him, taking in his looks. He was tall, looming over your figure easily. His face was beautiful, reminding you of Adonis. His eyes were a dark, chocolate brown, the orbs piercing, but yet gentle. You felt lost in his gaze, as you forgot where you were, your mind going blank.

The man smiled at you, reaching out his hand to brush the hair from your face. The action made you snap out of your reverie, shaking your head to clear the fuzziness within your brain. You knew what he was, the very creature you vowed to stay away from.

“Are you ok?” The man spoke, his voice silky, smooth, and deep.

He peered down at you, holding your gaze as you tried to look anywhere but at his face. You didn’t want to engage with him and were looking for a way out. Before you could run away, the man brought his hand to your chin and had you look him in the eyes.

You tried to look away, but to no avail as he held your head steady. He looked deep into your eyes, his lips slightly parted, a grin forming on his face. You felt calm and less terrified, your body relaxing with each passing second.

“Are you ok?” The man asked again.

You shook your head as best as you could, “yes, I’m ok.”

The man smied, his dazzling teeth on display. “Good. My name is Hyunjin. What’s your name gorgeous?”

You intently listened as Hyunjin spoke to you, eager to hear more of his voice. Clearing your throat, you replied, “Y/n.”

Hyunjin hummed in acknowledgment. “Such a pretty name. Fitting for such a pretty girl.”

You leaned more into his touch, wanting to be as close as possible to this man. However, something felt off, but you couldn’t place your finger on what. With much difficulty, you searched your brain, trying to understand why the interaction felt off.

Hyunjin continued to look into your eyes, his face searching yours for any clue as to what you were thinking about. With sudden clarity, you understood why things felt off. He had you under his charm. Yes, that was it. You could vaguely sense a different scent than before, the smell of bergamot and patchouli gracing your senses.

You focused on this thought deep within, trying to break through his spell. It was difficult as he was a vampire so to say, their spells not easy to break for the average human. However, you fought hard, willing yourself to unleash yourself from his charm so you could run away.

Suddenly, you felt like yourself again and with a breath, slapped his hand away, shock gracing his beautiful features.

“Get your hands off me,” you said, your eyes laced with fear but also anger.

Hyunjin stared at you in shock and slight awe. You were actually able to break his charm. No one has ever done so, not in his hundreds of years roaming this earth. He already thought you were beautiful, your calm demeanor sparking a flame within him he hasn’t felt in centuries. But now? He was fascinated and he wasn’t going to forget you anytime soon.

He watched as you turned on your heels and quickly walked away back to your friend, your strong scent of lavender and honey lingering in your wake. He quickly said a quick spell, satisfied once he was done. Your paths would cross again, sooner rather than later if he had any say.

Adjusting the ring on his finger, he made to leave, slowly strolling out of the library into the night air.

You made it back to your table, pulling out your chair and sitting down. You tried to catch your breath as you held a hand to your chest, feeling the rapid pounding of your heart. What the hell just happened you wondered. Did you really just cross paths and actually interact with a vampire?

You were terrified. You hoped to never see him again. Surely you won’t right? You were lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear Aria call your name. Snapping your head up, you looked at your friend.

“Are you alright?” She asked as she looked at you anxiously. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Close to it you thought. “I’m fine. Just…saw a rat and ran away.”

“Ewww, really?! I would have screamed.” Aria said, none the wiser to your lie.

She went back to her book, not paying you any more attention. You attempted to continue to work on your project, however, your mind was preoccupied. You couldn’t get Hyunjin out of your head.

You knew vampires were gorgeous, their beauty being one of the points that lured unsuspecting humans into their grasps, but you didn’t think they could look that beautiful. Your mind was all over the place, not able to focus on the task in front of you.

Finally givng up, you decided to pack up and go home. You explained to Aria that you were leaving. She merely waved you away.

“Text me when you get home,” she said, not looking up from her book.

Grabbing your bag, you made to leave. You cautiously walked into the night, the darkness settling in around you. You had stayed longer than you had liked. Not many people were out and about, as it was late. You listened to your surroundings, the occasional hoot from an owl reaching your ears.

The moon was bright, casting a glow to illuminate your way. You hummed a song as you continued to walk home, feeling at ease for the first time since you had that chance encounter, given the circumstances.

You were almost home when you felt odd, your senses tingling, as if someone was watching you. You looked around you, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Seeing nothing, you shrugged your shoulders and continued on your way. You did not see the figure lurking in the shadows, watching as you made your way home.

It didn’t take much longer to get home, your apartment being a short distance from the library. You walked up the steps to your door and stopped in your tracks. Lying delicately on your doormat was a kadupul flower, in full bloom.

You quickly looked around, looking to see who could have left such a flower at your door. You felt uneasy. Picking up the flower, you unlocked your door and quickly slipped inside, latching the deadbolt in place. You looked at the flower in your hand, the rich, white petals in full bloom.

You walked over to your sink, and found a vase, filling it with water and setting the flower inside. You made your way to your bathroom to shower, trying not to think about the odd events of the day. You walked through your night routine and once finished, slid into bed.

Turning off the lights, you laid underneath the covers, staring at the wall. You tried not to think of Hyunjin, as you willed sleep to come. It must have worked, because before you knew it, you dozed off, succumbing to sleep.

As you slumbered, a figure loomed over you, watching as you slept peacefully. Hyunjin was happy you accepted his flower, bidding him to come inside your house. After all, it was one of the ways vampires were granted entrance into someone’s home.

Now that he is able to come inside, he can watch over you more closely, get to know you, your routine, and if he plays his cards right, you’ll be his before the end of the fortnight. For now, however, he’ll watch over you tonight, and make sure you have sweet dreams.

The next morning, you awoke feeling oddly refreshed. The sun was shining, you could tell as the rays threatened to break through your curtains that you had closed. You stretched and got up to begin your morning routine. Your day wasn’t terribly busy, only having to go into the office briefly to meet with one of your colleagues regarding the project.

You happily sipped at your coffee as you read your book, the events of last night forgotten. Now that you think about it, you had pleasant dreams too, which was a nice change from the typical nightmares you usually get. You didn’t dwell on the thought too long however. You were just happy to finally get some sleep.

The time came when it was time for you to meet your colleague, so you fixed your hair and grabbed your bag, before making your way outdoors. The walk was pleasant, the warm sun gently warming your skin. You smiled, feeling truly happy.

Now that made you think, as you haven’t felt true happiness in a while. It was sad to even have to consider why you felt happy. Maybe you shared a funny joke with Aria or had a great conversation with your family on the phone that you can’t remember. Neither option seemed right however.

You felt confused, a frown slowly gracing your features. You felt like a part of your memory was gone and you weren’t sure why.

Hyunjin watched you from afar, the spell he placed on you yesterday at the library alerting him whenever you left the house. He followed you as you walked to your destination. You seemed happy enough. It didn’t seem like you remembered him or your encounter yesterday.

However, your demeanor changed, your stride slowing, a frown appearing on your beautiful face. You seemed lost in thought. He didn’t approve of your anxiety and confusion. He wanted you to be happy. The other spell he casted over you last night must already be wearing off sooner than usual.

Maybe he needs to back off a little, let you get back into your daily routine. Hyunjin did not want to mess this opportunity up. He’s already told the others about you. They are very eager to meet the mysterious human that has preoccupied their friend.

Yes, he will back off. He will let you go about your life and then when you least expect it, re-approach you. He is certain he will succeed at his next attempt to make you his.

Your days passed quietly, nothing out of the ordinary occurring. You filled your days by going to work and back home and occasionally going to the library to continue working on your project. You met with Aria a few more times, grabbing coffee or food depending on how much time you both had.

You had just arrived home after a long day at the office. You were more than ready to relax, ready to binge watch your favorite show while stuffing your face with pizza. Once you placed your order and changed into more comfortable clothes, you made up your home on the couch for the next few hours.

However, you happened to look over and notice the flower, still in its vase from a week ago. Who gave that to you again? You couldn’t remember. Shrugging, you decided to toss it, as the flower was shriveled up and appeared to be dead. Once you were done, you sat down and flipped the tv on, pulling up your show.

You were already an episode in when you heard a knock on the door. Thinking it was your pizza, you skipped happily to the door and swung it open, ready to greet the pizza delivery person.

Instead of pizza however, there was a dozen of the same flower that you just threw away. Startled, you looked up, looking this way and that to see if whoever left them were still around. Nightfall had fallen, quiet had descended upon your town.

A shiver went down your spine, unease settling in within you. You noticed a note on top of the flowers. Picking up the square piece of paper, you unfolded it and read what was written inside:

Time may pass but you become ever more beautiful. Await me my love for we shall be reunited soon.

Now you were scared. There was no signature indicating who left the note. It was handwritten in beautiful script, the words written carefully upon the piece of paper. You needed to get back into the comfort of your home and it needed to happen now.

Against better judgment, you picked up the flowers and brought them inside. You filled the vase with fresh water once more and set them inside. You stared at the flowers, not yet in bloom. You placed the note next to the vase.

You could feel your senses go into overdrive as your body went into fight or flight mode. You became aware of every sound around you, listening for a potential intruder after this strange event. You jumped when you heard another knock on your door, hearing the person on the other side say ‘delivery.’

Taking a few deep breaths, you made your way back to your door, unlocking it to take the pizza. You thanked the man and closed the door, once more in the safety of your home. You made sure the door was bolted before sitting down on your couch.

You weren’t really hungry anymore, too on edge after finding the bouquet of flowers. You turned to look at them, letting out a gasp as the flowers had since bloomed. They sat within the vase, an ethereal look to them as the petals lay spread out. You sat in shock, just staring at the flowers, not noticing there was another presence in the room.

Far too late, you turned your head to notice a man sitting next to you. You let out a scream, the color draining from your face. You cowered in the corner of the couch, your muscles tense and ready to run at moments notice. When did he get in here? Something about him seemed familiar, but you couldn’t place where you had first seen him.

“Hi angel,” the man said as he looked you in the eyes.

You let out the breath you were holding, your body relaxing little by little as you stared at the man in front of you, a feeling of calm spreading throughout your body.

“Do you remember me?”

You started at the man, your mind a jumbled mess as you tried to make out the situation. A strange man somehow broke into your house and is now sitting in front of you asking if you remember him. You felt strange on top of that, oddly calm given the situation.

“I see you got my flowers. They look beautiful just like you love.”

You struggled with your conscience, trying to overcome this fog that was placed over you. You looked in horror as the man scooted closer to you and gently grabbed your face. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your vision blurring as you felt tears prickle the corners of your eyes.

You fought internally with yourself, trying to break through the fog. As you struggled, the man was leaning closer and closer to you as though he was going to kiss you. You closed your eyes at the last second, squeezing them shut. You felt his soft and pillowy lips brush yours.

You needed to wake up now, or who knows what will happen. At this, you felt the fog lift, your mind clear once more. You screamed and scrambled back as far as you could go away from the man.

He stared back at you, his hand in midair as if he was still holding your face.

“Angel, don’t be afraid.” He said.

“Who are you? How’d you get in here? I didn’t give you permission to come in!” You all but screamed.

The man in front of you sighed. “Perhaps I left you alone for too long. My name is Hyunjin. We’ve met before.”

He stared at you long and hard as his words sank in. You looked terrified, your body shaking in fear. He didn’t want you to be afraid. He wanted you to feel at ease around him, he wanted you to want him, to be his.

“You brought the flowers inside your house. They have a spell on them, one that grants me entrance to wherever the flowers reside.”

You listened to every word he said, fear still coursing through your body.

“Why? Why me?” You said, your voice shaking with each word.

You tried to take deep breaths, as you felt dizzy, feeling like you were going to pass out.

“Please, angel. Don’t be afraid. We are meant to be. Let me show you. Please.”

Hyunjin had a pleading look on his face. He made no further move to get closer to you, respecting the distance placed between you two.

“You’re a vampire. How are we meant to be? I’m a human.” You said, rolling your eyes.

Hyunjin looked sad, his eyes falling at your denial of his advances.

“If I can show you how we were meant to be, will you accept me? One night, that’s all I ask angel.”

You looked at Hyunjin, really looked at him, searching his face for any deceit. He was a vampire after all. You thought long and hard, as the shock of a strange man in your home wore off. He’s a vampire, he can’t be trusted. He just wants to use you and once he’s done, he’ll kill you.

Why trust him? Yes he was staring at you with his beautiful eyes, but you didn’t want that to distract you from the fact that he just cannot be trusted.

“Please angel,” he pleaded once more.

You considered his plea once more. You were about to make a dumb mistake, but before you could change your mind, your mouth opened forming the words ‘yes.’

Hyunjin smiled at you, his brilliant teeth glowing in the low lighting. “Excellent! I will pick you up tomorrow night.”

He quickly got up and walked over to you. You tried to scoot back but found you had nowhere to go. You froze in place as Hyunjin approached you and grabbed your face once more. He slowly leaned down before pressing his lips to yours in a brief kiss. Before letting you go, he nipped at your lip, pulling at the flesh before standing up.

“Get some rest angel, you will need it.”

With that Hyunjin was gone, disappearing in thin air. You were shocked, your eyes never leaving the place where he was standing just moments before. You reached up and touched your lips. Did that really happen? Are you really going to give a vampire a chance?

You knew your mother would be disappointed if she were she alive. Oh well however, the deeds been done. Tomorrow your fate would be sealed.

The next day, you were anxious, your hands slightly trembling, your mind unfocused. You didn’t know what to expect tonight and that was driving you insane. You paced the floors, unable to sit still for too long.

What were you expected to wear? You didn’t think to ask that last night. On top of the anxiety, you were scared. What if he killed you once he was done showing you whatever he wanted to show you? Your mind was riddled with thoughts, none of them the typical thoughts you’d have before a date.

As dusk approached, the orange and pink sky showing through your windows, you decided to get ready. Somehow you knew exactly which outfit you wanted to wear. You chose a white dress with cross ties in the front. The hem of the dress had asymmetrical ruffles. You thought it would be a perfect contrast to going out with a creature of the night.

You did your makeup and lightly curled your hair. Spritzing some of your favorite perfume, you were ready for whatever the night brings.

You heard a soft ruffle behind you and you turned around in shock. Standing before you was Hyunjin. He was dressed nicely, making him look even more handsome. He eyed your outfit, a smile slowing forming on his face.

“You look gorgeous angel,” he purred reaching a hand out towards you.

You took his hand and watched as he placed a soft kiss on your hand, his lips lingering for a few moments. You felt yourself blush, the heat rising to your face.

“Ready?” He asked as he straightened up.

You shook your head yes, ready for whatever he had in store. Hyunjin smiled at you and took your hand, his fingers gently lacing with yours. He led the way, out the door, down the steps, and onto the sidewalk. The night air felt nice on your skin, feeling warm enough to where you didn’t need a sweater.

The moon was bright and hanging perfectly in the sky, no clouds around to dampen its light. Hyunjin led you along the streets, walking in stride with you. You were lost in thought, lost in the man next to you when you felt a squeeze of your hand.

You looked at Hyunjin before looking to where he was pointing to.

“Here we are,” he said as he stopped in front of a building.

It seemed old, the style outdated. There was a soft glow from within, seeming inviting. You swallowed nervously. This is it, you thought, this is where I die. You followed Hyunjin as he led you to the door. Grasping the handle, he twisted the knob before the door swung open.

He stepped inside, pulling you along. The interior of the building was breath taking. The architecture was old but warm, definitely from another time period. The furniture reminded you of the 1800s, screaming old money.

Hyunjin could see the curiosity and awe on your face. He smiled to himself, happy that you didn’t seem taken aback. This was to be your home shortly after all.

“This was my parents house,” he said, as he guided you through the house.

You were looking this way and that, taking in the various rooms that you passed by. His parent’s house? Where were they now you wondered. You knew vampires lived for a very long time. Would you get to meet them tonight?

Sensing your unease, Hyunjin squeezed your hand as he stopped before a door. “They died long ago, murdered by humans.”

You gasped, not knowing what to say. After a while you opened your mouth to speak, “I’m sorry.”

Hyunjin merely shook his head. “It was centuries ago.”

You nodded and held your breath as he opened the door. Inside the room was a dining table, set up for two. Candles lit the room, the shadows from the flames dancing along the walls.

Hyunjin walked you to a chair and pulled it out, gesturing for you to sit. You did as you were told, tucking your dress underneath you as you sat. He effortlessly tucked your chair in before rounding the corner and sitting down next to you.

He clapped his hands and food appeared, your plate piled high with delicate foods. You were shocked, your mouth hanging open. You looked up as you heard Hyunjin chuckle.

“Easy to do angel, with a spell.”

You simply nodded your head. Of course, he could do anything.

“Dig in angel. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Hyunjin watched you as you cautiously took your fork and grabbed a piece of food. He watched as you brought the food to your succulent lips, the flesh wrapping around the utensil.

He smiled as you groaned, savoring the food on your tongue. You ate in fervor, not realizing how hungry you were. You looked up at Hyunjin and noticed he wasn’t eating.

“Are you not eating?” You asked, setting down your fork in embarrassment.

Hyunjin waved your concern away. “I cannot eat human food.”

As he said this, he looked at you, a smirk forming on his face.

You gulped. Of course vampires couldn’t eat human food. You didn’t want to think what this meant for you.

“Eat, it’s ok you eat,” Hyunjin said with a smile.

You nodded your head and picked up your fork once more. You finished off the rest of the food, your belly full and happy. Hyunjin nodded in satisfaction once you finished, snapping his fingers, the dishes clearing away immediately.

He got up and reached out to you, grasping your hand in his. You followed him as he led you out of the dining room and up the stairs. You held your breath as you ascended the beautiful staircase, unsure of what was to come. Where was Hyunjin leading you now?

“Here we are,” Hyunjin said as he led you to a room just off the stairs. He opened the door and allowed you to walk in first.

The room was beautiful, filled with ornate furniture. There was a little sitting area near the window, the night air filtering through the open window. In the center of the room there was a canopy bed that looked warm and inviting. You turned to Hyunjin, a questioning look in your eye.

He grinned and took your hand once more, guiding you to the sitting area. You sat on the couch, unsure of where to look, what to say. Hyunjin sat next to you and brushed the back of his hand across your cheek.

You blushed and shivered at his touch. You felt something stir within you. Yes, you knew Hyunjin was no good for you, a vampire, a creature you cannot trust, but your mind and body had other plans.

You looked into Hyunjin’s eyes, your heart rapidly beating within your chest. Hyunjin smiled at you before leaning forward, causing you to lay back on the couch. He brushed your hair to the side before placing his lips on yours.

You couldn’t help but sigh at the kiss, your hands reaching up hesitantly to wrap around his neck. Hyunjin continued to gently kiss you, his lips molding with yours with ease. His lips felt like heaven, nice and soft against yours.

You felt Hyunjin’s lips tip up in a smile. “Finally, you are mine angel,” he purred before kissing your jaw, the underside of your neck before he latched onto your sweet spot below your ear.

You let out a low moan as he nipped and sucked the area, his tongue lashing out to soothe the skin every now and then. You felt like you were floating, becoming lost in Hyunjin’s kisses. You closed your eyes and relaxed further into the couch, your fingers playing with the hair on the back of his neck.

Without warning, you felt a sharp prick, a yelp leaving your mouth as your eyes flew open. Hyunjin bit you, his teeth still lodged within your neck. He was going to feed from you, the shock from the realization causing your to panic. You tried to move away, but found you could not, your body paralyzed beneath the man above you.

However, before you could further protest, you felt a warm sensation travel throughout your body, down your arms, settling in your fingertips, down your legs settling in your toes, down your belly before settling in your core, arousal flooding your panties and soaking the material through.

You arched into Hyunjin, clinging onto him even tighter as he fed from you, the feeling of ecstasy becoming stronger with each passing moment. Hyunjin let out a growl before sitting up, blood smeared over his lips, his fangs still bared and bloody.

“You taste amazing angel, just like I thought. You felt good too? I know you did.” He cooed.

You did feel good, the feeling still lingering even after he detached himself from you. Your body felt like it was on autopilot, needing more from Hyunjin. You opened your legs more, allowing Hyunjin to slot himself more comfortably between your legs.

He grinned at your eagerness before he slid the straps of your dress down, your breasts on display. His fingers brushed lightly over your nipples, the buds instantly peaking between the cold air coming through the window and his touch. You mewled out as he leaned down to suckle your nipple, his tongue flicking against the nub.

Hyunjin loved your body, your beautiful breasts fitting perfectly in his mouth. He suckled your nipple, his hand massaging your other breast. He let out a groan at the sound of your voice, whimpering his name, telling him not to stop. He was ready to make you his.

With a pop, he let go of your nipple and sat up. With a snap of his fingers, his clothes disappeared, a chuckle leaving his lips at your shock.

Hyunjin’s body was beautiful. He was toned, his muscles flexing with every movement he made. Your eyes traveled down, down until they landed on the hard appendage between his thighs. His cock was pretty, the prettiest you’ve ever seen, the perfect length and girth, his tip leaking with precum.

You watched as he pushed up your dress, bunching the material at your waist, his eyes snapping to your dripping core. You heard him mutter something under his breath in a language you didn’t know, watching as he slid his finger between your folds. You moaned as he circled your clit, applying pressure to the bud occasionally.

“You’re soaking angel. All for me hmm? You’re mine right?” Hyunjin asked, his eyes searching yours for the answer.

“I’m yours Hyunjin,” you whimpered, finally succumbing to the man.

Hyunjin smiled, letting out a breath at the words he’s been waiting to hear since he met you. Grabbing his cock, he brought it to your folds, pressing the tip within your tiny hole. He watched your face, pleasure taking over as he pushed inch by inch in.

With one final push, he bottomed out, the stretch causing you to yelp from the pain. You reached out to push against him, silently begging him to stop. Hyunjin just grinned and took your hands in his, bringing them up and above your head. With a chaste kiss to your lips he thrusted his hips against yours, dragging his cock through your warm walls.

The pleasure was overwhelming, his cock hitting your spot just right. You loved his weight on top of you, cradling you beneath him as he rhythmically slid his cock in and out, in and out. You felt Hyunjin drop his head into the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin as he breathed.

You squeezed his hands and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him ever closer to you. The new position allowed his cock to reach deeper within your walls, his tip kissing your cervix. You mewled out as you felt your high approaching.

Hyunjin groaned as he felt your pussy clench around him, keeping him within your walls. He fit perfectly within you, just as he thought. You were made for him. He felt the sweat off his forehead and land on you, his pleasure building with each stroke.

He needed you to cum with him, like he needed air to breathe. As he continued to thrust into you, he bared his fangs once more before sinking his teeth once more within your neck. You howled at the pain before succumbing to the pleasure as he fed from you.

He couldn’t get enough of you, as you were perfect. He felt you stiffen beneath him and with a cry, you squirted around his cock, your arousal coating his pelvis and dripping onto the couch below. The feeling of your pussy fluttering around him caused tip over the edge, spurt after spurt of his warm cum filling up walls.

You felt full and satisfied, as you came down from your high. You winced as you felt Hyunjin withdraw his teeth, before he pressed his lips against yours. You could taste the metallic taste of your blood, causing you to groan as you tightened your hold around him.

You felt like you could lay here and kiss him forever, your worries forgotten, the world forgotten as you laid in the little cocoon that was Hyunjin. Hyunjin gave you one more kiss before sitting up and slowly withdrawing his softening cock. He couldn’t help but watch his cum spill from your pussy, the sight beautiful to his eyes. It meant that you were his, finally his.

“Let me run a bath,” Hyunjin said, getting up from the couch.

You laid there beneath the windows, the moonlight shining through, awaiting Hyunjin to come back for you. It didn’t take him long as he was back within a few minutes. He carefully picked you up and carried you to the large in suite bathroom.

You felt sleepy as Hyunjin carefully washed your body, the scent of cherry blossoms filing in the air. You could hear him hum a song, the melody soft and sweet, almost like a lullaby. Once he was done washing you, he carefully brought you back to the bedroom, setting you down on the bed. He quickly dried you off and slipped a shirt over your head before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You grinned at the small sign of affection, reaching out to him with your arms, wanting to feel close. Hyunjin chuckled before picking you up once more. He placed you beneath the warm covers before sliding in next to you.

You snuggled up next to him, resting your head on his chest. There was no heartbeat, nothing present to let you know he was a human. You couldn’t help but feel attached, needing to be close to Hyunjin at all times. If this is what it felt like being with a vampire, then you didn’t mind, you actually wanted it, craved it.

He was yours, just as you were his. You snuggled closer as he whispered sweet nothings, his hands smoothing down your hair, his fingertips lightly brushing against your back.

“I love you angel.” Hyunjin whispered, kissing your hair as you drifted off to sleep.

You mumbled incoherent words, hoping the three little words were audible to Hyunjin.

