#The coloring especially was a great time to paint

[themandylion]

Hi, professional book typesetter/desktop publisher/graphic designer here! I've designed more than a few book covers for print publishing companies in my time and have a few tips/things to add.

Resolution. If you are making book covers for print (or, really, anything, for print), you're going to want your images to be high resolution. The go-to resolution for items like book covers is 300 dpi (dots per inch, sometimes called ppi—pixels per inch). Anything lower and you start to lose quality. (A lot of people are posting images at hella-high dpi as screen resolutions improve and they want their art to look good. This is makes it so much easier for unsavory people to steal your art, slap it on a shirt, and have unsuspecting customers buy it without realizing it's super-duper stolen. So. Something to think about, maybe. :) )

Color Mode. Most people creating digital art for display on the web are doing it in RGB (red-green-blue) files. This is also, usually, the color mode for most digital SLR cameras and thus the mode of any photos taken with them. It looks great on a screen because it's specifically how light mixes. If you're designing a cover for print, however, it's best to do it in CMYK (cyan-magenta-yellow-black), since those are how ink mixes. You can change this usually under something like... Image > Mode > CMYK; terms/location may vary from program to program. If you don't do this, when you print out your cover it is going to look dull and sad and not as bright and vibrant as what you designed in RGB.

Photopea.com is an amazing free in-browser graphics program that is very similar to Photoshop. A few of the tools are simpler/have to be approached at a different angle than Photoshop, but as someone who has been using paint programs for 35+ years and Photoshop for 25+ years, it's now my go-to when I don't want to boot up my old computer that has Photoshop installed. (I tried GIMP originally and while I didn't find it difficult to install, I found it a pain to work with and had to fight it every step of the way.)

In addition to those sites shared in the OP, a good place you to find free and Creative Commons images is Flickr. That link specifically goes to the advanced search page because you're going to want to mess with the Search filters—click that, scroll down and change Any license to Commercial use & mods allowed. A lot of U.S. government agencies (like FWS and NPS) have Flickr accounts where they post amazing photos. Any photo taken by a U.S. federal employee in the course of their duty is in public domain however this does not cover photos of people (you need photo releases for those).

When using Flickr to find images, it's always a good idea to check the description (especially if it's not a government account)—Flickr's default when you upload is to put all images under CC2.0 and that isn't always the intention of the photographer. :\ This is really important to keep in mind when using Wikimedia Commons (suggested by in the article linked in the OP) because some of the pictures on Wikimedia Commons were picked up from Flickr by a bot and the Flickr OP has since realized they originally posted with the wrong license and subsequently changed it. If you use Wikimedia Commons for CC pictures, always click back to the original source and double-check the license if it was picked up by a bot.

Too many writers are using generative 'AI' to make their book covers, so I've written a guide on how to make your own cover for free or cheap without turning to a machine.

If you can't afford to pay an artist, you CAN make your own!

I hope this is a helpful overview that covers the basics and points to some free resources.

[onbearfeet]

Sometimes, you have to start a new quilt.

I started a project, years ago, to make a throw quilt for each season of the year. I wanted to be able to drape the quilt over a living-room quilt rack or maybe the couch and change it every three months. Voilá. Decor.

I wanted this for a lot of reasons, starting with the fact that lying under a quilt and reading is one of my greatest pleasures in life, but also including the fact that I have synesthesia. My brain tends to jumble up time, space, numbers, and colors. For example, the number two is dark bottle green to me, and history unfolds on a literal map in my brain. I could give you turn-by-turn directions to the French Revolution. It's weird in here.

One of the ways my synesthesia manifests is that months have color palettes. Some of them are what you'd expect--February, for example, is red and pink. Some are unique to me, like October, which is metallic gold and dark charcoal gray, like charred edges on a Klimt painting. I like to play with those colors during their months, usually in things like my nail polish colors. Thus, my quilt project would use my monthly palettes to create quilts that would keep my synesthesia brain happy.

This is my original summer quilt. It's called Victory Garden. (The quilts have titles. They're art. Shaddup.)

I used to love this quilt. I read under it. I spread it over my bed. It made my brain happy because July, to it, is these colors. I haven't thought of myself as especially patriotic since I left the cult, but my brain likes the colors it likes, and I mashed up two different fabric collections to make sure I got my color palette without having to include military insignias or quotes from slaveholders or anything like that. Mostly I wanted florals. Hence the title.

But after the election, looking at the quilt didn't make me happy anymore. It made me feel ill. I shoved it into a closet where I wouldn't have to see it and got on with staying alive.

Recently, my mom asked to borrow Victory Garden so she could refer to its pattern for a quilt we're making together. I think I'll "forget" it in her sewing room for a while. It still brings her joy, and it deserves to be loved even if I'm currently not capable.

But that means I'm out 25% of my seasonal quilts. That doesn't feel great, either. That's a lot of work, gone.

I got to thinking about summer, about the things I like about it. I decided that if I couldn't make a good summer quilt out of the June or August palettes (they're not very quilt-friendly), I'd try to find another inspiration. And on a whim, I started searching the names of summer fruits on a quilting website and found a collection called Blueberry Delight. Just looking at it made me remember making blueberry cobbler with my grandmother as a child, eating it hot with ice cream on top.

So tonight, I started putting squares together. This is the new palette of summer, assembled in the heart of winter. Blueberry Delight.

It'll take a while to put it together. Making something good to replace something bad always takes more time than you expect. It's work I didn't want to do, shouldn't have to do just because a bunch of fascist shitheads made a mess. But it'll get done eventually. I'll have something better someday.

And isn't the new thing beautiful?

[witherby]

First of all I LOVE your works i love how much effort you put into them!! You’re keeping this community aliveeee. Second, what would the batfam do if punchline cried? Like I’m talking out of no where just straight up cried. I know it must be hard to show emotions such as sadness because of her past and it would be hard to show such vulnerability to anyone. Thanking for listening to my Ted talk 😎

First of all thank you so much! I wish I could write full, one-shot-length replies to every single question I get asked, but sometimes I simply don't have the energy or skill to execute the idea that might manifest from that question!

Second of all, that's a great question! I think it would take an absurdly long time for anybody to catch her crying. I think it would take an absurdly long time for her to cry at all!

Punchline has Congenital Analgesia, so pain wouldn't make any tears well up. She also doesn't feel or notice any appropriate hunger cues, so exhaustion or starvation wouldn't do it either, especially because she's almost perpetually existing in that state anyway.

We also have to consider who her father is, and how she was raised. A lot of her childhood is left to speculation because she's not exactly opening up to people about the Joker's treatment of her. And why would she? In her eyes, he can do no wrong. Anything he has ever said or done to her was completely justified. What's the sense in crying over spilled blood? She just needs to do more. Try harder. Be greater. But not better. She can't be better than her Popsy. Nobody is better than Popsy!

It's difficult to find out what her triggers are when she isn't giving the bat family much to work with. That's not her job, it's theirs to find out and learn from, but the entire situation is layers upon layers of complicated.

When they first take in Punchline, she's roughly 8 years old and some change. I think they'll see her cry for the first time when she's 10.

Punchline doesn't know her birthday. The Joker didn't celebrate it. The bats don't know it, either, so they choose to celebrate her with the day they brought her to the Manor. They make a cake and set up a small surprise party, with things they know she likes such as more face paint, colorful clothes, books, and maybe some new accessories like bows and ribbons. She wouldn't know how to handle that. A party for her? What did she do? How did she earn this?

I think Punchline would cry over being celebrated just for being alive. She's never felt that way before.

[ranaeley]

The starmaker at work...

Closeups and alternate coloring under the cut.

[gracebriarwoodwrites]

I write fragile on a dozen boxes salvaged from recycling I forgot to take out before I knew I was moving and my hand shakes even more each time. The lines bleed off the box corners and into me. I'm fragile, you see.

[skitskatdacat63]

There's something very romantic about the outdoors...

[coconut530]

🤍❤️💙💚🩵 (~) Sep. 16, 2016 -> Sep. 17, 2023

[kawaiianimeredhead]

.

[kurooh]

HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY 🔥🥰

I truly love your work I was wondering if you can do more MHA men and how they would be like if fem reader was famous (model, actress , artist etc) have a great rest of your day❤️❤️❤️

BEGGIN’ ON HER KNEES TO BE POPULAR ! — BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA

⊹₊˚. you’re his celebrity crush. (still, even after you started officially dating)

⟡ feat. aged up! midoriya izuku, todoroki shōto, kirishima eijirou, kaminari denki, takami keigo.

⟡ warnings: 18+ content (mdni), f! reader, some fluff, all characters & reader are 25+, quirkless/modern au, different au’s for each character, brainrot post.

⟡ xoxo, juno: omg nonnie this req is absolutely brilliant. thank you for the birthday wishes!! 💓

being a dancer/performer means your limbs are always a little achy or tight, and that’s where izuku comes in to help you stretch out. in other words, he fucks you in every position possible until you’re melting beneath him. he’ll attend all your performances and cheer, the loudest in the audience.. he’s almost gotten kicked out a few times. izuku’s always observing you, especially when you dance, and so he sweeps you into his arms after dinner, then slow dances with you.

shōto poses nude for you and sits pretty as you paint him onto your canvas, meticulously capturing the slopes and curves of his body. you’re the artist, and he’s your muse — even after years of painting him clothed or nude, he still gets hard from just your eyes on him. after a painstakingly long time spent correcting and coloring, you finally stand and give his drooling cock the attention it deserves.

denki’s a renowned singer, and you’re his groupie. despite the rumors of all the women he’s been with, you’ve come to learn that they were untrue. the second he saw you in the audience cheering, he decided to invite you backstage. then he started giving you free concert tickets to every show; it only progressed from there. so many of his fans are jealous, but he doesn’t care. if he could, he’d fuck your brains out right in front of them. denki helped make you famous by recording your voice and your moans in the studio, then he added them into his songs.

eijirou’s friends are tired of hearing about you all the time— all he does is rave about his beautiful model girlfriend and show pictures of her. he loves to participate in your social media posts and monitor the comment sections, etc. sometimes eijirou leaves one too many marks along your body (your boss hates him), or fucks you until you can barely walk just because. occasionally your instagram posts and sfw rating amps up when eijirou takes your phone and posts something a little suggestive about you two.

your most popular movie received worldwide attention, and even more when the truth about you and your costar, keigo, got out. you couldn’t escape the relationship questions all over social media or in interviews once everyone learned you’d hated each other behind the scenes, yet had unmistakable chemistry on screen. unbeknownst to the audience, you’d only maintained the chemistry with him because of some quick fucks before and after shooting. of course, it’s not like the sex stopped after filming and production— you’re still secretly seeing each other, practically dating now. your fans often ignore or wonder about the blank instagram account that likes to call you theirs in comments below your posts in response to others.

[lynxgriffin]

Eldritchrune - Dreemurr of Demons

1 | 2 | 3

Story Setup Eldritchrune Masterpost

Asriel ventures back to Hometown while on the trail of trying to find out what happened to Kris, and stumbles across an unusual man who's all too excited to share his demon-warding knowledge! But it's unclear so far whether this knowledge will actually be of help to him...

Yaaay all done with this series back with the Dreemurrs! This one was definitely the longest, but also had some important info! What I'll tackle next is a mystery to me right now...