You never were afraid of the dark, never fearing the darkness that covered the land each day. Maybe what lurked in the dark wasn’t so bad either. Maybe what lurked in the dark was what you were looking for all along.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @seungfl0wer

[ckret2]

Chapter 70 of human Bill Cipher pretending he's not the Mystery Shack's captive for ten minutes:

This happens!

Whoops, sorry, zoomed too far in.

This happens!

Way more important and exciting.

####

Bill lasted—based on the sun's position—about a couple of hours before this body's needs knocked him out of his meditative mindset. He sat up with a sigh, checked his tanlines—the stripes he'd drawn across his abdomen were already darkening into a nice, angry burn—and glanced over at the lake to see what the Pines were up to.

At the moment, Mabel was holding a foot-long wiggling, glittery, gold-scaled trout in a net and grinning proudly. Stan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pointed at her in excitement as Dipper snapped a picture of them. Stan opened a cooler for her to drop the fish in. Mabel's face fell, and she hugged the fish protectively. Stan's shoulders sagged; but after half a minute of unsuccessful negotiations, he relented and pointed at the lake. She dumped the trout back in the water.

Bill clicked his tongue in disappointment and muttered, "If I'd thought they'd catch the golden trout, I would've told 'em that thing's like the holy grail to the Fishmasons." Stan probably would have insisted they keep it just so they could get something on Eugene. Bill wasn't emotionally invested in their feud; but the trout did grant three wishes. Bill could use that kind of power.

Oh well, he could tell them later. Maybe they'd get lucky and hook it again. Bill got to his feet. "Hey, old lady. I need to stretch my legs." Stretch his legs, look for entertainment, and forage for food—they were planning to be out here all day, but there hadn't yet been a grocery trip to properly stock his new fridge chest and he didn't trust Ford's nutrition pills, so he'd only brought along a bottle of hot sauce and a bottle of sprinkles and hoped he'd manage to find some food once he was here. (And if he didn't find any—well, at least he had hot sauce and sprinkles.)

"Okay," Abuelita said. She turned a page.

He put his slippers back on, dug his condiments and eye patch out of Abuelita's bag—his eyes were getting tired—put on the patch, and scanned the beach. "Hey. Looks like somebody's grilling hot dogs over there."

Abuelita made a noncommital sound of minimal interest.

"Hot dog might be nice," he said. "Looks like the grill's a biiit over thirty feet away, though..."

"Okay," Abuelita said again.

"So." He waved his braceleted hand demonstratively. "Shall we?"

"Eh. I don't want a hot dog." She slid the enchanted bracelet off and dropped it in the sand.

Bill stared at the bracelet, then stared at her. "What, that—really? You're just... really?"

"What am I, a cop?"

Good enough for him. "You're all right, lady." He wrapped the extra thread around his wrist, put on the second bracelet, and glanced at the Stanowar again to make sure the Pines weren't about to catch him off his leash.

The family was crowded around watching as Ford reeled in something heavy. He grinned excitedly as the hook dragged up a patch of soggy khaki fabric; and his smile vanished when his coat grabbed the boat with a furry hand. As the family scrambled to the far end of the boat, Bigfoot—wearing Ford's lost coat and a full set of scuba gear—climbed aboard the boat.

Ford punched Bigfoot in the face.

"Oh," Bill said. "Bigflipper. That'll keep 'em distracted for a while." Satisfied, he meandered up the beach.

He plastered on a bright smile as he approached the family with the hot dogs, veered around the husband working the grill, and walked right up to the wife sitting on a beach towel, eating a hot dog, and watching her kids play in the water. "Heeey, Wanda! What are you doing here! Look at you, you look terrific!"

The woman looked up at Bill from under her sunhat in bafflement. "I—hi? Sorry, do I...?"

"Sure, it's Goldie! Washington State! Fifteen years ago! We were in the same study group, remember? East Asian history? Honestly all I remember about the class is the other girls and that fifty percent of it was about Confucianism."

Wanda's eyes lit up, and then un-lit as she realized she still didn't recognize Bill. "Oh—heeey! Wow—sorry, guess I've slept since then."

"Don't worry about it, I'm just good with faces. Anyway, from what I remember," he jabbed a thumb toward the man at the grill, "at the time most of your attention was on Danny."

Wanda laughed again, a little more easily. "Right, god. I can't believe I made it through that semester with passing grades."

"Hey, you were still the only one in the group who could remember what order all those dynasties came in..."

Bill kept Wanda distracted for another couple of minutes with small talk about the study sessions he'd spied on out of boredom from a library stained glass window; and then, when he saw one hot dog had been set aside fully grilled and mustarded but as-yet unclaimed, he said, "But hey, I won't distract you anymore! Those kids look like a handful." While both parents turned to look at the kids, Bill snatched up the unclaimed hot dog, strolled down the beach, and called back, "It was good catching up!" That whole performance probably hadn't been necessary, he might've been able to time his loitering to swing by just as the hot dog was left unguarded; but it had been more fun this way. He didn't get to have a lot of conversations these days. Less where he felt like he was the one in control of the conversation.

He soaked the bun in hot sauce, dumped some sprinkles on the mustard, and took a bite while he glanced out at the lake again to see how the Pines were doing.

At the moment, Ford had Bigfoot in a chokehold from behind. Stan hit him with a right hook. Bigfoot kicked Stan in the chest with one immense flippered foot, and he tumbled backward into the lake.

Looked like none of them would be paying attention to anything on the beach any time soon. No need to go straight back to his cell. He scanned the rows of beachgoers sitting out by the lake, looking for fresh entertainment.

Bill's gaze fixed on one of the humans. One of these things is not like the others, one of these things doesn't belong. Amongst all the tourists in their swimsuits, one man—standing ramrod straight, dressed in a black suit, holding a heavy black device with an antenna—stuck out like a sore pale thumb in a pitch black bandaid.

An agent from the Bureau of Covert Investigations. The "eagles." The same guys that had covered up President Quentin Trembley's existence, a brief sightseeing trip Bill had taken to Roswell via nuclear testing-induced dimensional rip, and the miraculous and disgusting resurrection of cult leader/possession puppet Silas Birchtree; and, the guys that had been trying to find Bill's portal in Gravity Falls since they'd detected it in the '80s. Bill wasn't the eagles' biggest fan.

But they'd never been a big enough potential threat or a big enough potential help for him to intervene in their operations. In the mid '80s, when the lead investigator in Gravity Falls had been putting together his case, Bill had considered pulling some strings and manipulating them into taking over the portal from Stanley, before concluding they'd be more likely to disassemble the portal than activate it and it was better off in Stan's clumsy care. But all the same, he'd kept watch over their operations. 

And this, if he wasn't mistaken, was the lead investigator himself. Agent Powers. What was he doing here? Bill had thought the case was closed last year after Ford wiped their memories and sent them packing. Maybe Powers was here about Trembley? Depending on what the Pines had entered into the memory gun, the eagles might still remember that part of their operations in town.

Bill would kinda like to know where Trembley was these days. He studied the agent as he slowly finished his hot dog; and then he moved in.

"Hey there, agent!" Bill clapped a hand on his shoulder, making him start, and beamed brightly. "Welcome to town! What brings you to Gravity Falls?"

"Pardon?" Agent Powers gave Bill an appraising up-and-down look—threat assessment, probably—caught sight of his bikini top, and quickly looked him in the eye. "How did you know I'm an agent?"

"Oh, that's easy! I'm psychic."

Powers opened his mouth, paused, and then squinted skeptically at Bill.

"Just kidding. You've got an earpiece, a business suit at the beach, and the government's favorite car."

"Oh." Powers turned to glance toward where he'd parked. "Yes. I suppose so."

"Say! If you want a more covert vehicle, you oughta go to Gleeful Auto in town. You'll blend right in. Just tell 'em Mr. Locke sent you."

"Who's Mr. Locke?"

Right, Bill supposed he didn't look like much of a "Mr." at the moment. Humans didn't consider bikinis gender neutral for some reason. He took a split second to decide whether he'd get any practical benefits from trying to push past the agent's initial perception of his gender, and couldn't think of any. "Friend of mine!"

"Ah." Powers nervously looked Bill up and down again; then cleared his throat and glanced away, cheeks flushed faintly pink in the heat. "Right. Thank you, uh, citizen."

"No problem!" If Bill remembered his suits right, this agent was an easy target. Believed in "collaborating" with "local informants"; wasn't very good at the covert part of the Bureau of Covert Investigations. "You don't look like you're in town on vacation! Investigating anything interesting at the lake?"

"Well..." Powers flashed Bill a quick sideways glance before nodding vaguely toward a couple of people in dive suits further up the beach. "If you must know, we've picked up some evidence of the lake recently flooding its banks. Which is strange, because the amount of rain this area's received can't account for how high the water climbed..."

Not here about Trembley, then? "Flooding? Think there's any danger, agent? In our quiet, harmless little town?"

"No, no. Nothing like that," Powers said quickly. "But, I've said too much. I should go." He shifted his footing anxiously. He did not go.

What was that about? Bill glanced down at himself; he still looked perfectly human, didn't see anything that should make a government agent nervous. Was it the lack of shaving? Was that too Seventies Feminist for Mr. Government Suit? Was the eyepatch setting off his secret agent "Soviet supervillain in a spy movie" instincts? He couldn't have noticed Bill stealing a hot dog.

Should Bill press his luck? (Stupid question—of course he should.) "Say, you keep giving me these odd looks, agent! Anything you wanna say?"

His pink cheeks flushed darker. "Er, no, no ma'am. It's just, I uh..." He gestured vaguely toward Bill, "I... couldn't help but notice that your... sunscreen is a bit streaky."

Bill glanced down at his tan lines. Streaky? He thought the burn lines were coming out pretty crisp.

The agent went on, "I was wondering if you needed help applying it more evenly." It took a split second for him to realize what he'd just said; and then he went even redder.

Bill raised his brows. Huh. "Nooo, I'm great, thanks. It's supposed to look like that."

"Oh." Powers's brow furrowed in confusion. "All right." He nodded. "In that case, I really should be going, then."

"All right!"

But Powers hesitated again for a moment before finally moving up the beach away from Bill.

Well. Interesting. Interesting reaction.

He checked on the Stanowar again to make sure the Pines hadn't seen anything. At the moment—he squinted—they seemed to be playing poker with Bigfoot. He must not have liked Mabel's playing (unsurprising; she was an incorrigible cheat), because he picked her up and chucked her in the lake.

"She's fine," Bill muttered. "She's got her life jacket." They were good about that in this town.

He watched as Powers met up with the divers farther along the beach; and then he headed back to his towel.

####

Bill had decided his front was sufficiently roasted and was struggling to apply new sunscreen stripes to his back so he could flip over, when he overheard somebody say, "Oh hey, Toga Lady?"

Bill twisted around, already grinning in greeting before he'd even seen who was talking to him. "Heya!" It was Broken Heart and two of the others. Wendy's gang. Robbie, Tambry, and Nate. "What are you guys doing out here! You don't look like the beach types!" (In deference to the environment, all three of them had donned swim trunks and sandals; but that was as beachy as they'd gotten. Nate and Tambry were in black t-shirts advertising metal bands. Robbie was still in his hoodie. Robbie's legs nearly glowed white.)

"Hanging," Tambry said, one arm around Robbie's back and face glued to her phone.

Nate elbowed Robbie. "Dude, he's Toga Guy, remember?"

"Toga 'Lad' would be better," Tambry said.

"You sure?" Robbie asked. "Sh—he's kinda..." He gestured vaguely toward his own chest, realized that probably wasn't the best way to make his point, and finished, "uh... bikini."

"I don't want to spend my day arguing about whether I've got the right to go topless!" Bill got to his feet and planted his hands on his hips. "I could talk my way out of trouble with the police—it's the tourist parents I'm worried about." He pulled up one strap to examine his shoulder. "It's gonna ruin my tan, though."

They took in his tan in progress: several horizontal lines across his lower torso and upper thighs, a few disconnects vertical lines stretched between the horizontal ones. Tambry glanced up from her phone, snorted, and started typing faster; Nate said, "Dude, are you trying to make bricks like the triangle guy?"

Bill froze, mouth open. "Uhhh..." Sure, that was the objective—he just hadn't really expected humans to find it that obvious. Nosy little pattern-seekers. "I mean—"

"That's cool," Tambry said. "Stick it to the man."

Robbie had screwed up his face a bit, but at Tambry's reaction, he shrug-nodded and conceded, "Yeah, it's kinda punk, I guess."

Nate said, "Praise Bill or whatever, right?" He laughed. "Yeah, I thought about getting a tattoo of him. Up here or something?" He pushed a sleeve up above the snake tattoo wrapped around his left bicep to show the blank spot on his shoulder. "But my parents would flip if they ever found out. Maybe I should do the brick thing too, it's way subtler." Nate turned to the other two, lifted up his shirt, and said, "Hey Tambers, do you think I'd look cool with bricks around my waist?"

She didn't look up. "No."

"What if I got an eye on my chest too?"

"Let me think. No."

Bill watched this back and forth with wide-eyed stunned silence. Hold on. What? Praise Bill?

"Pfff, whatever!" Robbie rolled his eyes. "Hey, you're gonna regret getting a Bill tattoo once I get my sick symbol off the anti-Bill circle. It's like... giving me a permanent rock-paper-scissors win against you. For the rest of time."

Nate laughed. "Shut up, whatever man! The circle didn't even do anything."

"It would have! It was, like, glowing!"

"Heeey!" Bill stepped into the trio's line of sight again. "Right, yeah, praise Bill, by the way any of you wanna help me get my back?" He turned around to gesture over his shoulder. "Little favor between punk weirdos?"

"Yeah, sure." Tambry tucked her phone into Robbie's hoodie pocket and held out her hand for the tube of sunscreen. "Just continue the lines around your back?"

"You got it." Bill lifted his arms. "And try to keep the bricks evenly spaced."

"What is this stuff? Some kind of suntan lotion?"

"It's more like anti-sunscreen," Bill said. "By the way, you probably wanna wash your hands after this unless you want sunburned fingers." He wiggled his own fingers, which were faintly flushed from applying the first layer of sunscreen that morning.

"Hey, anti-sunscreen," Nate said, "you could call that, uh... sun-beam." He paused. "No wait, that's already a word."

Robbie laughed. "You're an idiot."

"Sooo," Bill said. "Is the triangle guy cool now? Not—not asking for any particular reason. Just curious."

"Oh, yeah," Tambry said. "Like half the school's decided he's our crazy anti-authoritarian counterculture chaos god now?" (Bill was adding that to his business card.)

Robbie said, "Somebody set up a shrine to him in a hollow tree stump behind the school. People started making animal sacrifices to him during finals week."

Nate said, "It's chicken nuggets and cafeteria tacos, but. Y'know. We didn't say live animals."

"Huh! Interesting!" Bill tried, unsuccessfully, not to sound too excited. He was hip with the youth. Who'd imagined! This was what he got for hanging out with the town's cops and politicans, he could've been exploiting this for a month. "But I think he prefers receiving gold!"

Nate laughed. "Dude, I'd prefer receiving gold, too. What we have is chicken nuggets and tacos."

"Fair enough," Bill shrugged. "By the way—if you want a Bill tattoo? The traditional style is to shave your hair and get his eye above your forehead, right here!" He tapped his skull over his brain's frontal eye fields. "It tells him right where to enter."

"Oh, sweet! That's perfect," Nate said. "I can shave, get a tattoo, and just keep my hat on until my hair grows back. No one will ever know!" (Bill tried to imagine hair growing out of his eyeball, and wished he hadn't.)

Robbie said, "Hey, weren't the Pines like... not letting you go outside because you knew him or something? That's what Wendy said."

That wasn't the story he'd told her. He'd have to find out where she'd picked that up. "Or something. It was more because of dumb academic ego-measuring contests than anything to do with that."

"So, they finally letting you outside alone now?"

"Only for group trips." Bill pointed out at the lake.

The three teens squinted toward the boat. "Whoa," Tambry said. "Are they arm-wrestling Bigfoot?"

"Oh, yeah. It was poker earlier."

For a moment, all activity ceased as the teens watched the battle out on the lake. Nate sat in the sand and propped his chin in his hand. Figuring Tambry was done with his stripes, Bill plopped onto his beach towel to watch as well.

Bigfoot defeated Stan, and Soos switched places with him to try next. Soos lasted five seconds before Bigfoot flipped him into the water. Melody scrambled to help pull him back aboard as Bigfoot pumped his fists in the air victoriously. Bill snorted.

"Bad luck," Robbie said. 

"I could beat him," Nate said. "Hey Robbie, think I could beat him?"

"Pfff, no."

"Bet Wendy could," Tambry said, recording through her phone as Bigfoot generously indulged Dipper and Mabel's attempt to take him on as a team. The guys murmured vague agreement with Tambry.

"Buuut anyway," Bill said, reluctant to let the conversation get too far away from himself, "yeah, I might've talked to the triangle guy a couple, several times."

"That's pretty cool," Nate said. "Hey, we oughta hang sometime, I bet Lee'd wanna hear about that. It'd probably drive Wendy crazy, but..."

Tambry let out a dismissive pff. "The triangle stuff's been driving Wendy crazy all year. She can take it."

"Not a fan?" Bill asked.

"Nah, she thinks the whole thing's creepy. Her and Thompson both."

"I think the whole cult thing's fine," Robbie said magnanimously. "As, y'know, one of the people prophesied to defeat him. If he ever really came back and caused trouble, we could handle it."

Bill tried not to roll his eye. Bold words out of a guy who, a couple of years ago, had left a plate of spaghetti in the woods to see if an "evil triangle" urban legend was true, and had thrown up when Bill dragged him into a dream state to show him just how true it was.

On Earth, urban legends about Bill tended to pop up and wither away in waves around the epicenter of his latest area of influence—like mushroom rings spreading away from a patch of ground they'd depleted of useful nutrients and left to die. Bill suspected the local urban legend Robbie had stumbled upon had been passed down in Gravity Falls for thirty years by teens misinterpreting Old Man McGucket's crazy ramblings about a "demon triangle" and "spaghettification."

He was always torn on whether to encourage or quash such urban legends: on the one hand, it was handy for humans to know he existed and was available for deals; but much less handy when they warned each other away from him. More than once, knowledge of him had nearly broken into the mainstream, and he'd had to put all his other plans on hold to focus on deflecting the whistleblowers' information into obscurity.

Apparently encouraging the spaghetti one had been the right move, if a year after his brief conquest of Gravity Falls the teens were offering him sacrifices rather than cursing his name.

Nate punched Robbie's arm. "Why would he cause us trouble? He's our chaos god, remember? We've given him offerings!"

"I like that attitude," Bill said. "Hanging out sounds fun! We'll... figure something out sometime." As soon as he found a way to make the Pines let him go outside without being surrounded by babysitters. Wouldn't that be humiliating, a full adult hanging out with teenagers and it's the adult who isn't allowed outside without a chaperone. No, that wasn't an option. If he came with an adult attached, they'd ditch him in a heartbeat for being too much of a drag.

The teens made their farewells and headed down the beach, Tambry and Robbie with their arms around each other again. Tambry wiped the anti-sunscreen off her hand onto the back of Robbie's hoodie.

As they went, they walked past Agent Powers—who was looking right at Bill.

Bill stared. The agent quickly looked away.

He didn't like that one bit. As he adjusted his position to lay face down on his towel, he said, "Hey, Dolores. You get the feeling we're being watched?"

"Hm?" Abuelita glanced up from her book toward Bill, then looked where he was looking. "Government." She made a disapproving noise and turned back to her book. "Nothing but trouble."

"You said it." Why was Powers so focused on Bill. He couldn't possibly be in any kind of trouble, he hadn't even existed until a month ago. And the eagles probably didn't know that, did they?

Nothing Bill could do about it in the middle of a beach trip. He propped his chin in his hand and checked on the fishing crew again.

In a fury, Bigfoot had ripped the motor off the back of the boat and lifted it over his head. The Pines family huddled together at the other end of the boat, trying to shield their heads.

A golden trout jumped out of the water, arced majestically through the air, and smacked Bigfoot in the face. Bigfoot stumbled backward and tripped out of the boat.

Hm. Maybe letting the trout go had been the right move. Bill shut his eyes and lay back down.

####

The sun was low and most of the beachgoers had gone home when the Stanowar chugged back to shore, battle-weary, disheveled, and dissatisfied. Except for Ford, who was wearing his sopping wet coat over his waders, holding one boot, and pleased as punch.

"Hey!" Bill shouted. "How'd it go!" He surreptitiously tossed half the bracelet over to Abuelita. She quietly slid it on.

Crankily, Stan yelled from the dock, "You didn't mention Bigfoot in a scuba tank!"

Bill shouted back, "Bigflipper wasn't there when I looked! What, did you expect me to check the entire spacetime continuum to find you the perfect fishing?!"

Faintly, he could hear Ford say, "See, I told you his proper name is Bigflipper."

Mabel repeatedly poked Dipper in the arm as they crossed the beach. Dipper flinched each time. "Ow, ow—Mabel. Cut it out."

"That's what you get for forgetting your sunscreen, bro-bro!"

Dipper's arms and face were bright red with a sunburn. "I didn't forget! I put it on at the beach, right before we left!"

Bill grabbed up Abuelita's empty water bottles and tossed them in the nearest trash can, along with the rest of his tube of anti-sunscreen before anyone could get a good look at it. He ignored the kids and said to Stan, "But it was a good fishing spot, right?"

Stan grumbled, but grudgingly admitted, "Yeah. Until tall, brown, and hairy showed up. We caught four fish! That's gotta be at least as good as the guys from the lodge, right?"

Bill winced. "Ooh. Sorry, they went by an hour ago with eleven fish."

Stan let out a roar of outrage and threw his fishing rod in the sand.

"Grunkle Stan, you don't go fishing to catch fish," Mabel said. "You go fishing to catch memories! Look at this!" She held up a bunch of photos. "This is a whole scrapbook spread right here! We caught sooo many memories."

"And my coat," Ford said. He was admiring his #1 Grunkle pen, which he'd taken from the coat pocket.

"I'd rather have fish," Stan grumbled. "All right, c'mon. Let's get..." He trailed off, looking past Bill. "Hey, is that...?"

Bill glanced back over his shoulder, and grimaced. Agent Powers and his protégé were watching them from the far end of the beach. Bill quickly turned back around. "Yep. Your old friends from last summer," he said. "They've been scoping out the beach all day. I don't know what they're here for—but you probably wanna get out of here." More importantly, Bill wanted to get out of here—but he didn't see any benefit to letting them know he was nervous.

"He's right," Ford said. "If they see us long enough to recognize us—and his memories start coming back..."

"Who are they?" Melody asked.

Soos whispered loudly, "I'll explain it in the car." Bill bit back the need to point out that whispering didn't make a difference as far away as the agents were.

"I don't get it," Stan said. "What are they doing back here?"

"You wanna go ask him?" Bill asked. Stan grimaced.

The Pines and Ramirez families piled back in their vehicles and headed out. Bill had the uneasy feeling that Agent Powers was focused on the Ramirez's truck as they left.

####

(How long have I been promising the Agent Powers plot, since like the May before last or something? Here it is!!

Next week, either we launch straight into the Powers plot, or I finally have the Axolotl chapters (it's chapters plural now) sufficiently edited and we do that first, because once we start the Powers plot there's no place for a break until it's over. Hopefully the Axolotl chapters will finally be ready by next Friday, but if they're not...... tough. It's fine though, you'll live.)

[eds6ngel]

NERDY GIRL (book lover, does well in school, loves to study) DATING EDDIE MUNSON. BOTH LOSING THEIR VIRGINITIES TO EACH OTHER. THANKS, BETH, ILY :33

not so shy now, are we?

eddie munson x afab!fem!reader.

summary: after borrowing a copy of 'jaws' from hawkins library, you are shocked to find the explicit material written across the pages. however, your body reacts in a different way than you intended, which doesn't go unnoticed by eddie...

warnings: HEAVY SMUT!! fem!reader. afab!reader. queer!reader. switch!eddie & switch!reader (they are both dom and sub at different times.) unprotected p in v (r is on birth control.) fingering. A LOT OF DIRTY TALK. mentions of dildos, straps & silicone bodies. mentions of porn. pet names (sweetheart, my love, honey, baby.) swearing. established relationship. one mention of religion/god. some fluff & comfort at the end [2.9k].

a/n: thank you for requesting, my love! i kind of went off on this (i was feeling kinky today :')) so i hope you don't mind that!! we stan kinky virgins in this house and they deserve some love. so, low and behold, kinky eddie and reader ♡

You and Eddie were sat top-to-tail on his bed, lying beside each other as you read away.

Your knees were tucked up to your chest, your borrowed copy of Jaws from Hawkins Library laying in your lap.

Eddie, on the other hand, was sprawled out like a cat, his copy of Fellowship of the Ring held high above his head, the boy squinting to read the words.

You had urged him to get his eyes tested, even offered to pay for the appointment due to the Munson’s financial insecurity, but he wholeheartedly refused, claiming it would “ruin his look.”

You tried your best to convince him it would just make him look sexier, but he brushed you off with a “Thanks, sweetheart” and carried on with his far-sightedness.

You had seen Jaws when it had first come out in theatres over ten years ago, your seven-year-old mind blown away by its visuals and story.

So, when you picked up the book, you expected the story to be pretty much the same, more focused on the descriptive writing than any major plot differences.

But, as you came to a certain scene, your mind started to race.

“Hooper's teeth were clenched, and he ground them the way people do during sleep. From his voice there came a gurgling whine, whose tone rose higher and higher with each frenzied thrust.”

You and Eddie hadn’t gone any further than humping. It never ended in anything, just something to satisfy yourselves whilst you made out.

You quickly looked over at your boyfriend, his attention deeply focused in on his favourite book.

Raising the book from your lap, you hid your face behind it, softly biting your lip as your eyes scanned the following two sentences.

“Even after his obvious, violent climax, Hooper's countenance had not changed. His teeth were still clenched, his eyes still fixed on the wall, and he continued to pump madly.”

However, despite your best efforts to cover your face, Eddie had already felt the bedsheet moving against his legs. Looking away from his own novel, he takes note of the way your thighs squeezed together, the content of the pages in your respective hand obviously causing a stir in a certain region of your body.

A sudden smirk appears on his face as he thinks of an idea, beginning with a simple gesture to capture your attention. He takes his sock-covered foot and rubs it against your bare one.

The feeling of the fabric against your skin makes you jolt, almost snapping the book shut as you peer over the top of it to see your boyfriend’s face.

“How’s the book, sweetheart?”

You gulped, forcing a smile on your face and nodding furiously as you replied, “Yeah! Yeah… Um, really good! It’s, um… really good, yeah…”

You notice the way he folds the corner of his page, placing the book on his nightstand and crawling up the bed to sit beside you. Out of instinct, you hold the book close to your chest, your mind unable to close it fully due to the urge to continue reading the steamy scene.

He lets out an exaggerated yawn and casually drapes his arm behind your back. “I’m bored of my own book. Read some of yours to me. I’m interested.”

Bored of Fellowship? That couldn’t be right. He was up to something here.

“Um… I’d rather not!” you squeak out, trying to conceal the dirty words on the page in front of you, “I just… don’t feel like reading aloud today.”

He nods understandably, however, that same glint remained lurking in his orbs. “I understand, baby.”

However, so distracted by the beauty of your man, he delicately removes the book from your hands. The action was so incredibly light, Eddie placing it in his right hand whilst his left rested on top of your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Okay, let’s see here… What beautiful words grace this adaptation of a truly wonderful film?”

You throat closes up as you are reminded of what you just read a mere few minutes ago. It was currently summer in Indiana, so the freeness of your skirt allowed you to feel how wet you already were beneath your panties.

“Hooper's teeth were clenched, and he ground them the way people do during sleep. From his voice there came a gurgling whine, whose tone rose higher and higher with each frenzied thrust,” Eddie spoke, his tone becoming deeper and more sultry, his hand slowly travelling up your inner thigh.

The words sounded sexy enough coming from your own inner voice, but with Eddie’s? You didn’t know how long you were able to contain yourself.

“Even after his obvious, violent climax, Hooper's countenance had not changed. His teeth were still clenched, his eyes still fixed on the wall, and he continued to pump madly,” he continued, his hand now reaching over your panties, feeling the wetness leaking through.

He chuckles seductively, “Didn’t know Jaws was this explicit sweetheart, but it seems like you were enjoying it regardless.”

God, for a virgin, he already knew how to push your buttons, somehow finding your clit through the fabric and rubbing delicate circles around it.

“Eddie… please,” you whine out, mouth slightly parted as you look at him with pleading eyes. He switches hands, placing the book upside down beside his own and using his right to continue focusing on your bud.

He cups your cheek with his left hand, turning you on your side as he kisses you softly, gentle moans releasing from your lips as he ever so slowly pleasures you.

You can feel him leave your clit, moving his hand upward before stopping at the band of your panties.

“This okay, baby?” he mutters in between kisses, to which you break away to softly reply, “Very okay.”

Your lips connect once more, your hand cupping his cheek as he delves beneath the restriction of your underwear. Inside his own mind, Eddie was floating. He couldn’t believe this was finally happening, and that oddly, he was exemplifying so much confidence.

He relished in the adoration of how wet you were. He doubted that it was merely the underwear that underestimated the amount, you had gotten wetter since he began pleasuring you. You were wet for him.

“Holy shit, baby,” he groans, looking down to see where his hand was buried beneath the fabric of your simple, black panties. His fingers were soaked, travelling lower until they reached your tiny, little hole.

Your face was buried into his neck, nodding frantically as you lifted your leg up higher, giving him access. He felt your head move against the side of his face, his cheek leant against it as he slowly sank one finger inside of you.

The stretch felt so fucking good. The coolness of his ring could be felt against the entrance of your pussy, the tip of his finger softly rubbing against the spongy spot at the back.

He could feel your hot breath against his neck, small whimpers escaping your lips as you simply whispered “More, please. Need more…”

He knew exactly what you meant, but didn’t want to break you. You were tiny, and he would punish himself forever if you even felt an ounce of pain caused by him.

“Don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear, his breath coming out in pants.

“You won’t, my love. Please… Just… I need you so bad.”

And how could he deny that begging? He was one step away from floating to heaven. And if he was being honest, he would happily die this way if it meant you moaning away in his ear.

So, without hesitation, he pulled his finger out, and entered again with two, pushing deep into your pussy.

The stretch was beautifully delicious, the burn being extremely pleasurable as he attacked that spongy spot once again.

He was being delicate, you could recognise that easily. But, that wasn’t something you wanted. What your boyfriend didn’t know is that you were kinky as hell. And the rougher he did it, the more satisfied you would be.

But, Eddie wasn’t all that innocent either. His trips to Family Video were strategically planned so that Robin was on shift, knowing that it was a lot easier (but not completely devoid of awkwardness) if he got his hardcore porn whilst she was working the front counter, rather than someone like Steve Harrington.

“Harder. Please, Eddie, please!” you sobbed into his shoulder. With how full you were, it was almost painful with his slow pace. All you wanted was for him to drive into you with force.

With your cries of frustration, the inner dominance of him struck out, him gritting his teeth and biting on your earlobe, “Yeah, you want it fuckin’ rough, sweetheart?”

“Want nothing more, baby. Please give it to me.”

And with that, he began pumping his fingers in and out of you at lightning speed. With each thrust, the palm of his hand smacked perfectly against your clit, increasing the amount of pleasure you felt.

You were able to give him hickeys on his shoulder purely by biting down whenever he hit particularly hard. Each pull of his skin lended itself with a harsh hiss from between his teeth.

“Is this what you imagined when you were reading that book, baby, huh? Thought about my fingers pumping into you like that?”

Oh god, he was a dirty talker too. You nodded frantically, almost screaming when he stopped pumping, pushing his fingers as deep as they would go and shaking them up and down. The sloshing sounds coming from your pussy made you both moan in unison.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, before continuing to blabber, “Course you did. You think about me often, don’t you, sweetheart? Think about me when you’re alone at night, filling yourself with those sweet toys you have underneath your bed.”

You honestly didn’t even know he knew about them. But, it was hot nonetheless. Knowing that he knew about the nine-inch dildo sent shivers down your spine. God, what if he even saw the strap? The bottom half of a silicone body that you practiced fucking into?

“Always think about you, Eddie. Wanna be fucked by you so bad.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, baby,” he moans into your ear, “Think about you too, you know. Never cum so much until I thought about you bouncing on my cock.”

You let out a harsh whine as you felt yourself teetering close to the edge, but Eddie says it before you, “I know you’re about to cum, baby. You gonna cum for me?”

“Gonna cum so hard for you, Eds.”

He can feel you getting tighter and tighter, struggling to move his fingers inside of you, “Then show me, baby. Let go for me.”

And with that cooing, you let out a silent scream, followed by a loud moan as your legs shook violently, tightening around Eddie’s arm, locking him in place as he slowly pumped his fingers, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

“So good for me, baby. So fucking good.”

As you came down from your high, you placed delicate kisses over the marks you had made on his shoulder, Eddie slowly pulling his fingers from you.

But, you gently lifted his hand to your mouth, taking both digits and sucking them clean, exaggeratedly moaning over them and rolling your eyes back on purpose. You felt the strain of his jeans against your thigh ages ago, you were deliberately trying to wind him up.

“Fuckin’ hell, honey. Why didn’t we do that sooner?”

You giggle, biting your lip as you breathe out, “Didn’t know you were as kinky as me.”

“That day I didn’t come into school because I was ‘sick’ was because I came four times after seeing your sex toys the night before. I couldn’t walk all day.”

“Oh my God,” you breathlessly laugh into his shoulder. “Well…” you begin to place soft kisses on his jaw, “I could make that fantasy of yours become a reality if you’d like.”

Eddie felt his dick kick against his jeans. Looks like his body was giving him an answer before he got his head straight.

“Please, baby” he practically whines, “But, don’t expect it to be as sexy as it was a second ago. I doubt I’m going to last longer than a couple minutes.”

“Don’t care,” you say, beginning to un-do his belt buckle, pushing him down onto the mattress softly, “Just need to feel you fill me up.”

Eddie moaned at your dirty words, but had to make sure of something before you started. “Birth control, right?”

“Yeah. On the pill,” you reply, capturing his lips in your own.

Thank God. He could not be dealing with a mini Munson just yet.

You slowly remove his jeans and boxers, tossing them across the room as his cock smacks against his stomach. He was delicious. Had to be around six inches long, girth about the same, curved slightly to the right. He was going to fit amazingly inside of you, you just knew it.

You positioned yourself on top of him, grabbing the base of his cock and rubbing him against your wetness, remembering that practicality was still needed, even if you just wanted to fuck yourself stupid.

You look up at him, checking he was okay, “Ready?”

He nodded, “Always for you, baby.”

And so you began, sinking down onto his beautiful cock, Eddie letting out a choked moan beneath you. If a God truly did exist, you would definitely be thanking him for creating this gorgeous specimen falling apart in front of you.

You leant down, whispering and panting in his ear, “Tell me when to move, baby.”

Eddie grabbed onto your waist, preparing himself for what’s to come, “Move, sweetheart. Jesus Christ.”

And so you did, beginning to slowly lift yourself up, before slamming back down onto his cock. Both of you let out deep groans in sync, you immediately picking your pace up, struggling to contain yourself.

The wet sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room, combined with your whines and Eddie’s deep moans. You pressed down on his chest, using it as leverage to increase your deepness.

Not realising your eyes had been closed the entire time, you slowly opened them, seeing Eddie’s mouth in the perfect ‘O’ and his bangs sticking to his forehead, his eyes closed in delight.

“Open your eyes for me, baby. Need to see your pretty eyes.”

He opens his eyes, almost instantly looking down to where your bodies connected.

“Better than you imagined, huh?” you taunted, your dominance seeping out, “Your cock wasn’t ready for how good this would be, was it baby?”

He shakes his head, completely submitting to you, “Never, baby. Feels so fucking good. Feels like I’m fucking dreaming.”

You try to thrust as hard as you can, assuring him that he wasn’t dreaming at all. That this was all very much real. That his first time was this rough. That his girlfriend was kinky as shit.

Suddenly, you feel his cock begin to twitch inside of you. You mockingly laugh at him, “Your poor baby says otherwise, honey. Think he wants to cum. Am I right in thinking that? He wants to fill me up?”

God, something about you referring to his cock in the third person was about to send him spiralling over the edge. He could barely form words, too pussy-drunk to be able to speak. “Y-Yeah. Gonna cum.”

“I can tell, baby,” you say, leaning forward and whispering into his ear, “Cum in me, please. Really need you to fill me up.”

And with a supported groan, his warm cum splashed against your inner walls, sticking to you as he twitched and moaned.

“Good boy. Good fucking boy,” you whispered as he came down from his high, his dick becoming soft inside of you.

As you lifted yourself off of him, his cum began leaking out of you, the both of you marvelling at the sight.

“Holy shit,” Eddie sighs out happily, watching it drip into a pile just above his cock, gently caressing your hip.

“We just did that,” you giggle, grinning happily as you collapse onto Eddie’s chest, kissing him silly, smiling against his lips.

“That was… something else.”

“Better than you expected?” you ask, a sudden shyness washing over you, almost a hint of self-consciousness, afraid you took things too far.

“Never dreamed it could be that good in a million years,” he sighs. “Sorry I didn’t last long.”

She grabs his wrist, looking at the object encompassing his wrist, “Seven minutes isn’t bad at all for a first timer!”

Eddie began chuckling, “You looked at my watch before we started?”

You hide into his shoulder, “Wanted to see how well you would do.”

He places a soft kiss on your forehead and laughs, “You nerd. I love you so much.”

You smile softly, a soft blush spreading across your cheeks, “I love you too, baby.”

And with the both of you tired out from your day’s events, you fall asleep peacefully wrapped in each other’s arms, knowing that if there’s one place you’d both like to be for the rest of your lives, it would be here.

requests are open! if you would like to send me any asks, check out my character list and send me anything that i have specified is appropriate!

taglist: @cosmorant @ye0nvibezzn @tlclick73 @superlegend216

[it-was-summer]

Come In With The Rain (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all, I'm so sorry for the late posting. I know that I don't have a new chapter of 'Video Killed the Radio Star' out yet, but stay with me here. This is part one (of two) of my 500 followers post! I want to thank everyone for reading and being so sweet throughout the years. I really hope you all like this first part! The second part will probably be posted sometime this upcoming week. AND IT WILL BE 18+. I'm estimating sometime between Thursday and Saturday. Again, this is not proofread because I never learn. Love you all- Em <3

Link to the Ao3: Come In With The Rain

You are on Part One! -> Part Two

Yee olde masterlist

WARNING: Slow burn ahh fanfiction, emotional cheating, an accusation of emotional cheating, couple fighting, sex mentioned, alcohol mentions, drunk reader at one point, light cursing, babygirl Spencer Reid, suggestion BLINK AND YOU MISS IT SUGGESTION that Reid is Bi, reader is referred to as a woman, she/her/hers pronouns at some parts, and mention of feeling like a burden. AND probably something else, idk.

Plot: Spencer Reid becomes friends with you after bumping into you at a grocery store. Instantly enamored with you he develops a crush. A crush, apparently destined to fail, because why wouldn't you have a boyfriend?

Word Count: 10,365 (That's correct... 24 PAGES)

 Day One 

Almost everyone could agree that Spencer’s job was incredibly arduous. If not arduous, it was strenuous, formidable, occasionally crushing, onerous; the list goes on. Overall, his job –despite all its pitfalls– was something he loved. There was one thing he was starting to hate more than anything, though: he couldn’t seem to keep all his groceries from going bad after a week of back-to-back cases. 

Spencer narrows his eyes at his messy handwriting, looking back and forth between the paper in his hands and the cans in front of him. He just couldn’t find the can that he was looking for. Penelope had loaned him her recipe a few weeks back, and despite his disastrous efforts in the kitchen, he was determined to give it a shot. His mother never taught him how to cook –not that he blamed her, of course– so it was truly an area in which he simply lacked a lot of skill. Given his eidetic memory, he didn’t really need a list, but Penelope said this brand was best for her recipe when they talked last week. He didn’t want to risk it, so he wrote it down. 

He turned his head side-to-side, looking for a nearby worker, but found none. The only person in this aisle was him. He frowned a little before the sound of a sigh passing behind him made him jump. He quickly looked over his shoulder to see a woman standing behind him, staring at a list in hand. He couldn’t help but wonder when you had gotten there and how long you had been standing behind him before your sigh alerted Spencer to the presence of another life form in this aisle. 

Your head tilted slowly, your eyes met his, and Spencer felt his mouth drying. He wasn’t charming around beautiful women like Derek; most of all, he hadn’t expected to run into one at the grocery store. Your eyes stayed on Spencer for a second before they moved towards the cans in front of them. Spencer felt like a warmth had just been pulled away from him in the absence of your gaze. 

He shuffles out of your eyeline as you scan the cans with a soft smile. “Thank you,” your voice was light and airy, carrying a softness that Spencer wasn’t used to hearing. Your body is closer to his as you walk toward the cans and carefully reach up on your tiptoes to grab a can of sauce on the highest shelf. 

Spencer gets the idea stupidly slow: He should get it for you. He clears his throat and maneuvers his body to avoid touching the beautiful stranger beside him. He slides the sauce can off the shelf and hands it to you. 

He’s greeted with a dazzling smile, dimples on your cheeks, and eyes shining bright under the fluorescent lights of the grocery store. “Thank you,” you repeat before you stare at him expectantly. 

Spencer can’t help but feel like his IQ is taking slashes as he stares at that smile, “Spencer,” 

You gave him a gentle nod as you walked the sauce over to your cart, “Nice to meet you, Spencer. I’m Y/N.” You say as you look over your shoulder at him, hair falling into your face. For the first time in a long time, Spencer can feel the ends of his fingers twitching with anticipation at the idea of offering to brush the hair out of your face for you. He gives you a soft smile instead, his eyes trailing back to the list in his hands in an attempt to stop himself from staring. 

Your voice near him almost makes him let out a yelp of surprise as you say, “Are you looking for something? I don’t work here, but I cook a lot.” You say matter-of-factly, suggesting that your cooking hobby somehow made you an expert in the grocery store layout. 

Spencer felt like handing you his list and following you around like a puppy dog for the rest of his grocery shopping if it meant you’d keep standing this close to him. “Yeah, uhm, this brand of chili beans.” 

“Oh, you haven’t looked low enough.” You barely even glance at his list before bending your knees and crouching down to the lower shelf to grab it. You look up from the ground, holding the can of beans for him to take with a bright smile before you say, “You’re so tall you must have forgotten about the lower shelves.” A laugh escapes your lips as Spencer carefully grabs the can from your hand. 

You stand up with a gentle sigh. He can tell that you’re about to say something else when a man’s voice interrupts you. Your eyes grow brighter at the sound, and your head quickly turns toward the sound at the far left end of the aisle. “I got the cheese.” As he approaches, the man shoots the shredded cheese into the cart with a grin. 

You mouth a soft ‘yay’ as the man’s arm quickly wraps around your waist. “Josh, this is Spencer. I was just helping him look for a can of beans. Spencer, this is Josh.” 

Spencer feels his lips draw into a tight-lipped smile as he waves his free hand, “Nice to meet you,” He says with a slight nod. 

“She’s always talking to strangers, I swear. Stop making friends everywhere you go, you little angel.”  Josh says as he pinches your side, earning a melodious laugh from you. Spencer feels a little nauseous.

“Hey, gross.” You chuckle lightly as you pull Josh’s hand off your side, “Anyways, it was nice to meet you, Spencer. See you around.” You grab the handle of your cart with a beautiful smile before rolling the cart out of the aisle with Josh in tow. 

Spencer watches you until you take a right and disappear from his view, and now he can only look at the can of beans in his hand. He sighs at his luck, smiling a little with amusement at the fact that you have a boyfriend. His short interaction made it clear to him that you were easy to get along with. Beautiful, kind, easygoing, of course, you had a boyfriend. 

Spencer silently resigned himself to the fact that he would probably never see you or Josh again as he continued with his unneeded list.

Now, he felt like the fabled gods of fate were laughing down at him as he made the last trip to his car. He was closing the trunk of his car when he heard a familiar voice yell out his name from across the parking lot. “Spencer!” You yelled with bags in hand, panting lightly as you approached him with a light jog. “How funny is this?” 

A sarcastically bitter voice was in his head. Only the Ancient Greeks would find this funny. “Do you live in this building?” he asked as his eyes scanned the parking lot for Josh. His shoulders relaxed as he realized that it was just you. 

“Yeah, third floor.” You say as you readjust the bags in your hands. Spencer gave you an amused smile as he slid his last two bags on one arm, extending his free arm toward you. 

“Need some help?” He offers in a soft voice. You give him a grateful look as you nod, handing him a slightly heavy bag. Typically, you wouldn’t have accepted help from a perfect stranger, but almost everything about Spencer screamed non-threatening, so you let yourself be a little trusting. 

“Can’t believe that we’re neighbors. I'm glad I talked to you at the store; I made a neighbor friend!” Your speaking speed almost matches his when he is going on his excited ramblings. 

Spencer pushes a door open with his back, holding it open for you with his foot as he laughs. “I guess it's plausible, being that the grocery store is as close as it is.” He’s quick to move to the next door, repeating the motion. 

You smile gently as Spencer opens another door for you, this one leading the two of you to the stairwell. “Oh, you’re probably one of those people who doesn’t believe in fate, aren’t you, Spencer?” 

“I would have to say that I absolutely fall within the twenty-nine percent of Americans who do not believe in fate. Nothing is predetermined.” 

“Maybe you’re predetermined to believe that,” Is your quick remark as you walk in front of him on the stairs. 

“Not likely,” 

“So, what? You’re a cynic?” 

Spencer smiles wide at the question, “How does my not believing in fate make me a cynic?” 

You grin, tossing a skeptical look over your shoulder, before speaking again. “Not believing in fate is such a cynical thing to do,” 

“And what does that make you?” 

“Stupid and optimistically in love.” 

Spencer shakes his head, his eyes glancing at the door that leads to the second floor, but he continues to follow you up another flight of stairs without complaint. “I would label myself as a realist.” And a profiler, but he was careful to leave that part out. The cases over the years proved one thing to him: nothing was predetermined. There was an opportunity for change everywhere. 

“Okay, Mr. Realist, what about luck?” You asked as the two of you approached the door marked for floor three. 

He thought for a moment as you held the door open for him, “Maybe,” was all he could say as the memory of when he was struggling with his aim came to mind: killing an UnSub with a shot to the head when he had been aiming for his leg. 

“So you do believe in fate.” You turned your body to walk backward down the hallway with a satisfied, winning smile as you looked at him before slowing to a stop in front of your apartment door. 

“Fate and luck are not the same thing. Luck is usually used to describe an outcome; it’s a notion. It’s circumstantial.  Fate defies logic, science really.” He said as he handed you your bag carefully. His eyes glanced at the number on your door: thirty-seven. “You live with your boyfriend?” Spencer asks before he can stop himself, silently screaming at himself for being a creep. 

The question barely phases you as you reach into your pocket, searching for your keys. “Yeah, moved in six months ago.” 

“Oh, that’s nice.” Spencer hated small talk. Actually, he secretly hated the fact that the first person he found attractive, after months of failed dates, was taken. He also hated that you were living a floor above him for six months, and he hadn’t known about it– hadn’t known about you. Above all, he hated that he enjoyed your company already, especially having only known you for more than a few hours at best. “How long have the two of you been together?” 

“A year and eleven months,” you answer with a soft smile, your eyes giving way to soft emotion as you open your door. “What floor do you live on again?” 

Spencer wants to say that you never asked, but he didn’t want to seem rude. He was sure you couldn’t be rude if you tried, that sweet smile of yours not capable of the act. “Second floor,” he answers as he readjusts his bags timidly. 

With a soft gasp, you set down a bag or two, “Oh! I’m sorry.” You apologize softly as you look up at him, your eyes beautiful and tender. Spencer can’t remember if he is mad when he looks into those eyes. 

Spencer let out a meek and barely audible “It’s okay,” He decides it truly is.

You bite your bottom lip and smile at him, “Well, thanks for your help, Spencer. I really appreciated it. Come up some time and say hi!” As you beam at him, you move a stray hair out of your face. 

Spencer nods slowly, swallowing thickly, and manages a soft smile. His feet move his body back to the stairwell slowly. “Okay, I’ll do that.” 

Day Forty-Two 

You’re laughing over something Josh said. Spencer doesn’t really get it, but you seem to think it is the funniest joke you’ve ever heard. Punchlines usually went over his head, but he was always happy to nod along with a smile on his face. 

Spencer honestly didn’t want to come up and visit you and Josh a month ago. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment. Perhaps he just didn’t have it in himself to stay away from your electric personality—why he visited you and Josh three Saturdays ago was still a mystery to him.

As Josh walks away with a smug smile, you turn to Spencer. He watches as you lean towards him, eyes tracking Josh until he’s out of sight. Your amused smile falls from your face as you whisper a soft, “Did you get that?” 

Spencer is taken aback at the question. You laughed at Josh’s joke; how did you not get it? Why did you laugh so hard if you didn’t get it? He wonders until he’s whispering that same question to you, “If you didn’t get it, why did you laugh?” 

You smile a little cheekily and only slightly embarrassed, “I didn’t want him to know I didn’t find it funny. Sometimes, he falls short of witty humor.” 