Alt text for these pages is under the read more:

Page 1 Panel 1: Exterior shot of a back alley in Hometown, with old barrels and boxes stacked behind medieval buildings. Asriel walks down the alley, wearing a striped shirt, glasses and scruffy blond hair, and carrying a large canvas bag over his shoulders. The annoying dog trots happily beside him.

Panel 2: The annoying dog drops his nose to the ground, sniffing at some interesting smell.

Panel 3: The dog bounds off ahead of Asriel to a haphazard collection of trinkets, boxes, jars and displayed charms, all partially covered with colorful cloths. A man is kneeling under one of the tent setups. Asriel walks to catch up with the dog, asking, "What's got your interest this time, dog?"

Panel 4: The man pops up from his odd collection and turns to Asriel with arms spread and a big smile. He has short curly hair, and is dressed in a medieval robe with a cape slung over his shoulders, and bone designs in his sleeve cuffs. He answers, "Just the finest assortment of handmade charms and magical meals made by yours truly, THE GREAT PAPYRUS!" The dog happily circles Papyrus, tail wagging.

Panel 5: Asriel is a bit taken aback by the introduction, but waves in greeting anyway, and responds with "…Oh! Howdy!" The dog sits in front of Papyrus, panting and wagging his tail.

Page 2 Panel 1: Papyrus leans down with a big grin to pet the dog and ruffle its face. "What a bright and clever fellow! Such a sweet face!"

Panel 2: "You're a good, good boy, aren't you?" Papyrus continues. However, the dog glances over to the side, as something has got his attention:

Panel 3: It's one of the charms Papyrus has on display: a large femur bone decorated with paint, beads and feathers.

Panel 4: The dog leaps up and snatches the charm in its mouth. Papyrus looks agape at this thievery, eyes cartoonishly wide. "Wh-HEY! That's my SPECIAL demon-warding charm!"

Panel 5: The dog goes running off further into the alley, the bone still in its mouth. Papyrus shakes his fist at it and yells after it: "You thieving scoundrel! I take back all the nice things I said about you!"

Panel 6: Papyrus quickly turns back to Asriel with a more apologetic look; even now he can't be too mean. He says, "I apologize, I didn't mean to yell at your dog. I'm sure he's normally better behaved!" Asriel waves off the apology with tired bemusement. "No, it's fine. He's not really my dog." Under his breath, he adds, "He just keeps following me around for some reason…"

Panel 7: Papyrus stands back up and gestures to his odd collection. "In any case, you at least are welcome to my little shop-in-the-works!"

Page 3 Panel 1: Papyrus leans in close to Asriel, observing him, and getting a bit into his personal space. "You look a little familiar, though! Are you perhaps related to Mr. Dreemurr?" Asriel nervously adjusts his glasses, and replies, "Heh, yes. I'm Asriel, his son."

Panel 2: Asriel holds up a hand and gives a little sideeye to the alley around them. "But, uh…I actually don't want my parents to know that I'm back in town, so I'd appreciate you keeping quiet about me being here."

Panel 3: Papyrus mirrors that sideeye, hands on his hips, as if recalling some recent incident. "Ahh…I know well the trials of avoiding family. Especially when they decide to try out some terrible new jokes."

Panel 4: Papyrus makes a lip-zipping motion with his hand and mouth. "Not to worry, my lips are sealed!" Asriel smiles back, and says, "Thanks, I appreciate it."

Panel 5: A wider shot of the two still standing within Papyrus's collection of tents and trinkets. Papyrus asks, "So, if it's not to see your folks, what brings you back around Hometown?" Asriel glances around them, and replies, "I'm looking for something. Or well…kinda hoping I don't find something here."

Page 4 Panel 1: Papyrus points up one finger, looking as if he's already solved this problem. "If you don't want to find it, then looking for it seems rather counterintuitive!"

Panel 2: Asriel looks a little taken aback by that logic. "Yes, well… Okay you have a point, but…"

Panel 3: Asriel keeps glancing behind him, as if expecting to see someone there. "This is kind of the next step in a trail of research I've been doing."

Panel 4: Papyrus puts a hand to a chest and puffs himself up, imitating his heroic poses from Undertale. "Well, if your research involves handmade charms and tasty foods both designed to ward off demons, evil spirits and the like… Then I'll be your most cited source!"

Panel 5: Asriel crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows, intrigued by this. "Really."

Panel 6: "You know a lot about demons, huh?" Asriel asks as he sits himself on one of the rugs within the tent setup. Papyrus keeps up his self-congratulatory pose. "I, the Great Papyrus, am a bonafide expert in such subjects! Sad that so few around here seem to recognize my talents."

Page 5 Panel 1: Asriel holds his hands up, willing to follow this strange thread wherever it might lead. "Well, I've got a question that all my research hasn't been able to answer for me, so perhaps you can…"

Panel 2: A pause as Asriel holds on to his thoughts, hands closed in front of his face. Papyrus sits down on the rug across from him.

Panel 3: Asriel lowers his hands, his face deeply serious. "How do you kill a demon?"

Panel 4: Papyrus looks back at him with an equally serious expression, then…

Panel 5: The seriousness is gone as he gives a casual shrug, and gives an answer. "Oh, that's simple. You don't!"

Panel 6: Asriel looks a little bit baffled, and disappointed. "…You don't?"

Panel 7: "No, silly. They're immortal, like angels!" Papyrus keeps up the casual shrug, as if this information is obvious.

Panel 8: However, Papyrus then seems to become aware of why this is being asked. He looks around the area frantically, his head whipping back and forth. "Why?! Are there demons around here that my detection flatbreads missed?!" Asriel offers an amused smile back. "Heehee… no, I don't think so."

Page 6 Panel 1: The seriousness returns to Asriel's face as he scratches at his nose, lost in worried thought. "I just…have this real bad hunch. I'm trying to prepare myself for all potential outcomes."

Panel 2: Papyrus ignores the seriousness of the situation, and just seems impressed. "Preparation! The hallmark of the truly intelligent!"

Panel 3: Asriel is still set on getting some information, and continues his questions. "Thanks. So, if you can't kill them, what do you do about them?" Papyrus holds up a finger again, happy to keep explaining: "Well, you got two options! First, you can banish them back to their own plane!"

Panel 4: Papyrus continues, "However, that's really only the ideal option if you're the one that summoned them in the first place. Otherwise it's a whole ordeal." In the background, Papyrus's point is illustrated with a little graphic of a cult member holding up a hand in rejection of a demon within a summoning circle. The demon looks confused and perturbed by the rejection.

Panel 5: Asriel says, "I see. What's the other option?" Papyrus continues his explanation across the two panels: "You bind the demon to something! Quickest and easiest thing to do is bind them to an object! Buuut, problem with that is, if your object gets broken or destroyed, now your demon's free and even angrier than before."

Panel 6: To illustrate his point, another background graphic shows a shocked human with a broken jar in front of them. A demon rises out of the remains of the broken jar, looking angry and ready to strike.

Page 7 Panel 1: Papyrus again continues his explanation across two panels. "Hardest and most time-consuming thing to do is to bind them to a place! Good option if you have the prep time, but then you can't really use that place anymore. Better pick a restaurant you hate and hope no one there minds you standing outside it chanting for three days straight."

Panel 2: To illustrate his point further, a scene (perhaps a flashback) shows Papyrus with his arms raised outside of a restaurant, supposedly chanting angrily at it, while another person stares back at him from the doorway, hands on their hips in annoyance.

Panel 3: Asriel watches as Papyrus finishes up the rest of his explanation: "Aaaand, last thing you can do is…bind the demon to a person! Which…"

Panel 4: Papyrus stops suddenly. For the first time, he looks actually disturbed and hesitant.

Panel 5: Asriel watches quizzically, waiting for him to continue.

Panel 6: When he doesn't continue, Asriel tries to prompt him on, tilting his head towards him. "…And?"

Panel 7: Papyrus quickly waves his hands in front of him, smiling nervously, clearly trying to dismiss the whole idea. "But you know, we don't need to go into the details of that!"

Panel 8: Asriel says nothing, but remains in nervous thought, one hand covering his mouth. It's clear that this is sticking in his mind the most.

Page 8 Panel 1: Asriel remains sitting with a hand to his chin in thought, but Papyrus has moved on to better advice. "But as I always say, an ounce of prevention's worth a pound of cure! You're much better off trying one of my charms or meals to-go!"

Panel 2: Asriel lets himself smile more at this suggestion. "Y'know? I'm sold. And also a bit hungry."

Panel 3: Asriel gets up, and drops a handful of coins into Papyrus's open hand, which Papyrus looks at in surprise. Asriel says, "Give me your best demon-warding meal."

Panel 4: Papyrus stares down at the coins in his hand, his eyes cartoonishly big and shiny, full of excitement. "WOWIE!! My FIRST ever sale!" he says with a big smile.

Panel 5: Papyrus leaps up and begins to rummage through some of the boxes and barrels around his collection. "This calls for my finest delicacy!" Asriel watches him from a few steps back, and mutters under his breath, "…First ever?…"

Page 9 Panel 1: Papyrus straightens back up, gesturing to a small sack that he is holding in one hand. He looks pleased with himself. "Spiced candied yam bites, from my home country!"

Panel 2: "Each one will purge you of evil spirits for a whole ten hours!" he continues. He hands the small sack off to Asriel, who takes it from him and says, "Sounds like a good deal." In the background, the annoying dog pops back up from behind some other boxes, holding something in its mouth.

Panel 3: Asriel hefts the bag over his shoulder again, and holds up the sack of treats in acknowledgement of the exchange. "Well, I know where to come if I need more info and good charms."

Panel 4: Papyrus stands proud, both hands on his hips, happy at being able to spout off his knowledge to a stranger. "Yes, yes! Tell all your friends about the fantastic advice and the culinary masterworks of the Great Papyrus!" he says excitedly.

Panel 5: Asriel heads off back into the alleyways, and waves goodbye to Papyrus. The annoying dog follows close behind his steps. Papyrus enthusiastically waves to the two as they leave, and says, "Safe travels to you and your annoying dog!"

Page 10 Panel 1: Papyrus turns back to his collection of trinkets and boxes with a determined look, hands on his hips. "And now to see where that criminal canine buried my special charm…" he says to himself.

Panel 2: While continuing on through the alleyways, Asriel opens the small sack and pulls out one of the candied yam bites.

Panel 3: Asriel glances back down at the dog, and notices that he's carrying something that's making a tinking noise. It's partially hidden from view. "Oh boy, what did you steal now?" he asks with a wry smile.

Panel 4: Asriel takes the yam bite and pops it into his mouth with a crunch…

Panel 5: …Only to then make a face, his eyes wide and his mouth scrunched up, as if tasting something indescribable.

Panel 6: "What IS this flavor?" Asriel asks to himself, although all but his back foot are off-panel. The focus is on the annoying dog, who is shown to be carrying a strange, heart-shaped metal lantern on a chain.

[hansoeii]

Hullo! I’ve been watching a bunch of your Timelapses and I was wondering how do you always come up with the colours for your pieces? They’re always so cohesive and pleasing to look at (I almost exclusively work in greyscale so if I’m using colour it’s always a lucky guess and it never looks quite right)

Hey there!