Spencer smiles at that, shaking his head as he stares over at the area where Josh disappeared. “Why don’t you just tell him that you didn’t find it funny?” 

“Because,” Your voice sounds offended, but the amused look in your eyes tells him differently, “I’m his girlfriend of two years, and I’m nice. Unlike some people.” You give him a side-eyed glare, making Spencer gasp in mock defense. 

“I’m nice!” He hisses out in a defensive whisper. He briefly falters at your incredulous look before slowly nodding in defeat, “Okay, I’m a little mean sometimes.” 

You smile again and face him, your hands moving as you talk, “Which is funny because you’re perfectly nice when you’re around me.” 

Spencer didn’t have an answer to that one either. After being friendly with the couple for a little over a month, he just could not be friends with Josh. His jokes flew over Spencer’s head, he talked over you (and sometimes him), and he never seemed to take your interests seriously. 

Last Monday after work, you called Spencer, asking him if he wanted to go to the movies with you to see a tragic Italian film. He was quick to say yes, partially because of the excellent movie selection and because he wanted to be around you more. 

When he asked why Josh wasn’t joining them, you simply said that it wasn’t Josh’s thing. That didn’t sit right with him, but he let it go. Then, the day after, you called him again, asking him if he’d be willing to go with you to one of those paint-and-sip places around town that weekend. 

His answer was another resounding yes, and he didn’t even drink. Then the question came again during the class, and you responded with the same thing– it wasn’t Josh’s thing. 

Josh’s thing was going off to work all day and then coming home to ignore you for a good two hours before dinner. Then he was all yours again. At least, that’s what Spencer saw. He understood that everyone needed their alone time and that he was being a little petty and a little jealous toward Josh. 

He wanted to be the bigger person, honestly. It was just so hard when your boyfriend made it so easy for Spencer to hate him. He’d never say that to you, of course. You looked at Josh like he had hung the moon yesterday and then created the stars today. You never missed a chance to talk about Josh around… well, anyone—the precursor to Spencer’s current dilemma. 

Deep down inside, he knew that his inappropriate crush on you couldn’t possibly get worse. So he thought, What’s the harm in becoming close friends with you? If anything, it was likely that seeing more of your personality would pull his rose-colored glasses off his face and force him to see you in a normal, less love-sick light. After all, he had gotten over his embarrassing crush on JJ and saw her almost daily at work.

When Josh walks back into the room, he’s on his phone. He barely glances up from the text as he speaks to you, “Hey, babe, would it be okay with you if I head out for the night?” 

Your eyebrows furrow with confusion, “But Spencer is here, and we were going to finish the movie, remember?” 

“Right, but I already know what happens. I mean, it’s a tragedy, right? Spencer and you always have more fun together doing your nerd stuff. No offense, Spencer. The guys just want me to go out with them.” 

A realization dawns on your face as you realize he’s not asking so much as telling you he’s leaving. You nod slowly, letting Josh kiss your forehead before he grabs his keys and leaves. You look over at Spencer, who is trying to be polite by not watching the scene, looking down at the television remote with a deep interest. 

You smile slowly, sadly, and turn your body a little on the couch facing the television. The rest of the night is spent in your living room with Spencer, sitting next to each other and watching a movie before ending with your head on his shoulder and the soft tone of someone saying they “Liked the movie.” 

Day Ninety-Three

You could feel something starting to slip. It was a familiar feeling; something in the ground was shaking. It shook you, at least. You always noticed it first—a crack in the ship's hull.  You were always the first to address it, too. 

With Josh, it used to be customary for him to apologize for any indiscretion and try to fix the damage. But false promises are like duct tape in the ship’s hull, slipping and sliding against wet wood, water pouring in until the whole ship goes down. 

It wasn’t always like this. Him coming home and ignoring you for hours, only to acknowledge you late into the evening. It was relatively new to your relationship. Well, if you consider nine months new. By now, you could only label it as consistent. Before you lived with your loving boyfriend, he would carve out time in the evenings just to talk with you for hours or take you on dates that sometimes lasted for days on the weekends. 

You knew that living together would take some of that away– everyone deserved to have their private time, and you weren’t going to start demanding day-long dates anytime soon. You just missed the effort he used to put in, the time when he would make days for the two of you– hours for just the two of you. 

A year ago, Josh would have jumped to see that weird new Hungarian horror movie with subtitles for you if you had asked. He would have attempted to stay awake during it, hold your hand during the parts that scared you, something lovely. 

The first crack started when you moved in with him. One evening, you had gotten home from work early and occupied the living room for a few hours, watching some random French movie that had been recommended to you by your best friend. She didn’t like this kind of thing but knew you did, so you were grateful that she had thought of you. 

When he came home from work a little later than usual, he saw you on the couch with a plate of pasta, watching the movie intently. You turned your head towards the door and smiled wide at him. “Hey! I made spaghetti, grab a plate and watch this movie with me? I’ll restart it.” Your hands were already reaching for the remote when a heavy, annoyed sigh cut through the air. You looked over at him again and gave him a gentle, empathic smile, “Hey… did you have a hard day? We don’t have to watch anything we could–”

“Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t want to do anything with you right after I get off work?” Josh hissed out as he threw his keys onto the wooden kitchen table. 

You felt your head reel back a little at the question, and you laughed a little, pushing yourself up to sit on your knees on the couch. “I’m sorry?” 

“Have you ever thought I might want to come home after work and not talk to you for a few hours? I mean, I thought that after living here for two months, you would have caught on, but clearly you haven’t. I come home, and you’re right there, ready to talk. Prepared to force me to sit down and watch some… foreign language film that has some profound meaning that you’ll blabber about for thirty minutes before bed tonight.” 

You blinked a little at his harsh words, which were unlike him. He never seemed annoyed by your passions, hobbies, or ramblings. In fact, he always seemed to encourage them. You tried your best to give him a genuine smile, “Love, you’ve had a long day. Let’s just take a second and get some food in you, and then we can d–” 

“You’re not getting it,” he laughed bitterly, a sound that caused a sick knot to grow in your throat. “Sometimes, I’m tired of it being we, we, we, we. I’m always doing things with you: Cooking with you, reading with you, watching movies with you, sleeping with you, going on dates with you. Ever since you moved in, it's like it's always an ‘us’ task or a ‘we’ task.” His voice was rising in volume, and you felt your breathing becoming shaky. “I feel like you're always on top of me. It’s suffocating! Maybe I just want to be alone for a few hours. Maybe I don’t want to watch your stupid, fucking, symbolic foreign films.” 

“I... I didn’t know that’s how you felt.” You breathed out as you slowly turned the television off and got up with your plate. You wanted him to apologize, you wanted him to soften those brown eyes and start telling you that he didn’t mean it. You wanted him to tell you that work was brutal that day, and he had accidentally lashed out at you. But he just stared at you, panting a little. “I’ll leave you alone some more. I, uhm, I’ll watch this alone in our room.” 

And that was that. You had convinced yourself that you were a problem. You were too clingy, always in his space, always trying to force him to like your hobbies, always trying to share too much of yourself with him, always too much. So you decided that maybe what you wanted to do wasn’t his thing anymore. 

Besides, you had plenty of friends that liked the same things as you did… maybe. Molly didn’t like foreign films, but Alex enjoyed them enough. Molly did like to paint, but her schedule always conflicted with yours. Sabrina was also a fan of painting but had moved to Boston last month. The list of her friends with crazy work schedules could go on and on, as could the list of friends who moved. You had thought about reaching out to some of them, but Josh’s words rattled you to your core, and suddenly, you felt like a burden for wanting to spend time with your loved ones. 

Then, after six months of living with Josh, you met a man in a grocery store—a tall, hazel-eyed, intelligent man. Spencer Reid was unlike any man you had ever met in your life, a rare friend. He was transparent, often going into long, passionate tangents that always had you learning something new. So when he randomly mentioned a foreign film he wanted to see that weekend in one of your conversations, you felt comfortable asking him to come to the movies with you.

Then again, to the paint-and-sip place where the two of you failed to partake in any wine and managed to paint two terrible renditions of sunflowers. Spencer Reid was becoming a friend that you didn’t think you’d burden. Your other friends were quick to explain that you weren’t too much. Still, maybe it was because he had helped you carry your groceries up to the apartment the first day you met him or the way he was so happy to listen to your stories and thoughts. Something about Spencer Reid made you believe him when he said that you weren’t a burden. 

And he was nice to be around. Then, there was the pesky fact of Spencer being attractive. At first, it was more of a passing thought. The way he wore his glasses late at night, how his hair fell to one side, the way his fingers were so gentle with books. He was a good-looking man in a nerdy way. Mix that with sweet, caring, and accomplished; he was a threat. 

A threat to anyone but your loving boyfriend of two years. Sabrina was laughing over something you had said over the phone, her giggles rising in volume as she tried to speak between them, “He’s a.” Giggling. “An adonis of th–” Cackling. “The mind!” She managed before asking, “What does that even mean?” 

“It means he’s a very smart-minded, attractive person.” 

“Oh, so you’re like… crushing on the hot mind guy and fighting with Josh. Got it.” 

“I’m not fighting with Josh, and we talked about it last month. We’re okay now.” 

“Still ignoring you when he comes home?” 

You pause before you let out a slow sigh, “Yeah.” 

“What’s his record?” 

“Four hours and fifteen minutes. He said he will try to be more attentive throughout the week, but he just keeps…” You trail off. You can imagine Sabrina shaking her head on the other side of the line. 

“What about the weekends?” 

“Going out with his friends more, he visited his mom’s last weekend. Nary a date night in sight, not since our second anniversary at least, and that was..” 

“Yeah..” There was rustling, chips maybe, on her side of the line. “Maybe he’s planning something big. Maybe a trip? I don’t know, maybe you should bring it up again.” 

You nod a little, your hands typing away gently on your work computer. “Maybe. The last time I mentioned missing our date nights, he just said, ‘We have dinner dates every night at home.’ That was an incredible feeling.” 

“Something about weaponized ignorance is coming to mind.” 

“Don’t,” 

“Josh has been lacking in good boyfriend points since that stunt with the cake on your birthday,” 

“He got a little icing on my nose!” 

“Don’t,” She dragged out the ‘t’ sound, “Care! The disrespect! Your dress! Ugh, I’m going to get worked up. Talk to me about Dr. Genius.” 

“What about him?” 

“Does he ever, maybe, do something you wish Josh would start doing?” 

You laugh, “What? No…” 

“So you don’t wish that Josh would know the symbolism behind The Red Shoes and go into how… what did he say?” 

“That art was worth dying for, and that Hans Christian Andersen's original story surrounded a sense of morality and religious–” 

“Ah, Ah, Ah, so you don’t want Josh to know that?” 

“He doesn’t need to know that,” your fingers falter in their typing, “Two people can have similar interests and not be in love.” 

“Right, it just seems like lately, you’ve been…” You hate the awkward silence that follows Sabrina before she carefully speaks again, “Maybe replacing Josh with Spencer in your hobbies. I know Josh lashed out and was wrong, too, but this Spencer guy… he clicks with you– your hobbies, at least. And your witty humor, too. It seems he matches your intellectualism and your passion for learning,  exceeds it even, but Josh is steps below you. Josh, he… just always seems so tolerant of your hobbies.” 

“So what are you saying?” 

“Nothing,” a voice calls her name, “Look, I gotta go. Josh is great, and I’m just being silly. Maybe I just have a grudge against him or something. I love you.” 

“I’ll talk to you later. Love you.” You reply quickly before she ends the call. 

You shake your head a little at her words, still swimming in your mind as you go back to charting something on your computer. What did that even mean? Josh is steps below you. He wasn’t dumb. He just lacked… that dry humor you had with Spencer sometimes. A quick, witty remark that had one of you smiling in seconds. Besides, that notion was ridiculous, given you had only known Spencer for three months. Josh made up for it in love… and you did love him. 

All couples went through rough patches, but you were sure that if you raised your concerns again with Josh, things would change. You nod a little at the thought as you sigh, shifting in your chair slightly as you readied yourself to be engulfed in your work. 

Day One Hundred and Forty-Six 

Spencer could feel the bass of some pop song thumping in his chest. It had been a pleasant and slow week at the BAU. While he would have loved to go home and sit down with some book of his choosing, he allowed Penelope and Derek to convince him to go out with them. 

The bar wasn’t too far from his apartment complex, so he didn’t mind. Penelope was twirling her drink's tiny umbrella between her fingers as she pointed towards a pretty red-head dancing in a dark green dress. “What about her?” 

They have been playing this game for ten minutes now. By they, he means Garcia and Morgan. The game is ‘Who does Spencer find pretty at the bar?’ 

“Babygirl, you have a great eye,” Derek says as he points the woman out to Spencer, but before he can say anything else, Spencer decides they’ve played this game past the point of amusement. 

“Why can’t we accept that I don’t feel like talking to anyone tonight, again?” 

Penelope frowned a little, giving Spencer a pleading look. “You said that the last time we took you to the bar, you were willing to participate next time. It’s next time, Reid.” 

Spencer remembers the conversation and groans softly as he sips on his water. He hated disappointing them with his lack of effortless charm. It had improved through the years, but he still struggled to find the right words to say in front of someone he found attractive. 

“Come on, Pretty Boy. Are you going to back out of your promise?” Derek’s voice is teasing as he smiles at Spencer. Spencer can’t help but feel a sense of newfound obligation. He knew what was holding him back and hated himself for it. 

His inappropriate crush on you had grown to be near debilitating, and even though Spencer had told himself that it’d never happen, he kept holding out hope that one day it would. He had gone on dates in the near five months he had known you, but he always ended up comparing his dates to you. They never laughed as sweet as you. They came up with the same academically related jokes you did. They never– they just weren’t you, simple as that. 

“Fine, but someone else. She’s pretty, but I think that girl is her girlfriend.” He pleaded softly, watching as a taller brunette woman spun around the pretty redhead to the beat. 

Penelope clapped and set down her drink, “This next one has to be perfect.” 

“Pretty boy’s future bride,”

Spencer felt his cheeks flush at that, and he nudged Derek with a nervous laugh. Penelope was still scanning the crowd. The bar wasn’t empty or devoid of beautiful women or men for her to choose from, but no one screamed Spencer Reid material. Derek was scanning the crowd with her, always happy to see her passionate about something, even if it was Reid’s love life. 

A gasp slipped past Penelope’s lips as she grabbed Derek’s arm tight, her index pointing toward someone by the speakers. Derek’s eyes landed on who she was pointing at, and he smiled wide, nodding quickly, “Future Mrs. Reid material,” 

Spencer can barely see where they are pointing as he tries to look toward the area that Garcia is pointing at. Then he sees her. It’s you, and his heart drops. He wants to tell his friends he knows that isn’t ‘Future Mrs. Reid’ at all, but Derek and Penelope are already pushing him into the crowd. He glares back at them and stubbles with his footing for a second before walking toward you. 

You’re wearing a beautiful black dress, hugging your curves. In the flashing lights, Spencer thinks that you’re shining. Your hips sway lightly to the beat as you stand near the speakers, alone. 

Spencer gently taps you on your shoulder, and when you turn around, you have a glare on your face before you see it's him. He almost laughs at how you gasp and loudly scream, “Spencer!” Your hands fly out to his shoulders, shaking him gently as you giggle. “Hi!” You’re so drunk. 

Spencer is sure that Penelope and Derek are watching the scene unfold with confused expressions as he laughs softly, your hands on his shoulders gently shaking his body side-to-side. “Hey, where’s Josh?” He yells over the music. 

“Getting drinks!” You yell back in an excited tone. 

He smiles wide and shakes his head a little; he usually doesn’t find drunk people endearing. But right now, in the flashing lights of the bar, your rosy-cheek face and tipsy giddiness have him feeling a little more enamored than usual. 

“Who are you here with?” You ask loudly, your hands falling away from his shoulders. 

“Uh, my friends, coworkers!” he replies as he stands beside you to point out the confused-looking pair staring at them. 

“Can I say hi?” He could tell that your friendly disposition continued even when intoxicated, and he found himself adoring the consistency. He nods gently, and you’re smiling so much. Spencer wonders how someone could be so excited about meeting someone else’s friends. 

He leads you over, your fingers grabbing the back of his button-up as he carefully leads you through the crowd. The gentle pull of your fingers gripping his shirt makes his cheeks burn as he stops in front of Derek and Penelope. “Y/N, Derek, and Penelope. Penelope and Derek, Y/N.” 

You let go of the back of his button-up quickly as you extend a giddy hand, “Hi, I haven’t met any friends of Spencer's yet.” 

Derek looks amused as he shakes your hand, his eyes flicking between you and Spencer, “How do you know the boy genius?” 

“I found him looking lost in the grocery store. We’re neighbors! Well, almost,” You let go of Derek’s hand to point towards the roof, “I’m on top of him.” 

Spencer can feel the breath knocked out of his lungs as he quickly corrects you, “She lives on the floor above me.” He explains before either of them can make a joke. 

Penelope matches your happy attitude as she shakes your hand, “We had no idea that Spencer had a friend in his apartment complex! How long have the two of you been friends?” 

“Almost five months,” You say with a little giggle, leaning toward Penelope slightly. “Spencer comes over to discuss movies with me or books, or we went to a poetry reading last weekend.” 

“He comes over often, huh?” Derek’s voice asks playfully, and you nod quickly. 

“The mothership is always beckoning,” You joke, laughing harder than you should at your own joke. 

Penelope slowly drops your hand, tilting her head, and her flower earrings sway slightly. “And... your roommate is okay with that?” she asks carefully, and Spencer wants to ask why she doesn’t simply ask if you have a boyfriend. 

“Oh, no. Josh doesn’t care. He’s my boyfriend of two years. Nothing can break that security, I’m sure.” You look towards the bar for him and catch his eye. You wave high and wide for him, and he smiles, shaking his head at you as he waits for the drinks.

“So, Pretty Boy here is just a friend.” 

You giggle a little at the nickname and try to cover your smile with your hand, looking at Spencer. “Pretty Boy?” You giggle out. Spencer frowns a little and goes to defend himself, but you’re already nodding, “He is a pretty boy. That’s fitting.” Then, he feels like his body is on fire. 

Derek is about to say something when Josh slides behind you with two drinks. “Always with Spencer,” he teases softly, kissing your cheek before handing you your drink. 

“Josh, these are Spencer’s friends, Penelope and Derek.” You say, taking the drink and happily taking a small sip. 

Josh holds out his hand for them to shake, a charming smile on his face, “I thought Spencer’s only friend was my girlfriend.” 

Penelope doesn’t laugh, but she still manages a polite smile and shakes his hand before Derek does the same thing. Spencer fidgets a little, still beside you. You turn your head up toward him, and you mouth a soft, ‘He’s drunk’ as a way to excuse Josh’s behavior. 

However, recently, Josh has been acting like that sober. He would demand to join the two of you at the movies while complaining about the movie selection. He’d sit between the two of you if the opportunity arose, which wasn’t strange. What was weird was how he’d become more physically affectionate with you in front of Spencer. Spencer hated that– hated looking at it.

Josh quickly grabs your shoulders and says, “We should let you all get back to your night.” It sounds like a suggestion, but he’s already leading you away. You gasp as he guides you away from the three of them, and you quickly smile, wave, and yell out a quick, ‘It was nice to meet you’ before you walk further away with Josh. 

Penelope sips on her drink as a way to stop herself from talking, but Derek breaks the silence first. “So he’s jealous of you.” 

Spencer wants to deny it, but even he can’t deny the facts. “Not at first, but now… I don’t know if I’m not nice enough or if I did something, but yeah, lately, he’s been like that.” 

Penelope sighed and looked toward where you and Josh had walked off to, “She seems sweet,” 

“Yeah, Reid’s head over heels for her too.” 

“Wait, Spencer, are you?” 

His cheeks are flushed, and he’s shaking his head a little, a lame attempt to try and hide his feelings. Derek lays it on thick, “Come on, he doesn’t let just anyone touch him. Did you see how he looked at her when he approached her earlier? Like a lovesick dog with a bone in his mouth.” 

Spencer raises his hands and scoffs, “Okay, I’m working on it, alright. She’s just easy to be around. I’m getting over it.” 

Penelope is swooning over the information, “A forbidden romance,” 

“Her gatekeeper boyfriend and you, the pretty boy genius from downstairs,” Derek adds. 

Spencer sighs, annoyed with their teasing, “Alright, let’s drop it.” The pair gives him a look, and he adds a soft, “Please.” Seeing their friend’s annoyance didn’t usually deter them, but the way he shifted from one foot to the other as he begged them to stop had Penelope and Derek sharing a look before letting all their silent jokes go. Spencer was grateful that evening had returned to normal, his nervous thoughts slowly slipping away with easy conversation. 

Day One Hundred and Eighty-Three 

You’re sure Josh is mad at you for something. You just can't get it out of him. A few weeks ago, he had been nothing but sincere. Soft again, sweet again, him from a little over a year ago. It was beautiful, and it felt like he had finally listened. It felt like he had come back around and somehow repaired the hull. 

Then he started ignoring you again. You had been careful, so careful, not to suffocate him like he mentioned. You make sure that you go out with Spencer on weekends. You distance yourself just enough for Josh to miss spending time with you. Spending time with Spencer was also good for you; he helps keep your spirits high.

He kept you feeling lighter than air. He would text you sometimes on cases with the team when he was out of town. Little reminders, little jokes, and sometimes… It felt nice. You didn’t know how to describe it. Thrilling, calming, extraordinary, and tumultuous all that once. It confused you, pulled at the heartstrings, softly tugging at something deep within you. It unsettled you and made you ache when you looked at Josh in bed next to you. 

But his sweetness distracted you. Erased longing and replaced it with familiar love. You knew his steps, and he knew yours. 

And now, he was angry with you. You didn’t want to ask, and you didn’t want to be a pest to the man you loved. You hoped he would just come right out and say it. You hoped that his cup of secret rage would overflow and spill over.

The sound of heavy footsteps disrupts your stagnant reading. Your eyes kept reading the same sentence. Every time you tried to continue with the following sentence, you found yourself unable to do so. You set the book face down on the bed and smiled a little at Josh as he stood in the doorway. It was Friday night, and Spencer was on a case. Molly was busy, Christina was busy, and everyone was busy. So you stayed home, attempting to read. 

He was drunk, no drunk didn’t even cover it. He looked like death, pale with red eyes and muttering incoherent things to himself. “Josh… are you okay?” Your smile quickly faded, and you moved to the edge of the bed, watching him sway against the door frame. 

He didn’t answer and just laughed a little, which turned into a groan and then a sigh. You push yourself off the bed and walk to him, reaching up a hand to cup his cheek, but before your fingers can touch him, he smacks your hands away with a deep frown. “Josh!” You gasp as you pull your hand away, rubbing at the slightly pink skin. 

“Not right,” he mutters, and you shake your head as you try to understand what he’s talking about. 

“What’s not right? Josh, are you okay?”

He stumbles as he pushes past you, his shoulder roughly bumping into yours as he sits on the bed. You stay by the door. “This. Us, not right anymore.” He roughly puts it together. 

You can feel your heart fall to the pit of your stomach as you turn around to face him, “What are you talking about?” 

“Not right anymore,” his drunk hands are dramatically waving between the two of you, “You’re not,” he motions to his chest lamely, “Here anymore.” 

You can feel the tears threatening to rise in your eyes, your breathing becoming fast as you shake your head. “I’m here, you’re here.” You point your index into your chest, just above your heart. “What are you saying?” 

“Not here,” He repeats loudly. 

“I am here!” you yell back as you walk to him. “I don’t know what happened tonight, but we can discuss it, Josh. We can fix things.” You can feel the weight of the world crashing down on your chest, its weight making it difficult to breathe clearly. 

“No,” 

You’re quick to talk over him, “Yes, we can,” 

“No, we can’t,”

“Whatever it is, it’s okay, we can–” 

“No–” 

“It’s okay, I won’t be mad–”

“I’m in love with someone else,” He yells, his spit hitting your cheek. Your hands twitch slightly at the feeling, but you can’t move. All you can do is stare at him with a gaping mouth, opening and closing repeatedly like a fish. You couldn’t form the words, and your mind was blank. “Don’t give me that.” 

You feel like someone else’s voice is speaking, “Give you what? Shock? Disgust? You’re in love with someone else. How else am I supposed to react? Do you want me to be happy? Oh, Josh, I’m so happy for you and your mistress! I’m so glad that you’re fucking her and me at the same time! I’m so happy, so happy!” 

“I’m not fucking Estelle, she and I,” 

“Your coworker, are fucking you kidding me?” 