I have to be honest that most of the time I don't actually know what I'm doing and that I have no idea how most of my pieces are gonna turn out. My work process is usually based on "Fuck around and find out", haha. I'm happy to know that it apparently doesn't come across that way, though.

A lot of it comes very naturally to me simply because I've been drawing non-stop for so long, but I can give you some small tips that really help me:

1. Have as many references as possible!

Here's what my reference sheet looked like for the Jayvik piece:

It helped me a lot to understand the overall color scheme I wanted to convey. Lots of very cold tones, pinks and very light blues and greens. These colours sorround Jayce and Viktor throughout all of season 2 and I wanted to keep them, especially since in my piece they are lying in the glowing hexcore.

Don't shy away from using references, get as many as you possibly can! Look at other poeple's art too and try to understand how they work with colours.

2. Work with complementary colours!

Since I paint a lot of romantic illustrations I want them to look pleasing and comforting, which I can accomplish by using complementary colours! You see this a lot with couples that are blue and red coded, for example. And I wanted to do the same thing in the Jayvik piece! For that I used the highlights in their hair!

Viktor's highlights are a soft pink hue.

While Jayce's are a soft blue hue.

The colour wheel works perfect for figuring out if two colors compliment each other because they are literally right across from one another!

3. It doesn't have to be true to life.

Pretty self-explanatory, but I thought I'd add it in here anyways. It's important to understand how colour and light works, but you don't always have to follow the rules. Does the rim light look cool but it makes zero sense? Who cares! Keep the cool rim light! Just have fun and fuck around.

4. A little trick to make your life easier!

I'm not excatly the best at colour theory, I still struggle with it quite a bit, but here's a little trick I like to use from time to time:

If you want all your colours to look coherent, take one specific color as your flat colour. Choose a hue that you would like your piece to have. Like this:

Now you choose whatever colours your characters have and paint them in. For example, here are the skin colours I chose for Jayce and Viktor:

Looks off, right? These colours don't fit the overall piece at all. So what do we do?

Turn down the opacity! It's that easy, wahoo!

I went from 100 Opacity to 72 for this specific illustration. And look at that!

It's so much nicer already! Now you know what colours to use as your actual flats! Just repeat this with every other part of your illustration and you'll have a great starting point. :)

I really hope this was helpful! I'm not an actual teacher and I don't have a proper illustration degree, so some things might not be completely accurate, but I thought I'd try my hand at this anyways!

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Part One

Eddie walked through the door of Robin's bedroom cautiously.

"I don't know why I assumed that you'd be taking me to your house when you said that you're taking me home," Eddie said. "Silly me."

"I did tell you that house was my parents' house," Steve said, following him in.

"So, why aren't we there?" He asked.

"Because the bios are in town," Robin said.

"Bios?" Eddie asked.

"My biological parents," Steve replied.

"Yeah, I was wondering about them. I was starting to think they don't exist," Eddie said.

"They basically don't," Robin said and pointed to a pile of pillows by the window. "Especially in Steve's life."

"That sucks," Eddie said as he plopped onto the pillows with Robin and Steve.

"Their loss. Our gain," Robin grinned.

Melissa Buckley popped her head through the door. Eddie had met her at the door. She was very mellow and sweet. She didn't even give him the stink eye when he walked in. Instead, she hugged him and welcomed him right into her home.

"Oh, does anyone need any snacks?" Melissa asked.

"Oh, no, we're good, Mombie, thank you," Robin said.

"Oh, Steve, your room is still all set up, but I'm afraid Snuffles has been occupying it lately," she replied.

"Thanks, Mombie," Steve said.

"Are you alright with us being in here?" Eddie asked.

"Of course, I am," she laughed.

"Oh, she now knows all about me being a lesbian," Robin said.

"You're -"

"I don't know why she was so worried. She knows we're all about the love," Melissa said. "And the fact that in the early days of our marriages, we branched out with other people."

"You never said it was men and women, mother!" Robin exclaimed, rolling her eyes and smiling.

"Oh, your uncle should know, Eddie," Melissa said. "He was one of my lovers."

"What?!" Eddie shrieked.

"Oh, and he was excellent, too," Melisss sighed. "Really good with his hands - "

"Gah!" Eddie yelped and plugged his ears with his fingers. "Lalalalalala! I'm not listening!"

"You're scarring, Eddie, mombie," Robin said.

"Oh, I'll let you three to it, then," Melissa said and closed the door behind her.

"Okay, what the hell?" Eddie asked. "You know, I was okay with assuming that my uncle was basically a monk."

"How prude of you, Eddie," Robin cooed.

"You're a lesbian?" Eddie asked.

"Hm, I thought you knew," Robin said.

"Nope!" Eddie exclaimed.

"So, you don't know about either one of us?" Steve asked.

"You're a lesbian, too?" Eddie grinned.

"No, bisexual," Steve scoffed.

"Pardon?" He asked.

"I like men and women," Steve said, and then he turned to Robin. "I was pretty sure that he knew."

"Maybe the woman at the bar was wrong about flagging," Robin replied.

"I don't know. She seemed to know what she was talking about," Steve replied. "And I thought for sure that Eddie was flirting with me."

"What the hell are you guys talking about?" Eddie asked. "By the way, I'm cool with it all. . ."

"There's no way. . .no one calls someone "big boy" like that, and they're not flirting," Robin said.

"Maybe it's one of those situations," Steve whispered. "We should probably stop talking about it."

"Oh, hey, since it's your first time here, you get to pick the music," Robin said, pointing to her cassettes.

"Ooh, don't mind if I do," Eddie said and pulled the box closer to him. "Ooh. You got Bob Dylan. My mom was a fan."

"She had great tastes," Robin said and smiled when Eddie popped it in.

"Okay, what next?" Eddie asked.

Steve grinned and moved to his feet. He slowly began to untie Eddie's shoes before moving just as slowly to take them off. He kept the same pace when he took his socks off, keeping eye contact with Eddie.

"Seriously?" Robin sighed.

"What are you guys going to do to me?" Eddie asked, swallowing.

Robin rolled her eyes and pulled out a box.

"Pick a color, dingus," Robin said.

"Oh! You're painting my toenails," Eddie said.

"Well, you said that you wanted to know what we did when it's just the two of us," Robin said.

"Okay, can I do red and black?" Eddie asked.

"Of course," Steve said and began work on Eddie's feet.

"So, you two consider yourself like brother and sister?" Eddie asked as he took a magazine from Robin.

"Oh, no, that would ruin the plan," Robin said.

"We're basically platonic fiancées," Steve said.

"Well, almost fiancées," Robin said. "We're going to slowly manipulate Steve’s dad into giving us money for a wedding. We're going to take the money and give it to a worthy cause. We might just end up getting married for the hell of it, platonically, of course, but it's going to be the cheapest wedding ever. His dad would hate it."

"Mombie was against the plan at first," Steve said.

"And then she met his parents," Robin said. "Both of my parents are on board."

"As well as Claudia and Sue," Steve said.

"They meet up to discuss it, but they mostly just drink sangrias," Robin said. "And talk about. . .well, I don't know what they talk about."

"Jesus, are your parents really that bad?" Eddie asked as he flipped through the magazine.

"Yes," Steve and Robin said.

"Well, if you need any help, I'm your man," Eddie said, flashing his dimples.

"You know what would make your doe eyes pop?" Robin asked. "Eyeliner."

Eddie looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before shrugging.

"Alright."

"Yes!" Robin exclaimed and began to apply it.

"This magazine is really informative. Hey, Steve, do you mind me asking how you knew you were bisexual?" Eddie asked.

Robin had to stop applying the eyeliner because she suddenly started shaking with giggles.

"I don't mind it all - Robin, stop laughing!" Steve yelled and then sighed. "Well, apparently, it's just not very straight to practice kissing and practice having sex with a guy friend."

"Okay, well, I get the sex thing, but practice kissing with friends. . .doesn't everyone do that?" Eddie asked.

"No, and also like it? Also, no," Steve said.

"Oh, well. . ." Eddie said and looked away, thoughtfully, blushing, then he grinned. "Hell, I think I might be like you after all, big boy."

"One of us, one of us, one of us!" Robin and Steve chanted.

"You guys are freaks, I love it," Eddie laughed.

"Oh, Edward, you have no idea," Robin said.

"Should we?" Steve asked.

"Oh, I think we should," Robin said. "Eddie, do you want to be initiated into our coven?"

"Coven?" Eddie asked.

"We're wiccans," Steve grinned.

"Yeah, sure, why the fuck not?" Eddie laughed.

"Ooh! I get to try out my spell!" Robin exclaimed, clapping her hands. "And your potions and runes, Steven!"

The next thing, Eddie knew he was kneeling in the middle of Robin's room, surrounded by candles and very shirtless. Robin and Steve were both wearing black robes. Steve was kneeling in front of Eddie, painting runes on Eddie's chest and arms.

"We're kind of just making this shit up as we go along," Steve told Eddie.

"Obviously, that's clearly a dick you just painted," Eddie said, and Steve giggled.

The door opened, and Robert Buckley entered the room. Robin, Steve, and Eddie stared at him. He stared back. He set a fire extinguisher on Robin's desk.

"I thought I smelled smoke," Robert said. "Have fun."

"Thanks, Daddy," Robin and Steve said.

Just before he closed the door, Snuffles the orange tabby slipped onto the room.

"What's a Wiccan initiation without a cat?" Eddie asked with a grin.

Steve pulled out his potion. He pulled Eddie's hair back into a bun and started dabbing the potion behind his ears and on his throat. It smelled like heaven. He paused and glanced at Eddie's lips. Steve grinned before putting the potion on his own lips. Eddie stared at him in confusion. Steve cupped his face and kissed him, spreading the potion onto Eddie's lips. It also tasted like heaven. Steve tasted like heaven. Eddie let out a noise of disappointment as Steve pulled back.

"Woah! Head rush. Was that you or the potion?" Eddie asked. "What is that stuff?"

"You have to be a higher level to unlock that information," Steve said.

"Damn."

"That was completely unnecessary," Robin said and then grinned. "I can't wait until we're platonically married so I can call Eddie a whore for sleeping with my husband. It's going to be so dramatic."

Steve stood next to Robin as she opened her notebook, and they took each other's hands. Together, they started chanting in Latin. And when it was done, Steve happily wiped off the runes off Eddie's chest before presenting him with a temporary robe with promises of taking him out to pick out his own. In the meantime, Eddie was wearing Steve’s pink bathrobe. The three of them sat on Robin's window sill, hanging their feet outside. Robin and Steve sat on either side of Eddie.

"Do you think there are a lot more people like us out there in Hawkins?" Eddie asked.

"Definitely," Steve and Robin said, looking at him.

Eddie laid his head on Steve’s shoulder and intertwined their fingers. There came a sudden breeze, whipping through their hair. They smiled. They definitely felt magic in the air.

Part Three

[reallyromealone]

Title: oh hey a mate(s)

Chapter: one

Fandom: obey me

Pairing: demon brother's x male reader

Warnings: suggestive themes, readers got truama, internalized gender hatred, anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of being a breeding tool, self hate, reader doesn't really understand sex, sexual themes, omegaverse, male reader, mentions of mpreg

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

"HE STOLE THEM FROM ME!" (sisters name) Screeched out in a rage as she threw things around "they were supposed to be MY mates! And he stole them! That whore stole them!" She was hyperventilating at this point as her body shook, feeling robbed of her alphas.