“Oh, shut up with the pity party!” He looks sober suddenly, his face red and twisted with rage as he stands up from the bed. Your footing slips a little before you catch yourself walking back from him. “You think these past six months I’ve enjoyed having him over here all the time? Giggling with you in the living room over some intellectual private joke that I don’t get, o-or how about when you disappear with him every weekend you can? Introducing you to his friends in bars, going to movies with you, you didn’t try hiding it from me!” 

“Him? Who are you talking about?” Then it dawned on you, and Josh could tell from how your back straightened and how you looked at him with unsure eyes. “Spencer? You think I’m cheating on you with Spencer?” 

“Not physically, but yes.” 

“Josh, what are you even saying right now? I made a friend who likes the same things I do. I mean… a year ago, you told me that I was suffocating. You told me that you didn’t enjoy my hobbies. Did you just expect me to stop them? How did I cheat on you? Spencer and I we’ve never–”

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve never fucked, or-or kissed him! Emotionally, you gave up on us. You’re only emotionally available for him. He gets you, all your jokes, your kindness, everything. He has it all. You’re always running into his arms!”  

“Running into his arms? Josh, you push me to him. I don’t love Spencer; we are just friends. He’s there for me because he is my friend! What are you going to say now? Th-that I forced you to Estelle, who, by the way, I saw last month at that Holiday party for the office. Are you going to tell me that me being by your side all while having a friend with the same interest as me was too much for you?” You can barely breathe. 

“You know it's more than that, don’t play victim. I can see the way you look at him. You used to look at me like that, and then six months ago, you met him. You didn’t even try.” 

“I didn’t try.” You repeat back before you’re scoffing a little, pacing the room quickly. “You shut me out. You stopped talking to me for months. If anyone has the right to play the victim here, it’s me. I don’t see you for hours. We had the day off for our second anniversary, and you didn’t talk to me until noon. When I moved in with you, did you even want me to be a person? Or did you want a perfectly still doll, interesting only when you want her to be interesting, talkative only when you want to listen, ready for the taking when it was good for you? Go ahead, treat me like a fucking doll.” 

Josh is shaking his head now, his breathing ragged as he slowly runs his hands through his hair. “I don’t,” He pauses, his eyes looking at a photo of the two of you from two years ago framed on the bedside table. “It doesn’t matter anymore? I don’t love you anymore. You can make me the villain. I don’t care. I want you out.” 

You swallow hard at his words and laugh a little, “Where am I supposed to go?” 

“I,” He looks at you, and you see how tired he looks. The part of you that still loves him feels crushed; the other just feels angry. “My name is on the lease. Find somewhere else to sleep tonight. I’ll let you pack a bag, but I want you,” he motions towards the apartment, and you assume he means your presence in the apartment and your things. “Gone.” And he doesn’t let you say anything back, walking out into the living room. 

You stand still; you feel frozen. You don’t know if you want to start crying, start packing, or just call people to see if you can crash at theirs. That feeling, the feeling that he planted in you rises inside you. You’ll be a burden, suffocating, and miserable. But you need a place to sleep for the night. 

Your shaky hands reach for your phone on the bed, randomly calling people. Alex is out of town, you know. Christina just moved and doesn’t even have a couch yet. You call Molly, but she doesn’t answer. You wish you lived in Boston so you could call Sabrina, but that’s unrealistic. You keep scrolling through the contacts and try to think.

As you reach the next contact, your fingers falter, and your mouth feels dry. You hesitate multiple times before hitting the call button. You wait with bated breath as you bring your phone to your ear. 

Ring. 

You should hang up. This is a bad idea. 

Ring. 

Doesn’t this just prove Josh’s point? 

Ring. 

You don’t even know if he’s back in town or when he’ll be back. You should hang up before he answers; call someone else. 

The third ring is cut short as Spencer picks up the phone. Your hands shake as he says a gentle, tired, “Hello?” 

“He-hey.. Uh, are you still in Illinois?” 

“No, we’re an hour out. Are you okay? You sound like you’re upset.” 

You lick your lips quickly as you debate, telling him everything: the fight, how Josh is kicking you out. Instead, you settle for, “I just need a place to crash for the night, and I know it's a big ask, and you’re getting home from a case, but–” 

“Yes, yeah, you can stay at mine.” You let out a slow breath and nod a little, a sense of temporary relief settling over you. 

“Thank you, thank you so much. I… I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be at yours in an hour?” 

“See you soon,” Spencer says before you hang up the phone. You get to work as fast as you can, grabbing luggage from the closet and packing like a mad woman. Anything you can fit into the case, you carefully fold or roll up and stuff inside. 

An hour comes around, and you’re packed enough for a week at the very least. You grab the only thing on the bed that’s yours, a dark green blanket, before slowly rolling the suitcase into the living room. Suddenly, it feels like you’re not in your body anymore, watching the scene from the ceiling. 

Josh turns, a phone against his ear, and you only catch the ends of an ‘I love you’ before he hangs up. He draws his lips in a tight line before asking, “Where you headed?” 

You feel like he knows the answer, “Spencer’s.” 

His lips turn upwards, and he laughs; he laughs so hard that he’s gripping his side. “Ye-Yeah, that's right. Prove me right. Run straight to Doctor Reid. Fucking rich.” He snips at you as you finally feel the tears start to well up in your eyes. “You know what let him have my sloppy seconds.” 

You gasp softly, the comment like a punch in the gut. “Have fun fucking her in our bed. Make sure to put the pictures face down before you give her the most underwhelming four minutes of her life. I’ll be back tomorrow to start packing.” You say as you start stepping through the front door, slamming it behind you. You’re panting lightly in the empty hallway, your mind numb as tears stream down your face. You don’t remember lugging your stuff to the second floor or getting to Spencer’s door. 

The only thing you remember is the sound of your name and gentle hands grabbing your chin and tilting your head up with care. You remember sobbing, hyperventilating out the events of the past evening to him as he helps you inside. And the eventual call of sleep that reaches you on Spencer’s couch. 

Day One Hundred and Ninety

Spencer could hear the soft sounds of your computer playing something in the living room. Last Friday… Well, technically, early Saturday morning, you had your head on your knees outside his apartment door. The sound of sobs had him dropping his dirty go-bag and grabbing your chin to soothe you. 

He listened to everything: how Josh thought that you were emotionally cheating on him with Spencer, how Josh had fallen in love with a coworker, and how he kicked you out. You said you would have stayed, but the lease was in his name. It was a stupid decision of the past catching up with you– your words, not Spencer’s. 

You had told him that it would only be for one night, but Spencer wasn’t going to make you couch surf all week. He insisted that you stay with him until you found an apartment. He let you stuff your boxes of things in his study and was happy to do it. 

The worst part about this arrangement was seeing you like this, seeing you so heartbroken. You went to work a little later than him, came home later than him, ate, slept, and repeated the cycle. He kept catching you with a dissociative look on your face. Too scared to ask you if you were okay, he would awkwardly attempt to cheer you up with your shared hobbies. But that only worked for so long until you were ending the night with that numb look on your face again. 

He lays in bed, wondering if he should go into the living room to check on you. He barely thinks it through before he throws his covers off and slips out of bed. He has plaid pajama pants on with an old CalTech shirt, and when he walks into the living room, he can see you pause what you’re watching on your computer and smile at him. 

“Hey,” you whisper, even though it's just the two of you in the apartment. 

“Hey,” Spencer whispers back before sighing and walking toward the back of the couch. “Can’t sleep?” 

You look up at him before returning to the dimly lit computer screen, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” His quick reply has you nodding a little. You shift a little, pushing yourself up to make room on the couch for him. He takes the unspoken invitation and sits down next to you.”What are we watching?” 

You lick your lips nervously, “Romcom. When Harry Met Sally.”  

Spencer glances at you before he admits, “Never seen it.” 

You gasp softly, and that playful light returns in your eyes for a second. He hasn’t seen that light in a week. “Spencer Reid, you haven’t lived.” 

Spencer takes the opportunity to joke around with you, making a buzzer sound with his mouth. “Wrong. I’ve been alive for many years.” 

This gets a weak smile from you, but still a smile nonetheless. “You want to watch it with me? I know it's late, but… maybe it’ll lure you to sleep if you find it boring.” 

Spencer grins, glancing at the clock to see how late it is. He shakes his head a little, “Maybe we could just talk for a second? I’ve barely seen you this week.” He suggests. You’re quick to nod, shutting your laptop. You lean back on the sofa and bring your legs up to sit crisscrossed. He watches you. Your eyes are no longer red or puffy, but the skin on your cheeks still seems pale, lacking their natural rosiness. 

“I found a great apartment, but I can’t move in until the end of this month.” You break the silence first, hands folding awkwardly in your lap. 

Spencer nods, resisting the urge to hold one of your hands as he speaks. “That’s fine, and I’m not kicking you out anytime soon. You’re stuck with me for three more weeks.” 

You chuckle a little at that, “Ever the gentleman,” You say softly, but your eyes don’t have that light anymore. You seem distracted, your eyes lingering on him briefly before staring at your hands. “Spencer,” 

“Yeah?” 

“What do you do when everything feels like too much?” 

Your voice cracks softly as you ask the question, and Spencer is scared you’ll start crying again. He always feels useless whenever you cry, a genius without answers. He swallows the nervous lump in his throat: “I read, or sometimes I force myself to go out. Whenever I’m overwhelmed, I end up at the public library. Or sometimes, if I have the day, I go to the Smithsonian. But... it’s been a while.” 

You seem to perk up a little at the mention of the Smithsonian, and you give him a playfully little side glance, “Air and Space?” You guess with a small smile. 

He smiles and shrugs, “Sometimes,” he returns the playful sideways glance. “Portrait Gallery?” 

You’re laughing a little as you nod. Spencer feels relieved to hear its soft melody. “Portrait Gallery.” You confirm your pick with a soft sigh. 

Spencer lets warm silence spread for a second, his eyes occasionally flickering over to your serene expression. “What about you? What do you do when you’re overwhelmed?” 

Your eyes meet his as he asks the question, and for a second, you seem a little surprised that he is asking you anything. He wonders if you expected him to keep talking or ignore the tension in the air around you. 

“Well, reading is lovely. Museums, movies,” you pause for a second, and your expression softens. “Music. I love music when I’m feeling overwhelmed, sad, or happy. It’s a universal fix, music.” 

“What kind of music?” He has heard you talk about music before, how you didn’t understand people who hated it. Music helped him escape to childhood memories, the good ones at least. He wondered if it had the same effect on you. 

“Everything. Pop, country, indie, anything that moves me. I like classical too, but only sometimes.” 

“Why only sometimes?” 

“I like it in ballets, plays, movies. I like the visual representation that accompanies it.” Your eyes leave his slowly, “Like a music box with a ballerina inside.” 

Spencer finds that this version of you, the melancholy version, is blunt. You don’t people-please or avoid questions; instead, you would directly state something. He liked how you directly stated your musical likes and how honest they were. He finds himself wanting every version of yourself that you have shown him lately, and he feels a little guilty for it. 

A soft gasp from your lips stops him from overthinking, “Oh shoot,” You mutter as you pull out your phone, looking at the calendar before you curse softly. 

“What’s wrong?’ 

“I, uhm,” You swallow hard and set your phone down, “I just remembered that Josh and I were going to celebrate our third anniversary a little early this year. Our second wasn’t the best, and he promised we would do something I wanted to do. We had tickets to see Swan Lake.” You chew on your bottom lip slowly, getting lost in the thought before you say, “That’s next month. I gotta cancel.” 

Spencer can see how you slump at the thought and how sad it makes you to cancel the plans. He feels himself saying the words before he can even process them: “I can go with you.” 

You turn to him with a soft laugh of disbelief, “What?” 

“We could go together. Make the most of it. I mean, I like Swan Lake.” 

“Spencer, it would be wrong to spend what would be my third anniversary with you. I mean–”

“It wouldn’t be the exact day. You said it was a couple of months early, so it would just be us…going to see Swan Lake. Just friends, seeing a ballet, and getting dinner or something. A night on the town. Something to keep your mind off things,” 

He hopes you’ll agree to the offer, his heart beating loudly in his chest as you stare into his eyes. Your eyes dart back and forth, rapidly looking into his eyes and then at his face. The silence is killing him, a knife in his back as he tries his best to breathe normally. 

Then you’re giving him a slow smile, a little shy at first, before you beam at the suggestion, “Okay,” 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, let’s go to the ballet together. I mean, I would do it with or without Josh anyway. Now I’ll be able to go with someone who will actually enjoy it, even better.” Your eyes meet his hazel ones again, and you place a tentative hand over his. “Thank you, Spence.” Your voice is sincere, and Spencer feels his body relax when you touch him. 

“I can’t think of a better way to spend my evening two months from now.” He whispers in the air between you before he slips his hand away from yours and stands. He yawns softly, “Now… let’s get some sleep.” 

You nod, a small smile still on your face as you lay on the couch. “Night.” You whisper as you close your eyes. 

Spencer stands and stares down at you a little longer than he should before he takes a step toward his bedroom. “Goodnight,” he says as he walks into his bedroom. He’s thinking about your genuine smile for another hour before he even closes his eyes.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[wasteddmoondust]

an old diary || remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader 812 words, fluff, remus finds your old diary from this request! a/n: i twisted the request just a teeny bit away from what you might have been expecting. but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless! this was so fun to write and the scenario is just too cute hehe

"Hey, Remus?" He hears your voice call from the library . "When you're free, do you think you can help me organise the storage room? There's a load of books from years ago that I need sorted."

Remus doesn't even hesitate on his answer, he knows he'll do anything for you. The both of you have stuck close since your school days, and took care of each other through the war. He feels forever indebted to you especially for that.

And that's how he finds himself in said storage room, the musty smell of yellowing paper wafting around him.

He scans the stacks of books. There's not many, compared to the rest of the library at least. This should just take the afternoon.

He starts to sort each stack, slowly making a system in his brain on how to tackle this task. But as he's on this third pile. a glimmer catches his eye, and he turns towards the direction of it. Underneath a pile, something familiar is sticking out, but he just can't put his finger on it.

He decides to abandon whatever task he was supposed to do and reaches for the book. Carefully, he slides it out of the stack.

The name on the book knocks his breath.

Y/N L/N, 1977.

That's what is was, your old diary from seventh year.

Remus finds himself frozen. That year was wild, to say the least. The bittersweetness of his final year, relishing of how much youth him and his had left. But mostly, it was the prelude to most of the pain he would experience in his life. This book is holding whatever you were feeling in those days.

He knows he shouldn't peek.

He flips the book open to a random page.

15 September, 1977 Today we went out to the lake, and I realised no words can describe the amount of love I have for my friends. To my dearest girls, Lily, Marlene, Mary, and Alice. I hope we are never too far apart. We shall grow old together gossip even as we do now.

Remus' heart swells at the sentiment, knowing each of the mentioned girls' fates. He flips to other pages, which mostly are written about the daily life of a Hogwarts student. However, a glimpse of his own name gets his attention. He stops to read the page.

25 January, 1978 Remus Lupin. Oh the man that you are. You and your stupid jumpers and stupid books and stupid tea you take with milk and two sugars. What I find the most stupid is the way you treat me. It makes me question who I am to you. Your friend? Maybe more? I can only dream. I don't think you'll ever see me that way. I'm perfectly happy where we are as friends. But somehow if I get even the slightest chance I will be taking it. Even if it comes ten years from now.

He's stunned, to say the least. He never knew you harboured these feelings back then, and wonders if you still had them now.

It's funnier especially when after all this time he never found a way to say he has those feelings too.

He knows what he should do. There's a newfound feeling of courage and bravery in him, and quickly finishes his tasks before you leave the library for the day.

"Oh, done already?" you ask, packing your work bag before leaving. "That was quick. Did you have much trouble?"

"No, not at all. Found some pretty good things in there," he says, trying to act casual. He hides the diary behind his back.

"Really? Do tell."

He pulls out the book from behind. You gasp.

"No way!" You grab it from his hold. "That was in there the entire time?"

"Mhm, I took a peak, if you don't mind," He says.

You furrow your brows. "You did?"

He nods slowly.

"And what did you read...?" you ask. He knows that you know what was written in that diary.

He shrugs. "Let's just say..." he looks around avoiding eye contact. "You said ten years, and it's been fifteen. So would you still?"

You frown, but you know exactly what he's talking about. "Still what?"

"Take the chance?"

You groan and cover your face, feeling your cheeks heat up. You hear Remus chuckle. "So is that a yes?"

Your hands leave your face, showing a pout. "I can't believe you read that!" you swat him playfully. "But yes... I would..."

"Brilliant," he says, smoothing your hair down and smiling at you.

"Now what?" you ask. You mentally kick yourself for asking such a question.

Remus grins, the same grin you've grown to love over the years. "I'd like to kiss you now, if it's alright with you."

The both of you lean in. In the library after fifteen years, he's finally yours.

[zumek0]

draft 04; dostoevsky, f.

↪︎ fluff, fedya having a soft spot for his lover, reader is sick, gn reader, written with a fem reader in mind tho, references to irl dostoevsky’s life, surprise angst at the end, mentions of death.

↝ summary: when you become ill and are unable to fall asleep, he reads to you. the action feeling both familiar and distant to him.

You sneeze. Four times, actually.

You getting sick was highly inconvenient for Fyodor, as it prevented you from fulfilling your duties as a member of the Rats in the House of the Dead. He had to disregard plans and work his way around being down not only a member, but also the best assassin in the organization. Not to mention how it not only affected his organization, but also the Decay of Angels.

As annoyed as he was with the whole situation, seeing you in such a miserable state didn't bring him any kind of joy. On the contrary, he felt his heart hurt when he saw your teary eyes and heard your hoarse voice. Not that he would ever let you know that.

He stands up from his office set up and heads to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He can't concentrate, so he decides that he might as well check up on you. That is, of course, because he needs you to get better so you can get back to work immediately, and not because he heard you cough a little too much and a little too hard.

He places the glass on the bedside table. He hears you thank him weakly. "Are you okay?" he asks uninterestedly but scans your face for any kind of discomfort. "Tired..." you sneeze after you answer.

"Then sleep." He hands you a tissue, which you barely muster enough energy to take.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

Fyodor sighs and then leaves the room. Your eyes start tearing up again, this time because you want him to stay with you. The whole image is comical: a killer as cold and ruthless as you, crying miserably because their boyfriend wouldn't spend time with them? Even if someone were to see it with their own eyes, it would be hard to believe.

Fyodor returns to the room with a book in hand. The cover torn and creased from the passage of time. It is Fyodor's favorite. Even if he rarely touched it, you knew he held a great fondness for that book in particular.

He lays down in the bed and looks at you expectantly. While your moves are slow, he waits patiently for you to make yourself comfortable against his chest. He opens the book on the first page.

"On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked away slowly..."

His soft voice and regular heartbeat lulled you asleep.

A young dark haired man lies kneeling at the foot of his bed. His head is hung low and his fingers are intertwined. After he finishes his prayer with an "Amen", he gets up and heads for his mother's room.

He enters quietly and finds his father already there, sitting on a chair by his mother's side. Her head turns upon hearing the door opening and a warm yet tired smile makes home on her face.

"Fedyen'ka." Her voice, although strained and tired, sounds happy to see him. "Come here, my angel. Your father and I have something for you."

He is given a book.

On a late night while talking to his mother, he had entrusted her with the knowledge of his passion for literature. Talking about some of the books he had managed to get his hands on, weather by acquaintances of his lending him some, or by the old man in the shoe shop who let him stay a couple of hours after his work ended just so he could read some of the books that he kept in the backroom of his store. That night his mother promised him that for his sixteenth birthday, she would get him a book of his own.

She had never broken a promise, yet there were still two months until his birthday. Fyodor understood at that moment that his mother was probably going to die before that.

A simple "Thank you." is all he could muster.

That night he was unable to sleep. His father went out to tend to some business, so the house would've been completely silent if it weren't for the coughs of his mother.

He gets out of bed, grabbing the book from the wooden dresser next to the door to his room. When he enters his mother's room, the coughing stops.

"Oh, Fedechka, did I wake you up?"

"No, mother." He takes a glass of water from a table nearby and puts it up to her lips. She takes a few sips. "Are you unable to sleep?" She nods.

He leaves the glass back on the table and grabs his book. His mother's gaze follows him as he moves to sit on the chair where her husband usually sat beside her. He opens the book on the first page.

"On an exceptionally hot evening early in July..."

She falls asleep with a smile on her face as she listens to her son's voice.

Two days later, Maria Fedorovna Dostoevsky would pass away.

Fun fact: i spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to understand which Russian pet names and nicknames are most common, just to end up not using any because in my head they’re already speaking Russian.

If you recognize what he's reading, ur hot. Ahhh I'm so in love with fedya, but i’m not sure if i like how this turned out...

— han.

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Interruption | Part 04

-> Pairing: mafia husband!Kim Hongjoong x mafia wife!Reader

-> Sypnosis: Things go to hell for Y/N.

-> Warnings: mafia au. Italics are flashbacks. the other korea is mentioned. talks of being a spy. alludes to someone being told to kill themselves. guns. someone gets shot (but spoiler: they don't die).

-> Word Count: 1,490

-> Taglist: open. Leave a comment on the masterlist post, send an ask or fill out the taglist form.

Interruption Masterlist | Hongjoong Masterlist | Tag List Form

As they make their way to the restaurant, Y/N flips through the folder that Wooyoung had given her earlier. “Ha-Na’s mother isn’t blameless in all of this,” she remarks, her eyes scanning the pages before she passes them to Hongjoong. Several sheets are filled with old photographs and documents related to the woman and her daughter. The folder starts to feel like a ticking time bomb, each page a revealing something that could unravel the carefully constructed facade Ha-Na’s and her mother, Ahn Soo-Ah have created for themselves. “She was troubled well before she got involved with Mun and my father.”  

She pauses when she sees the face of the man who had tormented her mother after her father abandoned them. His cold, calculating gaze seems to pierce through her, rekindling the rage she felt the last time she encountered him. Her fists tighten as she realizes that this woman not only played a part in her father leaving but also in the hell that ensued afterwards.  

“Ha-Na and her mother have no clue who they’re up against,” she mutters, mostly to herself, but Hongjoong nods in agreement. He’s seen firsthand the consequences of someone pushing his wife too far and feels no sympathy for anyone who might provoke her. 

“We need to be more careful this time,” Hongjoong advises her. “This isn’t just about someone trying to take over our empire. It’s much more personal than that,” he says taking the folder from her.  

Y/N pulls out her phone and calls Yunho. The man picks up immediately. "We're on our way," he informs her.  

"I need to know if you found anything about my father?" she asks.  

"I was just about to send you his details and address," he replies. “You should also know Ha-Na's mother is with him.”  

"Forward it to some of our men and have them bring them to Mun's restaurant," she instructs. "Make sure to warn them that if they try anything, they'll be dead the moment they step through those doors." 

With that she ends the call as they pull up outside the restaurant. 

“Sorry, my mother couldn’t make it. She was murdered not long after our father left her, but you already know that,” Y/N glances at her father and doesn’t find an ounce of remorse but she can see the fear in them. “Now sit,” she orders all of them. San forces her father to sit down as Soo-Ah quickly sits in the chair next to him, feigning being terrified.  

“You too, Ha-Na,” she says waving her gun at her before pointing it at her mother. “I don’t want to kill her before you hear what I have to say.” 

Wooyoung comes closer, snatching the gun from Ha-Na, glaring at her and forces her into the chair next to her mother. With the gun pointed at her mother, Ha-Na abides and doesn’t make a fuss. Now that Soo-Ah was brought into it, Ha-Na calmed and the situation became more controllable. It was all the proof she needed to know that the woman who had broken her family is her half-sister's weakness. 

“Do you know why your mother stayed with Mun and our dear father had to wait all those years to be with her?” she questions Ha-Na, leaning in closer to her. “I’m sure you do since you’re all in this together,” she says waiting for Ha-Na to reply. The younger woman shakes her head but her quick glance towards her mother tells Y/N that she’s lying. “That’s what I thought. You two are close right?” she asks looking between the two women. They both nod. “That must be nice,” she mutters and steps back from them while Yeosang hands her the folder she’d been going through earlier. She opens it and drops it, its contents spilling on to the table, showing photos of a younger version of Soo-Ah, with a man dressed in military gear. Some of the photos she has a large belly, and some of them have her with a baby.  

Y/N observes as Soo-Ah's fake look of fright, turns into one of anger showing where Ha-Na gets her terrible acting skills from. 

“You didn’t think I would find out that you were enlisted as a spy?” She taunts. “Or that Ahn Soo-Ah is not your real name? Ri Mi-Rae.” 

Upon hearing her real name, Soo-Ah's face darkens. If looks could kill, Y/N would be six feet under. The atmosphere shifts, the air thick with unspoken threats. Hongjoong steps closer to Y/N, sensing the tension. He places a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but his eyes remain fixed on Soo-Ah. 

Soo-Ah hisses, her voice low and dangerous, "You have no idea what you're dealing with." 

"I know exactly what I'm dealing with, Ri Mi-Rae,” Y/N straightens, her resolve hardening. “You’re nothing but a con-woman who leaves destruction everywhere she goes. I’m truly surprised the North hasn’t caught up with you, yet. Maybe I should send you back myself.” 

“She would rather kill herself, than go back there,” Ha-Na retorts, while their father continues to sit there scared for their lives. 

“Should we test that?” Y/N says, taking a gun and handing it towards Mi-Rae only when everyone of her mens guns were pointed at her. “Try anything and they’ll end you quicker than you can blink. Now go on, prove your daughter right,” she urges, her tone a mix of challenge and provocation. 

Mi-Rae's eyes flickered to the gun, then back to Y/N. With her head held high, she silently refuses to take the gun. "You think you can intimidate me?" Mi-Rae finally spoke, her voice steady. "You have no idea what I’ve survived, what I’ve done to stay alive. You, little girl, don’t scare me. I’ve faced worse than you."  

Y/N's grip on the gun tightens, her resolve unyielding. "This isn't about fear. It's about choices you’ve made and how you’ve involved me in them,” she says her voice rising. Aiming the gun at Ha-Na while keeping her eyes locked on Mi-Rae, she pulls the trigger, ending Ha-Na’s life in an instant. "That was for my mother." 

Mi-Rae looks at her a mix of shock and fury in her eyes. Ha-Na's body crumples to the ground, lifeless, letting Mi-Rae and her father, Ha-Joon know that she is no longer playing around.  

Ha-Joon, filled with fear and confusion as he watched the scene unfolding in front of him, finally finds his voice. "You're a monster."  

"Is that so? And who do you think turned me into this, father?" Y/N retorts, allowing her emotions to spill over towards the man who had abandoned her all those years ago. Just hearing his voice brought back memories long forgotten about and she was transported back to being that little girl, lost and alone. 

Seizing the moment of distraction, Mi-Rae quickly grabs a gun and fires shots as she dashes out towards the back.  

"Get her!" Y/N yells at her men as they duck for cover. Four of them make chase after Mi-Rae as she looks around to make sure no one was hit. 

That's when her eyes land on her husband, bleeding from his chest and gasping for air. Her heart sinks into her stomach as she hurries to his side, and covers his wound with her hands trying to stop the bleeding as she yells at the others to help. Tears began to sting her eyes as she felt the warmth of his blood seep through her fingers.  

"Stay with me," she begs, her voice shaking as panic grips her throat. She has never felt this terrified in her entire life. 

"Y/N," Hongjoong's voice emerged weak and raspy as he lifted a hand to gently caress her cheek. "You need to get out of here. This isn’t safe for you." His eyes, usually so full of life, were clouded with pain, and Y/N could see the flicker of fear in them, not for himself, but for her.  

"I won’t leave you," she cries, her heart racing as she presses harder against the wound, trying to will the blood to stop flowing.  

"Y/N, listen to me," he gasped, his breath coming in shallow bursts. He winced, his hand slipping from her cheek to grip her wrist, his fingers trembling just as badly as hers. "I love you, Y/N. No matter what happens, remember that." His eyes locked onto hers, he calls for Wooyoung, “Get her out of here.” 

Before anything more could be said, San pushes his way in, replacing Y/N’s hands with his own as Wooyoung pulls her up and rushes her out of the building before she has time to process what’s happening. 

As she sits in the car with Wooyoung at the wheel, a chilling numbness envelopes the Mafia Queen’s body. Her voice, icy and determined, sends shivers down Wooyoung's spine as she declares, "I’m going to kill all of them. Her and everyone she cares about is dead." 

@do-you-remember-summer-127 - @staytiny2000 - @rainydayteacups - @kpopmenace143 - @treehouse-mouse -

@alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea - @rainydayteacups - @green-agent - @tinyelfperson -

@yeonjunnie – @hollxe1 - @laylasbunbunny – @deltamoon666 - @skz1-4-3 -

@everythingboutkpop - @oddracha - @http-gyu - @skittyneos - @pinkpunkdynamite -

@keshivibes - @katsukis1wife - @jjoongstar - @arki-sha - @forever-atiny -

@lixisoul99

[teleportbooks]

Ficbinding: 誰謂河廣、一葦杭之 | who says the river is wide (or, Lan Fangji) by @astronicht

Astronicht's Lan Fangji series is a wangxian Italian Renaissance AU (they are visiting). Also, a vampire AU (“A european vampire,” he says, “my uncle will be so disappointed.”) Please read it if you haven't, I'll wait.

Anyway so a year or so ago I did a mockup title page just for fun in a vaguely historically appropriate style, but at that point I had no intention of actually binding the series because at under 20k words in total, it would make for a pretty thin tome. Enter: @renegadepublishing's tiny book bang! This was an event where participants typeset fic in miniature and passed it off to someone else to bind. On a smaller page size, it worked out well. The typesetting is loosely modeled after Aldus Manutius (did you know you can just look at full scans of really old books on archive.org? it's very cool). He's credited with inventing italic type and with popularizing printing 8 pages on a sheet (octavo) for more conveniently sized books. This book is also an octavo! But on smaller paper. I don't know if shaping the text into a triangle at the end of sections was his thing or if everyone did it back then but I like it, it's very fun. The AU setting is a little before his time but iirc not too far off. I printed the art (by @butleronice, included with permission) in black and white to better match the style.

Here I will pause to recommend KPS Fonts (a collection of historic fonts) and Bookbinder JS (an online tool which can rearrange your pdf into an octavo or pretty much any other imposition you might want).

So, I didn't do the binding for the exchange, but I couldn't help thinking "what if I bind it in a historically appropriate style too?" and then this happened. This style of limp vellum binding covered a wide historical range and I think is reasonably appropriate? Though the specific details of construction are closer to modern conservation techniques, because that's what I could find instructions for. I'm not entirely sure that what I bought from etsy was the right sort of vellum for this project, but the nice stuff is beyond my current purchasing power so this will have to do. For the paper, I bought some big sheets of drawing paper from the craft store (off-white cotton paper, with a laid texture instead of smooth like printer paper) and cut them down to letter size so they would fit in my printer.

[drunkenskunk]

There's a project related to my interest in Warhammer that I've wanted to do for quite some time, but I know I'll never get the chance to actually do it. At least, not properly. And it involves... I think "historical preservation" is probably the best word for it?

See, I like to occasionally sift through my collection of old "out of date" rulebooks and army codex books from earlier editions of 40k. The sort of things that have been out of print for many years. Games Workshop hasn't sold these books in 2 or 3 decades, and they've all been supplanted by the current rules. And I do this because I think it's interesting to see how the game - in both crunch and fluff - has changed since 1987.

More beyond the break...

For example: the different ways the galaxy has been depicted in 40k between the different editions. In the first rulebook, when it was still called Rogue Trader, all we got was a small, almost abstract, image on the bottom of the page. The 2nd edition rulebook that came out in October 1993 (specifically, the Codex Imperialis book) had a two page spread, but it was also very abstract with a few notes, but no real detail to speak of. As far as I can tell, the first time we got a map of the galaxy with the segmentum divisions that we're all accustomed to now came from a very unexpected place: the very first Tyranid codex that came out in August 1995.

Of course, my copy of the 2nd Edition book is a very poor quality black and white scan. Those segmentum divisions could genuinely be there, and I just can't see it. Not to mention, it's entirely possible that a map with segmentum divisions first premiered in an issue of White Dwarf first, because GW liked to do stuff like that in the old days where you'd see it in the hobby magazine long before it was "officially" released in a rulebook.

There are a lot of glaring omissions from a lot of the other files in my collection: poor scans, missing pages, corrupted files... There's a lot I still don't know, because it's impossible for me to currently confirm that the little I do know is, in fact, accurate. My collection is woefully incomplete. Plus, I don't really have much past 6th edition anyway.

And this, in essence, is my idea: try and complete the collection. Find pristine copies of all the old 40k rulebooks, army codexes, even old copies of White Dwarf, and digitize them all into a huge archive for the sake of historical preservation. Of a sort.

Basically, I want to become a Lexmechanic of the Adeptus Mechanicus, looking for Dark Age of Technology era STC's uncorrupted by the Heresy or the war with the Iron Men. Either that, or I want to become Trazyn with his Infinite Archive on Solemnace.

Unfortunately, there are many problems with this plan. The first being GW's overly litigious nature. They see all this Warhammer shit as "product" first and a hobby for people to enjoy a very, VERY distant second. Doesn't matter that these books (and the magazines) are long since out of print and they don't sell them anymore, effectively making the old editions the tabletop hobby equivalent to video game abandonware... if they got wind that I was attempting a project of this nature, I just know GW would smack me in the face with a cease and desist.

Of course, the other major stumbling block here is the financial issue. And I'm not just talking about buying the books. Obviously, there's the problem of the rarer books that go for upwards of $300 or more on ebay, but there's also a volume problem. Even if you find some good deals, and you're able to find older books for $10 or $15 a pop, there's just SO MANY books, that if I were to attempt this I would be wasting several thousand dollars that I just don't have.

More importantly, there's also the machine I would need to buy in order to do this project in the first place. Because if I was going to do this, I would want to do it right, y'know? I wouldn't want to simply shove the books into my dinky little scanner-printer combo hooked up to my computer. The only way I'd get a clean scan using that method would be to physically destroy these very valuable books, and that's the last thing I'd want to do. No, I would want to do it right, and get a machine like Scribe, the book scanner used by the internet archive:

Now, obviously, I can't get access to that machine, specifically, because Scribe was custom built by the engineers at the Internet Archive. But other V-cradle book scanners that let you digitize books without destroying them do exist... and they're all REALLY expensive. A good one to produce professional quality scans is, like, $25,000.

And I know what you're thinking: why do I even care about any of this? Even if this project was not entirely out of my reach, it's ultimately pointless, right? Why would I want to preserve all these old, out-of-date, no longer relevant rulebooks for a tabletop wargame that has only existed exactly as long as I have?

Because... let's be honest, this isn't really about Warhammer. The reason I want to do this stems from a much deeper desire to simply Remember. It's amazing and terrifying in equal measure just how easily history can be erased, either deliberately or simply through neglect. All of these things in our lives that are seemingly so important to us can easily vanish from history, like sandcastles when the tide rolls in.

Hell, if you really want to know my feelings about this, just watch Jacob Geller's video on this very subject.

If I had infinite time and infinite money, and I didn't care about any kind of repercussions from GW's legal team, this project would not be beyond my reach.

But I do not have infinite time or money. And there are more things in my life that I need to be concerned with that are far more important than creating a... stupid archive.

Shame, really.

[petew21-blog]

Why can't you be like Wyatt?

Charmed fanfiction. For now, PLEASE, don't send more Charmed fanfiction.

Why can’t I be like Wyatt? Chris couldn’t be happier. He preserved his own existence in the future and secured his birth. Spending so many months in the past among his aunts and parents was kind of therapeutic for him, even if they didn’t know who he was. But he still hasn’t prevented Wyatt from becoming evil, so he’d have a lot of time to go before he could return to the future and live a happy family life.

There had to be a way how to speed up the process. He went to the Book of Shadows to revise the information he knew about the demons hoping that he would find some new info. As he was browsing through the pages, his mind was elsewhere. He thought back on his youth, how Wyatt was always better than him, stronger, the older brother. „Why can’t I be as strong as Wyatt?“ It went on repeat, as he considered how much easier Wyatt would’ve had it had their roles been reversed, until he couldn’t bear it anymore and said it out loud. „Why can’t I be like Wyatt?!?“ he felt a strange surge of warmth under his fingers touching the book. He turned over his hands, but there was nothing wrong with them. Shrugging it off, he went back downstairs.

As he left the room, the book turned to a page that said Old regrets. The page said:

"Winds of time, turn back today,

Undo regrets that cloud my way.

By moon's light and star's true gleam,

Let what was wrong now be redeemed.

Shift the past, reshape the scene,

So all I've wished for can be seen."

As days went by Chris felt himself become more confident about his daily actions. He used to worry about how others saw him and now he simply didn’t. Others noticed his newfound confidence, but just as Chris, they didn’t pay much attention to it. Chris decided to change his wardrobe. He threw away all the colourful clothing and dressed more in black. Every jeans now sported a new black belt. His watch, his necklace, his shoes. Everything was now black. He shrugged it away for trying to be more elegant.

Months went by, his hair grew longer, his muscles got bigger and his personality wasn’t as pleasant as before. He spent less and less time researching for a way to save the future or even just at the Halliwell manor and more in the clubs, drinking, partying and just letting loose, doing whatever he wanted in the moment. It even involved some personal gain magic over time, but who cared anyway?

One day, Chris looked at himself in the mirror. He’d grown taller and decided to grow his hair out more. His long hair touched his shoulders. He’d even grown a scruffy beard he loved to brush his hand over. But now, as he looked at himself in the mirror, he realised for the first time how much he has changed over the months. „Holy shit, I’m turning into Wyatt“ as he said that, his eye colour changed, his hair turned blond and his face morphed. He was becoming fully Wyatt. He stood and watched as all the details of his body now resembled the Wyatt from his own time.

Chris smiled. „Wow, fuck me…I’m exactly like Wyatt“ his mischievous smile appeared. He scanned his new face in the mirror, touching his lips, feeling the vibrations of his voice as he touched his neck while speaking. He felt so powerful. He could take over the world now if he wanted to. He shouldn’t be hidden in the shadows trying to save mortals. He should be worshipped. He should be… feared. Yes, everyone should fear and worship the ground he walked on. He was Wyatt Halliwell and he had the power to make his will reality. He would make it so. Wyatt flexed in the mirror, laughing. He grabbed his bulge and proudly looked at himself in the mirror. „I got a lot to be proud of. Well, everything about me really.“

As he embraced his new self, Wyatt blinked. What happened? He was fighting the resistance and now he was in some shitty hotel room. Where the hell was he? He looked up and saw himself in the mirror. Nothing out of the ordinary. He went to loom out of the window. He was in San Francisco, but it wasn’t his city. In his time there wasn’t a Golden Gate anymore. He made sure of that. „I’m in the past. How did I get here?“

His phone rang. It was Piper. „Hey, Chris. We haven’t seen you for a while. Are you ok?“ Wyatt paused for a while before answering. He was in the past. Chris shouldn’t exist yet. Why was she asking for him? As he was pondering these questions, a part of him wanted to say that he will come by to see them, but instead he just heard himself say: „Wrong number.“ Piper said back: „Wrong number? But this is Chris’s phone“ Wyatt had had enough of this. His little brother was worthless. „No. It’s mine and my name is Wyatt“ he finished as he turned off the call.

He orbed to the manor and saw his mother and two aunts in front off him Piper: “Wyatt? What have you done to Chris?!?“ Wyatt: „I would love to know that I hurt him somehow, but as far as I know I just got here. So, either you let me have that book for a while and send me back to the future, or I will destroy your time“ The Charmed sisters wanted to capture Wyatt, turn him into a good person again, but that was something that they needed Chris for. They didn’t know the original cause that turned Wyatt evil and Wyatt soon grew bored of them. He orbed them somewhere for the time being, Piper and Phoebe separate from Paige of course.

The use of power felt good. He was power made physical: he had the right to exercise that power and rule. But before he could get part one of his plan and takeover the magical nexus of the manor for even more power, a time portal opened and he stepped out himself. „I know I look gorgeous shapeshifter, but do tell me, why do I sense my own self when I sense you?“ the newly arrived version of him said. Wyatt turned around and saw his own face staring back at him. „I’m you, but I see we’ve got a lot of catching up to do“ Wyatt explained to his doppelganger that he didn’t know how he arrived in the past and demonstrated his vast power as evidence of his identity.

The other Wyatt grinned and did the same. „Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Well if you are, you should“ Wyatt said: „To take over the world together now instead of in twenty years?“ The other Wyatt: „Together!“ Together they absorbed the nexus, their bodies now radiating power as they felt like gods even more than before. They just had to show themselves to the most powerful evil beings, beat them into submission easily and humanity would be quick to fear and worship them as their godkings after a few unnatural disasters.

Another Charmed story request by anonymous author who helped with editting

Charmed: Chris (in the past) accidentally wishes he was as powerful as Wyatt and transforms into the evil future version of Wyatt (or possesses him) and is taken over by Wyatt's personality.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Okay here me out please....So reader leaves their beloved baby with their father Muzan for the night, because he said he can handle it....he can't the baby is everywhere, he can't take his eyes off of them for a minute without her just vanishing to somewhere else. Eventually baby get's of the infinity castle and finds herself being coddled by Yoriichi and Muzan is just.....`he's panicking and like he don't know what to do, so like eventually he has to fess up to reader that he fucked up and she has to go get the baby and she and yorrichi lightly have a conversation (roast session) about muzan and responsibility

I know this is a bit strange but please I just think it would be funny

Oh? Okay, okay! I’ll try my best with this and hey, we get to see Yoriichi again! I missed Yoriichi so thank you dearly for giving us the angel back! The angel and demon

If you don’t mind, I’ll name the kid myself since haven’t been given a name

Kibutsuji Muzan- Wondering Child

“Muzan, my love. All you need to do is watch Kuragari” You gently remark with a soft voice and a understanding tint, offering the newborn Kuragari to your husband as his blood reds scanned over both you and the cooing baby. Muzan scoffed under his breath at the rather easy task you given him, watch his own biological infant. He could do it blindfolded and with one arm tied to his back

The moment you walked out of the room, Muzan immediately plopped the blood red-eyed baby into his cute little playcrib as he sat down, right before Kuragari in his playarea, to pick up a nearby abandoned novel to skim through the hefty pages and pinpoint the chapter he was at. He took his eyes of the boy for only a minute or so when he realised the lack of cooing and giggling was concerning, looking up. His heart drooped in concern

He’s gone? He’s gone?! Where did he go?! He’s a baby! How is he gone already?!

Muzan almost panicked as he shot up from his comfortable plush armchair and frantically checked every nook and cranny of the spacious room for Kuragari with some… or more, all furniture thrown at the walls along the way, no success further alarmed him. How is a few months year old already more fidgety and energetic than a bumbling four year old

Muzan ended up almost destroying the entire Infinity Castle in search for a single small demon. He truly had no clue where that bouncing newborn could be and the only reason he had a decent clue was because a number of trees leading down a specific dirt path, once transported out of the Infinity Castle, had the same fang-like bite marks in them. As if a baby animal was teething on the trunks

Perfect

The King of Demons couldn’t be anymore thankful that time itself had given him a shred of mercy and averted the sky to pitch black so the glowing moon would shower cool moonlight down on his dead white complexion. His slight relief was cut short when he finally found the source of sudden familiar giggling, he knew that voice belonged to his son so he followed it

And what he saw terrified him as he definitely had his hands too tied to be able to take action

That… that bastard, Tsugikuni Yoriichi holding his precious baby boy in his lap as Kuragari happily rose his cute tiny hands up to touch Yoriichi’s much bigger, calloused palms. The monstrous human had a very shocked expression on his face as his plum reds looked ready to swell up in tears, his heart touched by the Prince of Demons being so sweet and playful, despite being the enemy

Muzan knew very well he couldn’t intervene at all as the last time he hardly butted heads with that Yoriichi. He only got away with one single strand of his entire being left, it was far too close for his comfort though, he knew he also needed to get his beloved Kuragari back. The only solution that came to his head was you, the boy’s mother

You were a human, just like Yorichi. You could get the boy back, no problem. Unlike Muzan himself

Cemented on his meticulous plan to get his baby back from that beast, Muzan rushed back to the Infinity Castle at his top speed and seemingly arrived in the same room you stood before, just in the nick of time to greet you. “Greetings, my love. Where’s Kuragari?” You ask softly and almost immediately, out of concern as Muzan flinches guilty, sighing out to try relieve him of the stress. He should just tell you, no need to lie or gaslight you into believing such nonsense

“You know that beast, Tsugikuni. He has stolen our son. I only took my eyes off him for a minute, if not two and he was gone, I luckily tracked him down by the teeth marks on trees but I cannot get him back, you know” You sighed displeased, part of you knew this simple task would end in absolute disaster but since you loved the clueless demons, you just flashed a sweet, gentle smile and took his hand encouragingly

“Let’s go find our Kuragari then, my dear”

Laughing joyfully with your precious Kuragari sat on your lap, fiddling and pulling on the lengthy ends of your haori to entertain himself and satisfy his curiosity. You were perched on the open wooden edge-skirt of the homely Minka belonging to the one and only swordsman that ruled the battlefield with a platinum fist, Yoriichi himself. The same Yoriichi who apparently ‘stole’ your son but you got the actual picture from Yoriichi and it made you realise your husband is no where near competent with childcare

“I found this one crawling around my backyard. I don’t know how he got there but he seemed to have travelled miles and was hungry, he kept biting at everything” Every word that human man said felt very genuine and you weren’t ever gonna try deny that him and his statements were

His explanation of the situation made much more sense than what Muzan proclaimed happened, such a weird one nevertheless. Yoriichi didn’t even know your son existed in the first place, why would he go after him?

Needless to say… you and Yoriichi spent almost a hour trading innocent insults at Muzan and his so-called parenting style. You didn’t really hate your husband, he actually tried and took responsibility by telling you about losing him but he should always be watching Kuragari, the newborn should never left alone not had eyes taken off him for even a minute and somebody like Yorichi, who lost his soon-to-be-born child to a demon, knows that

You have learnt to never entrust Kuragari to Muzan, you will just have to go to Yoriichi instead

[avalonia320]

what the fuck Marius

*discussion of The Vampire Chronicles, spoiler warnings for those who haven't read*

Just had to rant a little. So I am a long time reader of the Vampire Chronicles, first read them and became obsessed when I was 11 but I'm gonna be straight up - I kinda peace'd out after Memnoch the Devil because that was just a bit too weird for me and kinda personal; Anne Rice was on this whole religious journey at the same time my mother went on her own similar journey (and immediately told me I was going to hell) so the religious themes were just not it for me. After that I stuck with the first four books, which are still my favorites. Now that the series is out and I'm re-obsessed, I decided to read the later books.

I always liked Marius. I saw him as a mentor to Lestat, he just seemed like this older, wiser, and more patient vampire. I loved how exasperated and fascinated he was by Lestat. I thought his and Armand's story was tragic. But now I've read The Vampire Armand - twice - and all I can say is are you fucking kidding me. It's actually probably not for the reasons one would automatically think - yes I was skeeved that he bought a traumatized kid in a brothel and immediately engaged in sexual activities with him, (not to mention the whipping) but I'm also quite familiar with Anne Rice's erotica so these were not entirely unexpected themes. Anyway I'm not touching that discourse with a ten foot pole. We all know it's problematic. We're all watching the show any way.

But man, so what the fuck does Marius do immediately after he and Armand are reunited again after Armand's suicide attempt? Armand entrusts him with what is most precious to him, his mortal 'children', Sybelle and Benji. Armand leaves them for ONE FUCKING DAY and when he comes back Marius has made them vampires. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK MARIUS.

Armand is screaming & crying and furious and then I hate-scanned what seemed like 30 pages of Marius making long speechy excuses for it and why it was actually so loving of him to take on the burden of being their Maker so that Armand can be with them forever and they won't hate Armand for it. Hello, Benji was 12 FUCKING YEARS OLD. Have we learned NOTHING from Claudia??? Couldn't give him another decade of mortality first?? God, this guy just will not allow Armand any agency in any part of his life whatsoever and it's MADDENING. Yes, Sybelle and Benji wanted to be vampires and I do think they would have become immortal eventually but again BENJI WAS 12! (and Sybelle is um...not exactly stable at the time either. Girl could have really used some intense therapy first before being frozen in her current state forever.)

Plus the fact that he just abandoned Armand to the coven that kidnapped him, killed his brothers, made him eat his closest brother and best friend - Marius couldn't have helped all that, having been set on fire and all but he had centuries to find Armand again and instead he was just like 'nah, it's whatever. I'm sure that twink is fine.' Meanwhile Lestat comes sauntering along and Marius is like 'oh hey person I've met five minutes ago, let me spill all the secrets of my life, not to mention the most secret secrets of all the vampires, including how to kill us all.' You know, I used to hate Armand and now I understand so much better why he's got so many issues.

Anyway, there's no point to this somewhat incoherent rant, I just had to get it off my chest. I don't know how Marius will be portrayed in the show and I'm excited to see it. Maybe I'll hate him even more. Maybe I'll end up loving him the way I love Armand despite everything he's done but man, I just really want to kick his ass right now.

[geniarts]

BillFord is canon

This was the title of a post I made on my previous tumblr account 6 years ago (acc was banned for unknown reason and I can't see my posts). Now, with the kind help of @decaying-dimension who gave me HD scans of the Book of Bill pages, I want to make a new summary of the subject.