Of her life, the thing she wanted more than anything.

"I know sweety but maybe we can set you up wit--"" I don't want someone else! I want the princes!"

And she was going to get them.

She swore it.

'fuck you (name)'

Holy shit this place was big.

God he felt under dressed, especially beside these alphas who were dressed so fancy and perfect.

The floors were marble and two grand staircases winded on each side and paintings that had to be centuries old hung on the walls "we will have one commissioned for you soon enough... Maybe one with us all" Belphegor yawned as he wandered the halls "for now, let's get you settled in" he said and looked to a nervous looking Leviathan who nodded.

(Name) Was nervous as he walked beside the demon who seemed to want to be anywhere but here "I-im sorry if I wasn't who you were expecting... I'll try and not step on your toes" (name) whispered, anxiously fiddling with his fingers and looked down "i-i dont-- fuck... I'm really nervous and anxious and just I don't really talk to omegas often so I'm just--" the demon seemed panicked and (name) felt relief flood through his veins as he pumped out calming pharamones for the Alpha "hey... I get it, if it's any consolation... I'm not great with people either-- hell I think this is the first time I ever left my families property!" He laughed a bit but Leviathan was shocked at his words "you never been into the capital or even your home town?" He asked genuinely and (name) shook his head "nah, my parents didn't trust me going out there-- you know how troublesome an Omega can be"

What the fuck? That's all Leviathan could think as he looked at the Omega worried "I- you're not troublesome?" He whispered and (name) just smiled "I try not to be" (name) giggled a bit as they continued to (name)s apartment, the Omega expecting a quaint bedroom but...

"I think we went to the wrong room.... This is awfully big" (name) said softly to the envy demon who looked confused "you like your apartment?" Asmodeus popped out from nowhere and pulled (name) close with a flirty grin "we had the butlers being your things in, don't worry we didn't let them unpack... Pharamones and all that ~" he pulled (name) into the apartment and (name) felt overwhelmed by all this "there's a nesting room there~ if you need help don't hesitate to ask"

"A-are you sure?"

"Sure of what?"

"That this is for me?"

"You are to be our mate, I personally wanted you with me but Luci wanted you to have your own space... Something about acclimating" his words teasing and (name) chuckled but cut short when his stomach growled and the two demons looked curious "oh yeah! Humans need to eat for survival!"

(Name) Felt embarrassed as he silently cursed his stomach for exposing him like this as the demons looked at one another in a silent conversation.

They were definitely having a sibling meeting later.

(Name) Dissociated during the rest of the evening, eventually ending back in the rooms he was given, the size of his old house if not a bit bigger...

Everything was pristine as he took out his belongings, his prized possessions and small hobbies to occupy him.

A few heirlooms and books and his childhood stuffed toy 'this will go in my nest' he thought as he looked at the nesting room doors, two ornate doors in a rose gold shade, the apartment all light colors unlike the rest of the palace.

It was a strange contrast, almost like they didn't know what to expect so they just made what they thought humans liked. It was funny really, demons trying to understand what humans wanted or needed as he was doing the same, wondering what these demons wanted or liked.

Getting up he went to the nesting room and was overwhelmed by the nesting supplies he was given, piles and piles of blankets and pillows and soft things, his purring could probably be heard from outside the apartment as he snuggled into them, a sense of safety he wasn't quite used to washing over him.

He was excited to make a large nest, spending half the night making it perfect for him to rest in and just not think about the fact he was to be mated on his next heat to seven strangers that were also fucking royalty! Well there goes not thinking about it because here he was!

Also his sister! Holy shit she was mad! And like at his wedding she will be there! Fuuck!

(Name) Was just sitting there head in hands as he processed the fact that within 24 hours he was now engaged and now in the public eye!

(Name) Curled up closer into his blankets and let out a shutter of a sigh, he wondered if he would be able to do the things he enjoyed before... Would he be allowed to garden? Would he have to dress more Omegan? Or would he be able to wear clothes that were comfortable?!

He needed to walk, movement to process this.

Getting up he walked out of his apartment and into the hall, dark and grand, ceilings at least 15 feet tall and paintings lined, some he recognized as the siblings and some unfamiliar as he walked around curiously.

Somehow he made it to the kitchen "I hope they don't mind..." (Name) Whispered as he sliced an apple, careful and gentle as his stomach growled a bit.

"Can I have some?" A voice startled him out of his thoughts causing him to slice his finger "shit!" The voice said and (name) looked to see Beelzebub who in turn looked a bit startled as he took (name)s bleeding finger and put it in his mouth, the Omega looking thoroughly concerned as Beelzebub sucked on the blood "I feel like this is incredibly unsanitary" (name) whispered worried and beez released his finger "demons saliva can heal amongst other things, depends on the demon really"

"Oh " (name) said dumbly as he looked at his wet but healed finger "what else does your saliva do?" He asked curiously and Beelzebub smiled at the others cute and curious expression "ah, well besides healing my saliva can work as an aphrodisiac if ingested!" (Name) Looked concerned and Beelzebub laughed "don't worry, it only works if I were to like make out with you or eat your ass!"

And now (name) was flustered as the gluttony demon kept laughing at his embarrassment "so why are you up so late?" Beelzebub asked after calming down and sealing some apple slices and cutting up some more, handing (name) an orange "just... It's stupid"

"Oh please!" Beelzebub pushed and (name) sighed "I'm just... I'm having trouble processing this stuff, it's stressful and like-- I never left my property let alone this! My sister wanted to be with you guys and she's already insufferable, this is just worse! I'm just paranoid that you guys are going to realize that like this was a mistake and reject me and like the fear of being an Omega in general! Will I be able to do the things i enjoyed before? Will I be a breeding tool?!" He was hyperventilating now as Beelzebub panicked "hey hey, calm down! It will be alright and-- no we aren't making you a breeding Omega.... shhh" beez tried to calm him as footsteps quickly made their way to the kitchen.

"What is happening?" Lucifer and the others seemed startled as the smell of distress was heavy in the kitchen "he's worried we will strip him of his rights and make him carry our young" Beelzebub explained as he lifted (name) into his arms and set him on the counter "were demons but we aren't monsters" Satan said disgusted and Asmodeus smiled "we would never do that unless it's what you're into~" he teased the Omega as they crowded him "I know it's an incredibly hard adjustment but know we mean well, it's literally impossible for us to not fall for each other" it's true soulmates would eventually fall for one another due to the bond "and we are sharing one mate so that means you have seven people to love you" mammon said in a rare moment of genuine care "what do you mean?"

"Oh yeah, he knows basically nothing about secondary gender or soulmates" Levi said softly and the demons looked horrified "well I know what we are doing tomorrow" Satan said simply and (name) looked ashamed and couldn't meet their eyes, feeling stupid for his lack of knowledge.

"Well his town is backwards" Belphegor yawned and wandered off back to bed now that the problem was solved "goodnight...."

(Name) Was led back to his room by Beelzebub and Asmodeus and looked confused when they put sweaters in his arms "the smell of your alphas will calm you~" Asmodeus said simply and the two wished him a good night.

And for once?

He sleped peacefully.

(Name) Spent the next few days learning about soulmates and secondary genders, the two interlocking "when your heat comes, it will be dangerous for you to not mate with your soulmate" (name) read the book in his off time, the book explaining how the bonding is key to not cause rejection symptoms or a drop, he definitely didn't want that. Fuck how does he have sex? Fuck.

Time to go figure that out, he really felt behind on this shit.

(Name) Made home in the library as he looked for any books that would aid him "Hmm? Looking for sex books ~ didn't know our omega was like that" Asmodeus seemed to love just appearing out of thin air and scaring (name) who dropped the book "i-i it's not like that!"

"Hmmm? And what is it about? Oh you're so cute when your flustered!" He cooed and (name) huffed "I am trying to figure out like, how sex works and stuff... I wasn't exactly taught... Just put on suppressants so my family could avoid it" he just constantly felt ashamed with them, their faces of realization and pity as (name) tried not to cry "well, if you like I could teach you~ don't worry I won't touch you where you don't like" Asmodeus could get used to his omega so flustered as he got closer, his alpha giddy at his mate being untouched "the first thing one should know is their body after all~"

"I- uh... I'm not sure..."

Asmodeus let his lips barely touch (name)s as he caged him against a bookshelf and smiled, his tail flickering and (name) seemed a bit startled by it All as the demon gently kissed him "that was... Uh.." "your first kiss?"

"Yeah..."

"Did you like it?"

(Name) Could only nod as the lust avatar giggled sweetly at his adorable Omega "oh, you're going to fit in nicely here~!" He doted on (name) a bit "don't worry darling, we won't do anything your not ready for but if you're willing... To experiment a bit, I'm always a summon away" and with that he was gone, (name) left with nothing more than the smell of his pharamones, sweet Jasmine and warm vanilla.

It wasn't till after lunch that Lucifer brought him to the gardens, a small greenhouse and a garden plot stood "we had it cleaned up, you said you liked gardening" he said simply and looked down at (name) who looked like he was given the potion of youth "really? Thank you so much..." (Name) Was releasing the happiest pharamones and Lucifer kept composure but god damn did that boost his ego as an alpha, making his mate happy.

"Just clean yourself off after you finish" Lucifer said calmly and (name) beamed at this "of course!"

(Name) Puttered in the greenhouse and began planting things, thankfully it was early in the season so he had time to make a nursery for plants "oh, sor--" (name) immediately shut up as he saw Belphegor sleeping in a sun beam, cozy and calm. Looking around (name) found his cape that Satan had made for him and covered the demon with it "it's still chilly" he whispered and went back to work, unaware the demon was awake and watching intently at the Omega who was carrying heavy pots and sacks of soil around.

(Name) Kept quiet for the Alpha, he must be so exhausted to fall asleep in a greenhouse of places so it would be best to let him rest! Eventually (name) moved outside, it was less chilly but a slight chill but movement will keep him warm! Using twine he found in the greenhouse he sectioned spots of the garden plots for various things like carrots and garlic amongst others, they were still in the nursery but it's good to get things ready now, he reasoned with himself.

"Your Highness! It's quite cold!" A servant panicked as she saw (name) in nothing more than a shirt and pants and apron, dirt on his cheek "don't worry! I'm alright!" He reasoned but she was not having it and removed her cape "it's not good for an Omega to be cold like this!"

Before she could drape the cape on (name), he felt fur on his shoulders as Mammon smiled with a warning "don't worry, he's warm" his eyes telling the servant to leave and (name) looked confused "oh hello!" (Name) Smiled at the demon who felt annoyed at how sweet the other was, his bond making his heart beat fast "Luci wanted me to take you into town so get ready" he grumbled and (name) nodded, a simple smile on his face as he wandered to the palace "where's your cape anyways?! It's freezing for mortals!" He chastised and (name) chirped "Belphegor was sleeping and I wanted him to be cozy!" (Name) Couldn't explain why he felt so calm and comfortable with the princes but they made him feel safe, even if they were sometimes like angry chihuahuas.