You know, a month ago I was really surprised to see all those BillFord posts. Like people only realized it just recently even though there were plenty of hints in the series and especially in Journal 3. Back then, when I tried to say something about Bill and Ford relations, I got only hate and accusations. So now I feel a sense of triumph as all my thoughts were correct. Now let's see why we can say BillFord is in fact a canon.

Ford's feelings. Well, this point is so obvious that I'm really amused some people still can't take it right and keep talking about abuse, manipulations, etc. Yes, Bill used Ford to achieve his goal and then broke his heart, but those two years before his betrayal were the happiest years of Ford's life.

Ever since his childhood, Ford was teased for his fingers and had such deep communication issues that he gladly moved to a secluded place in the woods. He wished to someday become famous and show all his abusers that they were wrong. He wanted to be a hero, not a freak. He needed attention, admiration, recognition, and Bill gave him just that.

Ford called himself a Cipherholic, and that he was. Just think about a guy who turned his own house into a shrine. He was so obsessed with Bill that he collected every Bill artifact he could find, and in addition, surrounded himself with glass pyramids and dozens of hand drawn portraits all around his study.

Some people said that this wasn't a romantic feeling, just a religious one, but you know what? If you don't love someone with all your heart, you wouldn't be eager to see him in your dreams, you wouldn't reflect about the complex fates that brought you and him together, you wouldn't choose him over your only loyal friend. (Speaking of fate, in the Book of Bill there's a picture of baby Ford reaching for a yellow triangle as a sign that their destinies will be tied together) My, Ford even saw Bill's image in the stars! This was the most romantic thing in the whole Journal 3.

Ford trusted Bill so much he let him into his body and mind, and this is the highest level of trust a man could ever give. Bill was his beloved Muse, his sunshine, the center of his life, and he didn't want to hear anything bad about him. Ford ignored all the warnings like some blind lover and even kicked Fiddleford because he trusted Bill more than his old friend.

So now we clearly see that Ford didn't consider Bill just some kind of deity, but his partner, his closest friend, his beloved.

I won't speculate if there was something between them during "karaoke night" as I'm sure in this case Ford wouldn't behave the same way he always did (or maybe he just forgot the ending of that night :)) but the whole picture of them drinking together and the excitement Ford felt at that moment... well I'm sure he wouldn't mind if "one thing led to another" to its peak ;)

Bill's betrayal wounded Ford very badly and I can understand why he vowed to take revenge on him. He spent 30 years seeking information about Bill and building a weapon capable of destroying him, so we can say the most part of his life was dedicated to Bill in one way or another. Even now that he's reunited with his family, he can't get rid of his thoughts about Bill, and I doubt he will ever be able to.

Bill's feelings aren't so obvious as he's a hardened liar and pretender. That's why most people saw only one side of his personality, but even 6 years ago there were some hints of his inner thoughts and motives. The Axolotl said Bill was pretending to be happy, but deep inside he missed his home that he couldn't even return to. Hirsch also said that he used the concept of Flatland (a book written by Edwin Abbott) where triangles were one of the lowest classes, so this was another reason for Bill to seek power and to show others they were wrong about him (just like Ford).

Now in the Book of Bill we clearly see him having issues after destroying his home dimension. Even though he tries to deny his guilt, these thoughts are torturing him, and "the ghosts of his family are haunting him still” (a code from TBOB). He even called himself a monster while talking to Ford! There's no way such an egomaniac would call himself that if he didn't realize he deserved this. After his break up with Ford, he went to the bar to get drunk and forget, but he couldn't. He said Ford was his pawn, but in fact, Bill needed Ford more than Ford needed him.

After losing his home Bill didn't find a place where he could be happy again. He gathered some interdimensional scum around him and tried to numb his pain by torturing and abusing inhabitants in other worlds. He spent trillions of years doing this, but he still didn't get what he wanted - to be needed, to be loved. And he got all of this from Ford.

Ford's sincere adoration and devotion made Bill feel something new, something so important and necessary, but also something he didn't know how to deal with. He was scared, he never thought that he was able to make such a deep connection to another person... to a _mortal_ one. His phrase "handcuffing your happiness to a mortal is like gluing yourself to a time bomb ‘till death do us part’” is the saddest thing in the whole book. Bill tried to convince himself that their breakup was the right thing because these thoughts were really unbearable for him.

But despite all of this, he tried so hard to get Ford back. He invited him twice, and the first one was right after Ford's attempt to kill him. Moreover, it was during that moment Bill was sure he became the ruler of Earth and didn't need Ford's assistance anymore, so he asked him to join just because he wanted Ford to be with him.

What he didn't understand was that Ford hated him for all the pain he caused him and his family. For Bill it was just entertainment, so he couldn't understand why Ford was so upset. But I think there's a potential opportunity for both of them if Bill finally finds courage to admit his mistakes and to improve himself. He just has to look deeper inside himself and allow his remorse, his pain and his true wishes to take place in his soul. And I'm sure if he sincerely asks for help, Ford wouldn't turn his back on him.

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 13/05

@garnetduodecim asked: I always assumed jack spent the first 4 hours in the troll session, before destroying prospit, destroying Aradiabots, there were A LOT of them.

Maybe one of the Aradiabots got in a lucky shot, and was able to tag him with a weaker, non-God Tier variant of her freeze ability. That'd certainly at least delay him.

@morganwick asked: So, you were talking about Aradia "injuring" Vriska (post/704357246751113217) and comparing Vriska to a fairy godmother character (post/722100305374986240)?

@manorinthewoods asked: Serendipity Gospels is by Tamsyn Muir??? Really? Um, that's… hoo. That was one of the fanfics that I didn't end up liking. Might need to revisit that. Side note: 'Doc Scratch's School for Supernaturally Gifted Adolescents' feels more like something Locked Tomb-esque to me. So that's really… ah. ~LOSS (3/5/24)

I do wonder how similar the Gospels are to TLT's writing style.

Actually, can anyone confirm at what point the fic will be safe to read? I could just wait until I'm reading panels from after its publication date, but if I can check it out before, I will.

@abysswarlock asked: Ooh I’ve had this hypothesis for a while now but you just said something that made me lock in my guess that your classpect is Prince of Doom

The classpect wheel continues to turn!

I'm married to Doom for at least one of my 'sonas, but my Class is still up in the air, since we know even less about them than aspects.

@manorinthewoods asked: As a sort of Part 2 to that sylladex comment - how do you think the Sylladex works? Do you think that Homestuck will go into more detail about Sylladices, or do you think they'll fade into the background as different aspects of the magic system come to the fore? ~LOSS (24/4/24)

I think the latter is a lot more likely. Most aspects (lol) of Homestuck's magic system are there to serve the story first and foremost. As much as I'd love the comic to turn into a treatise on Sburb deeplore, it really doesn't feel like something Hussie would be interested in doing.

The story won't really suffer without, say, a detailed explanation of every facet of alchemy - I just really like speculating, because I'm all about shit like that.

@heliotropopause asked: What are your thoughts on Homestuck's translation convention(s)? As an example, take page 2251, line "Arrivederci, Megido.": Is she writing in something close enough to Earth English to scan as such to the reader, no translation necessary? Is Vriska saying a word in Troll Italian, which gets translated to Earth Italian? Is she expressing a sentiment in her usual language that's best translated as the word "arrivederci" as it's used in English? Has Doc Scratch secretly been translating all cross-species communication we've seen so far?

Vriska's arrivederci seems diegetic to me. If we inherited English from Alternia, it makes sense that some of our other languages might come from there too.

tl;dr: Troll Italy is real 🇮🇹

Anonymous asked: im not one to dip my toes into The Vriscourse but this one piece of analysis i really liked is that vriska is jealous of tavros, that hes had a much easier life compared to her and that hes allowed to be more of a wimp while she has to be the toughest fuck alive or else shell die

It's only one piece of the Vriska-Tavros puzzle, but it's an important one. She'll refuse to acknowledge it to the end, though, because the idea of being jealous of Tavros is disgusting to her.

@obscureaeguran asked: Are there any current theories of yours that you want to be wrong about?

Confident as I am in my Vriska death theory, I don't actually want to be right.

I really like Vriska's character, and I want to see her grow past the worldview that's preventing her from finding peace. I just don't think that's likely, given her current trajectory.

Anonymous asked: 'In what universe are 13-year-olds the people most qualified to make universes?' well per the beta version of homestuck (when hussie wanted to make the whole thing in flash before deciding against it) they were all going to be 10 instead, i think this is the much better option!

How young can we go, anyway?

AU where the Homestuck Babies aren't sent to Earth at all, and just start playing immediately.

@manorinthewoods asked: Have you played Deltarune? ~LOSS (9/4/24)

I have! I was actually replaying it on day one of the liveblog - hence the several references I made to it at the time. That feels forever ago, now.

@bladekindeyewear asked: Jade changed pretty drastically as a person after her dreamself died, if you think about it— demanding Feferi stop using her quirk in chat, standing up to the trolls for the first time, getting angry, to such an extent that Karkat was so surprised that it turned his opinion of her around completely in a single conversation. Even forcing a password system to keep talks linear instead of using cloud visions to do everything out of order. This doesn’t just feel to me like dream Jade being a “different individual”, it also feels like a metaphorical confrontation between her NEW self and her OLD self…

I think it's both.

Jade's been through a lot in the last couple of hours, and she really isn't the same girl who died on Prospit.

Being an oracle of Skaia's visions led to disaster. They showed her that John's Dream Self would awaken, leading her to believe she was finally going to meet him, but neglected to mention that she'd die the moment he opened his eyes - or that Prospit would die alongside her.

As a result, the new Jade seems to have made a decision to completely reject all prophetic information. She'll supply the minimum possible intel to her past self, and no more.

It's clear her Dream Self's death was a catalyst for a pretty dramatic shift in her worldview. She's angry - at the trolls, at herself, and at the world that betrayed her trust. She's tired of being jerked around, and her tumultuous emotions are making her rather testy. Basically, she's sick of all the bullshit, and she won't take it from anyone anymore.

Jadesprite has experienced the same catalyst, and has also come to mistrust the clouds, but for different reasons.

Jade rejects prophecies, in part, because she doesn't want to be deceived - but Jadesprite rejects them out of sheer hopelessness. She just doesn't care anymore.

They both have the same trauma, but they're dealing with it in very different ways - and at this point, I really do consider them to be different people.

And then on a metaphorical level, Jadesprite represents the 'silly', absent-minded childhood self that got Jade into this mess.

I think this taunt from Karkat hit very, very close to home for her, and I'm sure she associates the traits he described with her idyllic days on Prospit. It's part of why Dream Jade is such a perfect target for her fury.

@spyril4132 asked: i beg to differ on the entry item similarities only applying to prospit. iirc, rose shatters a bottle, and dave hatches an egg; both involve breaking open some sort of "shell", and neither are associated with a larger object, which could be seen as similar types of items. (while jade does break a piñata, she does so by shooting it, not by splitting it apart)

It's true that Rose and Dave's object's have some physical similarities, but John and Jade are both summoning the same tree, which feels like a much stronger connection.

Rose and Dave's entry cards also summoned auxiliary items, but they were different - a cabinet and bird, respectively. From where I'm sitting, the link between the two Prospit items does seem unique.

@skelekingfeddy asked: what herptiles would sally and sahlee have as their consorts? i feel like a monitor lizard would fit for one of them…maybe losas has like, turtle or tortoise consorts, what with their long-livedness and the wise sagely vibe and all.

I was thinking pretty much the same thing for Sahlee. Let's say they're Galápagos tortoises, because the Sage gives me Oogway vibes.

For Sally's Consorts, I'm going to get really funky and say they're a type of pterosaur.

@sparten4ever92 asked: The HS version of Megalovania is slept on way too much, the Vriska guitar adds so much to it that the UT version just doesn't have. @sanctferum asked: Finally, MeGaLoVania by Toby Fox (feat. Joren "Tensei" deBruin on guitar)! Would you say that Tavros had an…unpleasant chronological progression? (btw I do love the bit of Spider's Claw that plays during the Vriska segment, which is (obviously) unique to this Megalovania) also, the audiovisual style of homestuck flashes is just really cool imo @mimescantscream asked: You have no idea how long we've waited for the Megalovania

This version of Megalovania was a great choice for Aradia's finest hour - or at least, her finest hour so far.

It's moments like this which are why I decided to stop listening to the albums in advance. If I hadn't first heard Aradia's Megalovania in this flash, it wouldn't have hit the way it did.

@elkian asked: MEGALOVANIA TIME BAYBEEEE! Also, let's go back to that theory you had about Aradia getting more alive, because you NAILED it. @iris-in-the-dark-world asked: i am so excited to see aradia again and finally as herself :33<

She's fucking BACK, baby!

Seeing Aradia smiling for real after all this time is genuinely heartwarming - and with her time-stop attack, she's almost unkillable. It'd take some absolute nonsense to take Aradia out of the picture again, and I think she'll be sticking around for a long time. Hopefully forever.

@grippingtraverse asked: notice any similarities during megalovania between aradia vs. jack & sans vs. player? 0u0

The best I can come up with is that Aradia and Frisk are both time travelers whose signature color is red.

Or maybe Jack is the Frisk analogue, since he's the one wiping out all life in the session, and Aradia is the last foe he faces.

@captorations asked: please consider, with this new information about aradia, what it could mean for her literary descendant dulcie septimus. please also keep considering this as you continue and see more of aradia. i am very normal about both of these characters

Ooh, they do have similar vibes, don't they? They're both doomed, they're strongly associated with death, and they both have a cheerful side that comes out when you don't expect it to.

@duorogue asked: "You have to give Nepeta some credit. The literal first thing she did after this traumatic murder was log into Trollian and report on Jack’s activities." To be fair to her, when I have a bad nightmare the first thing I do is log onto discord

nepeta hopping on mic at 2am to complain about the hat man (the hat man is doc scratch)

@absinthe-and-alabaster asked: when the writ keeper was introduced as fifth exile you mentioned that it was a little fucked up how the king was the only prospitian that was preserved - i just wanted to remind you that no, he wasn't ! on page 1974 we see all the other prospitians that were exiled with the white queen on her ship (including ms paint!) WQ just left them to go wander the desert

I'd actually forgotten about that. So much happened during the Act 4 ending that it completely slipped my mind. I even missed Ms. Paint!

Anonymous asked: Hey, as you noticed, the Dave Coin Split is a plot hole. We've never seen the timeline split because of someone's choice before. Compare to John flying to the seventh gate, there weren't two timelines based on his choice, the timeline only changed because Dave came back from the original timeline and changed it. And of course, like you said in the tags, Terezi shouldn't have been able to communicate with Doomed Dave, including to tell him the result of the FL1P. Have you noticed any other plot holes or things that don't seem to make sense?

While I see what you're saying, it might not necessarily be a plot hole! Certainly the Dave Coin Timeline was created in a different manner to Davesprite's - but that might just mean there are multiple ways to split a timeline, or that there are certain requirements that must be fulfilled for a decision to spawn one.

Because of things like that, it's hard to tell whether something's actually a plot hole, or if it'll eventually make sense in light of later reveals.

This is particularly true for aspects of the plot involving time travel, like the one you just described. Like, remember before I learned about Doomed Timelines, when I thought Davesprite broke Homestuck's predestination rules?

Anonymous asked: You said "God Tiering is just another way to inhabit your Dream Self," so do you think the things that Dream Selves can do (such as Jade growing extra arms) can be done by God Tiers?

I never really thought about that!

I think it's definitely possible. God Tier bodies can fly the same way that Dream Selves can, so other powers might transfer, too. Maybe the only reason Vriska, Aradia and John aren't shapeshifters is because Jade hasn't taught them to how to dream up extra limbs.

She might be one of the only Dream Selves who've learned how to shapeshift this fluidly. Logging thousands of hours on Prospit has its perks!

[the-greatest-magic-of-all]

Found this in a cardboard box in the rain :)

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

Fabians routine settled back to normal in the few days after Aelwyns visit. An endless stream of meetings and paperwork and political manoeuvring that made the half elfs head spin that was only somewhat helped by his small guards presence.

He felt like he could shoot Aelwyn though, her comment about noticing Rizs armour in his room had spooked the goblin badly enough that he'd refused to sleep in Fabians bed overnight since. Instead posting himself up within arms reach of his King while still fully dressed on one of the plush armchairs he'd dragged over closer.

Fabian was sure it wasn't helping his recovery at all, wounds that bad could take upwards of a month to heal naturally and after a full day on his feet Riz would inevitably end his shift looking pale and ill. He was even more sure of this when he'd woken in the middle of the night and been startled by Sir Durden standing at his post near the door, the guard explaining that Riz would return soon but he'd headed to the infirmary after accidentally popping a stitch. He hadn't been able to sleep after that, dragging himself to the office adjoining his chambers to get a head start on his work for the day.

Riz hadn't reappeared until close to mid-day, slipping into his spot at Fabians side halfway through an audience with some lower member of the court without comment or fuss. It felt off though, the hairs on Fabians neck standing on end as they left the throne room and headed towards his study.

There was nothing that he could really put his finger on though, listening to the quiet click of claws on metal or the swish of his tail as Riz followed along silently behind him. Once the door to his study was shut Fabian had his sword out in an instant, the imposter getting grabbed by the front of their armour (wrong texture, clearly an illusion) and slammed against the door with some force.

"You are not Sir Gukgak."

The imposter winced but was grinning, hands coming up in a clear show of surrender as they dropped the illusion to show their true form. Fabian huffing in annoyance and releasing his grip as the amused form of one of his oldest friends blinked up at him.

"For fucks sake Fig I could have killed you."

"Man I really thought I got his mannerisms down this time. What gave me away?" The archdevil smoothed down her clothes from where Fabian had wrinkled them with his grip. Snorting a laugh when Fabian gave her a withering glare as he sheathed his sword but decided not to give her an answer.

"What in the name of all that's divine and infernal are you doing?"

"I owed Riz a favour and he decided to collect. Wants me to be him for a week or so, something about Durden doing too good of a job for his liking?" She dug in her pockets, withdrawing an envelope and handing it to Fabian with a flourish.

Poor Sir Durden was apparently on Riz's shit list after Fabian teased the goblin if he was cashing in favours with their archdevil friend to keep him away from him... Fabian made a mental note to find a way to apologise to the poor guard later.

Fabian took the envelope without comment, pulling out the short note inside along with the small object that had been inside with it. Eyes quickly scanning the page, noting their code phrase and verifying it was certainly Riz that had written it.

//Sorry. Short notice. Bad habits and old vices. One week. Don't let them know I'm gone.//

Fabian sighed, glancing down at the small object that had been included with the note and rolling it between his fingers. One of Riz's shed fangs, a canine judging by the shape and size, carefully carved with the tip of his sharp claws so that it's surface was covered in an intricate design. Goblins were superstitious, believing that holding another creatures’ bones would give you control over them even after death, and would fastidiously destroy any of their shed teeth just in case. Leaving one behind like this was both an intimate act of trust and a promise and Riz had only done it twice before in the entire time he’d known him. I’m going somewhere dangerous but I'll be back, hold onto this for me so I can destroy it later.

"Fair enough." Fabian sighed, waving for Fig to sit in one of the guest chairs as he sat down heavily behind his desk. Still fiddling with the sharp tooth in his hand as he looked at her. "So you'll be pretending to be him for a week?"

"Yup!"

"Any specific reason why one of the other guards he hand picked himself are unsuitable?"

"Something about him not liking how high strung you were after his little sabbatical... that and he knows you'd never be able to replace him with me." She grinned and flopped onto one of the guest chairs, her feet getting propped up on the table.

“Plus maybe I wanted to hang out with my dear friend for a few days. Stop people from killing him. Just like old times.”

----------

Fabian had to admit that Riz’s plan was sound. No one had picked up that ‘Sir Gukgak’ was not who he said he was at the moment and Fig was very adept at pretending to be the goblin. It wasn’t surprising, Riz had known her longer than he’d known Fabian and they basically considered each other kin. It helped that she was also equally as willing to bite people who threatened Fabians safety, something that she nearly manage to do when one of the ‘guests’ at one of the court functions he was forced to make an appearance at got a little too familiar for his liking. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on who you asked, they’d managed to yank their hand away fast enough that her teeth just clicked together loudly on empty air. It got the point across quite effectively though.

The half elf also found himself far less stressed out than when Sir Durden had been his full-time guard, able to relax in his old friends presence (and share knowing looks in reaction to some of the utter bullshit he had to deal with from snooty nobles, knowing they’d be able to laugh about it in private later). It wasn’t quite the same as having Riz at his side but it was a suitable short-term solution.

Honestly he thought he would have truly let himself become a mad king without a close friend nearby to help keep him grounded. The assassination attempt had thoroughly spooked the rest of his court, especially given he was completely without an heir. There had been talk of finding him a suitable match but, once his brain had caught up to the conversation he’d found himself in, he’d tried very hard to shut down that particular avenue of discussion. It didn’t help that Aelwyn had nearly choked trying not to laugh from where she was eavesdropping only a few feet away.

Fabian had excused himself at the earliest possible moment that wouldn’t seem rude, speedwalking away from the ballroom so that Fig (still disguised as Riz) had to almost jog to keep up. He’d at least managed to snag his secretary on the way out, telling them that he was headed to bed due to a terrible headache and that no-one was to disturb him until at least mid-day tomorrow. Waving off offers to go fetch a doctor and simply saying he’d be fine after a good nights rest.

He didn’t know why that conversation had rattled him so badly. He knew from the moment he took the throne that he’d probably have to settle for a political marriage at some point but he didn’t want to think about that right now. Elves usually went hundreds of years before they thought of marriage and children, sure he was only half elf but couldn’t they give him a little more time before starting to freak out? Maybe twenty… or thirty more years.

Fabian didn’t slow his pace until he was at the door to his receiving room, the guards outside looking surprised to see him as he swept past them, opened the door himself, and entered without saying a word. Fig slipping in, shutting the door behind him and trying not to laugh when the half-elf made a rather undignified noise of surprise and nearly drew his weapon when he discovered the room was not as empty as he expected it to be.

He relaxed almost instantly though, Riz looking rather pleased with himself for catching Fabian off guard as he arranged a rather thick stack of papers on the low table in front of the seats reserved for the king’s guests. The goblin had obviously not been back for very long, still dressed in his Solesian wear that he preferred whenever he was not working within the palace. It was a nostalgic sight for sure, Riz wearing his lighter traveling armour and comfortable button-down that had been his daily fare before he took his oath as Fabians nohecharei. He certainly wasn’t quite as put-together as he usually would be, his clothes looking a little travel worn (and when Fabian looked closer he could swear there were a few small specks of blood adorning one white sleeve) but it was still decently presentable.

“My King! I thought you would still be in the ballroom for a little while longer… forgive me for not being quite as cleaned up as I would like.” Riz grinned at Fabian before looking past him to his doppelganger standing guard near the door, Fig wiggling her fingers at him… HIS fingers at him… before dropping the illusion. “Did your week without me fair better than last time?”

“It was passable. Though I’d prefer you’d let me know in person before leaving next time.” Fabian sat in one of the plush chairs, reaching forwards to grab the first bound stack of papers Riz had been setting out when he entered. Riz bypassing Fabian to go greet the archdevil who picked his knight up to squeeze him in a hug that made him hiss and left his feet dangling in the air.

He wasn’t paying attention to Riz and Fig having a catch up behind him as he read, eyes going wide at the information within the report as he flipped through the papers all written in Riz’s impeccably neat handwriting. His knight had been busy, very busy, pulling all his experience as a detective to the forefront in his effort to nail down exactly who had sent that assassin after him.

“Sweet Cassandra. What in the nine hells did you get up to this week?” Fabian looked up from the report, not able to supress the snort of amusement he made when he saw Riz still dangling from Figs neck with his tail thrashing backwards and forwards happily.

“Gimme two seconds and I’ll do the full breakdown.” He nuzzled up under Figs chin for a second, purring loudly the whole time, before dropping back down to land on his feet.

“I’ll leave you two to it then. It’s been fun Fabes, call me again if you need company.” Fig gave Riz one last scratch behind the ears before snapping her fingers to summon a portal back to her own realm. The room briefly filling with the smell of sulphur before she stepped through and it snapped shut behind her.

“Better than Durden I hope?”

“The Ball, I promise I won’t replace you with Sir Durden. I was just teasing you when I said I would.”

“Not taking that chance. Plus, he stresses you out if he’s around more than a few hours, I count that as doing harm so I’m testing out new options.” Riz’s grin looked a little manic as he stepped back over to Fabian, the goblin pacing backwards and forwards on the far side of the low table from the half elf.

“Aelwyn is a…” Riz paused in his pacing for a moment, pupils narrowing for a moment as he thought before he resumed trying to wear a rut in the floor. “…person who I find unpleasant most of the time BUT I have to admit she has some amazing leads most of the time. I tracked down the person holding Daynes gambling debts in Leviathan, which lead me to this.”