"You're weird" mammon said with no bite as they walked to (name)s area.

The tailors and seamstresses worked tirelessly to put together some clothes for (name) and his new class, the maids commenting about how the seamstress always kept embroidered sleeves on hand as the brothers always tore clothes during training--- well save for Asmodeus and Belphegor who couldn't be fucked to do stuff like that.

(Name) Felt regal, a beautiful vest made of silk and embroidered with birds and roses and a linen powers shirt and nice pants and expensive boots "you look wonderful your Highness!" A maid commented, (name) growing fond of his personal maids who cheered him in, them all being mated and married betas.

(Name) Was curious as he looked around the city, never really interacting with so many people who looked at he two in awe, the guards keeping a fair distance as he looked at stalls "you seriously never been in a city?" Mammon said incredulously and (name) looked confused "no? It's not right for an Omega to be by himself around alphas, I would be a temptation" reiterating his parents words and Mammon was horrified at the omegas genuine belief that HE was the problem and not alphas who couldn't keep their hands to themselves "well we are unpacking that later"

He didn't even want to get into the family thing, remembering the chat he had with his brothers when (name) had his meltdown and the acceptance that their Omega came from a very problematic living situation but he seemed to be acclimating well.

Or at least he hoped.

Mammon was confused as (name) handed him a stuffed bunny "what is this?" He raised an eyebrow from behind his circular sunglasses "well we didn't get to actually court because of being soulmates so I got you all courting gifts" he chirped out innocently, remembering what he was taught by Lucifer and deciding to put it in action though he seemed to have gotten it backwards as it was supposed to be the Alpha who gave the courting gifts.

"I- uh... Thank you?"

(Name) Seemed pleased as they continued their walk through the cities market, a giant hub of the equally giant city as Mammon stared at the bunny that was made of fabric the same color as his eyes, a small detail that made him flustered.

He noticed (name) budgeting, a soft smile on his face "you know we have basically endless money, right?" Well mammon didn't, he was cut off and put on a strict budget but (name)? He still had his money privileges "that's your money, this is so much!" To (name) it was a lot of money as he did the budgeting of the house back with his family, this was ten times of what they made in a year! "I am fine with this"

Hell, how did they get the exact opposite of them?!

A nervous Omega who was innocent and naive and sweet as honey!

"Oh you are absolutely precious!" Asmodeus cooed at the stuffed rabbit that fit in his hands "I hadn't even thought of courting!" He said with exaggerated sadness and (name) watched the others alphas reactions, though it wasn't the fanciest courting gift, it was a genuinely thoughtful one.

"He was worried about spending the money, he literally budgeted it" mammon groaned and Lucifer snorted "you could do well to learn that" he said as (name) seemed reminded and handed him back the coin bag, the Omega barely dented it "I got a few things for my hobbies but I brought back the change!" He said sweety and Lucifer had cute aggression at that moment as (name) looked at him with so much pride "you know you could have spent all of this right?" He said a little slow, (name) nodding "but that would be rude, I'm spending all your money without care... I don't like that"

Seriously, how did they manage to be fated with the sweetest Omega?!

"He didn't even but himself actual things for himself! He bought things to make us things!" Mammon groaned out but they all knew he equally swooned at the fact their Omega was so sweet.

But also he didn't buy himself anything, Asmodeus has had to bring him to eat and Beelzebub would put food on it.

"Rural Omega culture is different than cities, they're treated more as a commodity" a maid explained to Asmodeus one night as she helped him get ready for bed, she herself being an alpha from the boonies "an inconvenience would be a better word though, everything your saying shows he was treated like how my love got treated, need to make them feel genuinely valued" she went to explain how omegas need regular scenting and assurance to keep mentally regulated and (name) probably never had that.

Which would explain why he seemed like he was constantly waiting for the next shoe to drop despite growing used to them.

Like it was all going to go away.

His dreams were often that, every night he dreamt of waking up in his old room as his sister lived the life she wanted and he was stuck in that musty bedroom where he would rot.

"Your dreams are noisy" Belphegor mumbled as he crawled into bed with (name) and held him close, pumping out pharamones as he thought smugly about the fact he's technically been in bed with (name) before the others. (Name) Snuggled in his chest and physically relaxed, chirping in his sleep as he clung helplessly to him and he was hooked.

He wanted this more and was already annoyed he would have to share with his brothers.

(Name) Let his mates to be plan the wedding though he and Beelzebub thought of food together, the demon horrified at how little foods he got to experience and made him try everything for the wedding and smiled at his happy face with good food "these are mirangue cookies! Like eating plaster that loves you!" He exolained and (name) basically melted at now delicious it was.

Beelzebub was more than happy to share food with him, his alpha wanting the Omega to be well fed to carry his pups after all.

They were all anxious for mating, their bond slowly making them VERY intense about (name) who after weeks, finally sat close to Satan as he read with him though (name) did struggle a bit "omegas being taught to read is laughable, I taught myself as much as I could" he explained and that's when Satan decided he would read for (name), the two spending an hour or two in the library reading together like how Lucifer spent his time teaching (name) new things when he wasn't busy or just dragging him along with things.

(Name) Was always well behaved, he thought of (name)s family and how they were... How did this come out of THAT.

But now, (name) had one worry...

Would he invite his family to his wedding?

[writtenfangirl]

Madness

I wrote this so long ago and then abandoned it because I didn’t know if the ending was satisfactory or not. I thought it would have a greater plot as well but when I couldn’t find it, I was dissatisfied until I reread it and realized the prose was too good not to publish.

Fluff but also a little bit of angst if you squint hard enough.

In which Benedict Bridgerton finally reveals the truth.

She was beautiful. Too beautiful, if Benedict was being perfectly honest with himself. Not the kind of beauty that had him picking up a paint brush and painstakingly striking an easel with lovely swirls of color but the kind of beauty that distracted him, made him brood in a dim corner of the room, watching the little twists of her mouth and the subtle way she arched a brow. Beauty to the point of distraction, like spending hours watching shooting stars dash across the night sky, not realizing as dawn approached on the horizon.

It was utterly maddening.

She was utterly maddening.

How was he meant to live, to exist and breathe, to witness such great beauty and yet have none of the capacity, the right, to keep it?

Just a glance from her, a single curve of her lips, and Benedict could feel his faith in God strengthening as easily as he could deny the Lord’s existence. Only a benevolent God could create such ecstatic beauty and yet no benevolent God could exist in this world if Benedict had to bear the cruelty of Y/N’s indifference.

Maddening.

He sighed, the sound bereft as he continued to watch her charm the eligible men of the ton. She had a veritable cabal of men gathered around her and if any other debutant had been in her position, they surely would have been overwhelmed by now.

But not Y/N.

Never Y/N.

With her head held high and her smile demure, she directed the men as easily as if she was holding court. A slight clearing of the throat and already, someone had a glass of lemonade in their hand while a flap of her hand would have the men falling over themselves in an attempt to get her a chair.

A queen holding court, indeed.

Benedict rolled his eyes at the man to her right, who practically shoved at the man on his left in order to catch Y/N’s attention. Not that it really mattered though, especially not when Y/N’s attention was focused on Benedict.

Even from across the room, the tension between them felt palpable. Exhilarating. It always had been with Y/N. Thick and smooth, the connection between them as tangible as their own beating hearts. Just a shared look between them and the world fell silent, the edges of his vision practically darkening at the edges until he saw only her.

Beautiful. Even as her face contorted with hurt for the briefest of seconds, her eyes pulling away from him and returning to the crowd of men that surrounded her.

Benedict gritted his teeth, the only sign of annoyance he let himself show.

“I see you are not quite so enamored with our diamond.”

Benedict’s head whipped to the left, finding Lady Danbury watching him with those shrewd eyes of hers. The old crone had her cane gripped tightly in her hands and Benedict fought his grimace at the phantom pain that shot up from his ankles. The dowager countess had a terrible habit of whacking gentlemen she didn’t like with that sturdy cane of hers and Benedict had felt the brunt of that pain far too many times for his liking.

Still, as a gentleman, he couldn’t very well ignore the woman. It would have been terribly rude of him to and it went against every fiber of the etiquette that had been drilled to him as a child.

He spared Y/N another glance before he spoke. “You think all those men enamored with her?”

“I think they think themselves enamored by her,” Lady Danbury said. “She is quite a beauty and accomplished too, I hear. Are you acquainted with the young lady?”

He had been, when he was young. As recently as a few months ago, Benedict had counted Y/N as one of his dearest friends but with everything that transpired between them…

“We are familiar with one another.”

Lady Danbury arched a brow, directing her attention back to Y/N. She was animatedly speaking with Anthony and Colin, the only time the entire evening where her smile didn’t seem a little bit forced. “Your brothers seem friendly with her. Why aren’t you?”

Because he was a stupid, bloody, idiot who didn’t know how to keep his damn mouth shut, that’s why.

But his pride would never let him say that, especially not in front of Lady Danbury. “We are familiar with each other.” He repeated, voice tight.

Lady Danbury’s eyes flickered. “I seem to recall your mother telling me about how you and the Lady Y/N were thick as thieves not so long ago.”

Bloody hell, the old crone was relentless. He didn’t want to talk about his and Y/N’s falling out, especially not with her.

He suddenly whirled, cocking his head to the side. “Oh, I believe I hear someone calling me.”

No one was calling him but not even his impeccable manners could make him stay.

Lady Danbury harrumphed. “I may be old, boy, but I am not deaf.”

“Definitely hear someone calling me.” Benedict even cupped a hand, placing it on the side of his mouth before he yelled a quick, “I’ll be right there!” He turned back to Lady Danbury, who was looking at him as if she knew his claims were a lie. “Lady Danbury, if you’ll excuse me.”

The dowager countess simply gave Benedict a knowing look yet let him go.

He ducked into the crowd towards… bloody hell he couldn’t find anyone he would rather talk to. His brothers were still off speaking with Y/N and he didn’t feel like speaking with his mother, who would likely hound him about his fight with Y/N. Which left the last person of their party, Eloise. A quick scan of the room revealed his sister in the other side of the room, conspiratorially whispering to her best friend, Penelope Featherington.

He zoomed towards them, turning his back on Y/N and Lady Danbury.

Eloise caught his eye as he approached and her lips pursed in displeasure. “Why do you look as if you’re expecting me to bail you out of a horrible situation.”

“Can’t I see my favorite sister with joy in my face without being suspected of ill intent?”Benedict said with a grin before bowing to Penelope, who returned the gesture with her own curtsy.

Penelope ducked her head to suppress a giggle.

Eloise rolled her eyes at him. “What do you want?”

“To ask you why you’re sulking in a corner instead of dancing despite—“ he pulled at the dance card in her wrist, every single line filled with names that were unfamiliar to him. “Did you put fake names in your dance card?”

Eloise snatched her wrist back. “Yes. I thought that with Y/N grabbing the attention of so many of the gentlemen, I would be spared the embarrassment of having to entertain any gentlemen tonight. Unfortunately, I was wrong.”

Benedict turned to Penelope. “How many approached her?”

“Six,” Penelope smirked, “and those six quickly turned right back around.”

“Well with a full dance card, I’m not at all surprised.”