Riz clambered up onto the couch next to Fabian, jabbing at the report in his hand before dragging his finger further down the page. From this close the half elf could feel the heat radiating off his small body but chalked it up to him having been moving around a lot while Fabian had mostly been sitting in the chilly office.

“THEN a blacksmith in Solace, then an enchanter and FINALLY to a mercenary who just so happened to have THIS in their possession.” He hopped down, reaching under the table to pull out a sword he’d stashed there in order to slam it on the table. Fabians eye widened as he stared at the weapon, leaning back and away from the table as one of the recurring elements of his nightmares sat plain as day before him. He’d seen this sword once before as it gouged out his eye, a wound that magic couldn’t heal that still caused him pain on bad days.

“That’s-“

“I know, I’ve been looking for that bastard for years.” Riz snarled and bared his teeth, hackles raising on the back of his neck and tail thrashing from side to side. “I killed them, by the way, but not until after I made sure I had all the information I needed from them.”

He glanced at Fabian, expression softening and tail stilling as he calmed down. “It has the same enchantment on it as the assassin’s dagger. We were right about who sent them but we can’t move against them just yet. Seems Lady Everpetal was rather pissed off about me biting her fiancé…. I should have taken a finger or two.”

That made Fabian release a breathy laugh, the report getting placed on the table as he gestured for Riz to come closer. The half elf placing a hand on each of the goblins shoulders when he was close enough so he could look him sternly in the eyes. He was going to say something about how good a job he’d done, and admonish him for running around so much while he was still recovering from his wound, but the words died in his throat. The rogue tended to not wear very much armour when operating outside of his duties as Fabians knight which meant the only thing between the half elf’s hands and Riz’s skin was his thin shirt and he was concerningly warm.

Fabian lifted a hand to Riz’s cheek instead, the goblin giving him a quizzical look as he tried to work out if Riz was actually warm or if his hand was just cold. He instead opted to press their foreheads together, hoping to get a better gauge of his knights temperature that way.

“You-“

His sentence was very suddenly cut off when Riz lifted a hand to his cheek, taking their proximity as an opportunity to tilt his head to brush their lips together. Fabian was too stunned to do much more than freeze at the unexpected contact until Riz pulled away. Sure Riz would allow Fabian to pet him, and sleep in the same bed, and even cuddle on occasion but he’d never once tried to kiss him before so the suddenness of it was too much for the half elf to process so he just… didn’t.

“You… You have a fever.” Fabian managed to stammer out, Riz squinting and flicking his ears before bringing his own hand up to feel at his forehead.

“Oh. I… sorry. I think I do.” He laughed but it didn’t sound genuine, ducking out from under Fabians hands. “Fuck, I must be a little delirious. Sorry about that.”

Riz took a step back, his entire demeanour shifting as he dropping to kneel and bow his head. “I think I’ll take my leave, my King. I’m sure the healer in the infirmary will have words for me about overworking myself when I go get this fever seen to. I’ll have Sir Durden come relieve me.”

“Understood. Rest well.”

The goblin gave his tail a little flick before standing, picking his way between the table and the plush armchairs and heading for the door.

“Goodnight Fabian.”

God, this took a while! But I finally gathered enough words to compliment the ones you found me!

-- part 1 | part 2 | part 3 --

It’d been a couple of days after Sir Riz’s return (and that kiss), but he’d yet to assume his nohecharei duties.

At first, Fabian was glad to hear that Riz had made it to the infirmary and that his fever was being tended to. He was less glad to hear that his fever had worsened, according to the Head Nurse Mistgift. When Fabian visited Riz in the dark of night, Mistgift insisted that he be out of commission for the next week, maybe more. Looking upon Riz’s sallow yet flushed face and hearing his laboured breaths, he was inclined to agree.

As an act of reassurance, or maybe just kindness, Head Nurse Mistgift had assured him that if the moment his illness took a turn for the worse, she’d summon the High Cleric of the Galician church. High Priestess Níniel Mallorn né Lomenelda. Fabian had met his aunt only a couple of times before becoming king. Quiet, gentle, a little preachy, but far less intimidating or scatterbrained than his other Aunts. Nowadays, he sees her more often (whenever he is expected at church) and receives invitations to dinners even more often. If things did get worse for Riz… well… He’d be accepting more of those invitations.

Even with some of the most powerful divine magic on standby, it hurt that he couldn’t spend every waking moment by Riz’s bedside. Instead, he stuck a hand in his pocket and ran his thumb over Riz’s shed fang whenever possible. He’d have given it back if it weren’t for the…

No, no, no.

Couldn’t spend the moments thinking about that kiss either. Instead, he had to attend meetings, audiences, parties, and preparations for the Blue Moon’s various festivities and religious functions, which he had to lead.

Like right now.

Unable to sleep, Fabian sat in his darkened office, with only a single candle for light, and worked his way through a stack of letters. Some were from his advisors trying to delicately sway him on an issue concerning the need to upgrade and update various constructs around the Kingdom. Others were from nobles attempting to curry favour and possible political power by inviting him to see their various estates and territories. Even one from House Everpetal asked after his presence at some of their Blue Moon celebrations—the gall of them.

“Your Majesty,” came the serene voice of Zayne, his secretary, after a rapt knock at the door and the click of it opening. Before Fabian could even look up from the letter in his hands, Zayne’s gauntly pale hand came into view, placing a stack of papers in front of him. Glancing up at the young man’s angular face and the tiny rodent familiar always perched on his shoulder, Fabian only had to arch a brow before Zayne launched into an explanation. “I’m sure you know that, after the attempt on your life, the entire Court of Stars is… worried about the line of succession so soon after…”

“The crown refused to sit upon any of the late King Meneldur’s children’s heads, and the five of them proceeded to curse, imprison, and kill each other? Leaving Fallinel on the brink of a civil war in a way the world hasn’t seen in eons?” Fabian asked with a weary sigh as his tired eyes drifted across the stack of papers. Unable to focus long enough to read the jittering letters on the page.

“Indeed,” Zayne answered, trading glances with his rat and looking slightly shocked at Fabian’s candour but not disapproving. Maybe even a little intrigued by it. Interesting. “I do hope I’m not out of line when I present you with this. These are your marriage prospects within the Court of Stars. Every single one.” Whatever lingering exhaustion was jolted out of Fabian all at once. Sitting up straight, he started to leaf through the pages of names, ages, and affiliations of what did look like every eligible bachelorette of noble or merchant blood in Fallinel. “Most have already been presented to the Court, though some are—”

“Five months old?”

“—while others are—”

“Over a thousand years old?!” Fabian asked, bringing the page closer to his eyes to make sure they weren’t broken. Umberlee below! She was five times older than his mother. “Zayne?!”

“If it got out that I left anyone out of the consideration, there would be words, your Majesty. Courtly outrage and indignation lasting who knows how long,” Zayne said uneasily, his posture rigid as his rat slipped from his shoulders into his fidgeting hands. His whole body tensed as if anticipating a punch or a yell.

Only then did Fabian realize he must’ve been glaring at the poor guy. Sure, he and Zayne hadn’t ever been on casual speaking terms since he’d been appointed as his secretary by recommendation of Aelwen’s, but he didn’t want Zayne to fear him. He didn’t want any of his servants or subjects to fear him. In that regard, he wasn’t his father’s son.

So, deliberately softening his face and voice, Fabian nodded as he said, “When you’re right, you’re right. Good thinking.”

Thankfully, some of the tension in Zayn’s thin frame eased, and a small smile grew on his lips. Placing his rat back on his shoulder, he leaned over Fabian’s shoulder to point out some of the marks beside certain names on the list. “I’ve taken the liberty of marking the choices that would be most appealing to your allies, your enemies, and…” Zayne paused. He took a step back and clasped his hands behind his back. A war behind his narrowed eyes before it dissolved, leaving behind a timid confidence as he continued, “And, I hope, yourself.”

Fabian could appreciate the sweet sentiment despite how the sight of the list turned his stomach. “Thank you for this, Zayne. Your hard work is very much appreciated.”

With that, Zayne bowed to him before whisking him and his rat away to work in his office in the lower parts of Fabian’s tower, his dark robes fluttering as he went.

Leaving Fabian alone (well, not completely alone. Sir Durden was present, as always.) to stew over the list of names in front of him. After staring at the list for five minutes, a creeping feeling of deceit sunk its claws into his entire being. Just the thought of making this decision without Riz making his stomach turn.

Which was ridiculous!

Fabian’s a grown man.

He’s a King!

Fabian didn’t need his best friend whenever he needed to make a big decision, as a toddler needed their security blanket! He could decide without him. That blasted kiss was just an action of a delirious Riz; it didn’t count. He wasn’t somehow betraying Riz by taking charge of his life and picking a… Queen. She’d be ruling by his side, and his opinion should be the end-all and be all on the subject.

Yes…

After all, he could run it by Riz once the poor thing was feeling better.

Pushing past a grim sense of dread, Fabian combed through the list of names, taking Zayne’s marks into account. Crossing out the definite ‘no’s, like one of Penelope’s cousins. Desperately raking his brain to put faces to these names. He at least got a chuckle when Aelwen’s name popped up with a star and a question mark beside it.

Fabian allowed himself to slump a bit in his seat.

Ugh, this was all too much for him to think about right now. So, hastily and haphazardly, he picked three names from the list that didn’t completely displease him just to have something written down. Lady Wynryth Aspencloud, Countess Maggella Vundran and… Fuck it, the daughter of one of the last remaining majority Wood Elven territories, Lady Ivy Embra.

There.

It was done.

Except, after he lifted his quill from the page and laid it to rest in its inkwell, he found no relief in completing this task. It wasn’t like he was expecting to be excited, yet here he was. Still sitting in his office, ever under watchful eyes. An impending marriage on the horizon like an incoming warship. A potential usurper with a husband that maimed him for being foretold by prophecy. And that kiss, brief yet world-shattering. Had it been an accident? Did he want it not to have been if it was?

Umberlee below, he needed advice, but the person he’d turn to was both indisposed and one of the things he needed to talk about. No, without Riz, there wasn’t a single person on the island with whom he could work through this. Luckily for him, there was a vast and varied world beyond the shores of his kingdom. Filled with wondrously intelligent people who he was honoured to call friends. He needed advice from one of the other smartest people he knew.

He needed to talk to Adaine.

Using the speaking mirror in his bed chamber was out of the question. Yes, it was secure. No one else in the world could listen in on the conversation he had over it. Hell, the entirety of the Alcethmeret was covered in non-detection runes, and it was unscryable. Yet none of that mattered if Sir Durden was still in the room as he spoke.

Using spell scrolls of Sending was out as well. Who knew how many he needed to finish their conversation twenty-five words at a time.

No, he needed a way to actually speak to her.

Preferably telepathically.

Ugh, ironically, Adaine would know how to do this. Her and all of her wizardry and Elven Oracleness. You know, it’s hard not to feel like the dumbest person in the world next to her and Ri—wait.

She’s the Elven Oracle.

Surely, past Kings of Fallinel had ways to speak with the Oracle even when they weren’t on the continent!

Fabian shot up and out of his seat with renewed purpose. He must’ve startled Sir Durden with his sudden and hurried movements as he raced to his bed chambers if the tiny “whoop, alright” he let out was any indication. There might also have been a question, but Fabian waved it off as he pulled an ancient wooden Chest of Holding out from deep within a closet. Letting it thump to the ground before wrenching it open to reveal a veritable hoard of diaries and journals of past rulers of Fallinel.

Reading had never been Fabian’s strong suit (the letters jumped and moved about the page far too much), but at this moment, he kept at it. Flipping through tome after tome, searching for any mention of the Elven Oracle in each King’s writings. The sun was beginning to rise above the horizon when he found it. A recount of one of his predecessors, King Edrehasivar VII, venturing to something called The Oracle’s Summit. A tower deep within the snowy peaks of Fallinel’s tallest mountains, the Elven Oracle’s keep. Reading on, it sounded like he managed to speak with them despite the Oracle not being in Fallinel.

This was his best shot.

Shoving the rest of the journals and the chest back to where they belong, Fabian kept the winning journal in hand as he searched through an Atlas of Fallinel for a map of and directions to the Summit. Thank the Stars; it was only a day’s ride from the palace.

Within the hour, Fabian was dressed, Sir Durden had summoned a handful of guards to join them, and his beloved hellhound steed, The Hangman, was readied for the journey post haste. Thankfully, upon hearing that he was attempting to seek wisdom from the Elven Oracle, his advisors, councillors, and courtiers happily cleared his schedule to give him time to do so.

Fabian and his guards travelled through ancient yet well-worn paths lined with snowy evergreens and craggy rocks. They only stopped once to set up a small camp underneath a stone overhang for a short rest in the middle of the night. The orange glow of their fire was a beacon of warmth as snowflakes drifted on the wind in a forest of cool greens and slate blues.

It was around noon the next day when they finally arrived at the base of a looming tower made of frosted deep blue, perfectly symmetrical stones and huge quartz crystals. Abandoned, it seemed as Fabian walked the Summit’s chilly, silent halls, flanked by Sir Durden and the other guards. The layout confirmed some of King Edrehasivar VII’s writings of how the Elven Oracle used to have servants, apprentices, and even guests of both common and noble blood in their keep. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Knowing how Adaine would appreciate the equalizing of social stations.

At the end of a long, wide corridor, draped in deep, dark blue fabrics and silver ornamentation, sits the Elven Oracle’s central sanctum. Almost religious-like in nature, the chamber had vast vaulted ceilings. Along its rounded walls, many tables and podiums stood with empty candlesticks, scrying mirrors, glass bowls filled with water despite the temperature, and various divinatory trinkets. Finally, at the chamber’s heart sat a looming throne of quartz, left empty for who knew how long.

Well, not for much longer.

Unsheathing Fandrangour, Fabian kneeled before the throne with it in his hands. Here goes nothing. Voice reverent and words steady, Fabian called out, “Oracle of the Elves and Mistress of this Tower, I am King Fabian Aramais Seacaster of Fallinel, first of my name. I come begging for your impartial guidance and limitless wisdom. Please, oh, Oracle, hear my plea.” A beat of silence went by as his words echoed off the tall, tall walls of the sanctum. Wincing at the possibility of this all being for not, Fabian closed his eyes and whispered, “Adaine, please. I need you.”

Another agonizing beat.

Then, in a flash of blinding light and a swirl of freezing air that attempted to buffet Fabian and his guards back, the Elven Oracle appeared.

“King of the Elves and Master of this realm, I hear your plea,” Adaine Abernant said in a nigh thundering voice as she hovered over her rightful throne with the semi-blank expression he’d seen her wear when she received a vision.

She was composed of spectral silvery blue light, her hair ever billowing in an unseen wind, glowing pupilless eyes staring into the world only she could see. She was utterly awe-inspiring and ethereal if you ignored that she was wearing a worn-out, tied werewolf t-shirt and thrifted bell-bottom jeans.

As if noticing the dissonance herself, Adaine’s brow furrowed as she muttered, “Wait, hold on.” In a blink, Adaine lowered herself to the ground as she momentarily inspected her projected translucent form. Satisfied, she finally caught Fabian’s eye with a smile. “This is a bit much, wouldn’t you say?”

“Only the best for you, Adaine,” Fabian answered, flashing a charming smile.

“Sure,” She shot back, unconvinced. “What’s up?”

“Umm, if we could speak—” Fabian discreetly tapped his temple. “—Privately, that would be great.”

Adaine’s eyes drifted over his head and clocked all of his guards. “No, yeah, of course, your Majesty,” She said as she began to cast Telepathic Bond. As Fabian watched her perform the verbal and somatic components for it, a warmth spread through him at the familiar sight. One moment later, he felt her hands slip into his and her concerned voice in his mind. “Fabian, what’s wrong?”

Free once more to speak his mind, Fabian felt a weight lift from his shoulders as he allowed himself to sound as stressed as he felt. “Adaine, I don’t know what to do! The most insane thing happened a couple of days ago, a-and I’m at a loss as to how to respond to it.”

“Is this about the assassination attempt?” Adaine asked, holding his hands tighter as she threw a suspicious look toward Sir Durden and the rest.

“Oh, no. Honestly, that’s one of the only things in my life that does make sense right now. Penelope Everpetal wants me dead, nothing new,” Fabian said with a chuckle, tugging on Adaine’s hand to bring her down from any righteous fury against his guards. “No, it’s about Riz.” Adaine’s eyes shot back to him, but she didn’t speak. Waiting for him to give more context with a silent intensity. One that forced Fabian to gulp down a sudden bout of bashfulness that brought heat to his cheeks and ears. “H-he kissed me.”

In a flash, Adaine’s face lit up like a Solstice tree with excitement and vindication as she eagerly said, “Finally! Tell me everything!”

Hold on a minute.

“Finally?” Fabian asked. A slight frown on his lips.

Now, it was Adaine’s turn to be confused. Her head flinched back as she slowly said, “You said Riz kissed you.”

“Yeah, he kissed me because he had a serious fever,” Fabian said, hoping that would bring her up to speed. Yet still, Adaine looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. “He was delirious, Adaine! I mean, he really needs to stop pushing himself so hard because, I’ll tell you, he was absolutely burning up. I told him so right after.”

“Okay, hang on,” Adaine said, holding up a hand and taking a breath. “Tell me everything from the beginning.”

So, he did.

It took a few minutes, but Fabian recounted most of the last month. Beginning with Riz taking that wretched dagger for him and ending with him watching as Riz left for the infirmary after the kiss. At first, he could tell that Adaine was, at the very least, following his timeline of events. Nodding and humming every so often. He knew he lost her near the end, though. And by the time he finished, she had her eyes closed with two fingers rubbing her brow.

“Let me get this straight,” Adaine said before taking a deep breath, holding it for a handful of moments, and letting it out. The moment she opened her piercing glowing blue eyes, Fabian couldn’t help but shrink away from the Oracle’s fury. “The two of you were cuddled up on a couch. Riz had just done his favourite thing in the world, aka infodump, about a hardwon case to you. You put a hand on his cheek. You touched your foreheads together. Then he kissed you… And all you said in response was that he had a FEVER? What wisdom could I possibly impart on you fucking moron!”

“Well, I mean—I, you see—” Fabian did his best not to rear back, but it was hard not to in the face of a furious Adaine Abernant. All he could do was sputter and try to find a line of thinking she might follow. “—The Ball agreed with me! He apologized for it!”

Adaine had never rolled her eyes harder. “Yeah, no shit! You basically rejected him! What else is he supposed to do other than backtrack?”

“I didn’t reject him!” Fabian shot back, not knowing why it felt like there was a very important distinction to make. He’d just… not wanted to think about everything, bad or good, a kiss like that could lead to, especially if it were a mistake. “I was concerned for his health. He was clearly not of sound body or mind!”

“Not of his—? He’s been in love with you for years, Fabian!” Adaine said, unable to stop the hand still holding his from digging her nails into his. He was thankful for the pain, though. It was easier to ignore what she said and how it made his heart leap if he focused on the pain. “That’s probably the most honest he’s ever been with you or himself.”

“Adaine, don’t be ridiculous. You and I both know he can’t stand that stuff,” Fabian scoffed. “The man can’t even stomach it when the topic of me taking a Queen comes up. Not that I entirely can either.”

“Oh, King of the Elves, have you ever thought that maybe two thoughts may be true at once?” Adaine asked mockingly in a way he knew he’d heard Aelwen use before. “That perhaps, yes, Riz cringes at the thought of your future marriage not only because he finds romance and sex mostly distasteful but also because you’d be kissing someone that is not him?” Fabian supposed that could be true, though he couldn’t wrap his head around Riz wanting him like that. Too bad Adaine wasn’t finished. “And! And! Maybe you can’t stomach it for the same reason?”

Now, that, Fabian couldn’t take.

As if repelled by magic, he stumbled to his feet and took a few staggering steps back and down the stairs. Almost immediately, he heard Sir Durden and the other guards draw their weapons and felt Durden hurry to his side. Fabian held out a hand to stop him.

“Your Majesty?” Durden asked, hesitant but willing to stand down if Fabian willed it.

“At ease, Sir Durden,” He answered out loud with a firm nod at Durden before doing the same to the rest of his guards. “At ease. I’m quite fine.”

A loud silence filled the chamber as Fabian found himself lost in thought because… that’s it, right? That’s the thing he didn’t want to process when Riz kissed him. Didn’t want his heart to even hope for a second that it could have Riz in every way it desired. At the end of years and years of pining and yearning, maybe, just maybe, Riz had been doing the same thing. He didn’t want the out-of-nowhere suddenness of that kiss to have been a fluke. And yet, that’s not all of it.

Because his life is not his own, not anymore.

Fabian whispered over their telepathic bond, as quiet as a mouse, “I have to produce an heir, Adaine.”

“I know, but—”

“There is no but, it’s one of the first rules of ruling. You keep the army happy, you keep the nobles happy, and you secure your power by knowing who it will pass to upon your death.”

“You’re being dramatic. Kings take mistresses all the time,” Adaine shrugged, her face as solemn as she could keep it for a few moments before breaking into a giddy grin. Waggling her brows, she quipped, “It’s not like you can get him pregnant with any bastards.”

For a brief moment, Fabian was pulled out of his gloom enough to be scandalized. “Adaine!”

“What?” She said with a cheeky smirk and a giggle. “Imagine if you could? Just a bunch of little half-goblin children running around Fallinel asking, ‘Do you know who my Papa is?’ Ha!”

With his pout out in full force now, Fabian grumbled, “Yes. Ha. Ha. I’m glad you’re having fun while I’m in anguish. How are you so unhelpful?”

“You called me!” Adaine said in half-hearted outrage.

“Exactly, I called you to help me! You’re the Oracle! Aren’t you supposed to be all-knowing and some shit?”

Letting out the last of her giggles, Adaine settled herself down, though the smile didn’t leave her face. “Fine, fine, I’ll be helpful,” She said before clearing her throat and looking him dead in the eye. “Do you love him?”

Fabian sat with the question for a moment. Reflecting on every smile or fondly exasperated look Riz threw his way. Every full-hearted laugh. Every desperate look of worry. Every bombastic back and forth. Every quiet moment spent in each other’s company. He couldn’t help the small smile that grew as he said, “I went half-mad after a week without him, and I carry his fang in my pocket for moral support. If that’s not love…”

“Weirdo,” She couldn’t help but mutter before walking down the stairs to meet Fabian and put a hand on his shoulder. “Then you’ll figure it out, man. You’ll figure out how to deal with any future Queen and heirs later. And you’ll do it together, as a team. But you have to tell him first. Stop trying to figure out your every move before the fight starts.”

“Well, if I could see what I was up against…?” Fabian started, looking up at his friend with pleading eyes.

Rueful smile and all, Adaine shook her head. “If you’re asking for a vision, you know it doesn’t work like that.”

“I know, I know.”

“However, I do think I could—if you give me a little more time—Aelwen’s in town, yes?” She held a finger up. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

One moment she’s there, in the next, she’s gone in another flash of wind and light. Leaving Fabian alone with his guards once more. With Adaine’s humming and murmurs still playing in the background of his mind, he checked in with Sir Durden on whether or not they needed to rest before heading back to the Palace. By the time rations were handed out and eaten, and the rest of the guards, excluding Sir Durden, were sent out to ready their mounts for the journey home, a familiar bright chime of spellcasting hit his ears.

Closer to the throne, just behind him and Sir Durden, the outline of a silvery door carved itself into being. Perfectly precise in every way. Before long, it opened up to reveal the inside of another eclectic Wizard’s tower and a harried-looking Adaine with a large duffle bag slung over one shoulder and Boggy the Froggy on the other.

“Whew, alright. Runestaff’s tower will be fine without me for a couple days, so I can help you mor—” Adaine bit her tongue, almost forgetting that Sir Durden was present. “—your Majesty and his allies find a way forward that’s best for the Kingdom.”

Nice save.

“Many thanks, Oracle,” Fabian said with a bow and a knowing smile. Sir Durden followed suit, kneeling and bowing his head in deference.

Adaine looked almost too pleased at the sight. With a pep in her step and her chin held high, she passed by Fabian on the way to the door and whispered in his ear, “I could get used to that.”

“Trust me, you’ll get sick of it,” Fabian whispered back as he led her out of the keep. “Speaking of what you are owed, even if you stay with Aelwen, don’t forget that there is an apartment in the palace designated specifically for the Elven Oracle.”

Hook.

“How big?” Adaine asked, looking more than a little intrigued.

Fabian grinned. “Pretty big. Full of books and other wizardly trinkets as well.”

Line.

A beat as she readjusted the duffle bag on her shoulder before, “Okay, maybe a couple of weeks then.”

Sinker.

It’s good to have his Wizard back.

Now, to get his Rogue.