Eloise rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Spare me the lecture, brother. I’m sure I’ll hear enough from mother tonight.”

“She caught you?”

“After Eloise turned down the sixth one, Lady Violet began to suspect,” Penelope explained.

Benedict grinned. “When have you known me to lecture you?”

She gave him a saccharine smile, the kind that Benedict always knew would end with her barbed words. “Aren’t you meant to be fawning over Y/N? You’d done it most of our life.”

He bristled at her words.

Penelope shot them a curious look. “You never told me you were acquainted with the lady?”

“Hadn’t I?” Eloise frowned. “Lady Y/L/N’s family and ours have been acquainted for ages. Of course, she rarely ever came to London and if it hadn’t been for her father’s recent passing she wouldn’t have had a season at all. Mama had held hope that perhaps one of my dear brothers would begin to take some responsibility and marry her.” She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper that was so loud, it still reached Benedict’s ears. “Personally, I always thought Benedict would offer. He and Y/N had a special bond growing up. Even Daphne thinks so.”

Benedict had never hit a woman before but perhaps, just this once, excuses could be made for one’s sisters.

“So, well acquainted then,” Penelope said with a slight smile.

“I do recall Benedict pining after Y/N for years,” Eloise mused, uncaring as Benedict’s mood soured. “You never did tell me why it is you suddenly became estranged”

“Not that it’s any of your business.” He grumbled.

Eloise batted eyes innocently. “Irritable today, aren’t you, brother? Could it possibly be because of the cadre of men that hound every one of Y/N’s footsteps?”

“I have changed my mind. Francesca is now my favorite sister.”

“I love you too, Benedict,” she all but grinned.

He turned his attention back to Y/N, who, to his surprise, had taken her leave.

“She’s in the garden, if you wish to speak to her,” Eloise said, noting his wandering eyes and nodding towards the open veranda at the side.

“What gave you the impression that I would like to speak to her?” He tried to do his best nonchalant impression but not even Benedict was convinced of his own performance.

Eloise simply rolled her eyes at him before tugging Penelope’s arm. “With Y/N taking her respite, I imagine there will be a sudden influx of gentlemen who would like to dance. Let us make ourselves scarce.” And she pulled Penelope along, the red head offering Benedict an apologetic look.

He glanced at the crowd once again before letting his feet carry him through the veranda and out towards the garden. There were still many people milling about outside that granted them protection from scandal but it was much more intimate than the loud din of the ballroom.

The night was cool, the spring air serene compared to the humidity of the ballroom.

He spied Y/N, her back turned against the door. Upon hearing his approach, she sighed. “Good sir, if you did not understand me, I wish to be al—“ she turned and her words died at her lips at the sight of him. “Oh. It’s you.”

She looked even lovelier up close. She always did. Whether dressed in a simple frock with her long hair flowing down her back or dressed ornately with jewels adorning her, she always looked lovelier up close.

“What do you want, Benedict,” Y/N said, dropping that societal mask she employed inside.

“To apologize.”

She shook her head. “There is nothing to apologize for. You asked for my hand under false pretenses, I rejected you. End of story.“

“Under false pretenses?” He echoed, his own tone turning sharp. “You think my proposal to be insincere? Is that why you rejected me?”

“I did not think it insincere, I knew it to be insincere. I heard you and the Lady Violet discussing me. I heard when you declared your intention to ask for my hand in marriage simply because she had asked you to.”

Oh.

Oh.

He remembered then, the conversation he had with his mother right before he proposed.

“Propose to her,” Violet had urged just as breakfast had been served, with only Benedict and Violet dining.

“I am not even courting her, mama,” he replied exasperatedly. It had been far too early in the morning to entertain his mother’s insistence on seeing him wed to Y/N. She’d pestered him about it in one form or another even before the Y/L/Ns had come to visit the Bridgertons and Benedict knew she would not stop until he and Y/N were formally engaged.

But Y/N had just ended her mourning period for her father. And though societal mandates dictated that it was perfectly reasonable for Benedict to ask for her hand in marriage, he knew how deeply she mourned the man, especially since his death had placed her in such a precarious position. The late patriarch of the Y/L/N family had been fond of his only child, even if she had been born a girl. And Y/N had loved him, even if his death left her and her mother saddled with financial debt despite coming from the longest line of barony in England.

“What does it matter that you are not courting?” Violet demanded. “You have known her since you were both children. You’ve been courting her all your life.”

“Mama, please leave it well enough alone.”

“What is it that you do not like about her?” She insisted. “She is beautiful and accomplished and you have known each other your whole lives. Any young man would be fortunate to be bound to her in marriage.”

“I never said anything that would imply otherwise.”

“Then why do you refuse to ask her for her hand in marriage? Doing so would spare her a season in London and limit their financial troubles.” And then she had gasped in indignation. “Or is their financial troubles the very reason why you refuse? I never raised you to be avaricious!”

Bloody hell. “I am not avaricious, mother. I do not care about her dowry or lack thereof!”

“Then what is it? Do not tell me it is because you do not love her. I have seen the way you look at her.”

Benedict had eyed his fork, had wondered if perhaps, it would be a better to shove it in his ears than listen to his mother’s hullabaloo.

Instead he took a scone, spreading a generous layer of clotted cream and jam so his hands had something to do rather than maim himself.

“And how is it I look at her, mother?” He drawled.

“The same way your father used to look at me.”

At that he had paused, scone half-raised to his mouth. He hadn’t known what to say anymore. Mentions of his own father had always been capable of silencing his mind.

Finally, he had decided on telling her the truth, that his mother may finally stop pestering him.

“Asking Y/N for her hand in marriage had always been the plan, mother,” Benedict relented. “I was simply waiting for the perfect moment.”

Violet smiled at her son kindly. “There are no such thing as perfect moments, dearest. Only moments that can be made perfect. And whether you ask her later or tomorrow or next week, that moment will be perfect by virtue of you asking.”

She was right, of course. Violet Bridgerton was so rarely incorrect especially in matters of the heart and love.

Benedict had given her a smile, and said, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Well, since you so graciously asked me to, I shall propose to the Lady Y/N, if only to make you happy.”

That must have been what Y/N heard. Not the whole story but the end, when Benedict had teased his mother.

Now he was convinced that God existed and that he must be cruel. Only the machinations of a cruel God could have lined up the timing perfectly.

Y/N’s eyes flickered as she regarded him. “I do not wish to bind you in marriage with someone you do not hold any affection for. You have fulfilled your promise to your mother and have asked for my hand. I rejected you. We no longer have any obligations with one another. Good night.” She made a move to pass him, to walk back to the ballroom to her gaggle of men but Benedict’s hand shot up, gripping her arm and keeping her to him.

His hands were gloved and even Y/N’s arms were sheathed in silk. And though he had never felt gloves to be particularly offensive, he wished to burn the ones that covered their hands. If only so he could feel her smooth skin beneath his fingers.

The heady scent of her perfume wafted through his senses. She smelled divine, like walking through a garden of roses under the cover of moonlight as the stars twinkled above his head. Utterly mouthwatering, and capable of driving even the sanest of men into insanity. The scent of distraction.

Always so distracting.

Benedict forced his mouth to speak before his brain could forget the words he needed to say. “Do you think so little of me? Capable of such cruelty especially when it comes to you.”

Y/N’s brows met, a flash of pain in her eyes and then it was gone. “It is the opposite, really. I think the world of you, Benedict. Only a gentleman would offer to marry a girl he has no obligations to simply because of her precarious position in life. You are an honorable man and any woman would be lucky to call you their husband. It is why I cannot accept your proposal, not when you do not love me. Not when there is no one on this world more deserving of love than you.”

Benedict frowned at her. “Why do you continue to insist that I do not love you?”

“Because you do not!” She pulled away from him, wrenching her hand from his grasp. Her eyes were pure anguish as she looked at him and the very sight of her pain had him staggering back. “If you truly held any affection for me, I would know. I have studied you all our lives, Benedict. And in all the time we shared together, you had never shown any affection for me beyond that of a friend. Your proposal hurt, Benedict. I have loved you in every way a man could be loved for so long and for you to ask for my hand in marriage out of pity—“ She choked, eyes widening as if she didn’t mean to say the things she’d said.

“You love me?” He echoed, heart beating quickly in his chest. He wondered, briefly, if his fast beating heart marks the day he really lived. If Y/N’s confession had been the reason he truly felt alive for the first time in his life.

Her face crumpled in pain as she stepped back. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have said those things. Please take your leave, Benedict. That I may salvage whatever scraps of my dignity is left.”

But Benedict did no such thing.

Instead he took her hands and lowered himself into a kneel, setting his eyes upon her. The arching light of the manor spilled over the veranda casted her in a soft glow that took his very breath away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in alarm and whatever pain she held there was washed away by her surprise. “Benedict, what are you doing?”

“Begging you for forgiveness.”

“What? Benedict, get up.”

But he held firm, his determination cementing his knees to the ground. “Forgive me, Y/N, for my grave transgressions against you. That you had ever lived your life doubting my affections for you, or wondering if I cared for you as more than a friend are sins I will carry with me to my last breath. It will be my great shame that I had not made it abundantly clear that I love you. Because I do love you. Most ardently.”

“Benedict, get up. This is madness—“

“You are right. It is madness. The way I feel for you would drive the sanest of people into lunacy. But if loving you is madness then I don’t ever wish to be sane.”

Her eyes gleamed silver with unshed tears that threatened to fall from her pretty eyes. “B-But that morning, the day you proposed—“

“I did not propose to you out of pity for you, I did it out of pity for me. I needed to put myself out of my misery and finally marry the only girl I ever had the privilege of falling in love with rather than continue pining after you in secret.”

She let out a a laugh through her tears, the sound like bells chiming during a storm. Light and beautiful despite the pouring rain that threatened to drown it out. “Ask me again.”

His heart leapt to his throat, pounding so quickly he struggled to get the words out. But they came nonetheless, the words clear and betraying none of his anxiety. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

[rinky-dinky-dink]

Star Sanses But There's More Of Them

Figured I would make a sort of master post for my Star Sanses interpretation! This is just an idea I'm playing around with, I don't plan on making a proper storyline for them at the moment. Just me exploring characters!

Long post ahead-

General:

All five members have star badges, per Blue's insistence ("So they look more like a team!" Ink liked the idea of them all sharing a design element, and Sugarplum thought the idea was fun, so Dream and Red were outvoted). The badges are equippable items to give each member a bit of a boost in combat (exact stats have yet to be decided).

Combat:

The five of them end up a pretty efficient team in fights, especially against Nightmare's Gang (plus Error sometimes). Even when Dream is occupied fully with Nightmare, and Ink's attention is on Error - Blue, Red, and Sugarplum manage to hold their own even as incodes. Combat roles (per the rules of DnD, for no real reason) are as follows:

Dream is the leader, he maintains party focus and morale, and generally decides the strategy going into a fight. His ability to sense the feelings of others allows him to monitor his teammates even during combat, so he can call for a retreat if necessary. (Switches to/also serves controller role, when needed.)

Ink is the group's striker, he's fast and he hits hard with precision, but it can be difficult for him to focus on more than one enemy at a time. Stays up close to the opponents, falls back behind the others on occasion to refill his paints or regain his bearings. (When fully necessary, he can use his brush to take broader strokes and serve as controller with color coded AoE attacks. Can serve as leader in extremely rare situations, but that's not nearly as fun, so he's content to let Dream do it.)

Blue is the defender, he's the tankiest of the group despite his shorter stature. He has the highest base defense of the group's three incodes, since he's essentially a Papyrus. Not much aggression in combat, preferring to help cover the others as they attack. (Can switch to striker role, if necessary.)

Red is the controller of the group, his bones and blasters let him cover a wide area from a safer distance. His stats still aren't great, so he hangs back from up close combat, and relies on Blue to help maintain the distance, especially when he gets tired and needs a bit of time to recover.

Sugarplum is also a controller, technically speaking. He focuses less on direct combat and more on effects, usually ACTing to lower an opponent's AT, DF, or speed. He also hangs back from direct fighting most of the time, and heals the others (mostly Blue) when their HP gets too low.

General Team Dynamics:

Dream: The leader of the group, as agreed by everyone else. He's friendly and easy to get along with, so he serves as a good "face" for the team. (Ink also thinks Dream having his own "gang" is a fun parallel to Nightmare!) Keeps the group on track when on missions, when the others' antics (affectionate) threaten to veer them off course. He's nervous about the responsibility this sort of role comes with, and whether or not his aura is skewing his teammates' evaluation of him as a leader, but he's determined to do his best.

Ink: Local menace. Bastard. Usually the cause/intigator of the team's distractions. Here to have a good time, occasionally at the expense of others. Sends cursed memes to the team groupchat at 3am. Luckily the others don't mind his sense of humor (Red thinks he's funny as hell sometimes), and Blue's general enthusiasm usually just serves as fuel to his fire. Will randomly give his teammates a thoughtful gift (a trinket he found somewhere that reminded him of them), and then steal food off their plate before they can say "thank you." Overall he's having a good time, and the others have just accepted this weird eldritch paint skeleton on their team.

Blue: Underswap Sans! As peppy as ever, always there to cheer on his friends and tell them he believes in them. Tends to get caught up in his own excitement sometimes, but means well! His ability to befriend even the more hostile residents of the multiverse makes him the glue of the team, keeping everyone together and on the same page even when Dream and Ink argue, or Red is a bit too abraisive. Since being exposed to the multiverse and joining the team, he's changed his focus from being a royal guard back home, to being a hero alongside his friends. There are people to be helped, and he's found the recognition he's always wanted but couldn't quite achieve back home. He's still technically a sentry back in Snowdin, and still has to return relatively frequently to keep the whole multiverse thing under wraps, but his brother helps cover for his absence. (Papyrus isn't super fond of the whole concept, especially not Ink, but he supports his brother 100%.)

Red: Underfell Sans! The designated grump of the group, he still hasn't really shaken off the defensive habits he learned from back home. The "tough guy" of the Stars, he's generally not a bad guy once you get past that wall he keeps up. Is steadily improving, unlearning a lifetime of defensiveness and distrust is difficult. (His jacket is heavy, and he would drop it over a teammate's shoulders in lieu of a weighted blanket if they needed it though. Just don't go spreading those kinds of rumors about him.) Has not told his brother about his multiverse-hopping escapades with the other Stars, partially out of worry that his universe will start bleeding out into more peaceful ones. He's dodging that particular conversation with everything he has.

Sugarplum: Underlust Sans! Doesn't really live in his own universe anymore, spends 99% of his time in the Omega Timeline. Doesn't like to talk about his universe, dodges any questions in relation to it (luckily in multiversal etiquette it's considered rude to ask questions about someone's universe, unless invited to do so). Didn't start out as much of a fighter, and still doesn't quite match up to the other Stars, but he can hold his own in a pinch. All the fighting and training and running around burns energy, which helps keep his soul from acting up. Wine aunt energy, always up to date on drama in the OT. Generally pretty chill, with an easygoing attitude that lets him help Blue smooth things over when conflicts arise in the team. Drinking buddies with Red, can relate to having a messed up universe he'd rather not discuss.

~~~~~~~~~

Dream -> @/jokublog Ink -> @/comyet Blue -> @/popcornpr1nce Red -> @/underfell Sugarplum -> @/nsfwshamecave

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 The Boy Next Door.

Spencer Reid x Neighbor!reader

series masterlist

Summary: Making friends with your neighbor is one of the best things that ever happened to you, but falling in love with him? not so much.

Words: 4,1k.

Warnings & Tags: this is part of a series, check the masterlist to make sure you are in the correct chapter. painter!reader. lack of communication. the reader has a cat. two idiots so in love. bittersweet. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I am very excited about this, long live friends to lovers and being Spencer's neighbor (my dream).

Being a neighbor to someone like Spencer Reid had been a blessing since the first day you packed boxes of your stuff into the apartment next to his. He was kind and handsome, very much so, if you were honest. Smart but reserved, even a little shy if you looked at him too much. But most importantly, he was the kind of neighbor who would never complain about your cat, who seemed to have a particular fondness for his balcony. Whether it was knocking over his potted plants or staring curiously at his fish tank, your feline’s antics never elicited more than a gentle laugh or a patient shrug. He would simply return your wayward pet with a soft knock at your door, holding it in his arms like it was the most precious thing in the world, while you apologized profusely, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

What started as brief exchanges, usually you stammering out apologies while he reassured you it was no trouble, gradually became longer conversations. The simple, polite “Hi, this is my cat, I’m so sorry” turned into casual talks about your day or his work, which he always spoke about in vague terms. And you, feeling so guilty for the inconvenience your cat had caused, decided to bake him cookies as a peace offering. They didn’t turn out quite as you’d hoped, slightly burnt around the edges, but Spencer didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he complimented their colorful sprinkles and icing, likening them to a painting by a famous artist. His sincerity disarmed you, and before you knew it, you were chatting about your love for art while he stroked your cat, his expression soft and attentive as though he’d known you forever.

So you didn't question anything and started to think of him as a friend. His nice actions with you were enough, and it was always good to have new friends, especially when they lived so close to your home.

It turned out that being Spencer's friend was a thousand times better than just being his messy neighbor, and it gave you some new things. Like a copy of the key to his apartment so you could water his plants and feed his fish when he was away at work. Plus, full access to his library, full of books with names you could barely pronounce, whenever you wanted, along with his coffee maker, which was so much better than yours, and was the perfect complement to a lecture in his comfortable sofa.

Books on philosophy, complex sciences, and psychological theories you had never heard of in your life. Each one had a colored heart-shaped post-it that Spencer had borrowed from your collection: pink for the ones you would love, yellow for the ones that might entertain you for a few minutes, red for the ones you wouldn't like at all, and purple for the ones that were in other languages, but he could translate for you if you just mentioned it. His dedication to introducing you to the world of reading was so great that he even convinced you to paint some bookmarks for him. And you took him so seriously that you made one for each of his favorite books, with paintings inspired by their contents.

Being Spencer's neighbor and friend meant having a shoulder to lean on while he helped you pay your bills and tried to fit your tight budget to cover your expenses. It always ended with two empty coffee cups on your kitchen table, your big fake smile as you tried to hold back the urge to scream because your art wasn't giving you enough to survive, his hands caressing your back and reassuring you that everything was going to be okay, that you could count on his help and his wallet if you needed it. And somehow, the next day, one of your paintings would mysteriously sell, and a bag of food would appear for your cat, as if by magic. You never had to ask, he always seemed to know when you needed a little extra help, always appearing with a gentle smile and a quiet offer.

It was one of those days when you opened the door, your hands still covered in paint, when you saw him standing there, holding a small bag of groceries. “I know what you’re doing, and I appreciate it, but it’s really not necessary,” you said, embarrassed. You couldn’t hide the blush creeping up your neck as you set the paintbrush down and gestured to the cluttered table full of half-finished canvases. You knew what he was up to—he’d done it before, slipping in to make sure you had enough to eat and that your cat had food.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, as though trying to figure out how to explain himself without embarrassing you. “I…I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” he started, looking anywhere but directly at you, “but I bought a bunch of food, and honestly, I won’t be able to eat it all. I have to work late all week, and it’ll go bad before I have a chance to use it. I thought…maybe you could use it?” He gave a half-smile, hoping it would soften the situation.

You blinked, surprised at how considerate he was being. Spencer wasn’t the type to try and make you feel bad, and you knew he was trying to help without overstepping. It wasn’t about charity, it was simply his way of offering support because he cared. You couldn’t help but smile at his sincerity, even if you felt a bit embarrassed about the situation.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said gently, trying to ward off the guilt that crept up on you. But he was already shaking his head, that familiar, apologetic look in his eyes.

“I know, I know,” he said quickly. “It’s just…I hate wasting food.” He paused for a moment, as if considering something. “And if you want, I can help organize everything in your fridge. You’re probably running low on space with all the art supplies and other things. I can make room for the stuff so it doesn’t go to waste.”

You glanced over at the chaotic state of your kitchen and couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound both self-deprecating and amused. It was so true. Still, the thought of Spencer Reid—neat, meticulous Spencer—navigating your messy kitchen was both endearing and mildly mortifying.

“Okay,” you relented, wiping your hands on a towel. “That would actually be helpful. But don’t judge me for the mess, okay? It’s been…a lot lately.”

His face lit up with a small, genuine smile, his love for organization clear in the way his posture straightened. “I promise,” he said, his tone almost teasing, “no judgment.”

As he carefully unpacked the groceries, you found yourself talking without meaning to, your words spilling out like the colors on your canvas. “It’s just been hard,” you admitted, your voice faltering slightly. “I’ve been applying for jobs left and right, but nothing’s coming through. And art…well, it’s not exactly paying the bills right now. I’m barely getting by again.”

Spencer paused, a container of strawberries in his hands, and turned to look at you. His brown eyes were soft with concern and something else, something that felt like quiet reassurance. He placed your favorite fruit on the counter with care before speaking.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft but steady, “the last time we talked, you mentioned you used to babysit.” His words caught your attention, making you pause as you glanced over at him, unsure of where he was going with this. “Well, JJ—my friend at work—was just saying that she’s looking for a babysitter. She’s been trying to find someone reliable for a while, and I thought…well, maybe you’d be interested.”

You blinked, unsure whether you’d heard him right. Babysitting? It seemed like a lifetime ago since you’d done anything like that. You hesitated for a moment, running a hand through your hair. “I used to be a nanny when I was fifteen,” you said, feeling the weight of those words. “But, I’m not sure…I mean, I’m not exactly the same person I was back then, and I haven't interacted with kids in a while.”

Spencer’s lips curved into a reassuring smile, the kind that made you feel like you could take on the world if he believed in you. “I think you’d be great at it,” he said, his tone steady and confident. “And it wouldn’t have to be full-time. Just a few hours here and there, whenever you have the time. Besides,” he added, his smile turning a little playful, “I’m their godfather, so I’d be around if you ever need help.”

The idea of him being there, silently supporting you as he always did, made the idea seem less daunting and even a little tender, almost familiar. You nodded before you realized what you were agreeing to.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll think about it.”

His hand rested lightly on your shoulder then, his touch warm and grounding. When you looked up at him, his eyes were filled with a quiet intensity that made your breath hitch.

The possibility of refusing anything he asked you to do, with that perfect face that often reminded you of a tender deer, was impossible, and you had learned that over time. Just like the fact that it was completely forbidden to say out loud all the things you thought when you saw him. No extra sweet words, no overly long hugs, no thinking about the kiss you wanted to give him when he started to babble. And certainly no telling him how much you loved him, not when his gentle presence in your life was already more than you could have ever hoped for.

Being in love with someone like Spencer Reid was no blessing. Especially when his door was right next to yours and it almost seemed like you lived in the same apartment. Eating breakfast together when he wasn't out on a case for work, watching him make your favorite pancakes, and putting up pink candles to pretend it was your birthday when you were feeling too sad, and even a funny tuna cake for your cat's birthday. It was all too detailed, intimate, and personal to feel absolutely nothing for so long. Watching him slowly fall asleep on the couch while you watched a ridiculously romantic movie that you chose and he accepted because he was too tired to discuss it. He looked so relaxed, every one of his features softened, forcing you to run and get your notebook to sketch him, because he was a complete work of art. The same situation happened a thousand times; you almost had a whole notebook dedicated to him. But obviously he didn't know that, because he didn't know a lot of things.

And you were okay with that, even though it felt terrible to have to deprive a genius like him of so much information his brain wasn't even expecting.

Anything was better than watching him avoid you in the hallway, or worse, with you having to move somewhere else.

You could stand the love and desire building up inside you, and you did your best not to let it go. Maybe it wasn't the best or what you expected when you imagined what it would be like to actually fall in love with someone for the first time. But at least you had moments that gave you the energy to go on living. The hug and kiss on the cheek that he gave you every time he left for work as a promise to come back, the tender good morning messages in which he wished you good luck for the rest of the day, especially when you had a lot of things to do and he was not in a state to accompany you, or waiting for you after dinner with your friends so that you could tell him in detail what had happened, every gossip and new comment that unfortunately you now had to do over the phone. Especially this time, maybe it could not be like that.

One suggestion, coming from one of your closest friends, caught you completely off guard. “You should sleep with him,” she had said so casually, as if it were the simplest solution to an incredibly complex situation.

The words hung in the air like a joke that wasn’t really a joke. You looked at her, eyes wide, unable to comprehend what she had just said. “What?” you managed, voice a little too sharp, as you quickly wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

She didn’t seem to notice your shock, leaning forward with a grin that could only be described as mischievous. “I said,” she repeated, “you should sleep with him.”

You nearly choked on your juice, coughing and sputtering as the words rang in your ears. “Are you serious?” you asked, feeling your face flush a deep shade of red. The words felt out of place, especially when the one person you were most careful about was the subject of this absurd suggestion. “I can’t just…sleep with him.”

“Oh, come on,” she insisted, not giving up. “You’ve been in love with him forever. You need to get it out of your system. It’ll help you move on, I promise.”

The words swirled around you, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on your chest like a tidal wave. Sleep with Spencer? Spencer? The man who had become such an intricate part of your life, the one who made every day brighter simply by being in it? You couldn’t even begin to picture it. It felt…wrong. It wasn’t just about the simmering desire or the longing that built up every time you looked at him. Spencer was more than that. He was a friend, a confidant, a constant in a world that had often felt uncertain. The thought of crossing that line, of turning everything you had into something fleeting, something physical, it made your stomach churn. It wasn’t just infatuation anymore. It was something deeper, something that had taken root and blossomed into something far more fragile. The idea of destroying that with a single reckless and hormonal decision? You couldn’t do it.

“No,” you said firmly, setting your glass down and crossing your arms as if physically rejecting the thought. “I can’t do that. It’s not like that with him.”

For a fleeting moment, your friend’s expression softened, but then the mischievous glint returned to her eyes. She leaned back, crossing her own arms in a show of exaggerated disbelief. “You’re seriously going to sit here and tell me you don’t think about him like that?” she challenged, arching a brow. “That you don’t fantasize about him? Please. You’re practically playing house at this point. Living next door, eating breakfast together, taking care of his godchildren, you’re practically married without the fun part.”

Her words were sharp, and they stung in ways you hadn’t expected. She wasn’t wrong, not entirely. You had thought about Spencer in ways that made your pulse race and your heart ache. You couldn’t deny that you fantasized about him, about what it would feel like to hold him, kiss him, love him in ways you hadn’t allowed yourself to imagine until now. But it was more than that. It was the tenderness in his eyes when he spoke of things that mattered most and the way he held you when things felt heavy.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration, your fingers threading through the strands with a kind of restless energy. “It’s complicated,” you murmured, feeling a lump form in your throat. “He is different, okay? He’s not just some random guy I’m trying to get over. He’s Spencer.”

“Then tell him how you feel,” she shot back, her tone laced with exasperation. “You’re not doing yourself any favors by keeping it all bottled up.”

You flinched, the words hitting you harder than you’d anticipated. “I can’t do that either,” you admitted, the confession falling from your lips like a stone sinking in water. “It would ruin everything.”

Your friend’s playful demeanor faltered for a moment, her teasing grin softening into something almost compassionate. But it didn’t last long. She leaned back in her chair, tossing her hands up in mock surrender. “Fine. Don’t sleep with him. Don’t tell him how you feel. Just keep sitting around, pining, and writing bad poetry in your head. But don’t come crying to me when you’re still hopelessly in love with him a year from now.”

Her words stung, even though you knew she was right in her own blunt, infuriating way. You opened your mouth to respond but stopped when your phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up with a message from Spencer: Hope you have a good day. Something’s come up. I’ll be back late today.

You stared at the words, your heart sinking a little. He had a way of being so thoughtful in the simplest ways, even when his job pulled him away. It was one of the many things about him that made your feelings all the more complicated.

Your friend smirked, noticing the soft expression on your face as you read his text. “See? There it is,” she said, her tone equal parts teasing and affectionate. “If you’re not going to do anything about it, at least admit that you’re completely in love with him.”

Don’t come crying to me when you’re still hopelessly in love with him a year from now.

The words echoed in your mind even after you and your friend had parted ways, and even after several hours had passed, lingering in your brain like a buzzing that wouldn't go away even though everything inside you was screaming to make more noise and ignore it. It was as if he had opened a Pandora's box that you had been hiding for a long time, and it was something that made you feel small and foolish, lost in your own indecision. You tried to shake it all off, but his words kept echoing in your head, getting louder and louder. You couldn't confess. You couldn't risk ruining everything.

When you arrived at your building, your feet carrying you to his almost by inertia, you tried to distract yourself and do something nice: set the table, light some candles, and order dinner for two at a nearby restaurant you both liked. That had been your plan: a quiet evening together, the kind where you could pretend that everything was normal and there were no complexes on your mind. You knew Spencer would be home late, but at least he'd be there. You'd share a meal, talk about his crazy case, laugh, get so tired you'd fall asleep on the couch so he could carry you to his bed, sleep there barely touching, and then move on as usual. At least that's how you imagined it.

But as the hours passed, you realized something you didn't want to admit: He wasn't coming home anytime soon. At least not tonight.

The food was there, untouched. The candles flickered in the darkness, taunting you with their warm glow. The emptiness of the apartment reflected the feeling of emptiness gnawing at you. You sat on the couch and tried to distract yourself with your cell phone and grabbed a few books you didn't know from the shelf, but everything seemed strange. The clock on the wall was chiming louder than usual, each second getting longer and longer. Around two in the morning, you couldn't stay awake a second longer. Your eyes were heavy, and your mind was tired from the endless cycle of thoughts you had been wrestling with all day. Eventually, you drifted off to sleep, exhausted from the emotional toll of the day, the weight of your own feelings too much to bear when you didn't have Spencer or a canvas nearby to distract you.

You didn’t even hear him when he came through the door.

It wasn't until almost four in the morning that you awoke slightly, your body responding to the warmth and the soft sound of his footsteps approaching you. You found yourself curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, your head resting on the pillows and your neck aching. The dinner you had bought was still on the table, untouched, and the candles had long since been extinguished, taking away the warm, familiar atmosphere. The air smelled faintly of reheated food and something else, something familiar, something that smelled like him.

“Spencer…” Your voice was thick with sleep, the words barely leaving your mouth.

He smiled down at you, a gentle smile that seemed to reach all the way into your chest. “Sorry I’m so late…I didn't think you would wait for me,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Work ran later than I expected.”

You nodded, still half-dazed, barely able to focus on his words. But then you felt the warmth of his hand on your shoulder, gentle but grounding, and everything seemed to fall into place.

“Why don’t you go to bed?” he suggested softly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’ve fallen asleep here.”

Before you could react, he picked you up and gently led you into his bedroom. The action was tender, so natural because it had happened more times than you could count. You didn't protest or move. Maybe it was tiredness, or maybe it was the way he made you feel so safe that you always wanted to fall asleep on his couch so he could hold you more, but you let him continue. You let him take care of you as he always did, even when you didn't ask him to.

As he tucked you into his bed, the soft sheets wrapped around your body like a comforting embrace, you murmured something tender and incoherent about him in your sleep, too far away to remember. The words poured out meaninglessly, fragments of meaningless thoughts: feelings, confusions, desires you had buried too deep to think you would ever say out loud. Spencer's hand brushed across your forehead, his thumb gently pushing away the strands of hair that clung to your skin and made you uncomfortable.

“Pretty boy,” you whispered, the words slipping out in your sleepy haze, a fragment of something you couldn’t quite capture.

Spencer’s soft laugh filled the space between you, the sound warm and comforting.

“I remember you said someone used to call you that; is that true?” you asked gently, a playful teasing tone in your voice. “You’re a pretty boy.”

“And you’re a sleepy girl,” he replied with a quiet smile, watching you drift in and out of consciousness.

“Pretty…” you murmured again, your voice barely audible, like a dream that was fading too quickly for you to hold onto.

“Yeah, pretty too,” he whispered, his voice low and rich with tenderness. His thumb traced your forehead one last time, lingering for just a moment before the weight of sleep claimed you entirely.

The bed shifted slightly as Spencer took off his shoes and climbed in beside you, his body warmth a comforting presence next to yours. He paused, just for a moment, to look at you with an expression so full of affection.

“Thanks for making this place a home, my pretty girl,” he whispered, his voice filled with a warmth that seemed to wrap around you like the sheets, even when you can’t listen.

Because he wouldn't have told you that if you were awake and aware, watching him with your bright eyes wide open. Not yet. Not if telling you meant facing the possibility that one day you might avoid him in the hallway or, worse, decide to move somewhere else. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you because he felt things he shouldn't have. Not you. Not his home.

Being in love with you, his neighbor and only friend outside of work, was one of the best and worst things that ever happened to him. To have someone who would wait for him with dinner even when you didn't know what time he'd be home, someone who would compliment him even in between dreams and manage to make him laugh, who would listen to him even when no one else would, and who would accidentally smear paint all over his clothes as a little reminder that you were real and not an impossible dream. He knew you were truly a miracle to someone as unlucky as he was.

Having you, even as a friend, was fantastic.

Sadly, what Spencer didn’t know, what neither of you could have known, was that this moment, this quiet tenderness and time sleeping in the same bed, would be the last time he would see you for what would feel like an eternity. At least for three more agonizing months.